a storm of wings
Apr. 8th, 2013 07:20 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
yamamanamaIt's a nice day, warm enough to take Valley and Bling outside, there are baby raccoons and I wish I brought my camera, and Margaret Thatcher is dead. Hold on.
Ding Dong! The Witch is dead. Which old Witch? The Wicked Witch!
Ding Dong! The Wicked Witch is dead.
Wake up - sleepy head, rub your eyes, get out of bed.
Wake up, the Wicked Witch is dead. She's gone where the goblins go,
Below - below - below. Yo-ho, let's open up and sing and ring the bells out.
Ding Dong' the merry-oh, sing it high, sing it low.
Let them know
The Wicked Witch is dead!
Ok, there we go. Ahem. Even rock dove formula smells appetizing when I haven't eaten anything except for a few spoonfuls of the most painful pea soup ever since Thursday night. Johnny says it looks a bit like tapioca. He's right. He thought it would be squirrel food that smelled delicious. I just lost the will to eat. I suppose I'll try on Wednesday… or maybe tomorrow night if I'm not as sore. But I only have one thing of pudding and want to use it when I'll need the energy.
Juvenile rock doves have this melon yellow feathery stuff all over their heads.
Let me tell you about tooth extraction: I was surprised by the lack of blood, and I think it was broken up and sucked up with a vacuum cleaner thing, and the cleaning afterwards was what hurt the most. And the recovery period is so hellish that I wish I backed out of it, and the longer it stays sore, the more I think it was unnecessary. I wish I had some cool stories to tell but I don't. I just have English teeth, anxiety, and a lack of insurance for too long.
Juliet (a hybrid turtle: cooter and something else) had a wound on her backside, under her shell.
https://sphotos-a.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-prn1/62807_457585694317512_1409391669_n.jpg
This isn't my picture. It's a baby raccoon and this year, they were in (my thoughts are "fuck me with a syringe of cone snail venom, I can't remember the name of the room!") instead of Quiet Baby like they were last year, and it would have been easier to take pictures if I wasn't in a rush and didn't bring the camera.
Falco took a shit on the floor (and Nina was happy to point out the urate and the nitrates and the feces itself), and then flapped his wings as if to say "oh, yeah, I can totally fly! I'm Falco Pan!" and found himself upsidedown in a storm of wings and Christina caught one of the feathers that was drifting around. She said or did something funny earlier, probably while giving the reptiles baths, but I am struggling to remember.
It's too bad we had a dead osprey instead of a live osprey.
And anyway, I'm going to try to finish the New York entries up this week. Not today. Maybe not tomorrow. And by "try," I mean "hope imgur cooperates with me."
Burning Question: Five hundred million years of evolution and we don't have regenerating teeth. What the fuck is that about?
Ding Dong! The Witch is dead. Which old Witch? The Wicked Witch!
Ding Dong! The Wicked Witch is dead.
Wake up - sleepy head, rub your eyes, get out of bed.
Wake up, the Wicked Witch is dead. She's gone where the goblins go,
Below - below - below. Yo-ho, let's open up and sing and ring the bells out.
Ding Dong' the merry-oh, sing it high, sing it low.
Let them know
The Wicked Witch is dead!
Ok, there we go. Ahem. Even rock dove formula smells appetizing when I haven't eaten anything except for a few spoonfuls of the most painful pea soup ever since Thursday night. Johnny says it looks a bit like tapioca. He's right. He thought it would be squirrel food that smelled delicious. I just lost the will to eat. I suppose I'll try on Wednesday… or maybe tomorrow night if I'm not as sore. But I only have one thing of pudding and want to use it when I'll need the energy.
Juvenile rock doves have this melon yellow feathery stuff all over their heads.
Let me tell you about tooth extraction: I was surprised by the lack of blood, and I think it was broken up and sucked up with a vacuum cleaner thing, and the cleaning afterwards was what hurt the most. And the recovery period is so hellish that I wish I backed out of it, and the longer it stays sore, the more I think it was unnecessary. I wish I had some cool stories to tell but I don't. I just have English teeth, anxiety, and a lack of insurance for too long.
Juliet (a hybrid turtle: cooter and something else) had a wound on her backside, under her shell.
https://sphotos-a.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-prn1/62807_457585694317512_1409391669_n.jpg
This isn't my picture. It's a baby raccoon and this year, they were in (my thoughts are "fuck me with a syringe of cone snail venom, I can't remember the name of the room!") instead of Quiet Baby like they were last year, and it would have been easier to take pictures if I wasn't in a rush and didn't bring the camera.
Falco took a shit on the floor (and Nina was happy to point out the urate and the nitrates and the feces itself), and then flapped his wings as if to say "oh, yeah, I can totally fly! I'm Falco Pan!" and found himself upsidedown in a storm of wings and Christina caught one of the feathers that was drifting around. She said or did something funny earlier, probably while giving the reptiles baths, but I am struggling to remember.
It's too bad we had a dead osprey instead of a live osprey.
And anyway, I'm going to try to finish the New York entries up this week. Not today. Maybe not tomorrow. And by "try," I mean "hope imgur cooperates with me."
Burning Question: Five hundred million years of evolution and we don't have regenerating teeth. What the fuck is that about?
