Enrolled And Rolling

My love, Echinoia Eeeps enrolled in tank school. It was unclear just what this might amount to until I was instructed to run across the pasture carrying a giant bullseye target. I may have a clue now. And then there are the bleachers set up at the Eeeps Family Observation Post. So I guess the rumors I've heard about Cousin Erdle Eeeps...are...uh, former Cousin Erdle Eeeps...now deceased, etc. May be partly true, they say.

My love, Echinoia Eeeps, is really pretty mellow, despite what you might have come to believe, based only on her behavior, unless, of course you startle her awake when she's napping near the artillery, which she does from time to time.

My love, Echinoia Eeeps sent me a box of roofing nails. It's nice to know that she's thinking of me. I do have a hammer, but at the moment can't remember where I left the roof. Best not to mention that detail within her hearing until I can sort it out.

My love, Echinoia Eeeps, has taken up competitive gardening. She wants me to provide the fertilizer. Could be why I got the litter box for Xmas. Plus, the industrial-strength laxative gift sampler.

My love, Echinoia Eeeps, told me that her lifelong dream was to invade Ukraine. I had a helluva time convincing her that it's been done already by a slightly better man than her (but only slightly, of course) and isn't as much fun as it sounds. But you know how women are...

My love, Echinoia Eeeps, took a vacation last week. Shoplifted it from the GetAway Store. Just grabbed it and flew the hell off somewhere without so much as a beep. Brought me back a coconut. Said it reminded her of me. All rough and hard shell on the outside but with a tough and tasteless interior. I still want to lick her all over though. Probably now more than ever.

 

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Have anything worth adding? Then try sosayseff@nullabigmail.com
Me? Yeah, I already tried that.

 

Etc...

so says eff: sporadic spurts of grade eff distraction
definitions: outdoor terms
fiyh: dave's little guide to ultralight backpacking stoves
boyb: dave's little guide to backpacks
snorpy bits: nibbling away at your sanity
last seen receding: missives from a certain mobile homer
noseyjoe: purposefully poking my proboscis into technicals

Love And Pestilence

My love, Echinoia Eeeps, has been pestering me all week, trying to find out how I got out of my cage, but I think a guy should be entitled to a few secrets here and there. I hope.

My love, Echinoia Eeeps, is truly one of a kind, all her litter mates having died off during infancy. (There are certain rumors about this, but I choose to disbelieve very nearly all of them.)

My love, Echinoia Eeeps, said that what she most likes about me is that I'm not green — both because she has thoroughly trained me and because she recently finished painting me blue.

My love, Echinoia Eeeps herself turned green last week. I think her all-pea, no-pee diet may have been influential here, though I have been told not to notice if I know what's good for me — in other words, shut up unless I want a good pounding. So, yeah.

My love, Echinoia Eeeps, flew to Australia to view a recent eclipse. She wanted to shoot it. True, they did confiscate her six-gun on arrival, but she planned for that, and had a spare, stuffed deep into her tuba. She enjoys playing marching music and martial lullabies in her hotel room while waiting for the darkness to come creeping in, and of course I get to tag along in case her toenails need buffing, or a fly disappears up her tuba (which has happened, unfortunately), but mostly I simply sit quietly in a corner and pray that nothing exciting happens this time.

My love, Echinoia Eeeps, just found an ant costume in my size. She wants me to wear it for a while, to see if any random wasps will come and try to lay eggs in my brain. Says it would be cute, and probably wouldn't hurt all that much if I didn't struggle or try to think.

 

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Have anything worth adding? Then try sosayseff@nullabigmail.com
Me? I better not say right now.

 

Etc...

so says eff: sporadic spurts of grade eff distraction
definitions: outdoor terms
fiyh: dave's little guide to ultralight backpacking stoves
boyb: dave's little guide to backpacks
snorpy bits: nibbling away at your sanity
last seen receding: missives from a certain mobile homer
noseyjoe: purposefully poking my proboscis into technicals

Doing The Nip

I thought about getting a cat, but I still have only a learner's permit.

Had a long talk with the cat about that mouse breath problem and what I can do to get rid of it. Not quite resolved yet but there's hope. Cats know about stuff like this.

Has anyone ever made a solo excursion to the South Pole by moped? I'm feeling frisky this week, and the cat needs to get out for a while too.

I stared at the TV for six hours yesterday. Then the cat came by, but he couldn't figure out how to turn it on either, so we went out back and did some 'nip.

My first cat was named Leonard the Pussyhearted. He had a reputation in the neighborhood.

My first cat was named Leonard. I found out from going through his documents after he went to prison. Pretty nice cat overall, though they tend to regard bank robbery with some disdain in these parts. He'll be eligible for parole about the time I turn 80.

 

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Have anything worth adding? Then try sosayseff@nullabigmail.com
Me? Not gonna say. Practicing mummery this week.

 

Etc...

so says eff: sporadic spurts of grade eff distraction
definitions: outdoor terms
fiyh: dave's little guide to ultralight backpacking stoves
boyb: dave's little guide to backpacks
snorpy bits: nibbling away at your sanity
last seen receding: missives from a certain mobile homer
noseyjoe: purposefully poking my proboscis into technicals

Xmas Creeps Ever Nearer

For the upcoming Xmas fighting season, my love, Echinoia Eeeps, would like me to wrestle her pet saltwater crocodile, Ed. Best 2 out of 3. Winner gets treats. Loser pays. Sounds like fun but will have to think about it.

I got invited again to spend Xmas with the Eeeps. It happens every year and they take it seriously. This time around they're christening a new crevasse just behind the outhouse — crevasse, parking pit, garbage dump, hostage pen — all rolled into one giant fissure in the ground. I'm still mulling it over. But then again, I have nothing better to do until they release me.

I told my love, Echinoia Eeeps, that if she wants to look up to me, she can try walking around on her knees whenever the mood takes her, but she says she's really committed to stretching exercises for me with the rope and the tree out front. It's a family tradition, I hear. Meanwhile, I'm still in hiding.

My love, Echinoia Eeeps, caught me eating soup — says soup is for sissies, and made me do 100 sit ups to prove that I haven't begun turning into a sissy, which wasn't all that bad, unless you have to do it from a standing position while trying to avoid the rats (Clem and Joe).

My love, Echinoia Eeeps, has a large extended family. Some of them were also extruded, but only the more irritating, unrepentant and wayward ones who were reluctant to follow tradition. Following extrusion they were immediately freeze-dried, mounted in frames, and hung in the dining room, as a poignant reminder to others, with flashing red lights along the sides as extra attention-getters.

My love, Echinoia Eeeps, has to be the best in the world. If I haven't done anything especially egregious, she pounds me only once a month or thereabouts, mostly to stay in shape and to keep her skills sharp. Then there is machine-gun practice out at the family tactical field, and bayoneting the occasional wild boar. I feel truly blessed to be on her good side most of the time, and plan to stay there to the best of my abilities. I'd bring her some flowers to show my appreciation but that might set her off again. She generally prefers a couple bags of Renaldo's Premium Blend Gold Medal Rat Chow for her friends, and I'm all too willing to get it for her and the boys, and stay safe, if possible.

 

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Have anything worth adding? Then try sosayseff@nullabigmail.com
Me? Not sure — Haven't seen myself lately.

 

Etc...

so says eff: sporadic spurts of grade eff distraction
definitions: outdoor terms
fiyh: dave's little guide to ultralight backpacking stoves
boyb: dave's little guide to backpacks
snorpy bits: nibbling away at your sanity
last seen receding: missives from a certain mobile homer
noseyjoe: purposefully poking my proboscis into technicals

Zepp Ho

The sound of twin turbo diesels climbing slowly over the eastern horizon at sunrise tells me that Leslie Zeppelin's spring strafing season has finally arrived, and in all seriousness. We few survivors of last season once again scurry into the protective cover of our root cellars.

I don't know how it is where you live, but the snarl of twin turbo diesels always reminds me of my provisional vitality, my impending mortality, and the mechanics of wide-area strafing whenever Leslie Zeppelin is cruising overhead.

I grab the cat, head for the basement, and leave the house to the flies, and to Leslie Zeppelin, back for another bonus strafing run.

If we could blame anyone, I guess that we would blame Ed and Emily Zeppelin for bringing us Leslie, the deep terror of the snarl of twin turbo diesels, and all the suppertime strafing runs.

Leslie Zeppelin sighted 2km N. of town around dawn. Take evasive action or two aspirin, whichever you can manage, and hope for the best.

Well, it's that season again. I can tell by the distant snarl of twin turbo diesels, by the elongated shape dark against the clouds, and, of course by the telltale staccato of automatic weapons fire. Yes, it is Leslie Zeppelin, back with the all-too-familiar morning strafing runs.

 

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Have anything worth adding? Then try sosayseff@nullabigmail.com
Me? Total pacifist. Ask the cat.

 

Etc...

so says eff: sporadic spurts of grade eff distraction
definitions: outdoor terms
fiyh: dave's little guide to ultralight backpacking stoves
boyb: dave's little guide to backpacks
snorpy bits: nibbling away at your sanity
last seen receding: missives from a certain mobile homer
noseyjoe: purposefully poking my proboscis into technicals

Things Worthless And Valuable

I found a turd in my pocket. No idea how it got there. Normally I'd expect to find it in the box under the stairs with the others, but it has no serial number either. Time to discuss this with the cat.

When out hiking, I saw an odd-looking turd on the trail. Looking closer, I saw a label on it: "Made in Heaven by God. All rights reserved." And then more turds fell from the sky. Now I'm more careful, more skeptical, and carry an umbrella.

If I was a turd, I'd probably be a small, shy one, and would hardly ever squeak.

Nobody seems to throw snowballs at cars any more, or turds. Times change.

Spent a pleasant afternoon in the park, throwing turds at passersby, until I ran out. Then I ran away.

Took a turd to lunch last week. Quite an experience. Good conversationalist, though pretty much limited to talking about compost issues. Had a lot of flies come by to say hello.

 

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Have anything worth adding? Then try sosayseff@nullabigmail.com
Me? Never touch the stuff.

 

Etc...

so says eff: sporadic spurts of grade eff distraction
definitions: outdoor terms
fiyh: dave's little guide to ultralight backpacking stoves
boyb: dave's little guide to backpacks
snorpy bits: nibbling away at your sanity
last seen receding: missives from a certain mobile homer
noseyjoe: purposefully poking my proboscis into technicals

Taking Craving To The Raving Limit

I bought a tuna today. I'm going to name him Fred, assuming that I don't open the can and have him for lunch. I'm prone to that sort of recklessness with pets.

I bought my first bag of gruffy dust around 27 years ago, and have been using it ever since. One of these days I'll have to find out what it is. Great name though.

I can hear the termites whispering again. I really wish they go back to sliding notes under the door.

I can't say for sure what the future will bring, but it's a good bet that it won't happen yesterday. Unless I've screwed up again.

I could be out hiking now, but I'd miss all the action on the Cheese Channel. (It's Roquefort Week, featuring professional cheese squeezers.)

I craved something sweet so I filled the bathtub with maple syrup and put an ad on Craigslist for pancakes seeking adventure. Am almost drooling already.

 

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Have anything worth adding? Then try sosayseff@nullabigmail.com
Me? As if.

 

Etc...

so says eff: sporadic spurts of grade eff distraction
definitions: outdoor terms
fiyh: dave's little guide to ultralight backpacking stoves
boyb: dave's little guide to backpacks
snorpy bits: nibbling away at your sanity
last seen receding: missives from a certain mobile homer
noseyjoe: purposefully poking my proboscis into technicals

Proficiency At Lethargy

A sober snake race is less like absence through skin than afternoon lagoon wrestling, with snacks.

Gothic Arc Cheese Wheels or government by aliens? Take your pick. (Hint — One of these is already running.)

I am the son of the sun and more than the sum of my parts since I began pooping so very frequently so very recently.

I asked to have the pork for lunch and got a dirty look from the pig. Sure, he's like that, but I'm hungry, eh?

I ate something that disagreed with me. This is usually the quickest way to win an argument. Something you learn as you age and grow wiser.

I bit a snake yesterday. The little sucker was hissing at me from the sidelines.

 

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Have anything worth adding? Then try sosayseff@nullabigmail.com
Me? Trying to see how slow and low I can go.

 

Etc...

so says eff: sporadic spurts of grade eff distraction
definitions: outdoor terms
fiyh: dave's little guide to ultralight backpacking stoves
boyb: dave's little guide to backpacks
snorpy bits: nibbling away at your sanity
last seen receding: missives from a certain mobile homer
noseyjoe: purposefully poking my proboscis into technicals