About Dana

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I'm a dichotomy of blue jeans, pretty jewelry, frugalista, and Southern girl living the simple rural life. I want to live my life holistically, thoughtfully, economically, and most of all gratefully, and encourage other women to do the same.

Thursday, May 17, 2012

Housewife Poetry

I couldn't help myself today. I had to write down some of the rhymes that fly out of my mouth during the course of the day when I'm giving orders or just talking to my son. I call it Housewife Poetry. I'm sure you've uttered a few astonishingly rhyming verses yourself.

"Supper is hot and ready;
We just need a Daddy."

"Not using your brain
Is a bad thang."

I'm surrounded everywhere
by dirty underwear.
(It was laundry day).

And yesterday's utterance:

"Son, don't run with your gun."

He didn't. And here's what happened. (x3)

Have a happy day.

Tuesday, May 15, 2012

Strangers in the Night (in my Backyard!)

I'm not afraid of the dark, but during this time of the year I like to keep my outdoor walks in the backyard (which backs up to the woods and a river) to a minimum without a flashlight. I'm a little afraid of stepping on a snake during the prime time May season. Turns out, there's another party going on in my backyard while I'm sleeping, and it has nothing to do with snakes.

Ralph the Raccoon enjoys sniffing around the chicken pen to see if perhaps there is an opening. A chicken would be good tonight, or at least some vegetable scraps from inside. (Pay no attention to the date stamp on the Stealth Cam. It appears Mr. Country Belle does not know how to operate this part of the device.)

Ralph has been a nuisance for a week, so Mr. Country Belle installed a wildlife camera to see what the heck was going on.

Oh, I see Ralphie is the one tearing up the wire on our pen door.

"Knock. Knock. Let me in. I brought a friend. I promise we won't eat you or your delicious food."

Can you see him? That's the chicken feed bin he's sniffing around in the bottom right corner. For a week, the lid has been removed and the bin overturned each morning. I got him this time. There's no way he's getting the lid off that baby tonight.

"I'm Perfect Posture Polly. I'm Perfect Posture Polly." (There's always one in every crowd.)

"Who? What? Let's scram. Someone's taking pictures."

And then along comes Mr. Opportunistic Opossum himself. He's obviously used to Ralphie removing the lid of the chicken food bin each night before he comes sauntering along. Not tonight, buddy.

Good night. And stay out of my yard.