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Voila! Nothing There.

Until yesterday, that is what the Husband, Molly the Cat, and I saw when we looked out the patio door. Sitting behind the shed was a small chicken coop. Molly loved to climb up the chicken coop, along a plank, and onto the shed's southern eaves to take her nap between breakfast and lunch.

For the past year,  the Husband and I have talked about taking down the structures because they were useless. No chickens for the coop (never were!) and if we did have chickens I would rather see them strutting freely (kind of) around the yard. As for the shed, only hobbits would be short enough to stand in it. If, even then.

So, why was it built?

I don't know, and I don't care to speculate about how it came to be built. When I heard a crow and saw a butterfly as we dismantled the structures, I knew that the Mama liked our decision.

It felt good swinging the hammer and being constructively destructive. Pound! Pound! Grunt! Pound!GRUNT! Pound! Pound! The most physical activity that the Hu…

Molly the Cat's ABC Wednesday Movie for the Letter C

Missus Lady can watch a great romance story over and over. And over again. I don't know how many times she has watched the different versions of Pride and Prejudice and Jane Eyre. She always stops at Two Weeks Notice, with Sandra Bullock and Hugh Grant, when she's channel surfing and Hero Man is not sitting next to her. If he is, she grabs for the remote and flips to the movie during commercials.

Hero Man is fine with watching any movie once. But, he might think differently about this week's movie pick that they both enjoyed. It's another British film, by the way.

Cuban Fury (2014)

Settings: Office and dance floor, somewhere in England.

Bruce is 39 years old, shy, overweight, and unhappy, trudging from home to work to home day after day. At work he is hounded by his disgusting colleague Drew. If Bruce ever fought back, he would win.  Meeeeewwwwww!

Bruce used to be full of energy and spirit when he was a youngster. He was in fact a junior salsa dancing prince. He lived to…

Feast Day of Santiago

Today is the anniversary of the day that we celebrated the Daddy's birthday. He would've been 112 this year.

The Daddy was born on July 15, 1905, but most of his formal papers show July 25. This is my theory for the discrepancy: His baptismal document, the only legal paper he had about his birth, was in Spanish, the primary language of the Philippines back then. Spanish was not the Daddy's family's first language. And, I suppose nobody cared when the Daddy signed a contract in 1928 to go to Hawaii to work on the sugar plantations, nor when he joined the Army during WWII or he became a naturalized U.S. citizen.

When the Daddy was born, the Philippines was in transition from being a Spanish colony to a United States territory. The Daddy said that when he was a baby his parents ran him up into the mountains to hide during the war. The Daddy was surprised when I told him that it wasn't Spain the Filipinos were fighting, but the United States. I'm not sure if ever …

Succulents

I don't think I'm there yet—a succulent crazy mama.

I did go to a succulent and cactus show a couple months of ago. It was something to do. It was free.

And, yeah, okay I did buy $30 worth of plants, which I finally planted in that ceramic planter above.  The purchases were the orange and red moon cactuses, that spiny looking tree, the cactus with the tiny white flowers on the right that's blending with the white rocks, and the succulent in the metal planter on the left. Maybe that little succulent in the center of the bowl. I can't recall. I also can't remember if I kept their name tags.

Yesterday, I dug out the Mama's spindly looking aloe vera plants in the back yard. They were nesting next to the apricot tree and geraniums,  getting too much water and not enough sun.  I thought I would plant them today in a sunnier part of the backyard, but I felt too tired. Maybe tomorrow morning, I'll at least stick the largest plants into the ground, and a few of the…

Molly the Cat's ABC Wednesday Movie for the Letter B

The Humans watch a lot of British black comedies because the Missus Lady loves the quick, dry wit of the British writers. They don't even have to try to be funny, she says.  I don't know what she means. Purrrrrrr. I hear no complaints from the Hero Man so he must think the same way.

The Legend of Barney Thomson (2015)

Setting: In and around Glasgow

The Missus Lady says this film is wonderfully absurd. The main character is meek, bland barber Barney Thomson who has no customer service skills, so over the years he got pushed further into a corner where no customer wants to sit.

One evening after the barber shop closes, Barney and the manager have a heart to heart about woeful Barney that ends in an inadvertent push and shove, the manager dead, and a finally living large Barney. It was an accident so why didn't Barney quipppp just say so instead of hiding the body? Hero Man says if that was the case, there would be no movie.

Because the shop is shorthanded, Barney gets more custom…