Warning. Poop-related material follows.

You are so lucky you are not married to me. Probably for all sorts of reasons that I won't go into right now, and in my defense there might be a few reasons that you would want to be married to me which also aren't appropriate to this discussion, but later on I might give you a list in case you want to know. Which, of course, it wouldn't matter, since I'm already married and many of you are too, making it a moot point whether we would be good mates, also if you are a woman, it isn't legal for us to be married in most states, but again, all of this is outside the bounds of what I'm talking about here today.

Since Rick, my Actual Husband, is back at the salt mine now, I like to send him merry little snippets of everyday life so that he feels like he is almost here at the crazy farm with me and the livestock. So this morning, along with the first of the morning e-mail, I sent him this amusing photo of Bonnie about to fall off her bed


and then, having lulled him into a false sense of security, I followed up with, and here's the part where you are glad you are not married to me, because I'm not putting that picture in here, a photo of Bronco's morning poop.

Rick was surprised.

He did have to admit that it was an unusually fine-looking poop from Bronco, who hasn't been known for the quality of his poops for quite a long time, it's just that he said he was expecting another darling dog photo and although the photo was dog-related it was perhaps a bit low on the Darling Scale.

In other poop-related news, the baby chicks are doing well and I only had to wipe one chicken butt this morning.

Not bad. TGIF.