Oh boy, the last few weeks have been filled with everything from doing a stand-up comedy show (bucket-list item of mine), getting my garden going (hard with the seasons changing from day to day), and chicken wrangling.
I'll try not to drone on and on. First off, a few months ago I was approached by an acquaintance of mine that hosts comedy shows. He wanted to know if I would be interested in trying to do comedy. Now, he based this on how he thought my "dry & sarcastic" way of conversing with people was funny. I tried to explain to him at first that that is just how I talk to people that I really don't know. I guess kind of like a defense mechanism. He thought that that was perfect, because I probably wouldn't know the people I would be performing for anyway. Well, he ended up talking me into it, which wasn't hard because it's always been on the low slope of my bucket list anyway. After carrying around a notebook and noting things I thought funny as I walked through life for a few weeks, tweaking them a little and practicing even less, I performed a ten minute stand-up routine. Without throwing up. YAY for me! I've been told that I was funny, and I vaguely remember a few chuckles. It seems that with lots of things that are unpleasant for one reason or another, I have blocked out most of the show. I am thinking about doing another one, but on a much smaller scale at another venue. Maybe. But after seeing myself in pictures from that night that a friend of mine oh so thoughtfully (insert eye-roll here) put on Facebook, I think I need to invest in a full Spanks body suit first. Although now that I think about it, that might not be a good idea. I'm picturing all my fat being squeezed up to the top of the suit like a tube of toothpaste. Not attractive . . . ok, I still gotta think on that one.
I started my garden boxes, and have acquired the use of a large garden bed at a neighbors house, but its not going as I thought it would. The garden boxes are doing great; I have salad fixings to last all season and my potatoes will be stupendous. I planted three different kinds, and on a interesting note, when the plumbers came and dug up my back yard to fix the leak in the pipe going to the septic tank, I found little tiny Peruvian Blue potato starts that miraculously survived being ignored for the almost 8 years since I originally planted them. So I grabbed those and stuffed them next to the others in the box.
The neighbors garden space that I envisioned is not going as well. I am going to have to rent a rototiller, as much as I tried to avoid it. I just cant get the gumption to do it by hand like I wanted to. Not just time, but energy as well. I think that might be an early birthday present to myself. The corn I planted was mostly eaten by birds and about the only thing growing decent are the squash. Big whoop. Even my sister can grow zuchinni. Sigh.
The chicken ranch is going ok. We are still at three hens and one asshole rooster. Right now, at this very minute, Jay-Z the rooster is inside the chicken tractor enclosure. For some reason he has been attacking Lady Gaga, our frizzle hen that happens to be his sister. And when I say attacking, I mean chasing her until she lays down for him, Then he just pecks the shit out of her and there are feathers everywhere. Strangeness. The little chick-a-dee bird things that hang out are happy to use her feathers for their nests but I finally had to say enough is enough. So Jay-Z is in chicken jail.
I'll try not to drone on and on. First off, a few months ago I was approached by an acquaintance of mine that hosts comedy shows. He wanted to know if I would be interested in trying to do comedy. Now, he based this on how he thought my "dry & sarcastic" way of conversing with people was funny. I tried to explain to him at first that that is just how I talk to people that I really don't know. I guess kind of like a defense mechanism. He thought that that was perfect, because I probably wouldn't know the people I would be performing for anyway. Well, he ended up talking me into it, which wasn't hard because it's always been on the low slope of my bucket list anyway. After carrying around a notebook and noting things I thought funny as I walked through life for a few weeks, tweaking them a little and practicing even less, I performed a ten minute stand-up routine. Without throwing up. YAY for me! I've been told that I was funny, and I vaguely remember a few chuckles. It seems that with lots of things that are unpleasant for one reason or another, I have blocked out most of the show. I am thinking about doing another one, but on a much smaller scale at another venue. Maybe. But after seeing myself in pictures from that night that a friend of mine oh so thoughtfully (insert eye-roll here) put on Facebook, I think I need to invest in a full Spanks body suit first. Although now that I think about it, that might not be a good idea. I'm picturing all my fat being squeezed up to the top of the suit like a tube of toothpaste. Not attractive . . . ok, I still gotta think on that one.
I started my garden boxes, and have acquired the use of a large garden bed at a neighbors house, but its not going as I thought it would. The garden boxes are doing great; I have salad fixings to last all season and my potatoes will be stupendous. I planted three different kinds, and on a interesting note, when the plumbers came and dug up my back yard to fix the leak in the pipe going to the septic tank, I found little tiny Peruvian Blue potato starts that miraculously survived being ignored for the almost 8 years since I originally planted them. So I grabbed those and stuffed them next to the others in the box.
The neighbors garden space that I envisioned is not going as well. I am going to have to rent a rototiller, as much as I tried to avoid it. I just cant get the gumption to do it by hand like I wanted to. Not just time, but energy as well. I think that might be an early birthday present to myself. The corn I planted was mostly eaten by birds and about the only thing growing decent are the squash. Big whoop. Even my sister can grow zuchinni. Sigh.
The chicken ranch is going ok. We are still at three hens and one asshole rooster. Right now, at this very minute, Jay-Z the rooster is inside the chicken tractor enclosure. For some reason he has been attacking Lady Gaga, our frizzle hen that happens to be his sister. And when I say attacking, I mean chasing her until she lays down for him, Then he just pecks the shit out of her and there are feathers everywhere. Strangeness. The little chick-a-dee bird things that hang out are happy to use her feathers for their nests but I finally had to say enough is enough. So Jay-Z is in chicken jail.
Anyhoo, I am off to see what other adventures I can get myself into. Sorry for taking so long to catch up.
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