Category Archives: Sagas

In order to assimilate recent bad news I retreated to my Redneck Mind Palace. The roof was high and cantilevered. There were scattered fires over which steaks were being grilled. One of the fires was a heap of unfiled paperwork. … Continue reading →

The next morning I shuffled out to check on the “heat tape of hope” on “the pipe of stupidity”. En route I found a chicken. Just sitting there in the snow. As if that made perfect sense. Dumbass! “Where the … Continue reading →

While I was cursing my stupidity for icing my hydrant into a miniglacier, I fed the chickens. Our chickens are pretty good about “coming home to roost” every evening. (With the exception of Fluffy and her small band of Resistance … Continue reading →

If you’ve been reading this blog you’re aware of the world’s dumbest duck; Bowling Pin Chicken. Frankly it’s been quite a summer for the little moron. Here’s a recap: Mrs. Curmudgeon forced identity issues on it in Homestead Update #1. … Continue reading →

I just returned from an “off grid” break. Didja’ miss me? It was wonderful. I spent time with a respected elder (hopefully I picked up some wisdom through osmosis). I drank bourbon, sat by campfires, played with a bandsaw, ignored … Continue reading →

The Foxinator foisted some ducks on us (see Homestead Update #2). The ducks were idiots (see Homestead Update #3). Like most stupid things they wound up dead (see Homestead Update #4). There was one sole remaining clueless idiot survivor duck … Continue reading →

It came to pass that I had to go on a trip. The woodland creatures, who never stop watching, observed this. They’re all spies I tell ya! I believe they categorize Mrs. Curmudgeon and myself differently. She’s “the woman who … Continue reading →

The chickens were excellent. These were the free range survivors of several fox incursions. They were battle hardened and wise. They made themselves at home. They didn’t mess with our existing small flock. Our existing small flock didn’t mess with … Continue reading →

One fine day, weeks before Mrs. Curmudgeon began inflicting identity issues on a little runner duck, I rolled home to find Mrs. Curmudgeon and The Foxinator standing in the yard chatting. Even from far down the driveway I recognized the … Continue reading →