Woodland creatures, you're on notice.

So much to blog about, so little drive to move my fingers on the keyboard.

I could tell you about the ongoing Orwellian nightmare that is the patch of earth around our house, or give you folks a new chicken recipe that rocks.

I'll start with one, and then see if my attention holds to the other for later.

Let me tell you about last Tuesday.

( Known casually around here as the 'Day of Suck' )

Overheard from the living room

*********
(Ethan and Nolan are playing the Nazi Zombie level at the End of Call of Duty : World at War, and this was the conversation they just had:)
Nolan:  Guard the door, son, guard the door!

Ethan:  Okay!  (Sounds of gunshots, zombies growling)

Nolan:  Guard the window!

Ethan:  Dad?

Nolan (Groans from the exertion or WAR) Yes, son?

Ethan.   If the zombies are dead, how do they know where we are?

Nolan.  Because they can smell our brains!

Ethan:  That is SO gross.

***
Because THAT's not going to give him nightmares.  And I have to agree with Ethan.  That is SO gross. 

They're having a GREAT time.