Sept. 25, 2002 ~ "Whatever you do,
don't eat Misha's chicken!" Sometimes I'll make Husband's lunch at night, and will put the containers or sacks on the top shelf of the refrigerator. But in this instance, Misha didn't finish his fried chicken, so the leftovers were popped into a plastic sack and placed in the fridge, where they looked for all the world like something Husband should take for his lunch. Yet I knew he wouldn't appreciate the cat slobber, and Misha wouldn't be too pleased to hear that someone had eaten his lunch, so I made sure that everyone knew this particular sack of chicken was not intended for human consumption. For that matter, there are maybe a dozen pieces of fried chicken in the freezer, all for Misha.
Spoiled? Of course not. He's just a special kitty.
It's probably boring to read about the weather, but I am LOVING this weather! We'd had the AC off for several days, which was long enough for me to forget that yes, we actually do need a new AC system. The whole works. At an insanely ridiculous price. Our neighbor has been clearing his fields and had some brush piles to burn (much of that "brush" was actually large limbs and debris left from when the place was logged). Maybe it was the location of the piles, or the wind, or the fact that the wood was too wet, but it produced an incredible amount of smoke, and it came straight to our property. Low to the ground, the smoke was so dense that it was difficult to see through it, and being outside for more than a couple of minutes made us all sick... coughing, choking, sick to our stomachs. Really just delightful. So we had to close the windows and turn the air conditioner back on, and yuck. I don't know which is worse... thick smoke or the musty, dusty odor from the aging, dying AC. But there is much less smoke this morning, and it's back to open windows and running the attic fan. I really prefer that to air conditioning. Believe it or not -- and this will be hard for my fellow Texans to accept -- one summer, when I lived alone, I NEVER turned on the air conditioner, not once. All that summer, I ran the attic fan and was just fine, thank you very much. It's just this thing I have about fresh air. Oh, sometimes it's not all that fresh, I know, what with pollutants and pollen and all. But mostly it's grand, and I'm a happy camper, just enjoying the fresh breezes of spring and fall.
The attic fan is a noisy critter, but I guess you can't have everything.
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Last night we walked among the herd, deciding which heifers we might keep. One girl is particularly pretty and is big for her age, so barring unforeseen circumstances, she's a keeper. Personality is important, too. They don't have to be perfect, but they can't be mean. "Mean" is not acceptable here, no way, no ma'am, not at all. Rarely, they will get mean as they get older, and then they must go. Thankfully, that seldom happens. I hate to name them, make plans for them, and then have to ship them off.
We have two cutie pies this time, both from wonderful, even-tempered mothers, in addition to the one we chose last night, so that's three almost-positive-keepers.
The rest of the calves... will go. Or nearly all of them will go. We hope they will bring enough at auction to pay for this winter's feed and some of next year's hay.
Oh, and about those interviews yesterday?
Still dogless in Texas.
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