Hello again, dear readers! I have updateitis, which is a condition where one wishes to upload an update to their blog, but their access to their father's laptop is limited. This condition can be a result of grounding, laziness, or their dad's computer being dead for two whole days. It is a little ironic that when I actually have something to post about, I don't have the means to do so. The absence of my dad's computer also broke that streak I had going on. A post every day would be nice. Easing into a daily post would be good for me. At least then I would get something remarkable done with my summer.

Ah, summer. At last, my time to do... absolutely nothing.

Yesterday, in a very summer-ey fashion, my great aunt, my little brother, and myself went blackberry picking. The guy who lives across the street from my great grandmother's house, Gary, is having an anniversary celebration and his son, Greg, is in town to celebrate. Greg invited my great aunt over to pick blackberries, seeing as they won't be in season for much longer. 

Pictured above: grossness.

Greg has wild blackberries, which means they are slightly smaller than the ones from the grocery store. It also means walking around a patch of prickers for a couple of hours.

Pictured  above: a blackberry. Not pictured: tremendous amounts of pain

I really didn't mind the thorns after a while, but you do have to wear long sleeves and jeans so you won't get pricked too much. It was also kinda sweaty and hot as as a result of the full body armor, but eating twice as many berries as I saved made up for that.

A representation of Lauren yesterday.

The whole time we were picking berries, chickens ran under the branches and clucked at everybody. They're kinda cute. I didn't really recognize the sound a chicken makes, and I got a little scared because clucking branches are a natural thing to be afraid of. The exact number of chickens running around people's feet is yet to be determined, but there must've been at least three, maybe four or five. I now have an intense need for pet chickens. 

For example, these colorful silkie chickens.
 I would dye one blue and name him Sanic, and blast this crime against humanity.

I picked a full coffee can of blackberries, most of which are still in our fridge.

*sad trombone noises*

After picking berries for a couple hours, we went and pet the goats beside the blackberry patch. Goats are like cats. They love food and being pet, although one goat hid behind the shed thingy in the habitat and stared forlornly at us while we fed the other two grass.

I'll just have to eat the grass already on this side of the fence. *sad face*

 While we were screwing around Greg's house, Ethan picked up four feathers. He even gave me one. I don't know what bird it's from, but they have chickens, geese, and peacocks, so it could be any of them. I think it's from a goose though. I've been pantomiming calligraphy all day with it.

Dearest Margaret, I write to you from battle. I wonder if oneself can continue in such ridiculous dialogue.

Anyhoo, it was pretty fun. I learned about my affinity for anything with two eyes and a brain. The animals were by far my favorite part of the outing. I want every one of them to come live with me. Especially the silkie chickens. Especially them.

Now it just looks like an old woman.