it's a bitter duel . . .

. . . and I am losing on all three counts.

Apparently, Game of Thrones will not be coming out with season three until NEXT YEAR. You bloody buggers. Saw it off. If anyone else knows of any appropriate British or general UK euphemisms that are appropriate for that occasion, so be it. Renegade that I am, I am now on Book Four and I KNOW WHAT HAPPENS, pox upon you! Or, as they might say in the Seven Kingdoms (God, am I geeky), may the Others take you. And so much happens. I've taken this to my advantage whenever hubby gets my goat and I threaten to drop a little tidbit of coughing that may sound like *coughing coughing married coughing Lannister* or *coughing achoo killed Stark* and wow, what a reaction. He's waiting for the series to return.

Other bitter duel involves my bloody character who has aforementioned all but STOLEN my story out from under me, but under the advice of a co-worker, I have decide to let her do what she will so now I have two people to blame and shoot dirty looks at should this prove a bad move. The good news is that at least one of these people is tangibly real and will actually be there to receive dirty looks whilst the other can only be deleted.

The last and final duel has yet to be determined. I am reminded of the movies Support Your Local Sheriff and Support Your Local Gunfighter. This would be Support Your Local Chicken versus Support Your Local Hand That Feeds and Waters and Fences Your Local Chicken. Not a day after putting up the fence were they out of it in five second flat. Fine. Buggers. So I lined it with mesh. That lasted a day. I think they got out through a weakness in the gate. So I fixed the gate. Now I am waiting for them to fly over, or use their coop as a means to fly over, or dig under, or get eaten by hawks. All of which I have to address. In due time. I am about $700 into these buggers (oh raise chickens! it's a cheap hobby and you get free eggs!) and haven't seen an egg yet. Not that I am bitter. They are cute. Which is why I am not having a chicken fry in the backyard next Sunday. (No really - I love them. They are precious and I spend hours watching them I read from the porch if I am not in with them reading and convincing them my toes are not bugs.)

Jentopia is taking shape. All I need is a winning lotto ticket and . . . no need to be greedy. That's all I need!