Or, a typical peculiar day? Everyone has a day now and then, with the following sorts of sightings and events and observations, right? A bewitching mix of the beautiful and the profane, the ordinary and the rare…
Morning fog over the decaying barn across the street from the lab.
The vagina tree.
Dead fawn on our road, less than 12 hours after it passed over. Or, more accurately, a car passed over IT.
Is one of my chickens having a problem I should know about?
A baby went through the lab’s laundry? How did I not notice that? And since it’s been through the wash cycle, do I now naturally put it in the dryer? What to do… (I opted to let her dry in the sun.)
Distracted by the baby, I burned the lab’s freebase.
Half-pint Lab Tech sees an alien head in the spill.
It’s only 2pm. What else lies in store for this enchanting day?
Notes from the rest of the day:
Admittedly a crappy photo, of crap in a bag. I just wanted to document the quirks of the day. The youngest lab tech shat herself in the woods. She can’t be blamed; she’s new to the technique of recognizing the onset of poo and finding a good spot to direct it. We all suffered this peculiarity at one point in life.
Dead fawn, Part 2. The turkey vultures have made strong headway, little is left. I wasn’t going to visit it again, but youngest lab tech insisted. Now I wish I’d come every hour since fawn’s decease to document it’s vanishing.
Junior Lab Tech felt it important that this mashed potato sculpture be documented before being eaten. It was accompanied by the following observation, unrelated to potatoes: “I seem to have lost my symmetrical gesture habit, you know, where if I itch one side of my face I then have to itch the other side of my face to be even? It’s been replaced by a fear of pointy things that can impale me. Like that lollipop stick, I have to turn it away. And that pencil, can you please move it?”
We bounced on a trampoline, giggled, tidied up, and closed the lab.
