Friday, June 24, 2011

Wednesday, June 22, 2011

Camp Auntie Kate: Pt. 3

Nephew: (Bounds down the stairs giggling hysterically)
Me: Were you visiting the bunny?
Nephew: Yeah! And he was playing with his tiger like this! And he jumped on him like this! And his tail was going like this! (proceeds to imitate the bunny humping a stuffed tiger while making a high-pitched screeching noise)

Tuesday, June 21, 2011

Camp Auntie Kate: Pt. 2

Me: So do you think your mom will let you come back and visit us again?
Nephew: No. You took me to a bar.
Me: That wasn't a bar. That was a restaurant.
Nephew: It was a bar. And you smell like beer.
Me: (silently questioning how many drinks I need to confuse a restaurant with a bar. Didn't I order him a piece of chocolate cake? That never came to the table?)

Monday, June 20, 2011

Camp Auntie Kate: Pt. 1

We've had my 9-year-old nephew staying with us over the weekend. This post is deserving of a few qualifiers: we are the derelict aunt and uncle of the family; we don't have our own kids yet; and we have no idea what to do with them or how to talk to them appropriately. Hence the following conversation:

Nephew (petting our bunny): Bunnies are soft. I wonder if people make coats out of them.
Me: They do. They kill them and make coats out of them.
Nephew (looking sad): But they let them get old and die and then make coats out of them?
Me: That's totally inefficient. Bunnies live, like, 7 or 8 years. They just let them get full grown and then kill them.
Nephew: Can't they just shave them?
Me: They make coats out of lots of animals. Do you know how much it costs to keep bunnies alive for 7 or 8 years? It's life in the big city.
Nephew: (looks forlornly at bunny and hugs him frequently for the rest of the day)

Tuesday, June 14, 2011


When your chicken starts pooping blood, the last thing you should look up is "chicken bloody poop." Ew.

Honestly, I don't understand how these chickens are still alive. Between eye infections and raccoon attacks and coccidiosis, I would think that standing upright and eating dandelions would be out of the question. But the wonderful thing about the questionable ooze constantly dripping out of their various orifices is that I've stopped panicking. No longer do I phone the farm animal vet in Batavia when I notice my chickens' toes aren't pointing in the right direction. I resist the urge to rocket to the nearest Tractor Supply for antibiotics when my chickens' poo is less consistent than cheese grits. By the time we have kids, I imagine they'll have to show up with a teeth sticking out of their foreheads before I take them to the hospital.

Friday, June 10, 2011

just hand over the diploma

Perhaps I'm jinxing this by writing when I still have about 36 hours left before I'm home, but for the last three weeks I have successfully avoided having to poop in the dorm bathroom while other people are in there. I feel like if I've ever wanted to accomplish something in my life, that was it.

I did not, however, avoid eating meat for the last three weeks, as I found the dorm cafeteria very confusing.