Too Early or Too Late

I want to go to a cottage in the winter now.

Nature Bingo

I sar' a muskrat the other evening. Maw made me make soup and I made that soup good. Then I called her up for supper (oh how the tables have turned) and we ate it in front of our big windows. Then, to my delight, I sar' the little devil. I shouted "Lookit!" Maw ran for her glasses. I got the binoculars. He was gathering a bunch of grass in his mouth. He swam with it. We went for a walk later that night, maw and I, and scoped out the muskrat holes.

Chukar and/or Rock Partridge

I sar' one of 'em on my street. I chased it. It ran. Made my days.

Mr. Joe King

Some people have that animal. That one animal that people can reliably decide you'll like in mug, pencil, pillow, box, ornament, calendar, and/or throw form. Over Kelsey's, Donna and my Mother (between weight and age jabs) discussed this. My Mother (my Maw, as I affectionately call her) has pigs, hundreds of them. Donna has cats.

One Christmas, much to my surprise, I had ladybugs, as though I had always had ladybugs. I had never had ladybugs. They filled my stocking in chocolate and notepad form. I had to correct the dear old women responsible for this error in order to prevent myself from receiving lady bug paraphernalia at Christmases, Birthdays, Easters, and Graduations for years to come. This backfired.

Since then, which was maybe 5 or 7 some odd years ago, I've gotten ladybugs as a joke: remember-the-time-we-thought-you-liked-ladybugs--wasn't that funny?--gifts.