Skip to main content

A Creeping Threat

Celebrity Bloggers and Public Figures have special opportunities and special obligations, and today it is my obligation to issue a safety notice about an insidious threat in our community. 


Let me start by saying that I am an Intrepid and Brave mule. I can ford raging rivers, cross precarious bridges, summit challenging slopes, and look a bear in the eye without flinching. (Really, ask FarmWife!)


We mules are brave by nature. Our horse ancestors, who gave us our fleetness of hoof, used their strength and speed to escape predators on the steppes and prairies. Our donkey forefathers, who gave us our stoic sensibility, used their intelligence and insight to hide among the camouflaging rocks of their native canyons. This makes me a particular expert on the subject of safety. This is why you should listen when I say DON'T TOUCH THE LINES ON THE ROAD! They WILL kill you. 


I can do many things. I can go many places. I am not a weenie, nor am I a slacker. I just know deep in the cockles of my heart and bowels of my soul that touching those yellow and white lines is going to end in grief. 


Heeding my concern for personal safety, for the FarmWife as well as for myself, I have opted not to make a close examination of the lines. I have, therefore, only my instinct and my gut feeling upon which to rely. Together, the two things tell me that I can be pretty certain that there is a 99% chance that the lines will grab me by the snout in their teeth, wrap around me like a boa constrictor, and squeeze me until my tongue pops out. They will either do that or open into a bottomless abyss of raging hellfire. Definitely one or the other.


If FarmWife demands this sacrifice of me then I will give my life, and it is in the spirit of obedient devotion that I dare to cross the lines on our way to the trailhead each time we go out. I think, however, that if I can sway public opinion on this matter and convince a few of you to band with me in resistance of the Evil Lines, I may save both her life and my own in the process. 



I include a photo of the Evil Lines in order that my friends on the World Wide Web can identify and subdue this threat in their own lanes and avenues. Good luck, and be strong. May you obliterate the Lines before they obliterate you.(I recommend covering them with sod, a fabulous Line Eliminator/Yummy Snack combo! )




Comments

Post a Comment

Thanks in Advance for Your Mulish Opinion!

Popular Posts

Here are the Cloud Dog's X-Rays

Here, for your edification, are the X-rays of dear Paisley's leg. There is, apparently, no new break (since his Monday siezure) but there is, of course, a great deal of abnormality caused by years of living with a shortened ulna. His pronounced lameness, the vet says, may temporarily improve. Unlike me, Fenway Bartholomule, poor cloud dog can't expect much in the way of a full recovery.   Not having the $$$$ for surgery to fuse the joint, we are working on making some sort of rigid splint to support the limb and prevent further degeneration. That is, the humans (with their space-age material inventions and their opposable thumbs) are working on making a splint; I am working on giving cloud dog brayful looks of support and encouragement every time he totters into the yard to relieve himself. As always, he fears me (me?!) and keeps his distance.  Ears to you,  Fenway
2 comments
Continued . . .

Vegan Spring Rolls

I, Fenway Bartholomule, am a vegan: of course I only eat plants, not people! My human is too, so I'm sharing my blog with her today so that she can participate in the 2014 Virtual Vegan Potluck ! When you're done perusing the recipe for these delicious spring rolls, click "back" or "forward" for the entire potluck experience! Virtual Vegan Potluck: Spring Roll Appetizers Beautiful? Check. Healthy? Check. Delicious? Check. Easy? Check. Fancy? Check. Quick to clean up after? Check. Vegan? OF COURSE! If you're looking for something portable, colorful, and crowd-pleasing for your next potluck, look no further than these simple vegan spring rolls! The best part? You can substitute ANYTHING. I never make these the same way twice, so play around with cilantro, kale, cabbage, scallions, or whatever you think sounds good! Ingredients Veggie mix: 2 carrots (grated) 4 oz mung bean sprouts 1/3 cup chopped peanuts (raw, or roasted and salted) or ...
11 comments
Continued . . .

2025 State of the Farmlet Address

A red stag photographed by Farmwife in Scotland, from whence the family descends and to where they voyaged in September 2024.  Dear Mules and Countrywomen,  It is my pleasure to report to you today, from my forested vantage point, that the Farmlet is well.  It has been eight years since my family had a Farmlet to report upon, and this one is among the best. It is 25 minutes south of Casa de Bartholomule-Teaspoon, where you may remember the family lived for a time, and situated on the same verdant island. It is 120 minutes south of Bent Barrow Farm, where the ancient rhododendron still blooms and where FenBar's old barn of many colors still stands and shelters farm machinery. This place has rhododendrons, too, encircling a lawn which slopes down to my barn and paddock. We call the barn Hoofhouse, and it is going to be painted black in the spring to match the house and my companion, Puck.  My paddock, by design, does not overlap the lawn but instead winds through a mix...
Post a Comment
Continued . . .

Catastrophy

This is the emergency broadcast system. This is not a test. I was going to entertain you with more haiku today, but something terrible has happened. I need your support. Today was supposed to be a regular spa day—a nice little hoofie trim, a fresh mane roach, an ear massage, and a handful of sunflower seeds (for shine). Instead of merely taking care of my beauty routine, however, FarmWife spent a full hour in contemplation of and attention to my overall physique. The upshot? A revision of my condition from Plump to Obese. (Her actual words, upon removing my blanket for the first time in a few days, were "Oh my God! You've ballooned!") She has decided that my fatness has become a health risk, and has resolved to exercise me as often as possible. It gets dark at 4:30. Her husband gets home at 5:30. She has small children and no sitter. This, my friends, means that I will end up being longed. Longed at the end of a stupid, smelly old rope. Forced to walk and trot...
14 comments
Continued . . .