the domestic zoo

And they’re all scent-related, which I find interesting.

Two days ago, it was the Febreeze I sprayed on the blankets. I always carry Febreeze with me on mission’s trips, it’s instant cleanliness in a bottle. When we were at the camp in Debre Zeit, the guys borrowed my Febreeze to douse their room. It looked like a pig sty but smelled heavenly.

Yesterday, it was Hannah’s couscous. For some reason it really, really smelled like wot. It must have been a specific spice. I didn’t even like the wot that much, but for a moment, I kinda missed it.

Today it was the bonfire, thick and smokey. It smelled like the “goat roast”. The kids at the camp pooled enough money to buy a goat and some firewood. We ate the goat and danced under the African night sky.

I wonder what tomorrow will bring…

I finally ordered our own meat grinder. A bit of an initial expense, but a money saver in the long run.

…on the pond situation.

I’ve been so busy with a housework and a sick bunny that it honestly slipped my mind, but my mom was talking with our next door neighbor today (not the one with the pond, but the one on the other side of us) and apparently her mom called the town’s code enforcement officer.

I’m not sure what came of it, but I’m glad to hear that at least something has been done. This neighbor has a very young child and a dog, and she is also a vet tech, so she was quite upset to hear that about the little terrier nearly drowning.

(and can I just say how completely awesome it is to finally have such nice neighbors after 15 years of living here. Yessah.)

I’ve been thinking about pursuing alternative methods of treatment in conjunction with the excellent medical care Peanut is already recieving. I feel I do her a disservice when I see her only in terms of a diagnosis, and I think that no matter what the future holds, she could certainly benefit from better supportive care.

But where should we start? Maybe…bunny massage.

My brother and I were priming the walls of the addition today. Mom and Dad were both at work, and Hannah was at a friend’s house, so it was just the two of us working in a rather small area with large amounts of white, chemical-scented glop.

As we were working, and already starting to get goofy, a septic truck pulled up near the house in order to pump our tank. The side of the truck said (I kid you not) “4,000 Gallons of You Know What”. That’s when the edges of our sanity began to chip away, and as the truck pulled out of our driveway and down the road, Stephen and I belted out a stirring rendition of “(Everything I Do) I Do It for You” only replacing the word you with poo.

Like I said, I’m blaming the paint fumes.