If I hadn't checked the thermometer this morning and seen that it was 18º F at 7:45 am, I might have blamed the wilted iris on aliens mutilating them during the night. I wonder if the British tabloid, "The Daily Mail Online" would pick up a headline, such as, "Iris Mutilation a Mystery, Aliens Suspected!" They ran a piece on the cattle mutilations that happened in Eastern New Mexico in the '70s about a week ago, so why not current Iris mutilations?
Annie framed the pick I extracted from the DVD drive and brought it in with a double espresso this morning. I photographed it with a couple of my console screens on my monitors in the back ground to have a unifying "green" theme.
On the way back to the house from surveying the frost damage in the garden, we carried Rosencrantz and Guildenstern on our shoulders. Laurie led the way with Guildenstern looking a bit disgusted and digging his claws into her back, because he wasn't ready to go in for the night.
Speaking of Rosencrantz and Guildenstern, Laurie got a photo of them lounging together on the chase lounge on the deck this afternoon. On cool mornings, they like to lay in the sun on the chase lounge, but it was too cold this morning, so they waited until the afternoon to lie around on the chase lounge.
Laurie moved the bags of beans to storage so Stretch is a little sad tonight. He was really getting the hang of the '60s — lying on the bean bags, groovin'. He wanted me to set up a black light, tape a psychedelic poster on the ceiling, and play Jimmy Hendrix.
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