Anybody want a rabbit?
On Friday night I got a call from my friend next door. There was something strange in her backyard that we ought to look at, she said. So Shawn and I tromped over and there munching on some weeds was the cutest little fluffy bunny you ever did see. It was a mostly-baby brown bunny complete with fluffy tail. Not a jack rabbit. This was someone's pet, clearly. In fact, it looked to be about the right size for a baby bunny that was given to someone as an Easter present.
I really wish people wouldn't do that.
Ask and you shall receive.
Or... Complain and God says, "Alright already! Stop whining! I've already taken care of it but there's shipping time involved and even I can't speed up the US Postal Service!"
Or something like that.
Yesterday, just hours after writing my frantic blog about my mournfully empty post office box, I arrived at said box to find that providence had intervened. There, in a little letter-sized enevelope, was the first submission to The Yolo Crow. A lovely little villanelle.*
I'm going to rant on about sad things for a bit. If you don't want to deal with it, don't read it. I totally understand. I wouldn't write it if I didn't need to get it out.
TGFMBD. Thank God for my Back Up Drive.
There's nothing like a downed server to wake you up. I work for a small business and I'm what goes as tech support around here. I'm not a computer doctor. I'm certainly not a computer surgeon. I'm more comparable to a school nurse. I can put on band-aids, I can tell you that you should never stick that up your nose again, and I know when to call the real doctor.
This past weekend was Vacaville's first Middle Earth Festival and my own little fellowship gathered to celebrate. On Friday, we met at my house for a pre-festival festival. In hobbit style, we prepared way too much food. We barbecued shish-kabobs and grazed through salads. We raised glasses of homemade mead and toasted to Frodo. We played some Lord of the Rings Trivia and watched The Fellowship of the Ring.
I don't know about you guys but the time change is killing me. I had to pry myself out of bed with a crow bar this morning. I hit snooze twice and finally blundered out of bed at 7:15 am (which still feels like 6:15) and stumbled around the bedroom on unstable feet, trying my best not to lose my patience with the cats who were bounding around me like spring lambs, so excited that someone was awake to keep them company.
My lawn and my neighbor's lawn were the last two on the block that hadn't been mowed since the spring weather started. The rest of the neighborhood was clean and trim, with freshly planted pansies and petunias. Our yards had become foot high jungles housing creatures from the black lagoon. Today a three-foot long garden snake wove his way through the thicket and slithered right up to my husband. No joke.
It was clearly time to deal with this situation before the neighbors banded together and cordoned off our yards with police tape.