Today is my bunny Butterscotch's 7th Gotcha Day - who'da thunk it? Or thump it?
He was 6-8 weeks old when we got him, two days after getting Blacky (ATB), a little apple pip of a bunlet, all shades of cream and brown. He was promptly nicknamed Butterscoot, as he proved quite shy.
And here we are, 7 years later. He's plumper, darker, and definitely still one of nature's followers.
Butterscotch has been contentedly paired with Fawn for about a year now, after previous long-time companion Liquorice was ATB last January.
Dandelion martinis all around, yippee!
Sunday, May 20, 2012
Tuesday, May 08, 2012
Funny how these things start. A blog, what a good thought. Oh gawd, what if someone actually reads it? And anyway, who cares (other than me) about the everlasting details of my day? About the handiest thing it's provided is an accurate date for the birth of Luna's litter. Which was handy, actually.
What am I doing now? Waiting for it to become 5 a.m. so I can start coffee, tea and make sandwiches for hubby as he prepares himself for a 6 a.m. start at work. I have insomnia. Blargh. Brigid-the-zombie staggers for the kitchen.... any time now. This is my sole domestic virtue, lest anyone worry about further conformity to housewifery.
And I think we have birdies in the roof again. Last time (several years ago) an enterprising thrush had set up a nest behind a loose shingle. This time, it sounds more like starlings, sort of a chirruping, and I'm wondering if they are nesting, about to nest, or about to invite all their friends over and turn the place into a roost for the local flock. Make for a shorter commute when they decide to bomb my car.
Was reading "the great recipe swindle" over at The Guardian online. My all-time pet peeve is recipes that end with "cook until done". C'mon. If I knew what that was, why would I be following an expletive-expletive recipe?! Gah! Probably explains why my all-time favourite recipe book is called "how to repair food".
What am I doing now? Waiting for it to become 5 a.m. so I can start coffee, tea and make sandwiches for hubby as he prepares himself for a 6 a.m. start at work. I have insomnia. Blargh. Brigid-the-zombie staggers for the kitchen.... any time now. This is my sole domestic virtue, lest anyone worry about further conformity to housewifery.
And I think we have birdies in the roof again. Last time (several years ago) an enterprising thrush had set up a nest behind a loose shingle. This time, it sounds more like starlings, sort of a chirruping, and I'm wondering if they are nesting, about to nest, or about to invite all their friends over and turn the place into a roost for the local flock. Make for a shorter commute when they decide to bomb my car.
Was reading "the great recipe swindle" over at The Guardian online. My all-time pet peeve is recipes that end with "cook until done". C'mon. If I knew what that was, why would I be following an expletive-expletive recipe?! Gah! Probably explains why my all-time favourite recipe book is called "how to repair food".
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