Duck Neighbors
I miss who murdered Mrs. McGinty. But I don’t miss my neighbor duck watching me all the way up the rest of the hill and back to my house.
I miss who murdered Mrs. McGinty. But I don’t miss my neighbor duck watching me all the way up the rest of the hill and back to my house.
Like Stardew Valley, it has you running a little farm next to a shoddy cabin in a small town—except, the main thing you’re growing on your farm is the little creatures.
Vowel merges have led multiple people to mistake my tale about seeing the ferry with spotting a fairy or my ponderings about Frodo and Merry as Frodo and Mary.
Wouldn’t it be much easier to suffer amnesia and be nursed back to health by a rugged lumberjack?
It finally dawned on me that if I didn’t look like Tina Turner by now, it was probably not going to happen ever.
But the Mystery of Love prevailed: God did not say Goodbye or Who Are You but Hey Ya; no Ghost Rule, but God crowned Jesus Lord of the Castle.
I learned how to use the mechanical bread slicer to slice fresh loaves of garlic tuscan, and how to base-ice a buttercream celebration cake.
While she wrestled greatly with the tension of simultaneously desiring community and independence, it is clear that she was actually nailing it the entire time and really had nothing to worry about.
The lack of human hands was a dealbreaker for some members, who were told to “be the pickle jar opener in their own life,” by the group members who chose this option.
Let me tell you, dear reader, nothing so wrenches the heart like turkey tears.