They say you dream so your brain can revisit and process the day’s events. What do my dogs dream about? Their last nap? All they do is sleep…
I haven’t been able to fit my hand in a Pringle’s can in 35 years, but that doesn’t stop me from trying. Every. Single. Time.
The world needs fewer songs about sex, violence, and cars, and more songs about dogs. Doggies are nice.
Often I’m more intrigued by an object’s shadow than I am with the object itself. The shadow changes, minute by minute, season by season, while the object stays the same.
There is a certain amount of shame that comes with eating an entire can of Pringles in one day. But after you’ve done it a few times you get over it.
We’ve been getting a nasty, blasty south wind pretty consistently the past few years, which is no fun as we have no windbreak to the south other than the neighbor’s hog confinement (did you know that turkey bacon tastes just as good as “normal” bacon?) – the wind just whips through here. I’ve planted some trees to the south, and will plant more trees when the opportunity presents itself, but I’ve been wondering lately if I shouldn’t just build a big wall around my acreage. But then I’d have to start referring to it as “The Compound” and I’d probably end up on some government watch list for kooks. Kooks in Kompounds.