Ponders & Woolgathers for 1.17.21

Last night’s dream was full of feelings around white terrorism, waiting for the next shoe to drop, & let’s just say fear-mongering monsters.  Eeeew.

Dandelion, Princess, First of Her Name, The Bearded Lady was just begging for that belly to be rubbed. This was The Hubs’ view.
This was my view

This picture captures her whole Cali-Catitude perfectly. She is royalty & I should never ever forget it. She’s posing for the camera.  She’s such a diva.
And we can’t forget a Mocha moment!  I was the only one downstairs so it was slim pickings for servents to grace, but grace me she did.  I received a few kisses & purrs before she was done with me & left.
It’s hard to take a selfie with my phone & said cat on my chest & chin.

The house smelled amazing while the chicken bone broth/stock was simmering on the stovetop.
Once it was finished, it’s strained & placed back into the refrigerator.  That’s the best way to get the fat off.  Then it’s ready to be reheated, placed into jars & put into the pressure canner.  That’s a project for later today or tomorrow.

I learned something about George Washington Carver from a shared post on Facebook by Juniper Russo

George Washington Carver wasn’t the guy who invented peanut butter, even though you were taught that in school.
What he ACTUALLY did was much, much more important. In the post-war South, the economy and environment were in absolute shambles. The soil throughout the Black Belt was exhausted and eroded from centuries of over-farming cotton. Freedmen were left hungry and destitute after being emancipated without reparations, and poor whites weren’t doing well at all, either. There was an epidemic of scurvy, starvation, and anemia.
Carver was famous for “working with peanuts” but peanut butter isn’t the big deal here. It was Carver who discovered that legumes can enrich soil with nitrogen and prevent erosion, and peanuts are a high-calorie, high-protein food. He cultivated specific strains of peanut that thrived in the most barren land in the South and promoted their use.
He also studied dozens of other plants, fine-tuning the exact needs and benefits of each variety, and found ways that the poorest farmers could actually IMPROVE, rather than EXHAUST, their soil and could actually feed their families. He taught thousands of people how to heal the wounds that slavery had left on the land and on the economy.
So peanut butter… no, not really. A paste preparation was one of the methods of preparing peanuts that he promoted, but it had existed among indigenous Central Americans for centuries and it really wasn’t his greatest accomplishment.
I think it’s time to remember George Washington Carver not as the reason you have Jif, but as the reason that starvation didn’t kill half the population of the Southeast.

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Ponders & Woolgathers for 1.16.21

Yesterday’s theme song in the Land of Lunch was I’m A Little Teapot.  None of us could remember the verse that came after, spout.  Google sorted that out & an earworm was born.  I tried to counteract it with The Song That Never Ends to no avail.

This morning’s View From A Lair, brought to you by MOOD

In Bebe Feesh news, it looks like someone or someones have been having snacks.  The Hubs needs a particular type of plant that will give the babies more cover as they grow.  I’m sure it won’t be long before there’s another batch of eggs.

Here comes a ponder:  If you put one male & one female human in a tank as we do with fish, would they mate?  Can you imagine?  After an arduous journey, you’re finally “home” in a lovely place where food drops from The Top & you’ve met some lovely fellow beings.  There’s a one named Tom that you’ve been flirting with.  Things are awesome. You & Tom are making plans when…  The NO RETURN monster dives into your tank, chasing you hither & thither.  You try to outrun the beast or at the very least desperately hope it’s not your turn to enter the giant monster’s maw.  Alas, you are caught & swooped up into unbearable brightness.  OH NO!  You can’t breathe! Can’t breathe!  In a hot minute, you can breathe again but now you’re in a strange place where everything is a colorful blur.  You notice there are other beings with you.  Some are the sorts you’ve only heard tall tales about.  Then you notice another.  Could it be Tom?  Could it be?  No.  It’s Greg.  You don’t like Greg. Once you’re in the new home & settled in, you realize that you are stuck with gets-on-your-last-nerve Greg for the rest of your life.  Let’s not forget that if you’re not into the opposite sex & have been flirting with Sally & end up with Greg for the rest of your life.  Or, what if Greg isn’t such a bad dude, but he likes other dudes & he’s stuck with YOU the rest of his life?

I might need another cup of coffee after that one.

JimJim was such a fuzzball of cuteness last night.


Look at those adorable murder mittens. My oh my, they are in need of a trim! Look at his cute gruesome toothsome! He’s a vampire kitty.

And we can’t forget that one white whisker!

Today I’m going to make & can turkey broth.  In the past, I would make up a big batch & freeze it because I didn’t have the pressure canner fixed in working order.  After the gardening season’s canning success, I won’t take up valuable freezer space.  Woot! Woot! The smell of simmering broth makes the house smell wondrous.

I printed off all the chapters thus far (there’s 9!) of The Black Swamp Gourdess’ Unabridged Story of Daemons.  The Slasher of Red is ready to go for the editing & tweaking process.  They are more chapters to come.  I’m hoping this helps slide open the hidden panel to what comes next.  The Muses have been very cagey & making me work for it.

Have a super-duper day!

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Ponders & Woolgathers for 1.15.21

I had the wrong date on yesterday’s post.  I’ve since fixed it.  In my defense, I knew that it was Friday eve (a.k.a. Thursday) but my heart & soul were already in Friday mode.

This. Is. The. Coolest. Thing. EVER!
This student graciously allowed me to take a picture because I was gagging over how awesome this is. I want one. Oh yes. I don’t think any self-respecting Gourdess should be without one.

One of my Sisters in Lunch has become my personal henchwoman. I call her Hench for short.  She asked if she could have a hump & should walk stooped over.  Of course!  She’s well qualified for the job except she refused to smite someone on my behalf.  (side note:  To be clear, my definition of smite is best described as akin to a cartoon smiting where the person receiving said smite is covered from head to toe in black ash.  No one is harmed & the ash is easily shaken off. And, if you don’t know by now, I shall spell it out for you. I am an unabashed teller of fictional stories & tall tales.  None of this could or would happen in real life. Chalk this up to my overactive imagination having fun in The Land of Lunch.) Anyhoo, I’ll have to train her on the art of smiting.

This whole henchwoman thing started when I called her the Maven of Mischief (isn’t that the kettle calling the pot?), Savior of Scallywags & other ridiculousness I can’t recall at the moment.  She liked henchwoman the best.

My fellow Lunch Landy Band member & I made up songs about peas, lids, mac ‘n cheese & anything in between. This has the unfortunate side effect of spilling over into her home life. She starts singing about strange topics & has caused her husband to wonder just what goes on in that Land of Lunch.  I claim no responsibility for any shenanigans one might bring home.

In the news of Bebe Feesh… We thought they were eaten.  Nope!  Mama & Papa AngelFeesh moved them to another plant.  I hope a few survive because this is the most excited about a fish tank I’ve been in a long time.   Side note:  Fish tanks are the Hubs’ thing.  Too much work in my humble opinion, you can’t pet them, they don’t talk, (well they do, but all they say is “Bob” & I don’t speak fish so there’s that) & they lack fuzz.  I am partial to fuzz.

Last nights’ dream involved a giant pair of underpants saving the world from Covid. I don’t remember how or why or any particulars except looking at said undies through a glass display box.  Some dreams are best left unpacked.

Mocha, The Daemoness of Polka Pants, has FINALLY gotten used to the fact that her royal Princess Mickey (The North American Scrubba Cat of the Kitten Mittens) is no longer living in the basement.  Mocha struts about as if she owns it.  Of course, having your food & toilet down there is a good motivator.  Here’s a picture of Mocha looking all cuddly & innocent.  Don’t let it fool you.  There’s a pure quasi-evil feline hiding in there.

Today’s word is etiolated.  It’s pronounced, eh.tee.ow.lei.tuhd I discovered this wondrous word when on the hunt to describe something that’s been blanched or grown without sunlight.  In the story The Black Swamp Gourdess’ Unabridged Story of Daemons, we learn that some Daemon elbows could be described like the texture of a naked mole-rat, parasitic wasp larvae, or even human toes steeped in warm water until they become white & rubbery.  Let’s use it in a sentence, shall we?

A Daemon, who liked to collect fly wings, spotted Babs and lumbered over as quietly as 8 feet of walking bricks can be in an attempt to snatch her up. Babs, having been accosted before by this particular Daemon (she called him Brickhauz but his real name is Allen) wiggled her way between knobby knees and etiolated elbows to a safer less conspicuous spot on the wall.

This meme is spot on & this happens more often than not.

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Ponders & Woolgathers for 1.14.21

Pineapple Pesto Chicken wraps are the bomb!

I watched & listened to the Trump impeachment hearing. There is no way I could ever be a politician. I don’t know how these people do it. I found it interesting & I’m glad they impeached him. Your actions & words should have consequences. Ours do & the President of the United States double so.

Baby Fish! In the large tank, there are tiny baby fish swimming around. They still have to be aware of the larger fish so as not to be eaten. In the other tank, the two angelfish laid eggs & they’ve hatched. Each time one of the little babies floats up, one of the angels will grab it & put it back with the group. It’s really fascinating to watch. The Hubs did a video where you can see them squirming around. This is a photo he took. All those black spots are wee bebe feesh eyes.

Highly unusual cat pairing upon my lap. Dandelion (on the left) doesn’t like to share the lap & will usually sit next to me. Cookie was being his usual squishy self. She didn’t appreciate having the picture taken.
Cookie has that look that says:
I don’t always sit on the servant’s lap
but when I do…
there’s no room for another cat.

I’m desperately trying to tap into my humor today.  Where are you?  I NEED you!  The crunchy pants are attempting a coup!  They want to see just how far they can send me down into the dark dark hole of Crankyland.  Humor is like kryptonite to crunchy pants.  So is having his Dark Prince JimJim jump on the desk, placing his fuzzy body in your face while trying to type.  Add in burying your face in that purring fuzziness & the crunchiness just melts away.  Aaaaaaaah.

More editing to do on the story. The totally unsexy part of writing.

I have to re-load the wood boxes today.

I was told the Department of Snow was on vacation in 2020 & to try again in 2021. Just so you know, I’ve put in a petition for a good 6″ to a foot of snow. If the Flatlands of NW Ohio becomes a winter wonderland, you know who to blame & you’re welcome.

I’ll be the one outside doing this:

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