It's a little dreary and cool on the back porch this morning. The yard is covered with leaves. From where I sit, I can see the compost pile. It looks like some critter dug in it last night. We have set up a trail camera pointing straight at the compost bin, and it hasn't caught a blasted thing except for me and The Husband going out there to see if it's caught anything.
I went out there just now to rearrange the set-up, and now I really can't figure out why the camera isn't picking up this phantom. There's a very distinct path up the compost heap, right in view of the camera. I moved some of the yard equipment away from the bin. Maybe we'll get footage tonight.
I don't know why we're being so silly about this. We already know it's Jose, the armadillo. A couple of nights ago, we heard something scratching in the leaves near the porch. The Husband shined a spotlight and said, "It's the armadillo," and switched off the light. I volunteered to hold the spotlight while he blasted it, but he doesn't like to shoot at night.
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Tuesday's painting class was blah. I was blah. I did not take the picture of Daddy and my brother to work on; instead, I took some Christmas cards I'd drawn, but didn't paint them. Just wasn't feeling it. Since then, I've drawn a few more. Maybe I'll paint them today.
Or not.
I never send Christmas cards.
Maybe I will this year.
Maybe.
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