Three's comany. Forty's a crowd.

Well Howdy-Do? etc.

I am now no longer in the depths of the wilderness. I have moved on with my family to another town with other family living in it. Now I'm on a farm. Though the farm animals consist mainly (only) of chickens and rabbits and grapes. Yes, here grapes count as animals. O and there is a blind dog who wears a red sparkly sweater. and a kitty cat.

But what is lacking in the animal department is made up for in the massive amount of people here. It is a wild house full of psycho children (litteraly, FULL.) and adults who try and fail miserably at tolerating the volume of noise generated by said psycho kids.

Really though, the noise they make could produce electricity for a small African village. That is why the Chillens (childs) get banished to the basement, where they fight and carry on with minimal - well, a little less than before - noise making it up to the delicate ears of the adults. But, inevitably, someone punches someone else in the shins and hurts their knuckles, or one kid accuses another of being a dictator, or one complains that their system of play is not democratic enough, and they all come stampeeding up the stairs to resolve their argument in a shouting match refereed and/or joined by their parents.

Honestly? Dictator? How old are you children? 'Cause when I was 8, I told a bossy person that they were a poo face.

Now that I have grown up and matured, I use the more sophisticated term douche monkey or perhaps the more subtle fuck-tard. My wisdom astonishes me.

Anyhoo. everyone here in this family survives - and even thrives - in this environment from developing the technique of being able to carry on multiple (up to, but not limited to, 10) conversations at once, while also carrying out various tasks like dishes and playing cards and taking pictures and settling childrens' disputes + feeding them and cooking, ALL AT ONCE. It can be quite a hazardous place to be, if you are not equiped with the proper skills to navigate the area. Conversations get animated. Dishes fly. Children bite. Blind dogs run into people. Spit roams freely out of over-excited talking peoples' mouths. Newcomers should wear helmets and arm themselves with a hefty stick.

Anyone who is part of the family by blood seems to have a natural knack for this. The women especially. However, people who have married in (ie, my dad) have a harder time developing the skill. Some valiantly try though and often are extremely successful. Others (ie, my dad) have to remove themselves from the mayhem for brief intervals of time....you know, take a little time out from the action, in order to maintain their sanity.


It's absolutely lovely. And that isn't even sarcasm.




Ok. I sleep.
Dream of moonshine and howling wind and Germany (which is what I dreamt of last night).