Calgon....take me away!!!!!!

Do they still even make that stuff? I guess it doesn't really matter since I can get IN the tub but I'd never get out. Not strong enough. Ever.

What a weekend. I'll start with the highlights. I went McTalking with Joanna, and was very proud of myself that I got grilled chicken and a salad. So I could have a frappe! Big hug to the inventor of the frappe! Had a great talk with Miss Joanna.

That was the highlight. Let's see, before I left for McTalking, Doug hurt his back again. So...I insisted he go to Plainwell to the chiropractor. I told him I could drive him or if he was capable he could drive, but he had to go one way or another. He said he felt good enough for me to go with Joanna, so he and Jacob laid down and napped almost the whole time I was gone. Good deal.

Also before McTalking time, the most horrible thing ever. Our brown turkey (we have 3 turkeys that we bought for butchering eventually) hasn't been himself for a few weeks. I told Doug that something wasn't right...the turkey had a big swollen knee, but other than that, his eyes were bright, he was eating and drinking, but was on the ground all the time. So I made Doug build a cage for him, so he could at least get off the ground. I also told him I could no longer eat him because I had developed feelings for him. I felt sorry for him. I can eat the white ones because I could care less about them. They ate my strawberries.

Anywho..I digress. So Jacob and I were outside Saturday morning, and I went over to check on brown turkey...he just didn't look right. One of his wings was kind of out and he was shaking a little and had knocked his food bowl over. So I went to the back of the cage to open the door and give him more food to see if he would eat. Okay, I'm warning you...if you are even a teeeeeny bit squeamish, STOP READING NOW.

As soon as I opened the cage, I saw this gaping wound on brown tukeys backside that had obviously been there for a while. I saw movement. ON THE WOUND. You know what THOSE were. I gagged. I almost puked. I smelled decay. I saw necrosis. I felt HORRIBLE. I knew I had to take care of it. I had been telling Doug there was something else wrong....call it maternal instinct. So I went to get the gun...Oh my gosh it was horrible. I was having Old Yeller flashbacks. All I could think of though was ending this poor thing's suffering. It felt like 90 minutes but it was probably more like 90 seconds. I was going to just cover the whole cage and let Doug deal with it when he got back, but with his back and all....and I made the decision to put him down, so I had to deal with it. I got the biggest, thickest gloves I could find, and then a big rag towel and a 30 gallon heavy duty trash bag. I couldn't even touch the thing with my the gloves, so I wrapped the towel around it and pulled it to the edge of the cage, and shimmied it into the garabage bag. I can't BELIEVE I did this without puking.

I went inside and totally had to splash ice cold water on my face and try not to pass out. I can't imagine how people can just shoot things. Animals, people...I mean, I have no problem with hunting...especially when it's for food like we do...but I just couldn't do it.

So...my weekend culminated last night, when, (after giving the dog a bath because he rolled in something nasty Saturday night, dishes, helping with all the chores, brushing the dog, vacuuming all the dog hair, taking care of Doug and Jacob all day), on the way to get the phone at about 8 PM, I slipped on the tile where said dog had slobbered his water all over, almost did the splits, tried righting myself, killed my foot, and feel now like I've got whiplash from head to toe.

Don't you wish you could be me??????