That recipes looks really good, thank you!
The pic is from Colorado - this is what our spring looks like!
I’m sure that’s adorably annoying.
This is an Abyssinian, they do come in chocolate.
I just created !elephants@lemmy.world - come join and post to your heart’s content!
I just created !elephants@lemmy.world - come join and post to your heart’s content!
I just created !elephants@lemmy.world - come join and post to your heart’s content!
You’re welcome! Safe Lemmy travels to you :)
So, I have no clue, and when I googled I found this - mind you, this is just from Quora:
While a baby elephant’s trunk is not as strong or fully prehensile as an adult’s trunk, it still has some grasping ability from an early age. It can hold onto its mother’s tail or body to support itself and gain stability while it explores and learns to use its trunk.
I’m not sure of the breed, but it’s a tiny puppy called Wendy.
This would be perfect for this pic, I agree.
Nope, real kitten. It’s a still from a video (not that that’s a definitive proof it’s not AI, just that it was posted by an IG account that posted this kitten before).
Why would I try to change your mind, that’s brilliant.
Yup, this is in RiNo.
There is !graffiti!grasweeti@slrpnk.net and !graffiti!graffiti@feddit.de with the former being sort of active but very tiny. The latter seems inactive.
Our family was on a road trip, and I made tuna salad sandwiches in the morning. We ended up never stopping for lunch, and in the evening I went to throw away the sandwiches. “They can’t be that bad,” said my husband, “you only made them this morning.” I gave him a “really?” look and continued to throw the sandwiches away.
Apparently this made my usually intelligent and science-minded husband eager to play the tuna roulette. He grabbed a sandwich and took a small bite “see, they are fine!” I called him crazy and threw the rest away. “You’re going to regret that,” I said.
The next morning, we are getting ready to drive to Bandolier National Monument, about a 45-min drive from our hotel. Everything is fine, my husband is driving. All of a sudden, he says “Shit.”
“What is it, baby?” “I need to go. Like, right now.”
He ends up crouching behind a lone scraggly tree next to the road while pooping pure shit water. The rest of his family pass us by in their other two cars. One of them stops as he wildly gestures for them to keep going. They finally get the hint and leave.
Yeah, we never made it to Bandolier that day. But he only had to shit one more time by the road on the way back to the hotel, so that was a win.
He has since agreed that my food safety knowledge is superior and developed a healthy respect for mayonnaise’s ability to ruin a fun day.