And I now dub you, Sir Rupert Poopsalot of the Crunchy Turd

Now I know this is pretty gross, but I’m sitting here sick, and unable to nap and yet unable to get up the energy to do much else, so I’m sharing this all with you.

Sunday I made a bone-in ham.  It was delicious.  Leif saved the au jus and the bone and yesterday used them to make Navy Bean Soup.  It rocks.  Totally.  In fact when I’m done with this post I just may avail myself of a bowl of left overs provided I can muster the energy to shuffle over to the kitchen.

Anyway, I digress.  After the soup was done he gave the bone to Rupert.  Rupert is extremely picky about his bones.  He will only eat fresh home cooked meat bones.  None of those plastic wrapped, store bought, basted beef bones for him.  Oh, no.  But when we do treat him to a home cooked meat bone he gobbles it up, no bones about it.  Then for the next 36 hours he has petrified poops.

The poor thing pooped not once this morning.  Not twice.  Not even three times.  Oh, no.  Poor guy grunted and strained and pushed out 5 crunchy doggie turds.  Now, it’s gross enough scooping up a stinky, hot, steamy dog poop as it is with only a thin piece of plastic baggie between one’s hand and said poop, but grabbing a pile that is hot and hard as rock is it’s own level of grossly disconcerting.

And, now that I’ve shared this with you, I must let out Sir Poopsalot yet again because the poor dear is scooting along the carpet.  Yuck.  As soon as I can breathe through my nose and the concrete drains out of my head I am soooo steam cleaning this carpet.

The wild life and crazy times of Janie Jones

So.  It’s 10:20 pm on the Saturday before Halloween and Janie Jones is:

• A.  Dancing like a monkey at the hottest Halloween party in the Great White North.
• B.  Doing zombie Jell-o shots and snorting Pixie Sticks.
• C.  Watching a Halloween movie marathon while doing zombie Jell-o shots and snorting Pixie Sticks.
• D.  Anxiously awaiting the dryer to finish her down pillow so she can go to bed.

It’s wild and crazy at the House of Jones.

Would it be a horrifyingly scary Halloween story if I explained why I was washing my down pillow?

Six Word Saturday Template: You’ve got poop on your shoe

No shit. This is how I’m spending my Saturday afternoon.  And not because I have a horse.

“What’s the scoop on poop?”  You my dear readers may ask…

Well. The family is about to drive about 45 minutes each way for the honor of scooping Hawthorne the Horse’s poop.  It’s a tradition now.  In the fall we drive to a friends ranch, scoop a trailer full of poop and compost it for next year’s garden.  We get the best produce.  So, I guess you could say, that’s some good shit. The proof is in the poop. Excellent excrement lends to an effusion of edibles.

I’ll stop now.

And, hands down it beats doing homework!

Happy Six Word Saturday.

Six Word Saturday Challenge is courtesy of Show My Face, Six Word Saturday

Eeewwww!

So last night nigh on 2330, I call into the kitchen to say goodnight to Leif.

No answer.

He’s not at his computer in the breakfast nook.

I call downstairs.

No answer.

He’s not in his room or in the TV room.

I go back through the living room, he’s not hiding in there. He’s not in my room, the spud’s room or the bathroom.

Where the Hell is he?

He’s out back killing slugs.

With a pair of pliers by the light of a flashlight.

Yes. That’s what I said. He’s killing slugs by flashlight with a pair of pliers.

Janie: There you are. What are you doing?!?

Leif: Killing slugs.

Janie: I see that.

Leif: I’ve already killed dozens of ‘em and there’s a ton more. I can’t believe how many there are! Wanna help?

Janie: Ewww. Gross. I’m going to bed.