But not necessarily in that order. Here’s a softball for those who were just too vexed by “Jar Jar.”
Note to the rest of the world: no, I don’t actually feed this to my baby.
OK, enough of that. Here’s some Evan and Obi pics. … Read more
The winner of the Really Bad Visual Pun post yesterday is…well, there are two winners, since I posted it here and on MySpace. The blawg winner was Ubik, while the MySpace winner was Kati (as I said in the comments over there, dudes, you guys just got beat by a girl on a Star Wars gag. C’mon!). The answer, of course, was “Jar Jar Binks”. (Actually, even that’s a bit of a cheat – there’s only one jar of binks, but I just turned it around 180 degrees, moved it over a bit, and glued the two photos together.) Stay tuned for even more cheesy-ass puns constructed out of ordinary household items. (Or, as Ubik pointed out, cheesy items in my household. Not everyone’s got a jar o’ binkies sitting around. But they should.)
There’s been much speculation in the comments sections that the result of Obi’s odyssey will be a crop of mini-Obis running around in mere months. If that happens, I’ve got a pretty steep vet bill from about a year ago to dispute, ’cause somethin’ obviously didn’t work. 😆 I’m just glad the big furry doofus is back among us. He’s seemed kinda subdued and maybe even a bit sad since he got home, though part of that may be that since he rejoined the general cat populace, Olivia and Othello spent 24 hours (at least) hissing at him because he came home smelling kinda funky. Olivia has stopped growling at him and plays with him again, but Othello is still giving Obi the cold shoulder. The real litmus test was when Obi jumped on the changing table while I was putting a new diaper on Evan. Evan has been rolling up on his sides, almost to the point of rolling over on his belly, pretty regularly, so Obi was a little surprised when Evan rolled up on one side and grabbed his cat. I think that’s the welcome home he was expecting. Not even the smell of a visit from Captain Pooty Pants can keep Obi away from his person. (Captain Pooty Pants raises such a stink these days that I think he’s angling for a promotion to Rear Admiral…)
The thought occurs, having very recently spent a lot of time out in my horrendously overgrown pasture looking for the great grey hunter, and coming back to the house with thorns and stickers stuck to me and 
through me, that something needs to be done with the pasture. Tactical nukes spring immediately to mind, but maybe just bulldozing the damn thing might be more realistic – pave the whole thing over, turn it into a giant solar panel, with big windmills at one end and a couple of greenhouses for growing food. What a sight that would be. But as ridiculous as it sounds, it’d be a damn sight better than the Absolutely Nothing that we’re doing with 3+ acres right now. It’s such a jungle out there that I half expect the Smoke Monster to pop out from behind the barn or something. Hey, there’s an idea. I could cut those guys such a better deal than Hawaii could.… Read more
