$98 of Badass-ery

This picture was taken a few weeks ago after I sauntered through the living room and beheld Gus telling me to f-off. He snuck in and had cracked open a beer. He’s so awesome, I did what he said. A few days ago, he got half his face torn into by another critter. This is the second time in 9 months that I’ve had to get his injuries flushed out, and invested in other forms of torture and antibiotics. Again, the vet and staff fell in love with him. I know. He’s rad. But can somebody in my life please be a vet tech? kthanks. I need to have the ovaries to do these things myself and also get antibiotics from Mexico. I mean, really now.

I Can Fly

I am part Peter Pan after all, on my dad’s side.

I found the edge of the world, and it’s an hour from my pad via automobile.

I have been living on borrowed time. It’s been spring-like in the middle of November here, and I’ve been enjoying the calm before the freezing misery like a nakid banshee running through a forest. I did run through a forest last weekend, but not nude. Oh, I am kicking myself now.

Recently, like yesterday, I “dicked around” (Idaho term, meaning – puddering around in open space, usually with guns and/or beer nearby) in the desert. You know how you walk up to a spot, and you can feel the magnitude of the awesomeness about to hit you and all you can say is Holy shit, dude, when you see the world all spread out before you like yer mama was last night? It was one of those moments.

And then this was looking the other way:

And also, native peoples rock carvings. Pretty sure this one was done by the black sheep auntie of the family:

kthanksbye.

Unconditional love despite my double chin

I GO!

If you want to break into my pad, this weekend is the time. I am taking the cats (Gus will be here having a conversation with you though) and Charlie, along with the french press and laptop to the cabin. So nothing of real value will be here except for the few PBR’s I won’t be able to fit into the cooler. Have at them if my neighbors who feed Gus haven’t beat you to it. Also, could you make sure my plants are getting enough light? kthanks. Oh, and I’ve asked Jesus to guard my speakers so good luck with that. Knowing the face of God is knowing madness, so Leoben says.

In the mean time, I have a different sentinel. This ball (ball!) was hand-made with the intention of protection and good energy. It has already frightened one person. I fell in love with it and bought it with the cat food money, so they are all having to share squirrels.

What NOT to Put in Your Apocalypse Bug-Out Kit

(related to my other post)

No, I am not going More Crazy. I’m just still thinking about if I could make it during a disaster of the natural or man-made kind, along with getting back to the basics for the health of this Earth. The end of the world has just been put off four years, but just in case…

• Too many pairs of underwear. Apparently humans can’t live more than than 3 days without water, so this means you’d either be dead or able to wash your panties.
• Things you think would be good to have, but don’t know how to use. Or, learn/practice how to use them. Like finding distance with a compass, or fire-starting tools like The Flint and that Other Thing.
• Electrical apparatuses. Your GPS, cell phone, and expensive emo stuff won’t work if the poo really hit. The only things techno-ish I would pack besides my cell phone (just in case) would be an older hand-crank short-wave radio and my vibrator, and extra batteries.
• Heavy items, like your mom. Like a bunch of glass containers or books. Even if you could head to the hills with your vehicle, you might have to ditch it (what will you do for gas?) and walk to Canada. I know, just calm down.

Now, when I marry and divorce a doctor and get the settlement and property, then yes to a lot of glass containers (for the vodka distillery) and books (Goat Care For Dummies). Also, I don’t think I can live without my speakers, so yes to “responsible technology” for the running of the speakers and heating of the water.

Can’t get no shelter

I have made Gus two different weather-resistant, warm, cozy, bug-resistant “beds” and he breaks my heart by sleeping like our country’s neglected veterans in a park.

He insists on making his own bed of leaves & bark and looking at me pathetically and meowing a “why won’t you let me in” meow. Then I force myself to remember how he casually marks the inside door jams and how he made my $150 djembe case smell like I just came from a reeeaaally long drum circle. But I love him anyway, from inside the house.

I’m not sure he exactly likes me though. To him, it is more like an agreement based on place and steady food and occasional lap time (like your mama). But it definitely makes me want to work hard to get that barn someday. He would be the raddest barn cat ever. He would sleep with the newborn pigs and put the defiant goat in its place and smack other cats on the ass just for shits & giggles, like he does with Chi Chi and LL.