whoops

Soooooo grad school swallowed me whole. The last several months have been nothing short of mind-numbing. Since my last post I have:

• Gone on tour with my band, during which we were called the wrong name on the radio several times.
• Consumed at least 40 bottles of wine and 100 pots of coffee. A modest estimate.
• Read the Hunger Games Trilogy TWICE.
• Watched several more of my friends sadly succumb to parenthood.
  
• Been mistaken for a local celebrity.
• Gotten a big-ass tattoo (not to be mistaken for a big ass tattoo).
• Fought off a rabid raccoon.

I'm so sorry I have deprived the blogosphere of these stories.

why hello there

Oh Lord. Too busy. You'd think that by quitting one and a half jobs, I would have more time to do stuff like type on the computer. Not so. This weekend will be my first weekend home in over a month.

FINALLY!

Now I can get to stuff like, making Mitch clean out the chicken coop. Or making Mitch mow the lawn. Or making Mitch turn the compost. Get to it!

Anyway, I had this revelation today. Grad school might not actually be worth the money.

WHAT???!?!?!!?

Yeah uh-huh. See...when you have to take out like, $25K in student loans, and then you actually have to pay it back, you're in kind of a pickle. Especially if the degree only increases your earning potential by, say, $10K a year or something. You might think, "but it'll only take you 2.5 years to earn it back." You're cute. Taking into account the two years I took off to earn this degree (thereby not earning as much) and interest, it will take a little longer. Not to mention, I have suddenly rendered myself too expensive to do jobs like the one I'm doing now. And then...AND THEN, eventually I'll get promoted with my degree to the point of incompetence and just spent the rest of my adult life looking like a nincompoop (we really need to bring that word back). So, again, what's the point? Oh right...so I can tell people about it at my high school reunion.

mindless

i just wasted like, 10 minutes.

[Stardust] KiraKira Waypoints - wonderfl build flash online

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)

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?)

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: Hahahaa...no. 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)

Coccidiosis

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.