I made baked chicken for dinner tonight. The husband hands Evan a regular knife with which to cut his chicken.
evan: What?!? A butter knife?
husband: It'll work, it's serrated and it's only chicken.
evan: I guess it'll work but if I wanted kill a boar I wouldn't use this.
Walking the dog this morning I ran into the nice lady who gave me fresh figs off of the fig tree in her yard. She happens to be recovering nicely from her hip replacement. She also happens to be the owner of the cat that was using my children's play area as a litter box. I happened to have coincidentally picked up a pellet gun (ahem) right around the time I figured out the mystery of the stench. Naturally Evan took the pellet gun off of my desk and jammed it the very day I bought it. So I never did get my revenge on the vagrant kitty. Miraculously (or maybe because I had the gardener remove all of the sand from the sand box and the wood chips from the play area) the kitty spared our property for the rest of the summer and by the time we came home from utopia the backyard was stink free. The cat was hit by a car in July. (I wasn't here at that time! I swear! I was in Utopia!)
Scene: Evan, Josh and me driving somewhere around Stepford
me: Aaaawwww. look two baby deer on that lawn! How cute! Oooops, one is pooping.
evan: And that is precisely how if you wake up with 4 puncture wounds in your arm and a puddle next to you how you can tell if it was a snake or a vampire bat.
evan: You see a vampire bat eats three times his weight in blood so when they feed they need to feed for like three hours and naturally they have to eliminate during that time. If a snake bites you then when you wake up, well, you are dead.