The bunny died yesterday.
If you're one of the three people who's read Ghost Medicine, you may have picked up on this Jungian-synchronous-interconnected thread running through the narrative. So, I'm just a little freaked out at this whole Peepy's revenge horror that has kept me up all night.
Besides, it's a girl???
So, today I am going to retreat behind my Shrine of Protection and chant. Yeah, I described the features of the Shrine of Protection a few months back when I got stuck in the room that kills people: a Jesus Christ action figure, a statue of Ganesh, a cast iron Garden Gnome, a pack of cigarettes that once belonged to Ronald Regan, a miniature Chacmool with some of Bryce Heventhal's actual blood on it, a purple Ninja, a poseable Elvis figure, and a dashboard Hula Dancer.
I know, pretty potent stuff. But who can really be sure that Peepy's blood lust hasn't been satiated? Peepy, you can have the bunny, but leave my pee-pee alone, please. You know... the Jungian-synchronous-interconnected thing.
I'm sorry. Cosmic-take-back-the-raisin-trail vibes being sent out to the universe.
Oh, and by the way, my daughter is loving Absolutely Maybe. Wow! She is actually reading on her own without me leaving books all over her room. Or beating her.
Living on a farm, things come and go all the time. It's a reasonably good lesson for kids. And despite their youth, they've become pretty good gravediggers, which, I believe, is a recession-proof skill.
That doesn't mean the kids are completely insensitive to the loss of one of the animals, though.
And then there's their mother. She can do anything for animals.
Like fixing an eggbound hen. Do you know what happens when a hen gets an egg that's too big to come out?
Yuck.
Believe me, in my world, that hen either takes care of business or it dies. Seriously... if my wife isn't around, it's just like As I Lay Dying. The hen lays there while the kids start digging another hole.
I've written past my usual morning blog time. I'm going out for a run and then off to hide behind the shrine and maybe write something for StupidBlogName.
