Lost Day

Yesterday was an unpleasant waste — the usual affliction that often tends to hit me on Saturdays — why is that, I wonder? Is it because I've just spent three days in an office chair?  As usual, I'm never sure I have the real answer.

I laid on the couch most of the day, where I could hear the TV, and later when I moved to the bedroom was when I almost fell asleep and started feeling, if not 100%, at least as if I wasn't suffering anymore.

At about 5 o'clock I felt hungry as opposed to nauseated at the thought of food. A good sign, I figured. Maybe I'd nibble on some sausage and crackers, make a speedy recovery, and have time to get ready to go to the dinner theatre we had tickets for.

It was not to be. I missed our evening out, watching Scott's brother Bruce onstage in a musical comedy put on by the local theatre group. While amateur theatre in my experience tends to drag a little, being a musical adds life to a show, and I would have enjoyed at least the musical parts of it. As it was, my ticket went to waste.

Down the road with Scott one evening while he dug out part of a beaver dam. Click image to enlarge. Looking at it small does't do it justice. It was beautiful out there. I said to Scott at least twice, "Man, we are lucky to live here." I guess my snapshots don't do it justice; not least because you don't get the sound effects! The birds are a glory these days.

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Maggie Turner has left a new comment on your post "Prairie Chicken": 

Thanks for the pics of the prairie chicken, they remind me of partridges which abounded around my Granny and Grandpa's house, and we had many a meal. My Grandparent's always ate their own meat, mostly wild game, and Grandpa butchered it all himself. It sure gave us a healthy respect for what was involved in putting meat on the table. I am not a big meat eater, I owe to the family hunters Grandpa and my Dad, and eating our beloved cow Maybelle on the farm where I grew up. I really don't know how people raise an animal with a name and personality, and then eat it, baffling. 

Yes, that part is difficult to understand. Farm kids go through the experience early — of raising an animal and then having to sell it or let it be butchered. Scott still has a hard time with that because some of their cattle are quite tame and many are like pets ... they like to be scratched, and they have names and definite personalities.

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Wisewebwoman has left a new comment on your post "Mulie Mama": 

She's a wee beauty, I hope she finds a good birthing spot. And a doulah. A good doulah.

And I hope she doesn't like the taste of my flowers!

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Lorna has left a new comment on your post "Mulie Mama": 

Happy Mother's Day.

Thanks, Lorna. Same to you! 

We're just about to take Scott's mom out for lunch before stopping at a family greenhouse to pick up a thing or two, though I'm cutting seriously back on annuals this year. I swear, I am. 

 I'm starving! Two inches of farmer's sausage (yuk; but it was handy) and a fistful of soda crackers for supper last night just didn't cut it. I didn't have the energy to prepare anything properly, and Scott was going out for supper, and had just come home to clean up and go out the door to the dinner theatre show, so I was on my own.