I'm a Night Owl

You Burn the Midnight Oil

No matter how hard you try, you just don't make a good morning person. You probably don't feel like your brain turns on until at least noon. You tend to get energized and inspired late into the evening - no matter how early you had to get up. Try to schedule your time so that you can be productive after dark. There's no use fighting who you are.

What's Your Energy Type?

Blogthings: We'll Tell You The Truth... Someone Has To!

idioglossia

idioglossia\ id-ee-uh-GLOS-ee-uh \ , noun;
1. A private form of speech invented by one child or by children who are in close contact, as twins.
2. A pathological condition in which a person's speech is so severely distorted that it is unintelligible.

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Or, maybe how we Texans talk. For example, in Tex-speech, my sister Sharon's name is pronounced "Shurren".

If I Had a Daughter...

She'd probably look and act something like this young girl.

She'd most likely sing and curse like this, too.

WARNING! Some graphic language!

Beer Gear

I got a Coors gear catalog in the mail yesterday; I was surprised at how much all the stuff cost - tshirts for $18.50, sweatshirts for forty bucks and up, etc. There was even a Coors beer can mini-fridge for $180 (plus shipping and handling!). (online store)

I'll never buy any beer or liquor shirts; I've got loads left over from when I worked at the pkg. store...and I got those for free. I still get some free stuff now 'n then because when I see one of the vendors at the grocery store I ask 'em if they've got anything. Most of the time they don't - they tell me that part of the budget has been cut way back - but sometimes they do.

What gets me is that, if I bought something, it'd be free advertising for them. Seems like they should furnish the clothing and pay me!

P.O.'d Possum

The noise at around :28 seconds in is the Beej, annoyed that I was outside and not paying attention to him. Later in the vid I'm poking a stick near the cage.

Who'd a Thunk Punk?

You Are Punk Music

You've thought long and hard about what mainstream society has to offer... And you've pretty much decided that most normal things aren't for you. You're creative, expressive, and likely to do things yourself. You are a rebel and a fighter. You'll defend your point of view to anyone.

What Kind of Music Are You?

Blogthings: We're Not Shrinks, But We Play Them On the Internet

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I certainly agree with the parts in bold.

This Possum's Not Playing

One down, dunno how many more to go.

My faithful readers have probably noticed I haven't posted much; I've explained before that my connection has slowed to a crawl, but before I have the telephone people out, I wanted to run a new line to my computer,just so they wouldn't have anything to complain about on my end.

A couple of weeks ago, I decided I'd run the new line under the house so I got all the stuff together and made my way through the crawl space at the side of my hovel house. I hadn't gone very far -scootching along on my back, the floor joists just a few inches above my face -when I heard a strange noise, almost a cross between a growl and a hiss. I slowly turned my head and came face-to-face with one pissed off possum.

The details are a bit fuzzy, but I do remember trying to jerk myself upright, but there wasn't enough room for me to raise my head very much and I banged my noggin on one of the beams. Thank goodness I had a thick sock cap on to protect my head from the nasty, damp dirt (it had been raining) or I might have done some serious damage to my otherwise thick skull. I'm not for sure how long I was out - couldn't have been too long - but when I woke up there was a possum chewing on my pants leg.

I made my way out from under the house and after a couple of days recuperation from what I'm sure was a fairly good concussion, I found a trap my nephew had given me and set it up by the entrance to the crawl space. (it took me a while to figure out the simple mechanism, and I'm sure the blow to my head had something to do with my cognitive skills)

It took a few tries to get the trap working properly, but I found out what possums like to eat; wieners, chicken bones, lunch meat, etc. They don't seem to like bananas or strawberries though. As I said, I wasn't setting the trap properly and the bait was stolen several times (except for the fruit, they left that alone)

I found this little guy in the trap the next morning and he wasn't pleased at all to be cooped up. Still angry over nearly knocking myself out, I thought I might just shoot the little bugger, but decided I'd better just take him out to the country and let him go. (Still, I secretly hoped a coyote would give him a slow, painful death.)

It rained all the next day and I didn't release him as planned. Checking on him (and feeding it a couple of weiners)I saw it looked miserable and cold. I found an old towel, covered the cage and brought it on the porch. (and now need to clean the possum poop off the porch and will do so as soon as it dries up) I drove just past the city limits the next day and released it near a tree-filled gully. I'm sure it was as glad to get away from me as I was from it.

I've got a video I took just before I released it and will post it as soon as I get my connection sorted out. This photo took about five minutes+ to upload, so there's no way a video would be feasible at this time.

Not sure how many more are under my house, but I'm bringing a baseball bat the next time I venture under there. I'll probably wind up knocking myself out with it if I get scared again.

(There you go, Colleen! Stay tuned for the video!)