poob

The guineas poo. A lot. I had no idea that three birds could produce that much waste. They used to do nothing but hang out on the porch, so you really, really had to watch your step anytine you walked out the front door. We had to hose it off every few days. Now, though, the guineas like to roam around. They like the deck, the yard, they follow us down the trail into the jungle, and they love to hang out at Gretta's house next door when they can't find us. They are truly social creatures.

But back to the poo. Here's one of the greatest things I've heard in a long time: 'POOB!!' That's right, poob. Not poop. The kids, especially Sam, say 'poob.' It's a funny word, in and of itself, but it is a very funny word when you hear a three-year-old yelling it at the top of his lungs. Evie does it sometimes, but it's much more funny coming from Sam. 'MOOOM, THE GUINEA POOBED!!' or 'DAAAD, there's POOB on the deck!!!!!' Gretta thinks it is funny that our children feel the need to tell us anytime a guinea poobs. However, she raised six kids and is about a million years old and gives me wonderful advice on pretty much everything under the sun and she know everything about all plants, ever, so she is allowed to be amused by this.

I am not amused. 'Poob' and the poob alerts got old after the first week. I can't wait until we get the damn coop built.

A quick side note: The Fabulous Book Club met last night, and I had the best time! I love everyone in that club, especially Melanie and Kim, and even Angry Mom. Who doesn't love talking about English prostitution from the 1700's and 1800's, and cholera, and The Trump's hair??? I mean, seriously!!!

More on my opinion's about that man's hair at a later date.