soup nose

1/7/2017-1/9/2017 Soup-Nose The Goat has some swelling under her jaw. We suspect bottlejaw (fluid retention caused by anemia). Anemia in goats is usually a parasite issue, so we wormed her, and I drove to the hippie feed store and bought some of the fancy organic sweetfeed to try and convince her to eat a bunch of delicious nutrition. Even Soup Nose’s Olympic-class food fussiness is no match for sweetfeed.

Sweetfeed is made of corn, molasses, oats, various trace vitamins, and tiny shavings from a shining blue meteor that landed in the Darkhad Valley in Mongolia in 1953. The workers who harvest the meteor cover their ears so they can’t hear it singing to them.

Sweetfeed smells amazing. I have genuinely considered cooking it like oatmeal and eating it myself. My google history is full of searches for cornflake and molasses cookies, gingerbread cornmeal cookies, something, anything. Internet forums are thronged with people wondering how to make moonshine out of it. It smells like molasses and raisins and cornbread and coming home to the family you never knew you had after a long time wandering in the dusty dark between worlds.

We have to keep a brick on top of the bin with sweetfeed in it, because otherwise the feral cats sneak into the barn and eat it. 

The cats try to eat goat food.

(Seriously. I tell a lot of lies on this blog. That is not one of the lies. It’s uncanny stuff.

Also, if you know any recipes that involve molasses and cornflakes, please send them to me, the smell is driving me mad.)

Pancakes

Background: Request I picked up from @wwe-smutfics​: Anon: QUOTE SERIES: Finn quote series, just because I feel like he’d actually be like this. “What do you want me to do? Kiss you in the rain? Buy you a dozen roses? As long as you’re happy, I’ll do anything you want me to.”

Warnings: Some swearing. Fluff. Someone getting stood up on a date.

Summary: OK so maybe your night hadn’t gone as planned but… The next day held great promise.

Keep reading

current work

Heya~ Holidays are in progress and so is demo work. 

- Changed the intro; added a CG sketch, revised Arnika’s dialogue/monologue to show more character.

- Added floors to Arnika’s house. Still need to add details and fix some small bugs.

- Made cute facesets for the menu. (Didn’t want to spoil, but also ehhhhhh I want to show something already.) Arnika’s old with minor tweaks but the rest are brand new~

- Changed some maps in Arnika’s house to be smaller/nicer-looking.

(Old and new. Also spoilers but also ehhhhh whatever. Might add more changes later, but I’m quite pleased with this.)

- Also, got distracted from uni work only to spend 3 hours writing and figuring out endings, again. I think I got it in the end, I’ll make a flowchart later… Hopefully it’s not too confusing to play.

- Got another piece of music :>

- Started sketching battlers and figuring out some things about elements/battles in general. Wondering how to make them RPG-parody-ish but also not too annoying, and how to do hints.

The demo to-do list is still huge, but things are happening.  The last 10% are the last 90% indeed.

Plus Size Queen

A/N: This was requested by the lovely @secretlittledelights  I sincerely hope you like this, love! It was a delight doing this! Let me know if you want me to re do it for you, sorry if it’s terrible! Enjoy! 

Word Count: 776 

Warnings: Angst? Fluff? Rudeness. Dickhead Doctor. Plus size discrimination subtly. 



You groaned as you sat in the small crowded doctor’s waiting room, people coughing and sneezing and blowing their nose, just like you.

You’d come down with a cold, due to the freezing temperatures and scatterings of snow and rain. You’d been staying in bed, resting, keeping warm, all week. Watching tv, drinking tea, eating soup, blowing your nose, taking medicines. Nothing seemed to work.

So, here you were. Sam had practically dragged you into the doctors, demanding you be seen to possibly get some better medicine to help and just to make sure you were okay.

Two mother’s with their children went into the two doctors offices, and then you heard the door open and your name being called. Sam held you close as you both got up and walked into the clean pristine room. You both sat down in the chairs, and the doctor looked at Sam, then you, and you knew instantly the look he was giving you. You’d seen it many times before.

The doctor’s voice was clipped as he spoke. “So, what seems to be the problem? Are you having trouble with your weight?”

Wow, right off the bat, that was a first, but not very surprising. You instantly felt Sam tese, and you rubbed soft circles on his hand to soothe him, giving a polite smile to the doctor as you sniffled, your nose red and sore, voice slightly rough and nasally.

“I have a cold, and it hasn’t gone in a while, I’ve tried everything, we thought it was best coming here”

The doctor nodded and silently got up, checking your breathing, your ears, looking at your tonsils, then weighing you on the scales. Sam looked confused at that, but stayed silent as you sat back down, holding your hand, kissing it softly, looking at the doctor as he typed on his computer before looking at you, his eyes cold, voice rude and sour.

“Have you considered dieting? Have you tried exercising more, eating healthy? You can get personal trainers, go to classes, get meal plans. Perhaps a medication of some sort to help reduce weight would be best?”

And that’s when Sam lost it. If it was one thing he couldn’t deal with, it was people being assholes because of how you looked. You were plus size. You were used to this sort of thing. But, to him, you were an angel. So perfect. And it was his instinct to knock anyone out who said otherwise.

When Sam spoke his voice was a deadly tone, one you recognised from hunts. His body was upright, tensed, and his eyes were burning on the doctor.

“That’s got nothing to do with the fact she has a cold. She’s sick, her weight is fine, how about you do your job and give her something to help her get better than worrying about anything else.”

Sam’s nostrils were flared, his fists clenched, and you sat speechless, watching, still holding on to Sam in case he lost his temper and knocked the doctor out cold.  

The tall, lanky, grey haired doctor looked frightened in his seat, practically cowering at the sight of this deadly hunter. Nodding quickly, stuttering, he turned to his computer, typing with trembling fingers.

“O-Of course, I was just, I-I’ll get a medication, some antibiotics and medicine to take that s-should help with in a at least week”

He quickly gave you your prescription, not even making eye contact, and Sam grabbed it, practically hauling you out the building.

When you were by the car, he was cupping your face and kissing you, passionately, pouring every single ounce of love he had for you into it, his strong, big, warm arms wrapped around your body as he held you close, his lips scattering kisses over your cheeks and face.

“I’m sorry, baby. He’s a fucking asshole okay? Don’t pay any mind. You are perfect. My beautiful, perfect, sweet little angel. Never forget that. I’ll prove it to you tonight”

He winked down at you, kissing you softly again before helping you in the car, holding you in his lap as Dean drove back to the bunker, smiling when he saw you both cuddled up in the backseat.

You smiled, feeling content and happy. It was impossible to doubt yourself with Sam. He truly showed you how he saw you through his eyes. He taught you to love yourself.

You looked up at him, long hair, strong jaw, beautiful eyes, placing a soft kiss on his cheek.

“I love you, Sam”

The smile he gave you back was enough to make your heart skip “I love you more, my beautiful queen” 

Let Me Take Care of You | Jackson Wang

Description: You are Jackson’s girlfriend. You have a happy relationship with him since he treated you so well and always took care of you. It’s not until you hear that he became ill to where he was sent to the hospital that you start to feel guilty that you never took good care of him like he always does for you.

Originally posted by j-miki

A/N: I wrote this scenario after hearing what happened to Jackson. I and IGot7 wish him a full recovery. I’m pretty sure others will agree that if Jackson were ever sick like this that we would drop everything and go take care of him. He works so hard for us that sometimes he forgets to take care of himself and realize where his limits are. When he thinks about us agase he never stops to look after himself so I wish that in the future he keeps a better eye on his health.

Enjoy.

Word Count: 1,171


I am a caring person. I always want to make sure that everyone around me is okay. I like to see those who are always around me smiling, especially when they are the source of my happiness. That’s where Jackson Wang comes in. I met him when I was a trainee and he had already debuted as a rookie in Got7. We became close in friends then it led to a more serious relationship then neither of us expected to happen. He is so kind and full of love that he leaves a huge impression on you after meeting him. He treats his fans like he treats me because every time he sees them and meets them he wants them to feel loved like a boyfriend.

Jackson takes really good care of me. He always makes sure that I’ve eaten, that I’ve slept well, that I’m happy. He is my ray of sunshine. I’m grateful for his attention and love that he gives me. Whenever I hear that bad things have happened to him, like getting into a car accident because his fans were chasing him, I feel like he never deserves anything bad to happen to him since he treats everyone like how he wants to be treated.

When I heard that he was taken to the hospital because he was severely sick, my chest tightened as I thought back to the last time I spoke to him. I had complained about my schedule when I didn’t even ask him how he was feeling. If I had known how bad his condition was I would’ve made time to see him and take care of him because I know he would do the same for me.

Once Jackson was released from the hospital and put on bed rest I made sure to make time to spend with him. I brought food by the Got7 dorm to help Jackson get some of his energy back. The dorm is quite since the rest of the members are promoting their new album.

I stirred the soup with the spoon and blow air to cool it down, “Have some more.” I bring the spoon to his lips as he slurps it. He looks pale and so weak that I’m scared to even hug him so he won’t waste the energy he has left.

“Y/N, you should eat too.”

“I’ll eat when you finish eating. You need food in your stomach so you can take your medicine.”

He takes a few more spoonfuls of soup, “Didn’t you have a show to shoot today?”

I shrug my shoulders, “It’s okay, and the girls can do it without me.”

“But you’re their leader, Y/N. You should be with them.”

“Jackson, it’s fine. One shoot won’t make me the worst leader. You shouldn’t be alone when you’re sick anyways.”

I take a sip of water in order to loosen the huge knot I have in my throat from holding back the tears that are peaking through my waterline.

“Jagi,” Jackson calls to me placing his hand on my wrist, “what’s wrong?”

“Nothing, the steam from the soup is causing my nose to run.” I couldn’t let him see me worried about him when he needs to focus on getting better.

Before I could come up with a new subject to talk about he takes the bowl out of my hand and sets it on the table beside the bed. He pulls me into his arms and keeps me swaddled in his embrace.

“I’m okay, jagi. Please don’t cry. You’re not as pretty when you cry. You are the most beautiful when you smile.” He whispers in my ear while combing my hair with his fingers.

I let a few drops run down my face, “How can I not cry when I complain about stupid things that are going on with my schedule and I didn’t even think about what you were going through.”

“I like it when you talk about your concerns with me. You trust me enough to lean on me for support.”

“You should do the same. I want to hear your problems and what’s bothering you. You tell agase that they should take care of themselves and to never stress because you’re always beside them but who’s looking out for you when you’re like this?”

“Yes, I have worries and stress but it never bothers me because when I see you I forget what was bothering me in the first place.”

“Still, you shouldn’t hide it especially when it involves your health. You can act like your fine about your feelings but your body won’t cooperate with you when you want it to.”

“I know, but agase wait so long to meet us that I don’t want to let them down because of a little upset stomach.”

I slap his arm, “Upset stomach? You vomited and you had to be carried out of the building trait to a hospital. You’re not a hundred percent. Agase understands if you’re not well. Your health comes first to them. If you die because you refused to get treated for you sickness then how are they gonna feel knowing you gave your life for them. They love you…almost as much as I do.”

He smirks at me with those adorable stares of his as I completely go off ranting about his health and fans.

“I don’t want to see you getting upset about missing some performances because you matter first.” I sniff the gross mucus coming from my sinus caused by the thought of Jackson tolerating the pain he was going through at that fan meeting but having so much ambition to see it through to the end.

“JACKSON WANG, YOUR HEALTH IS IMPORTANT SO DON’T ACT LIKE YOU’RE FINE WHEN YOU’RE REALLY NOT! IF YOU’RE SAD, TELL ME YOU’RE SAD AND WHY YOU’RE SAD! EVEN IF YOUR CONSTIPATED, TELL ME SO I CAN NOT ONLY LAUGH AT YOU BUT EVENTUALLY GIVE YOU SOME ORGANIC MEDICINE TO HELP! WHATEVER IT IS, NO MATTER HOW EMBARRASSING IT IS JUST TELL ME!” I finally let the frustrations out in front of him.

It makes me realize how similar Jackson and I are. We both keep out emotions to ourselves in order to not burden anyone with our issues that can be dealt with on our own.

Jackson takes my cheeks in his strong hands to wipe my tear with his thumbs. He pulls my face closer to him to give me a loving kiss to my lips.

I always wish nothing but good things for Jackson, for him to succeed with Got7 and in life in generally. If for some reason we’re no longer together and he finds someone else to share his life with, I will give him my support to the fullest as long as he is happy where he is.

We stay in place with our foreheads touching for a while in silence until Jackson speaks again.

“Jagi,” I hum a reply, “I think the soup gave me gas.”

anonymous asked:

Because I am trash, how would Guzma propose to his (female) s/o?

• He’d be nervous
• Like dating was hard enough but marriage?
• Fuck him in the ass with a chainsaw
• Honestly, he is just so nervous
• He saved enough money to not buy the cheapest one but not buy the most expensive because money is still short
• He gets one with that has a thin band and the diamond is squared that has silver bands gripping the diamond into place
• He has it placed into a black velvet box and keeps it hidden behind his alcoholic drinks
• Guzma, as confident as he is, tries to make sure that you will say yes because while he’s sure that you love him, he doesn’t want his heart to break
• He’ll add in movies that have proposal scenes and look to see your reaction
• He’ll notice that you’ll start tearing up at the whole going down on one knee and proposer stating things about their loved ones
• That’s when he realizes he hasn’t practiced at all
• He’ll immediately start sweating and tense up
• Once you’re asleep, he’ll go to the roof and start jotting things down about what he loves about you
• For like thirty minutes, he’s sitting there thinking about what he could write
• He loves you and he knows why but he can’t put it into words
• He’ll take you out to dinner at this high class restaurant
• He’s wearing a suit and it looks good at him
• It hugs his muscles and while it may be a little tight, it looks damn well on him
• After dinner, you guys take a walk at Hano beach
• When the moon is high, he’ll wait till your back is turned and when you turn around, he’s on his knees
• You bring your hands up to cover your mouth and he smirks when he hears a gasp
• He looks down and clears his throat
• “I love you, You know that, I know that. Hell, I’m pretty sure Kukui knows. And I decided that I want to spend more time with you. While you can be annoying, I love everything about you. I love the sounds you make when you yawn. How you slurp your soda and soup. How your nose crinkles when you smile. How different your laughs are. From cackling to giggles to that silent laughter you get when you laugh too hard. Everything about you is beautiful. So…. Will you take this gorgeous piece of shit as your fiancé?”
• When you say yes, he breaks out into this huge grin and holds you and spins you around
• He places a big, wet kiss on you while dipping you
• He’ll then proceed to make love with you on the beach

2

11/19 For about a week, I have been trying to solve the Mystery of the Unwelcome Bedtime. Soup-Nose will NOT go to sleep no matter what we do.

On an entirely unrelated note, about a week ago we finally gave up on finding another apple crusher and finishing this year’s cider. We started feeding the leftover apples to the goats. Also completely unrelatedly, Soup-Nose really likes the squishiest, brownest, most fermented apples. She just shoves her nose right into them. Splurch.

The Blue-Haired Girlfriend (who is definitely the brains of the operation) pointed out the obvious today: Soup-Nose won’t go to sleep because she is Drunk And Busy Yelling At Clouds.

anonymous asked:

I woke up super sick today. Do you think you could do some Gabe and sick reader HC?

Gabe can see you getting sick before you know you’re getting sick and tries to start you on a medicine regiment before it gets worse

But if you still end up sick, he is ushering you to your bed, no if, ands or buts about it

He is the gruff mother hen. ‘What the hell do you think you’re doing, go back to bed.’ ‘Oh yeah, you’d totally be able to work like this, go back to sleep Y/N’ ‘If you try and sneak out again I’m going to throw you over my shoulder and sit on you to make sure you can’t leave.’ and when you start getting really achy/antsy he pulls out the unfair lines. ‘Mi amor, please rest, for me?’

On top of regular medicine, he goes old school. You are getting vapor rub on your chest and under your nose, homemade soup, a hot toddy, and sweating it out. None of that biotics, it helps to build your immune system.

He is there with you when your body aches and you’re sweating, he’s gently patting down your face with a cool cloth and kissing your forehead, changing your pajamas when you sweat through them and making you drink the tea or water

He is also hovering constantly, like that few days your sick, you don’t know it until you’re well but he is working from your room. He has set up a command station and wanders between that you you for the entirety of your illness

He won’t accept your thank you when you’re all better telling you that he’d do it again in a heartbeat

2/18 Hickory Roasted Almonds, a play by Soup-Nose The Goat.

Soup-Nose: I see you have almonds. Can I have one?

Me: No, they’re too salty for goats.

Soup-Nose: Almond! Give me the the almond. 

Soup-Nose: Nobody has ever in the history of the universe wanted anything as badly as I want this almond. The strong nuclear force pales in comparison to my attraction to your almonds. 

Soup-Nose: Some goats just want to watch the world burn, you know. Goats who don’t have almonds right now.

Me: All right, all right. Here you go.

Soup-Nose: Aauuu! Salty! 

Soup-Nose runs to the water bucket, sticks her head into it, and sprays water everywhere, splashing a very surprised peacock who had been flirting with a Sexy Fence Post. The peacock flies off and sits on top of the goat shed, making angry squeaktoy noises.

Soup-Nose: Whew, that was awful.

Soup-Nose: Hey, are those almonds? Can I have one?

Life is a Soup Bowl

I am drowning in a soupçon
of a flood of emotions:
cayenne peppery anger,
salty lachrymose,
gingery guilt,
chunky disillusionment,
oniony restlessness,
and smouldering in the steam
of my own bad taste.

Sickness

A/N: I wrote this for @winchesters-favorite-girl GET WELL SOON! They’re sick go give them some love. Also I’m sorry if it’s shit first time writing an SPN imagine.

Characters: Sam, Dean & Cas

Pairings: Sam x Sister!reader, Dean x Sister!reader, Cas x reader (Platonic)


You were awoken by a flutter of wings and a pounding headache. You opened your sticky eyes to see Cas tilting his head at you with his brows furrowed. “Y/N… I thought that you would be going on this hunt?” what he said sounded more like a question than a statement so you answered it. “No Cas I’m sick…” you croaked. Cas took a step forward and spoke “Should I heal you?” there was a pause filled with sniffles and a few coughs before you spike again “No Cas it’s fine. It’s just a common cold.” Cas nods his head slowly his furrowed brows never becoming un-furrowed. He leaves and you slowly feel your eyelids droop again.

You are once again awoken but this time not by wings but by voices. “Cas. Where. Is. She. I’ve asked you 3 times” you heard Dean’s voice float down the hallway. “I dont think it would be wise to see her. She is sleeping and I believe her state has worsened from when you last saw her.” you could practically hear the formallity and slight annoyance in the angel’s voice. “Cas just let us see her and make sure she’s alright.” Sam’s soft but still manly voice drifted down the hallway. Seconds later you hear heavy footsteps coming toward your room. You hear the door creak before looking up and seeing Sam’s huge figure taking up most of the doorway and Dean just peeking over his shoulder. Sam slowly made his way over to you knelt down beside you. He puts his hand up against your forehead and almost immediately draws it back. “Jeez Sammy, Is she really that hot?” Dean’s gruff voice comes from behind you as he settles on the bed “Yeah she is Dean, or else I wouldn’t of-” Sam was cut short by a groan escaping your mouth. All the talking wasn’t helping your headache. “Sam, you get a cold flannel and some medication, I’ll get the soup and a clean blanket” Dean whispered. Once again you felt your tired eyes shut “Hey sweetheart. Wake up I got you some soup and a nice cold, fresh blanket.” You opened you eyes too see Dean’s apple green eyes and the smell of chicken noodle soup wafted up to your nose. Gingerly you prop yourself up on the pillows and have Dean pass you the soup. Minutes later your nose is alot clearer and Sam enters with some panadol. “Hey! There’s my baby sister all happy and cheerful” you give him your best smile that you can manage and then burst into a cougjing fit only to have Sam rub your back the entire time. “I have some water for you if you wanna take the tablets now?” you give your brother moose a slight nod and and he gives you the meds. Before you know it both your brothers have decided that they want to be in your bed to make sure your alright. “We love you Y/N. Hope you feel better when you wake up.” they both whisper in your ear. You once again fade into nothing with your brothers wrapped around you.

A/N: If you do see this I hope it wasn’t too bad I wrote it on my phone. It also took me three days because phones are dumb. Hope you feel better soon though (If you see this, Oh holy writer of winsister imagines).
3

Last night, a coyote smashed its way through the wooden wall of the hen house and ate the Disgruntled Viking Chicken. We’ll miss her.

We never intended to end up with a Disgruntled Viking Chicken. We’d gone to the feed store to buy Rhode Island Red chicks, but there was also one little ball of yellow fluff who’d gotten her head stuck in the food dish, peeping angrily. I thought that was cute, and so we ended up with one yellow Buff Orpington along with our flock of sleek red-orange rhodies. The rhodies would sit on the Blue Haired Girlfriend’s lap, watching TV and being petted, while the Disgruntled Viking Hen investigated the edibility of such culinary delights as “electrical cords” and “socks.”

We probably shouldn’t have been surprised when head-stuck-in-food-dish chick grew into a hungry yellow fluffsphere with feet. She stalked frogs in the duckpond, dismembered them with disturbing zeal, and ate them messily. She had an uncanny ability to locate styrofoam, aluminum foil, and plastic buried in the mud, which she would then attempt to eat and angrily peck any humans who took them away. She once leaped up and pecked Soup-Nose the goat right in the udder when she felt that Soup-Nose was getting too close to her barley.

She gave no fucks about flock politics, unless someone was taking her food, in which case I hope The Powers That Be had mercy on them, cause she sure wouldn’t. But whenever we got new birds, they always ended up sleeping cuddled up to the Disgruntled Viking Hen, who just didn’t care if they were strangers or scared or lost or at the bottom of the pecking order. The peacocks slept one on each side of her, leaning on her, for months after we got them. If she realized they were not actually chickens, she did not care.

I hope Chicken Afterlife is full of wonderful things to eat, like styrofoam and uranium and nebulas and square roots and entropy and fulgarites, and nobody to take them away from her. And I’m glad all the new arrivals to Chicken Afterlife - scared and lost - will find a warm soft grouchy yellow fluffsphere who gives no fucks to sleep next to.

Make You Feel My Love

Based on this song

Pairing: Sam x Reader

Summary: Sam makes sure you know how much he loves you.

Word Count: ~3,800

Warnings: sickness, just a whole lot of fluff, family problems/drama, implied smut, more fluff!

A/N: I adore this song and just really wanted to write some Sam fluff. (Side note that probably no one cares to hear: at my wedding, I’m walking down the aisle to this song :’) )

*not my gif, as per the usual

Originally posted by sam-and-dean-winchesters

The brothers had spent a few days away on a hunt. You usually spent the time to yourself cleaning or relaxing. This time, you laid in bed almost all four days, curled up under a blanket with a box of tissues next to you where Sam usually laid. You coughed and groaned as you sat up and reached for your glass of water. You could hear Sam’s voice echoing in your head. “Make sure you stay hydrated. It’s the only way you’ll kick this thing.” You smiled at the thought of him always wanting the best for you.

After you gulped down some water and popped a cough drop into your mouth, you pulled your blankets up closer to your chin and snuggled down into them. Once the cough drop disintegrated into nothing and managed to soothe the roughness in the back of your throat, you let yourself fall asleep.

A little while later, you woke up to heavy footsteps coming down the hall toward you. You rolled over to face the door, but kept your eyes closed. The door creaked open slowly and Sam’s footsteps got quieter. You knew he kicked off his boots as he walked into your shared room. You shivered as the blankets shifted and cold air from outside the blanket swept across the front of your legs. The bed dipped and you felt yourself being pulled closer to Sam.

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

Tom's totally the BF that would hold your hair back while you had to hurl. I wonder if he would all so make chicken soup on those snotty nose days. Just saying.

Absolutely. He would also run to the store to buy you tampons without blinking an eye.

1/6/2017 Temperature still below freezing. Soup-Nose the Goat is spending too many calories on milk production and has been shivering. We bought her some oilseed. The sheep are alive with glorious purpose. They finally understand why they are such fluffbeasts, plus they get oilseed! I think I actually saw Cody the Sheep skipping, which is the kind of terrifying you’d need some sort of giant mecha to stand against.

Weird little ice-roses are growing out of some goat poop. Not all the goat poop, just one pile next to the henhouse. Water is starting to really weird me out. I’m not sure being made of 70% water was such a good decision on my part.

1/14/2016 Today Soup-Nose the goat suddenly forgot How To Exist As A Three Dimensional Object. She was in the same milking stanchion we’ve been using to milk her almost every day for three years, but was somehow shocked and amazed by the fact that her horns would not pass through the metal bar. It took twenty minutes of vigorous and muddy goat wrestling to get her out.

Between this and the time a couple weeks ago when she unlatched the chicken house, ate 40 pounds of chicken food, and was still hungry for dinner  - where did the chicken food go? that’s a third her weight - I am starting to wonder if I can sign her up for some sort of remedial course on Your Life As A Three Dimensional Being Inside A Pseudo-Riemmanian Manifold or something.