Buttery Butters in the buttery morning sun.
She's such a pretty girl. I hope one day I get lucky and snap her in mid-squat, the position she generally assumes when I first greet her. I believe she's waiting for me to fertilize her. God, I love chickens: instinct, pure and undiluted. Little machines of nature.
Pretty lazy days in my household. It's hard to get energized when it's dark a little after 4 in the Godforsaken afternoon. At night, it's reading and/or DVDs (I'm reading The Satanic Verses - yeah, shut up - so it only took me 20 years to get around to it - and working through the box set of Angel). My place is very cozy, it just needs a fireplace and I've been eyeing these phony jobs they have at Home Despot. My friend Jimmy used to have one of the old motion lamp/fake logs on fire, set beneath a faux mantlepiece, and you would always head over to it, first thing, to warm your hands on it. Except there was no warmth. Psyche!

1 comment:

Steve said...

Do you remember what noises the fake fireplace used to make? The little motor in it would scrape and rattle and one could pretend it was the crackling and snaping of real fire.