There is a right way and a wrong way to sit on a bench covered in flowers. The right way is to not sit directly on them. Bench flowers are for looking not for sitting. The wrong way is to sit directly on them and get a thorn stuck in your butt. A massive thorn in your booty is no laughing matter.
It’s no laughing matter when the rump in question just happens to belong to Mr. C. Cow. You can’t explain to a cow how a seat might not actually be a seat but more like a nature art piece. Mr. C. does not grasp this concept and this is how we ended up with a thorn in his backside.
Don’t worry about his bum. After the initial “OMG! I’VE BEEN HIT!”, followed by the process of chasing him around to get it out, we were pretty cool about the whole thing. Mr. C. Cow now has a flower seat war story to tell and I just got to say “fanny” in different ways already in this postcard.
I like the concept of individuals taking items that are not usually thought to be gardening pots and just going with it. An old boot with a cactus in it. A mason jar growing herbs for the kitchen. Mr. C. Cow once grew a potato plant in a hula hoop. Ok. So the potatoes weren’t exactly in the hoop. It was more like he threw the hoop around it and called it a day.
We’re not too bad in the container gardening department. I’m not saying that my paws are green. Quite the contrary. They are more furry brown and small. Mr. C. Cow only has green hoofs when he wear shoes. We once, as a team, accidentally grew too much mint and it made Bishop quite upset. So we grew it in the bucket of a bulldozer. Big deal? Yeah…it’s a big deal! While we thought it was a good place for a plant, Bishop was not happy when he tried to bulldoze things. He could have, at least, appreciated the aroma and cocktail possibilities we had created. Bishop was not amused or appreciative.
I think that we can say that we’ve learned a few valuable life lessons with today’s postcard. Don’t sit on nature or you’ll hurt your keister. If you’re going to do some container gardening ask before using something that doesn’t belong to you. Disapproving polar bears are no laughing matter.
All photos were taken by me in the virtual world of Second Life.
As I said on our last postcard, the area we went to had three distinct areas for us to explore. We thought we would share all of them. Here are the links to the past two postcards if you would like to check it out:
Mr. C. Cow started to teach himself to play poker a few weeks back. It started out with a computer program where he would play against a bunch of AI’s. Then it moved onto him playing random games with people online. When he wasn’t online he would ask me to sit down with him after dinner and play a few hands. He’s getting pretty good at it since he learned that you are not allowed to hide cards behind your cow horns. Mr. C. Cow is no cheat so he stopped doing it immediately. (So proud of him!!)
We ended up in the area where a few of his online poker buddies lived. I agreed that we could meet up with them so he could play some poker ONLY if we met them in a public place. (Online safety people!!) Mr. C. Cow happily clip clopped his way to his laptop to inform his friends he was in for a few games. We agreed to meet up at a local park that had a wonderful ballroom perfect for some poker.
Now…Mr. C. Cow has been getting ready for this poker game since I told him he could go. He’s been staring at playing cards. Perfecting his “blank face”. Buying a hat that he felt made him look like a poker player. Wearing sunglasses.
When we got to the ballroom we were surprised that they had a musician playing while everyone was concentrating on the game. I thought it was classy but Mr. C. Cow found it kinda distracting. He wanted to concentrate on the cards in his hoofs but found that his butt just wanted to wiggle to the music.
The poker players themselves were a tad bit on the shocking side as they were…um….skeletons. Nothing against skeletons but I wasn’t expecting them to be so into poker. Gary the card dealer explained that things got kinda boring being dead and all. Instead of just walking around freaking people out in cemeteries they liked to get together every Thursday and play.
They were very understanding of Mr. C. Cows wiggly butt as well as the fact that he had never played a group of people in person. Normal bets of money were replaced with peanuts so that they could help him become a better player. I left them to their wheeling and peanut dealing and hung outside by the camper. Didn’t want to get in the way and it was Mr. C. Cows thing not mine. I did, however, find a nice skeleton who happened to have a few martini’s on him. I might have to start bringing Mr. C. Cow on Thursdays if we are in the area so he can join their group. I’ll just be sure to bring more peanuts.
We’ve been driving for hours now on a dirt path and I’m starting to get a little bit cranky. The only radio station we can seem to get only plays marching band music and my butt cheeks have fallen asleep. It was time to catch a little fresh air, tell my butt to wake up, and try to put on a happy face.
As if the world was trying to give me a friendly hug we, amazingly, came across a beautiful park that offered us coffee, friendly conversation, and no marching bands. We parked right next to the welcome sign and had a lovely conversation with Sid and Zelda the welcome committee birds. Zelda was a bit of a gossip when it came to discussing bird migration stories but Sid was nothing but the perfect gentleman. Or is that “gentlebird”?
There was a small cafe that offered coffee and pastries for the weary traveler. I was actually able to order my “Half Cap Full Latte Side Foam All Foam No Foam Foaming At The Mouth Skim Milk Decaf Mocha Minus The Mocha Put It In A Travel Mug” coffee. It’s been so long since I’ve had one that I was starting to worry that I would never have it again!
I’m really glad that we found this little stop as it sure made me one happy traveler again. As we waved goodbye to the welcoming birds we set on off once again. Hopefully we’ll find a station that doesn’t just play marching band music.