MB and I were in the car for a very long time this weekend. MB tends to get a little weird after he's been driving for so long.
Here are some of his rantings from the road, then some pretty pics and then a question for you guys at the bottom. Make sure you read on. I'm dying for your answers to this particular query.
After passing a sign that read: Heavy Traffic Alert,
MB: You calling me fat, sign?
After passing Dans Mountain State Park,
MB: Dan's Mountain? I want my own mountain.
Trying to decide which route to take home,
MB: Should we take 896 to 40 or 72 to 4?
Me: I don't know. Whatever you think.
MB: Well, 40 goes into 896 how many times?
MB: 4 goes into 72...
MB: It's a differential of 8.3 to 1.8.
(This conversation extended into a 1/2 hour long mathematical psychotic break in which he concluded that my name plus his name is equal to the pup's name times pi, or something.)
After going over a very large bump that was alerted to us by a sign that said 'Dip',
MB: Stupid hillbillies.
Commenting on the pup who was perched on her bed on the back seat looking out the front,
MB: Well, doesn't she just think she's the cat's ass.
Enough of that.
I hope you guys like the pics!
Don't forget the question at the end.
This is my Skye girl looking back at the house and barns after our hike along the edge of the property where my fear of heights made me freak out just a little. Come back and read about that tomorrow.
The pond at the bottom of the 'hill'.
One of the mama geese and her baby. Did you know geese can hiss? Me either. Apparently they are biters, too. MB wouldn't test this theory out for me. He doesn't care about science.
Meet the hens. They didn't hiss but they follow. They're like little chicken ninjas. You're walking along and all of a sudden - chicken at your feet. Chicken over your shoulder. Chickens freakin everywhere. Stealthy little things.
This is the goat feeder trough/guillotine. Hell if I'm sticking my head through a hole to get some food. Well, maybe for a cupcake. But, that would have to be one damn delicious cupcake.
And that's the farm.
On another non-farm related topic, does anyone know how to teach someone to whistle? This came up in the car. I would try to explain MB's lame attempt to whistle and then his hour long demonstration of how awesome a whistler he is and all the celebrity he will be experiencing as a result, but I just can't do it justice. He was essentially just spitting air. Had my blackberry not betrayed me by dying, I would share video proof.
So, how do you teach someone to whistle? I need to know so MB doesn't continue to embarrass himself or me. "Put your lips together and blow" didn't quite do the trick. Any suggestions?