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Locked on 06/17/2004 7:16:03 AM PDT by Admin Moderator, reason:
Hobbit Hole XI: http://www.freerepublic.com/focus/chat/1155177/posts |
Posted on 06/01/2004 9:35:59 AM PDT by HairOfTheDog
New verse:
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Upon the hearth the fire is red, |
Still round the corner there may wait |
Home is behind, the world ahead, |
Steeinkin' varmint! Sorry to hear about the birds.
I got the worst on the pepper plants with Sevin dust. I'll have to check out the tomatoes today. The aphid population has increased so that the squash method isn't working any more.
thekidz took it well... they understand how life goes... didn't let 'em see the carnage inside thecoop tho'... nasty business... that coon is goin tuh be terminated with extreme prejudice... and any young'uns with it, cuz I gotta feelin' from the crime scene it's a momma and her young...
mmmmmmmmm... sevin....
Some varmints need killin'.
Ugh...no time to catch up here...see ya later!
no kiddin?...
Happy Birthday y'all...
g'nad; "improve the barrier" let's see: trench (check), sharpened stakes (check), sharpen ax (check), sharpen broadheads (check), new batteries of night vision goggles (check) slight nod to techology, burnt cork (check). Good huntin'.
Fifty recipies for 'coon (check) how to tan furs at home (check). You're ready.
OT: plant shopping is always appropriate. We got extra pots when you need 'em.
BBL
Mornin' folks. Storm knocked muh Internet out last night . Just got ahold of Comcast to help me get it back. Nice an muddy out there today. Gonna go play in it.
Reckon I'll scroll back tho and see what y'all said about me.
Well, he passed the exam, but barely. We ain't out of the woods yet. And he could still use a good @$$-kickin'.
Did some self medicatin' of muh own last night. But somebody put too much tonic in muh vodka. And dang if I didn't finish off my bottle of vodka anyway. But I gots a new bottle of gin...
If I put a lime in it, that'll qualify as a breakfast drink, won't it?
I thought it was most beautiful and fitting. All of the speakers were excellent and it was a wonderful tribute. And I thought it most appropriate that the gospel was presented without shame.
And in the face of evil incarnate...
I gots ten cannas comin' up. There's a few more I ain't seen yet.
yuh know, the dwarves were good to both of y'all...
Saturday's Funkle works hard for a livin...
Reckon I'll scroll back tho and see what y'all said about me.
Corin's a mud farmer, Corin's a mud farmer!
Hmm, here is a thought...
Schwarzenegger as Elrond
"I'll be back, Sauron."
Days passed and The Day drew nearer. An odd-looking waggon laden with odd-looking packages rolled into Hobbiton one evening and toiled up the Hill to Bag End. The startled hobbits peered out of lamplit doors to gape at it...
The next day more carts rolled up the Hill, and still more carts. There might have been some grumbling about ‘dealing locally’, but that very week orders began to pour out of Bag End for every kind of provision, commodity, or luxury that could be obtained in Hobbiton or Bywater or anywhere in the neighbourhood. People became enthusiastic; and they began to tick off the days on the calendar; and they watched eagerly for the postman, hoping for invitations.
Before long the invitations began pouring out, and the Hobbiton post-office was blocked, and the Bywater post-office was snowed under, and voluntary assistant postmen were called for. There was a constant stream of them going up the Hill, carrying hundreds of polite variations on Thank you, I shall certainly come.
A notice appeared on the gate at Bag End: NO ADMITTANCE EXCEPT ON PARTY BUSINESS. Even those who had, or pretended to have Party Business were seldom allowed inside. Bilbo was busy: writing invitations, ticking off answers, packing up presents, and making some private preparations of his own. From the time of Gandalf’s arrival he remained hidden from view.
One morning the hobbits woke to find the large field, south of Bilbo’s front door, covered with ropes and poles for tents and pavilions. A special entrance was cut into the bank leading to the road, and wide steps and a large white gate were built there. The three hobbit-families of Bagshot Row, adjoining the field, were intensely interested and generally envied. Old Gaffer Gamgee stopped even pretending to work in his garden.
The tents began to go up. There was a specially large pavilion, so big that the tree that grew in the field was right inside it, and stood proudly near one end, at the head of the chief table. Lanterns were hung on all its branches. More promising still (to the hobbits’ mind): an enormous open-air kitchen was erected in the north corner of the field. A draught of cooks, from every inn and eating-house for miles around, arrived to supplement the dwarves and other odd folk that were quartered at Bag End. Excitement rose to its height.
A long-expected party. . .it will be the talk of nine days! :)
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