The harvest moon is fucking with the rooster.

In case the time stamp on this post is el wrongo, let me state for the record, it iis 230 in the fucking morning. It is indeed lovely to have farm fresh eggs in the morning right from the nest, and both of the places we have stayed this trip have free range organic chickens, but the cost of that might just be the harvest moon fucking with the rooster.

EB asked me yesterday morning if I heard the rooster. I did not, but in his defense, I think he crowed at the normal hour and maybe only once. This morning, not so. He started sometime in the recent past and again in his defense, I was already lying in bed awake. As was eb. And all we could do was snicker and laugh. Out loud. Until I declared I was awake enough to get up anyway.

Today is the last full day away from home, and with a 230 start, we are in business.

Yesterday was the Taos Sheep and Wool Festival and my shopping might be considered by some to be extreme. Suffice it to say, I owe eb a full day of scenic driving and then some. Pics will follow once we are home.