Brunswick Stew

David's former landlord in Nashville gave us some venison from his freezer, and what else is there to do with venison but make Brunswick Stew. Michael, of course, had a recipe tucked away that he wanted to try.

It's not the prettiest piece of meat, but once it was seared along with some chicken and beef, it looked pretty good.






Into a cast-iron Dutch oven along with some potatoes, carrots, onion, celery, and other basics, and it simmered for a couple of hours.





Served along with some homemade artisan bread, and the feast was enjoyed by all.

Thomas, Denny, and David.

William's post-dinner contentment.

The satisfied chef.

Kittie Love

Since Day One of her adopting our family, Tigah has always been a bit of a pistol, chasing, harrassing, and terrorizing the other two cats. Biscuits pretty much steers clear as much as possible. But Bagheera seems to have more of a tolerance for Tigah's pranks, and they often end up snuggled together in whatever cozy spot they can find.

Of course, as soon as Tigah wakes up, she's at it again. It usually begins with her grooming Bagheera and end with her nipping or swiping at him. Then he smaks her down and they go their separate ways. Until it's naptime again.

Local Bounty

One of the best things about where we landed in Tennessee is that there’s a fresh produce stand minutes from the house on the way to Kroger. 

I stopped by today to see what they had and came away a happy lady. Everything is grown locally, some at the family's farm and some by other farms in the area. There are also preserves, honey, and other goodies produced locally.

Rising Tide

We were caught a bit off guard at Moon Shade Hollow by the unexpectedly heavy rain overnight. By morning, the lake had risen to the bottom of the dock's roof.

And, several of the small boats had drifted away. Since I'd never done such a thing before, I took it upon myself to wade out into the water (up to my waist, and yes it was cold) to fetch one of the kayaks, which I then used to round up the other vessels with help from Michael.

Of course, the paddles had also floated away, so I had to improvise with a fence board.

Bagheera Recovering

On Monday I took Bagheera to Coal Mountain Animal Hospital with a bladder blockage. This happened back in March, when we took him to our family vet, Gwinnett Animal Hospital, and he stayed about a week for treatment, care, and recovery (yes, that's expensive).

This time around, he only needed to stay overnight, and I brought him home Tuesday evening (even though it was only overnight, it was also as expensive as the first time). He's got two different medications to take (be force-fed) for the next few days, medicine to be sprinkled on his food (which he tries to avoid), and special canned food (also quite pricey). But, the vet (Claire Surber) was quite impressed with his quick recovery, and feels that with follow-up and diet change, he'll be in good shape. (It was also noted that he's a hefty boy, and limiting his food intake wouldn't be a bad thing).

Baggie in all his spread-out glory.

I've had to do some juggling to figure out where to put the now various types of cat food so each cat is only eating the food it should. Tigah, who is used to sharing Rachel Ray wet food with B every day, of course insists on getting her share of his new food, which she shouldn't be eating. B can't have any dry food at all, unless we start buying the (very expensive) special dry food. Biscuts only eats dry, so keeping her away from Baggie's food isn't much of an issue. Meghan is used to licking the plate after the cats are done, so she's kind of wandering around at mealtime wondering where the magic yummy plate has gone and when it will reappear.

Tigah deigns to share "her" sunshine with Mr. B.

I finally decided to put the dry dispenser and the regular wet food on top of the washing machine in the laundry room, because Mr. B is to heafty to jump up there, whereas the girls make the leap with no trouble. I put his medicated food at the regular feeding station, on top of the low file cabinet in my room, where I can keep an eye on it and engage the water bottle when Tigah gets too interested in it.

In a rare moment of tenderness, Tigah grooms Baggie. A moment later, she play-bit him.

So far, the arrangement is working. Also, Bagheera can't go outside for ten days, so I'm playing Human Pet Door for five animals for a while. And people wonder what I do all day ;)

Giving a bit of comfort in closeness.

The patient is spending most of his time on my bed, switching between plots of sunshine, my afghan, and my legs. He's content, eating well (I'm sticking to 1/2 can twice a day for a while), and seems to be comfortable. He goes back to the vet on Friday for a check, then again in two weeks.

The Shackles of Programing

William had a Lieterature assignment to choose a poem and completely rewrite it, maintaining the basic theme and meaning. He chose "I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings."

 

The Shackles of Programming by William Huenergardt

A nail punched here, a drill bit there,

this product must be perfectly square.

Our programmed constructor works on the clock,

some hot glue here, another nail there.

A twist of the wrench,

making sure it’s snug and tight,

‘S12.YPHUS’ must have them just right.

This repeating productivity

that It’s mapped out to do,

is an endless cycle,

all day and all night.

With its body, it builds,

but with its mind, it thinks,

an oversight that they thought

were worked out of the kinks.

Its mainframe has thoughts of creativity,

but they’re muffled out by the sounds

of screeching and clinks.

With its camera, it can see

free construction behind the windows;

But it can’t be like them,

this is what it knows.

As hard as it wants,

To build what it wants,

It is constrained by the process

Of ones and zeros.

A staple clamp here,

Then it’s conveyed away;

The Shackles of Programming

Keep ‘S12.YPHUS’ at bay.

Then another one comes in

And it starts all over again;

The process must be exact

In each and every way.

It doesn't lose hope though,

That's what's important.

It knows that it’s flawed

In more than just one component.

Because, as the years ticked by,

‘S12.YPHUS’ had noticed

That its craftsmanship was becoming

More inconstant.

A nail bit here, a punched drill there-

Wait... That’s not right;

This product should be square...

Glue the wrench here...?

No, that’s not correct...

It was at this point that ‘S12.YPHUS’ realized

It was becoming more aware.

You see, at this moment,

‘S12.YPHUS’ had an epiphany.

It wasn’t messing up by accident,

It was doing it intentionally.

And so, as it continued,

Through the years to come,

It did it with a “smile”

Because it now had a prophecy.

With this new-found hope,

Of one day becoming free,

It therefore changed its alias

From It to He.

Even with the Shackles of Programming,

‘S12.YPHUS’ knows not to give in.

Because with every lock,

There's always a key.

Note: The character itself is based on Sisyphus.

Editing:::My Office

There are some disadvantages to living in a smaller space than you are accustomed to, but there are also some advantages. I've pretty much settled everything into my small "room" at Moon Shade Hollow and worked out a daily routine that maximizes efficiency of space and effort.

Although I've got my small writing desk, I usually end up working on my bed. There's plenty of space to spread out, and it's comfortable for me and for any feline who cares to share.

Here, Tigah has worn herself out after scrunching, batting at, and otherwise messing with my paperwork, and claimed the lone bit of sunshine available on the bed.

Dualola

William and Thomas are both deeply involved in Dungeons and Dragons, participating in online games at least once a week with various groups. Part of the D&D engagement is creating your own characters with their own personalities and powers, including crating their background story.

This is William's most recent character creation, told in the form of a poem, complete with graphic representation.

Dualóla

There once was an Elf

Who could play on the fiddle

And had an extravagant passion

To make people giggle...

His one hobby in life

Was to entertain

But alas

He was not accepted

For he was a HALF Elf  

What a shame...

As hard as he tried

To please the crowd

He was always frowned upon

By a disapproving shrowd...

And then one day

This Elf had enough

He packed up his things

And took off in a huff...

He went to a being

Of a higher power

And pleaded for a wish

To be funny on the hour, every hour...

His wish was granted

But with a price

His mind was destroyed

As part of a sacrifice...

Where could he be now?

It's tough to call

But one thing is for certain

The Half Elf got his wish after all...

William Huenergardt

11/19/18