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The Great Fence Project Begins!

41 comments to The Great Fence Project Begins!

  • chondrite

    I don’t suppose Mr. Sparklie-Spit can magic loose the big weed root, without grunting and straining and digging? No? Too bad.

    • I wish….sigh. This sucker had the tap root from hell. I didn’t want to dig any larger a hole than I had to because the guys are going to set the posts in and I didn’t want to loosen more than I had to. This was some kind of volunteer tree, actually. It’s what we’ve had the center post tied to the last year. It had been whacked back several times. Once that fence was out of the way, I could get at it and dig it out…but it wasn’t easy. and today I had another old, established but ugly forsithia that never bloomed shrub to take out on the side of the driveway…so we had some place to put the fence panels. Glad something is finally gigging me into getting rid of these eye sores, but OMG…Just a little tired this evening!

      I am glad to be rid of them, tho. I think we’re going to put iris in along the drive.

  • Hanneke

    I like how his shoes and his outfits always fit what he’s doing. The sturdy workboots and overalls are perfect for the hard work on the fence. I hope their assistance made all this hard work a bit lighter, giving you both a chance to smile at something in between the lugging and digging.
    Wishing you strength to cope with the rest, and a nice warm bath with a glass of something relaxing for your backs afterwards.

    Ok, back to my ironing – I got about a third of my two-months-worth pile done yesterday, and aim to do the same tonight, while watching the Victorian gardener and cook work. All this hard work has inspired me right out of my obstinate lazy spell, happily! It’s good to feel that contented feeling from getting things done again.

    • ready4more

      This week I started on thyroid medication for the first time, and even though the instructions say that it will take two to four weeks to be fully effective, I can testify that the effects are already manifesting themselves. I actually “felt” like doing housework that has been staring back at me for eight months (since before the knee replacement). I know part of my malaise was caused by knee pain, lack of kinesthetic feel for the ground and balance caused by the nerve damage, and an inability to get up and down on my knees, but if I’d known I was going to feel so much better so fast I would have banged my shoe on a podium demanding disarmament (uh, actually medication) ages ago.

      • Isn’t it amazing!?! They always say that “two to six weeks” for psychological effects but I have to believe that’s for people looking for gross effects, and not very in tune with the subtleties of their own mind. I just started on the lowest dose of Welbutrin and CJC could tell partway through the day of my first dose. My nerves have been hair-triggered for, well, a long time now. I truly haven’t recognized myself, I was getting so negative… and frantic, and within a day i was feeling a lot like my old self. I was able to write a blog post in fifteen minutes that would have taken me a day only the day before.

        I’ve always been bad about second guessing myself and my decisions, and it had gotten entirely out of hand. I wasn’t expecting it to help that at all, and I’ve been able to get some writing done every day since I started.

      • CJ

        Yay! we know how that feels!

    • I have such fun with his clothes! These overalls actually came from a GIJoe doll, which means everything is just a little long. I think it’s so cute…like he needs to grow into it. He’s got the cutest outfit his Momma-D sent him for his birthday that he’ll wear for gardening: bibbed shorts. So cute! I have a link somewhere to little gardening slipons that should fit him…can’t remember what you call them. He really needs a pair, but I wasn’t crazy about the colors they offered last year. Hopefully they’ll have a different selection this year.

  • chondrite

    I’ve been straining my brain, trying to decide where to temporarily put baby cactuses so the guy who trims our trees won’t step on them. That’s the trouble with xeriscaping; until it gets established, it is prone to damage from people who aren’t paying as much attention as they should, and besides, I don’t want to puncture Manny’s feet. I think I will have to move them closer to the wall by my front door and grub out the weeds there.

    • ready4more

      If Manny Yard-man is likely to come over at scheduled days and times, it is easiest to get a really large pot and place upside down over the cacti for a limited length of time. Your little saguaro is probably over five years old and it would be a real shame to lose the little guy. They are incredibly slow growing unless they are getting too much water, in which case the roots will rot and one day a wind will cause it to topple over. We are in an area that is borderline too wet and too high for saguaro to thrive. Our neighbor across the street lost a hundred year old saguaro a few winters ago when the rains looked like they might break the area drought and then we had a freeze and 50 knot winds. That same winter we lost a barrel cactus whose roots (filaments really) couldn’t keep the winds from rolling it out into the street. Lesson here is: DON’T OVERWATER. Saguaros like sunshine but usually grow in partial shade from palo verde or mesquite bushes until they are about 25 years old, so they won’t get sunburned and moisture is regulated. At about that age they start stealing water from their nursery bush and are then hardy enough to survive most encounters with weather conditions.

      • chondrite

        Our side of the island is actually classified as desert, which may break some people’s brains πŸ™‚ We are in the wind shadow of Haleakala, so the rain gets deposited on the windward side where the clouds pile up, but the leeward side largely stays dry. You call it mesquite, we call it kiawe. Mr. Saguaro gets about a pint of water a week, unless he looks to be less green. I recycle my washing machine water onto various plants, and all the succulents and cactuses love the extra phosphates.

      • This is so interesting. It’s funny. You think of succulants as easy to grow. Obviously, that’s not true.

  • CJ

    Put either some large pots or decorative stakes next to the cacti; or one of those round grids on stakes that we use for peony-propping. Not too attractive in the first year, but protective.

    • chondrite

      I have one of those on the one cactus I hope takes off — a saguaro! The others are common, but this would be a show stopper. There are a few scattered around the islands, like the one on the W side of Molokai. When I first saw it, I did a double take. This one is still small, only the size of a softball, but I have dreams.

  • Looks like rain this evening and maybe tomorrow. Needed, so I’m not complaining.

    I’ll need to get back on the ball, toward cleanup and repairs. — The gardening talk has me wishing I was better skilled and could take the time with that instead of other things, but…one thing at a time. πŸ™‚

    I need to put a new office chair together, to replace my current one before it gives up the ghost. When I do, I’ll likely take some pictures of the yard, now that it’s cleaned up, and some pix of the Toy Box Tales crew…before Hanneke launches a Dutch invasion. πŸ˜€ (Besides, I will need some balance between work and relaxation.)

    • mitha

      It may be that the civic club did you a sort of favor, after all, however inconveniently timed, since it sounds like their complaints were of the “curb appeal” variety. If you are thinking that you may want to sell your house, even some time in the next 5 years or so, those things will have to be done anyway. From personal experience, I can attest that it is much more fun to do them while you are still able to enjoy them as a resident.

  • Hanneke

    If it was me looking up into the trees while I’m trimming them, I’d probably forget and completely overlook some of the pots or plant-supports, stakes or low plants/cacti that would be hanging around at foot-level, and either kick them or stumble over them, thus still flattening some of them as well as myself.
    Maybe your Manny is a lot less clumsy and a lot more coordinated than I am, but if they can be moved out of the way without too much trouble it might be safer…
    Do young cacti have much of a root system? Could you put them in pots or some other temporary containers on a windowsill, patio or outdoor table? If it’s dry and they don’t need watering even cardboard boxes might work, and plastic bags work well as long as the plants don’t get flooded out by rain, if you forget to put a few holes in the bottom of those before you put the plants in. The sizes, from lunchbag through shopping bag to garbage bag, are diverse enough to accomodate anything from seedlings to bushes, temporarily, and the height is easily adjusted by rolling down the sides, which also makes the edge sturdier.

    • Hanneke

      Ack, that was meant as an answer to Chondrite & CJ.

      Also, I can endorse Chondrite’s suggestion of a dandelion-sticker. Mine doesn’t have the long handle, so I just sit in the grass to use it, but it makes a tremendous difference in trying to get my scrap of lawn back, even though there were at least eight new plants this morning, after I’d ended last year by taking out at least fifty from a 2 by 3 meters area!

      But I hate the root-propagating weeds worse. I’m plagued with ground elder and houttuynia in the front garden, and they are impossible to get rid of without something like Preen. I tried gardening organically for years, but in regard to these weeds i’ve given that up.
      Since the council started cutting back on the weeding in the bushy street border just around the corner, it’s become overrun with several kinds of weeds, stinging nettles, dandelions and cleavers, and I’m getting the last two in my garden as well. The dandelions are mostly a pest in the scrap of grass, but the cleavers (Galium aparine) are related to the sweet woodruff (galium odoratum,whose Dutch name is Dear-Lady’s-bedstraw), which I have as a ground cover under the taller plants and bushes in half my borders, and those leaves and growth are so similar it’s quite hard to pick them out when they’re young, and impossible to use Preen on. I can keep on picking the long stems of the weed out of the groundcover, but it’s almost impossible to get the roots that way, and the problem is getting worse. And all because the council is econimising on their maintenance of the public green spaces. A homeowner whose garden becomes a source of weeds gets into trouble, like the kind someone tried to start for BCS, but the council can’t be forced to clean up their bits, if it isn’t in their budget…

      Still, even though the weeds are growing like weeds ;), I love how green everything outdoors is getting, and how there’s flowers everywhere, and the birds singing, and sunshine!

  • CJ

    And…from Hanneke, a question for Jane: re Shu and the glass dragon…
    April 13, 2014 at 2:23 pm Β· Reply Β· Edit

    Okay, I’ll bite, ’cause Jane tells entertaining stories.
    Hi Jane, what did Shu do this morning? Did he get out while you were so busy in the garden? Or was he so disgruntled about not being allowed out to be with his humans he did something really naughty?

    Do I understand correctly that you are now using the tarpaulin as a temporary sort of fence, so you don’t have to put those huge heavy panels propped up around the inner part of your garden?
    That sounds like a very good idea, with hopefully much less manhandling needed to pile them up in the driveway or somewhere, instead of all over the flowerbeds with the attendant risks of them falling over and crushing your plants.”

  • Isharell

    I understand you lost a glass dragon, Jane. It’s terrible when one loses a treasure and I feel badly for you. Try to remind yourself that your baby didn’t do it on purpose.

    Since it was glass I don’t suppose there is any chance of saving any of it. I am very sorry.

    This appears to be a dangerous time for dragons. We lost a green shiny 3″ dragon last night. Our huge King Tut picture fell – just fell — straight down off the wall, peeling a chunk of drywall off the wall as it went. It landed (still upright, thank heavens) on the buffet below and knocked into the large wooden display we got with our 12 small dragons. I think they were from Hamilton Collection. the green one went sailing and shattered on the floor. It was Mom’s favorite, naturally. πŸ™ The two ugliest got knocked off onto the buffet but suffered no damage, also naturally. I don’t think it can be saved but we gathered all the pieces we could find. We’ll give it a shot.

    Thankfully, Tut didn’t fall forward, just straight down, or we’d have lost everything on the buffet and it would have likely flipped over and crashed onto the floor, too – it’s big. The thought of all that glass shattering makes me sick. It just missed my two huge (one 12″ hi and the other about the same long) dragons by – if I remember correctly – Enesco. I’ve had them for many years and they don’t make these colors anymore (one green and one brown, both with shiny gold accents and pinkish and blue scales in parts – oh they are gorgeous) – they are my special treasures. My big dragons have now been moved to (hopefully) safer environs. the little ones are on the nearest bookshelf, waiting while we beg my brother to come out and fix the wall. There is no way I am getting on a stepladder – well, I say that now, but I will probably wind up doing it myself. I just have to gear myself up to do it – my balance isn’t so good and I don’t do well with heights.

    As for Tut, he is still on the buffet, leaning back against the wall. That sucker can stay there while we decide what to do with his heavy self. we had thought it was really well fastened with picture hooks *and* screws. Guess that really wasn’t a wall stud we fastened it to, after all.

    • Heh heh…thanks! You had a far greater scare than I, tho I was half asleep when the little so and so pulled the stunt. I’m not really upset. It was a nice spun glass dragon that I’ve had for a long time, but it was a long way from my heart. Shu, OTOH was tossed out on his kitty-tail and fastened out of the room until I was ready to give him his breakfast. He’s been extremely good ever since. Can’t tell me they don’t make associations! πŸ˜€ He was so cute the following AM. Didn’t bother me at all. Just licked my nose when I started to rouse…then disappeared over the edge of the bed. Next thing I know, *thump thump thump*…he’s walking on his wheel. I glance over. He stops. Meets my eyes, and say “good kitty.” He comes over, licks my nose again, then goes back: *thump thump thump* double time. Another “good kitty”. A third “thump” and I gave in and gave him some treats. He was very happy. πŸ˜€

      • Isharell

        Oh, yes, he knew he’d been bad. Those scientists who say dogs and cats can’t remember anything unusual happening are full of it. By next week, sure, he’ll have forgotten (unless it was seriously traumatic, like, oh, say, a pet gate falling on them. Remy will never ever forget that and stays well away from them and from anything similarly clattery) but for a few hours or a day or so, yes, I think they remember when they’ve been bad or upset. And they always know just what to do to get mommy or daddy happy again, too. little devils. πŸ™‚

  • Isharell

    As a separate message I admire your and CJ’s stamina and determination. That fence project – I’ve been shuddering at the prospect of it ever since the issue was raised. Good luck and don’t worry about the diet while you slog away at that sucker. Rest all you can and ice up or slap on the heat pad, whichever works best.

    Oh, and I love the outfit Wiishu was wearing. It was just perfect.

    • Tee hee hee. Tanks you! I wubs dat outfits.

      As for the fence, I’m just glad someone who really knows what they’re doing is putting it in. As we take it apart, I see sooooo many ways an amateur could screw up! I’m doing fine…tired, but it’s a good physical kinda tired. We’ve got it in pretty good shape for the guys to start work tomorrow. A bonus is getting these unwanted shrubs and small trees out. And the tarp-fence is in place. I’ll be soooo happy when it’s done and I can finally actually finish the vision in some of these places around the garden…esp the little corner spring/rivulet/small secondary pond project. I’ve got to get some piping to set in after the fence is in place so we can bury a “hard” hose between the faucet and the “back 40” where the little stream will be. We’ve needed water back there since we moved in and this is the perfect time to arrange it. Hopefully after this year, the last of the “construction phase” will be over and we can go on to just play with it.

  • Sometimes I wish we were in a house so we could make a beautiful backyard. Then I see all the work my friends with yards put into it and my various arthritises, neuropathy and chronic never-will-heal injuries during my short dance career tell me to enjoy the beautiful landscaping our apartment complex and my work (a school campus) do and I enjoy the colours and such at those places. Nice to live where the apt complex does plant flowers and a workplace that has all sorts of plant life thriving.

    • Indeed! I go back and forth. Sometimes I love the work, sometimes I just want to blow it up. πŸ˜€ Fortunately, the former is far more frequent than the latter. I’m so glad I’m free of major physical problems. A little arthritis, some hip problems from over extension during my own dance period, some other stuff not worth mentioning, but mostly, the exercise just makes me feel better (good old endorphins) and I love the feeling of creating stuff!

  • It has been raining nearly all day. It was very dark out as early as 9 or 10, and got gradually darker and darker, and the bottom fell out. Around noon until about an hour or less ago, it grew truly black out, but without other precursors to tornado weather.

    It’s now cleared up to moderately dark and the rain has slacked off some. I’m not sure if we’ll get more tonight or tomorrow.

    So…no activitiy outside today.

    Also, I’m a slacker. I’ve been writing. I should’ve taken time to pay bills. I will have to do that tomorrow morning, if I don’t do it later tonight.

    The writing went pretty well, but surprised me again. Um…golly…but at least somewhere in fiction-land, two guys are…ah, it got steamy. :blush: (There was angst beforehand, which I still can’t seem to avoid.) I would like to write anything like that, where they simply…enjoy being together.

    However, I will be thinking more about the anti-hero ship as protagonists idea, which I think might be productive, to get me over a plateau as (still) a beginning fiction writer.

    I ran across an unusual Celtic (Irish) name, too: Cathair is the old spelling. Cahir is the more modern spelling. Either way, it’s pronounced Kah-HEERR. (Not Kah-THAIR as it looks.) … And I had trouble thereafter, when my brain tried to parse it, “Cat-hair.” Which no doubt will permanently irritate anyone out there named Cathair. This led to wondering how a guy would deal with a name spelled like that. Heh. But it also led to thinking of nicknames: Cat? Might work, still mostly manly. Kitty-Cat? Might be pushing it a bit, buster. Kitty? No. Kitten? Not likely unless you want a “discussion” about it…. (Or, y’know, unless you say it really, really nicely and offer a nice date….) OK, still, probably not. Tiger, though, that might work. — But I’m not sure anyone would believe it as a character name. I’m still having trouble parsing it. Cat-hair? No, no, this so invites a fight, even with someone peacefully minded. Ca-thair? That sounds good, exotic, interesting. But it’s not how Irish people say it. Ca-hir, like the more modern spelling, will probably win out. But I have this sneaky desire to give a character the spelling, Cathair, and make a whole big deal out of it with his buddies. Heheheh. (I am used to that, given my own full name. — Ben, short for Benjamin, is my *middle* name.)

    • Hanneke

      That sounds to me like a perfect name for some Celtic-inspired modern fantasy. What if one of the little Celtic other-folk had that name (not one of the big hitters because that would get too dark, but maybe something like a hob or so), and emigrated to America, maybe at the time of the potato famine and mass Irish immigration…
      Then a modern-day protagonist finds the name written down somewhere, maybe in old family records, and starts trying to call it up and/or command it. Every time he gets it wrong, the hob plays tricks on him, like all his shoelaces get tangled up, or all his left shoes migrate to the attic – you could have a lot of fun thinking up creative pranks that are irritating to have happen to oneself, but still funny to read. The protagonist would have to find out how the hob is really called before managing to come to an agreement, to get the tricks to stop and maybe get some of the help he wanted in the first place; maybe by making friends with the new Irish or Scottish immigrant boy down the street, who can speak the Gaelic and warn him about not antagonizing the Little Folk; or by looking up his old grandma in the nursing home, and building up that relationship by getting her to talk about her childhood, and the stories her mum told her about the Old Country …
      I can see ideas for funny and good feeling stories coming from a name like that, but I’ll never be a writer, so if anything I ever say here sparks the imagination of anyone who can do something with it, please feel free to use it!

    • ready4more

      All the Cahirs I know all pronounce their names as “car” although they are at least two generations removed from the auld sod, so that might be a reflection of pronunciation drift.

    • πŸ˜€ πŸ˜€ πŸ˜€

  • Hmm… Now you all have me thinking. Thanks, Hanneke.

    “Car,” huh? Snicker. A “magicked” car….

    There are possibilities.

    I have a previous idea that would suit a Halloween season theme, a story that starts with something fairly mundane. That one, I think needs to stay as is, though I wasn’t sure, last October, how to proceed.

    Hmm, but the idea of a transplanted hob or brownie or other of the wee fair folk, running around here in America, after the potato famine or some such, and others mixed up in it by chance…. Hmm, this has definite possibilities. I do, however, need to know more about Celtic / Scots / Irish myths myself.

    There’s a very old (Middle English or earlier) poem about, “Oh, wight in the broom,” that involves (what else?) a wight and a broom. At the time I read it (college, English lit. class) I’d never heard of a wight. Chances are, this would have to be included too, for fun.

    (There are at least Brodies back in my family tree, and others who were English and Scots. So yes, some of my ancestors probably painted themselves blue and wore kilts. πŸ™‚ )

    Oh, almost forgot: The etymology for Cathair / Cahir says it’s something like “Battle Man,” with CathΓ‘n meaning “Little Battle, Little Fighter,” and a few others. These were at BehindTheName.com under Irish Names.

    And…I wish there was a way to search for a name by looking up keywords in the name’s meaning. — I’d like to find a name that means “freckled” or “speckled” or “brindled,” but haven’t run across anything.

    Och, I think there’s a Scottish Tale a-brewin’, me lads an’ lasses.

  • I now have the start of a…something…in which an unsuspecting…someone…has moved a…something…to a…somewhere.

    Our young hero doesn’t know anything about that yet, and only thinks his whole world has gone crazy without anyone first consulting him about it.

    But they probably wouldn’t, him being young and all.

    He doesn’t know the half of it yet! …But that’s probably because I don’t know the half of it yet. I haven’t thought it up yet!

    Somehow, I have to get him into things, introduce whatever the problems are, the other characters, including our hob/brownie whoever, who’s had a dim opinion of rotten potatoes for some while now, and then…figure out the rest from there.

    As if that’s not enough, I somehow introduced a potential plot complication that I don’t think any of the existing characters (young hero, mom, and dad) are expecting yet or know how to deal with…despite that they’re the ones who did it.

    A couple of pages with nams and other items to keep track of so my brain doesn’t lose it. About 12 pages of meandering young teenage character’s thoughts. He seems to have managed a mostly-believable rather outraged but not-me personality. Looking good so far.

    I have a couple of other characters in mind, but I haven’t figured out how they fit with our hero, or if they do. But they seemed like a good counterpoint to the hob, brownie, or whatever he or she is. Current thinking is that at least one grandmother is inconveniently not among the living. However, there might be another one poking around somewhere, undetermined as yet.

    Oh, and there’s also a wandering raccoon, who may provide some confusion vis-Γ -vis leprechauns and the aforementioned bad potatoes.

    So…well, it’s early. I don’t know quite what I’ve got yet, or quite where it’s going.

    I’m fairly pleased with how the young hero has turned out so far. Hoping to stay consistent in his characterization and build on it.

    Now if I can just figure out why I had the apparent problem the young hero can’t figure out the answer to.

    Aha! Think I’ve got it! Something he doesn’t expect, because he expects it to make sense! Aha! Got it! Bwahahah!

    (But it’s already not quite what I thought. I think it’s going good, though.)

  • ready4more

    My favorite of the “Scots” critturs was the “selkie” which took the form of a horse. Once mounted by its prey, the selkie would return to water (a stream or river) and plunge into it drowning the poor benighted fool. I believe the selkies were part of the lowland Scots tradition rather than upland or highland Scots.

    The Scottish emigration dates from the time when sheep were introduced to Scotland and the moors were enclosed (fenced) by English-based aristocracy shutting the people away from the sources of their livelihood. This happened about a hundred or more years before the Irish potato famine.

  • ready4more

    I misspoke above, that should be a kelpy (kelpie). The selkie is a human/seal combination. Try looking through the tales collected at http://www.electricscotland.com/kids/stories/... A second source is http://www.educationscotland.gov.uk/scotlandsstories/

  • Hanneke

    Is Kelpie the Scots name for a Pooka? R.A. MacAvoy’s book I loved best was The Grey Horse, about an Irish Pooka, though it isn’t a traditional fairy tale.

  • I don’t know kelpies, but should. The selkie, also sylkie, I think, was a human form on land and a seal when at sea, in the water. (There is an old folk song sung by Joan Baez and others over the years. The song tells of a selkie man who loved a human woman, and comes to tell her of his son’s impending fate. Those medieval folks could be quite melancholy.)

    The English surname (family name) Seales (and other spellings) is related to the selkie legends. (And there are cousins in my family tree on my dad’s side, by that name.)

    My own family name is either northern English, from along the Scots border, or else it’s an old German or Dutch dialect form that kept (or adopted) a more English spelling. …There’s a connection back to old legends there too. Apparently, in medieval England, some people believed if you were extremely fair haired or fair skinned, especially if your hair color could vary, near white as children or in summer, through darker blond or even going brown or black in adulthood (or darkening slightly in winter) then this indicated somehow you likely had a connection to the elves, perhaps even friends or a changeling. Then that could be a good or bad thing, depending on people’s attitudes regarding elves, changelings, and the like. — My dad and all his siblings were pale white-blond as children, and their hair darkened in their teens. All but my uncle became brown or black haired. My uncle’s hair turned dark blond. — My own hair was a regular blond as a kid, and has darkened somewhat as I grew up. It was straight, though, as a kid, but once my teens started, it went very wavy and stayed that way. — I look mostly northern European, but there are probably a few other non-European ancestors in my family tree.

    One of the things I find interesting is how European folklore kept its oldest Indo-European connections, then separated somewhat, but seems to have remixed over the centuries, so there are some similarities. Yet there are still distinctly “English” or “Gaelic” or “Germanic” things to their stories.


    After lunch, I had a single image pop in my brain for another story, then had a real problem figuring out how they got from there to whatever happened next. Thought for a while, I’d painted myself into an unsolvable corner. Then I think I’ve worked it out.

    So today has been entirely writing, two different ideas.

    Meanwhile, I still have to figure out the story with the boy hero and the hob or brownie (or whatever sort of being he/she is).

    And I need to decide how those anti-hero protagonists (piratical folk?) are set up.

    Er, gotta pay bills tomorrow morning and get those in the mail though. Heh.

    I’m off to fix rice for a stir-fry, then take a break for a bit, before I watch Jim Henson’s Creature Shop, 9 central on SyFy. πŸ˜‰

    Oh, and apparently, Smokey feels terribly ignored and unloved and might be about to faint from hunger. He claims. (There’s dry food from this morning. He wants attention. And food, food. LOL.)

    • chondrite

      At one point I had started a story with a side character, an inept secretary who was only able to keep up with her filing due to a brownie’s intervention. The brownie had become addicted to reading the trashy romance novels the secretary kept in her desk drawer…

      Are Zorro and Smokey distant cousins? She acts exactly the same way, although with a bit of justification; I didn’t notice until later this morning that her dry food had an ant infestation. Out with the unauthorized beasties!

  • Heh, I’m pretty sure Smokey and Shu are distant cousins. Wouldn’t put it past Zorro, either.

    Goober tends to be more quietly insistent, but also knows how to get his point across. Give ’em a chance, and they’re smart so-and-so’s. Not that they don’t have their foibles or make mistakes; they do. (As with Jane’s dragon, alas.)

    Heheh, I like that story idea, Chondrite. πŸ˜€

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