This video may be, hands down, the funniest thing on the internet. Ever. Since the invention of funny things. And the internet.
Completely unrelated, Bonnie is overdue to have her newest sweet baby and she needs some words of encouragement. And support. And perhaps a few inappropriate jokes (sorry if you weren't looking for inappropriate jokes, Bonnie. But it is Friday after all!). Go see her and love her and follow her. Read some archives. You won't be sorry.
If you want to know what I'm completely throwing an absolute, utter, spoiled-brat fit about (sounds uplifting doesn't it???) these days, you can bounce on over to my most recent CE post. Get your tiny violins ready to play me a sad, sad song.....
Tomorrow I'll be 35 weeks pregnant. 35 weeks! We're just 3 photos away from delivery, folks. (Because I capriciously decided to take big ol' belly photos at the exact intervals I took them with Cecilia, which means 35 then 37 then THE BIG DAY. The big day!). So tomorrow (consider this a warning for all of you who are sick to pieces of hearing about my gestating child) will be enormous belly pic day and a guess-the-birthday poll. Try not to lose sleep over it tonight, okay?
Oh, here's something super special that happened this week- I went out to close up the chicken coop after dark because we had forgotten and it was late and I'm so nice that I didn't want to force my children to go out in their pajamas. And it's a good freaking thing I did because THERE WERE TWO RACOONS INSIDE THE COOP. Do I even need to remind you of Chicken Hospital Day?!?!?!
My heart was racing. I didn't know what to do. I don't wanna get rabies, ya know? That would suck. Luckily, my favorite person to inconvenience was home, seeing as it was night, so I RAN back to the house. Keep in mind that I'm 76 months pregnant. And I was wearing a skirt. With tall rubber boots. And an old, ginormous UD basketball t-shirt. And now I'm running. Through the dark, carrying a tiny pocket flashlight
It's too hard to explain everything that had to occur to get those God-forsaken creatures out of the coop, but I'll tell you that it involved a pitchfork and a shovel and a very brave husband. And no chickens were harmed in the making of said rescue.
Have I ever mentioned that I hate raccoons?
p.s. Apparently "raccoon" is a word (no red squiggly) but "raccoons" is not a word (big, fat red squiggly). And do you know WHY???? Because even blogger refuses to believe that anyone could have more than one raccoon in their presence and survive to tell the tale!