Charlie, the prairie dog, bit me. 

– and I’ve lived to tell the tale. 

This weekend was fun, if not exhausting. I did four sets with my group, lovingly called “gershblerg” and other like mutterings because we couldn’t come up with a name. 

I can now say I am a paid musician, I made $100 for about an hour of music altogether, and during this got to hammock, play a lot of munchkin, and visit a craft fair in downtown Leesburg. All in all, a pretty solid gig. 

Now for the part you’ve been waiting for. The prairie dog. So our fearless band leader, Nathan, and his wife have a pet prairie dog named Charlie who they brought to the cabin to look after. Unfortunately, while cute, prairie dogs are like chihuahuas on crack when it comes to territorial of their person. So while I was minding my business ogling at the wonderful creation it sniffed my foot and then promptly launched onto and sunk into my ankle. It was at the same time equally painful and adorable. I will be seeking medical attention in the morning (because my parents are loving worry worts who fear infection), but all the same I’ll have a scar from where a prairie dog named Charlie bit me, and that, my friends, is pretty badass. 

Following our worshipping and crafting and munchkinning and prairie dog ogling we set off for home, by way of a cute little area called downtown winter garden, which was adorable and wonderful, and full of beginner foodie foods like my farm to table burger and fries. 

Home now though, I’m exhausted. I’m in withdrawal from Seroquel, which I stopped on Thursday, but had been taking since January. It helped me sleep and I’ve been vaguely insomniatic since my discontinuation. I hope that I find my sleep rhythm again shortly. 

Here’s some pictures from this weekend: 


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