Side note, omnis checked in in Natter. He is backed up in Bitches, but hopefully will be posting with us before too long. When he gets here - We Have Missed You o_a!
Anya ,'Sleeper'
Spike's Bitches 48: I Say, We Go Out There, and Kick a Little Demon Ass.
[NAFDA] Spike-centric discussion. Lusty, lewd (only occasionally crude), risqué (and frisqué), bawdy (Oh, lawdy!), flirty ('cuz we're purty), raunchy talk inside. Caveat lector.
I'm shopping for onesies, and I just have to say WTF?
Oh! Baby thighs! (that is how I am going to start thinking of mine...baby fat)
I'm shopping for onesies, and I just have to say WTF?
Wow. Despairing for humanity now.
Finally caught up. Feel like there's a bunch of things I wanted to say, but they have all fallen out of my head. Will be heading out for lunch soon, caffeine will be applied. Fingers crossed that will help. Meanwhile, {{bitches}}.
Must be said again: oh, you guys. Just reading through all this kindness and wisdom has therapized me too.
I bring exciting news from the Hummingbird world: TWO little beaks are definitely poking up from the tiny nest.
We were in the middle of a nice long slow warm rain on Saturday (Thank you, Pineapple Express) and heard Little Buzz chirping at me. Scanned around, found her sitting on a tomato cage near one of the feeders. Then she sucked up a huge meal, flew over to her nest and delivered the goods to the babies. Now they are getting bigger and I can see their beaks from my spot next door on the ground.
Where are you, K.B.? Isn't it early for bird babies? What if there's another freeze?
worried for birds I never met
Don't worry about these babies. We're in temperate Hayward, California. Plenty of flowering plants around, and she picked a great place to stay dry.
I just showed the nest to a gang of Girl Scouts. They were all impressed. Now I have cookies.
I bring exciting news from the Hummingbird world: TWO little beaks are definitely poking up from the tiny nest.
Two tiny hummingbirds! Or one slightly larger mutant.
I am into the land of bad anniversaries. He was fighting so hard this time last year. So many harsh, invasive procedures. He had such hope that he was going to beat it. And he was responding well. His doctors were cautiously hopeful. And I'm replaying it my mind like a wretched Scandinavian drama, knowing everything is doomed to grief and despair.
He did everything they asked, he was as cheerful as he could be and gave hope to others on his path. And it did no fucking good. I can't bear to look at last year's calendar. A solid wall of doctors and chemo. He was making plans for After till the end, and I'm picking up the pieces of those plans every day.
My birthday is this Friday. The first cataract surgery is in two weeks. The car is making a weird noise that the garage can't find but doesn't seem ominous. I keep telling myself that this is just one of the many low points I'll hit, that there is an upslope not to far ahead. But the standard responses aren't being very helpful at the moment.