Pig Smell On My Hands, and Other Events

I have a new diet plan for everyone!  Are you ready for it?

It’s called:  Load three pigs in someone’s trailer, wash your hands religiously, try to eat a snack, and every time you bring a bite to your mouth, you smell pigs.

Whoosh!  Nasty!

I scrubbed and scrubbed.  Why do they still smell?  And now I feel bad for all the times I lovingly yelled at David for smelling like pigs.  He would always tell me he washed and I was a total brat and did not believe him.

And now.  I have the same affliction.

Also.  Full disclosure.

I still ate my entire snack.  I’m not gonna let a trivial thing like pig stank ruin my yummy treat.

I earned it.

So, it has now happened twice that I, yes I, Taylor Maliblahblah, have sold pigs to kind country folk all by myself.  And I am a total dork when the sale goes down.

Me:  Hi!  I am not really the farm and ranchy person but I can try to help you!

Says the lady standing in front of them who is wearing muck boots, a Carhartt coat, has horses and cows behind her, and is grabbing fat squealy pigs to load in their trailer.

Weird-o.

You guys.  I grab these little weaners like it ain’t no thang.  It is really quite simple.

And, I don’t mean to tootle my own horn, but I can totally genderify them now.  I don’t know how I figured it out.  It just came to me!  Like a gift.  The gift has not yet come to me for genderifying kittens.  Hopefully someday.

Today.

Today, I met the nicest folk.  Eric and Rory.  I know these are their names because their clothing told me so.

Eric and Rory are probably my new best friends.  They stayed and chatted with me for a good half hour.  ABOUT FARM STUFF.  As if.

Eric showed me pictures of his cows on his phone.  And I was all agog.  And he saw my cows behind me and he complimented me on my “nice Angus herd.”

Then we got to talking about the children and I told them the ages of my kids and Eric and Rory were simply shocked that I could have a 17 year old.

“What, did you have her when you were like 10?”

See.  New best friends.

I am definitely over this whole pig business.  I kicked Weston out of the dog crate because enough is enough already.  He is back with his brothers and sisters.  Hadley does not seem to care.  And I am pretty sure he is still alive out there.

***

I rarely leave the house.  Yesterday was my big day, and our state is reopening things so I was all excited to get some shopping done.

My first stop was to be Maurices.  Sadly, they were still shut down. Oh, I love Maurices.  It is what I like to wear when I am not loading pigs into people’s trailers.

Then I went to TJ Maxx.  I have been DYING to go to TJ Maxx.  I love buying scented candles there and a gal who has 200 pigs at her place deserves four peony scented candles.

You guys.  TJ Maxx was completely cleaned out. Bare shelves everywhere.  Not one candle was to be seen.  I guess when they opened, they had a bunch of panic shoppers and now their inventory is all gone.  Epic bummer.  Saved some money though.

***

We need to talk about the kittens.  Every time I google “How old do kittens need to be to leave their mothers,” that dang Google machine tells me 8 weeks.  8 weeks is no bueno.  We are at like week 4-5, Friends.  I don’t know how much longer I can endure.  I mean, I love them, but it is a lot of feline friends in one bathroom.  The kittens are very active now and climbing up everything.

When I stand at the sink and brush my hair, they climb up my legs.  Also-I am totally turning into a crazy cat lady.  David may have caught me *ahem* using the toilet and *ahem* snuggling a kitten.

It just started to crawl up my leg.  How could I resist?

I fear I have been quarantined too long.

The kittens are starting to eat cat food.  When can I find them loving homes that are not my bathroom?

And.  I am trying to get David to let me keep my favorite kitten, who is darling, and I have already named Philip.

Is not Philip the perfect name for my new cat friend?  I am about 50% sure Philip is a boy.

Happy Thursday!