It's PERFECT!

It's the kid's birthday, yay!

Why here she is now, just coming home from school! Hi, kid!

What?  Why, what ever could be producing this kind of a reaction?

*If there was sound you'd hear a loud 'thump' as her backpack hit the ground.

The perfect birthday present,that's what!

Yep, giant gross spider for the win!

 Damned thing hardly fit in the living room.

Obligatory, 'Arrrg...fargl, it's got me by the throat!' pose.

It's perfect!

Uhhh...

I'm wondering, does it still count as a dreamcatcher to catch bad dreams if it's being held by a huge, scary-ass fake spider?

My kid has a decorating style all her own.

Eggs And Onions

So this afternoon I'm getting dinner started, and asked the kid to pass out some kitchen scraps to the chickens as she passed by.  After last weekend's chicken butt trimming I've been keeping a close eye on the fertility of the eggs I've been cracking for cooking--I'd been seeing anywhere from a 50% to a 25% fertility rate.  Today they were three for three, all fertile!  Great job, boys!

So she grabs the little dish with the eggshells and a few other odds and ends in it, and casually asks what I'm doing as she cruises out the back door.

"Getting ready to cut an onion." I tell her.

I get a grunt of acknowledgement in return.  I realize onions aren't all that exciting at the best of times, though.

"We who are about to cry, salute you!"  I call out as the screen door closes, thumping my chest with the handle of the knife.  She actually opens it again just to give me the classic teenage eyeroll and sigh "Really, mom?" before leaving again.

"Hey," I grumble.  "You try and come up with an onion joke on the spur of the moment."

Feathered Foremen, Or, Why My Husband Can't Get Anything Done

When my kid was younger, she LOVED sidewalk chalk.  Like LOVED it, and would color anything that stood still.  The 'Welcome' picture on the front page of my chicken site is thanks to her artwork, here she is just getting it started.

As she worked, Wild Child, our Head Hen at the time, came along to watch.  After all, this appeared to be a project, and all human projects require Immediate Chicken Supervision--which means they have to be right there, on the spot.  It's in their union contract or something.  I'm actually surprised that she was the only one to come over, since roosters are well known to be nosey as old ladies and you can normally count on them to stick their beaks right into your business.

She stood there quite a while, soberly observing like she was southern California's pre-eminent art critic.

 Meanwhile, the chalk was spreading...

...and I think Wild Child realized that hey, SHE was a dark object that might look good with streaks of green, purple and pink...and wisely beat feet outta there before the kid noticed her.

She was a smart old bird and knew when to quit while she was ahead.



The chickens also supervised the rototilling of the back yard years ago.  We figured they'd naturally stay out of the way, since the rototiller was a noisy, scary goddamned thing, and bright red to boot.

Well, pretty quick Bear figured out the the Big Red Thing was SCRATCHING AND DIGGING UP WORMS, and anything that was doing that, was A-OK in her book.  She dutifully got right on my husband's heels to have first dibs on any yummy bugs he dredged up.

Hell, after a while the Big Red AutoChicken became their best buddy.


And after that, I had to put down the camera as they became outright enthusiastic when they figured out that when he tilted the front end up to get the tines to dig in they could SEE Digging Ground Zero, and they wanted to get in front of AutoChicken and stick their heads into the tines.

 
No amount of shooing would dissuade them, I had to get a broom and keep waving it in front of AutoChicken to keep anyone from getting mulched.



Once my husband was helping me out and cutting a hole in a piece of wood for a project I had underway. Suddenly I heard him complaining that Geraldine the tortoise was underfoot, which is what Geraldine did anytime you were out trying to do anything but pay attention to her.

An evil thought occurred.
"Hey,"  I told my three year old daughter, "Go see if dad needs any help."
So she did, gently laying her hand on his arm in sympathy to his Tortoise Situation.

"Dad, do you need any help?"

"No," he sighs, "I'm OK."  While shooting me a 'thanks a lot' look.  Meanwhile, Geraldine isn't going anywhere in any big damned hurry.

I can't stop laughing, because I ain't done with him yet.

"Wait," I tell him.  "Something's missing.  You need more help!"
"CHICK CHICK CHICK CHICK!"
From the back of the yard, out of sight, comes a loud burst of excited cackling and the thud of 42 sets of chicken feet.
*cue a chicken stampede as they all come tearing over, flapping to go faster*

They just keep pouring in from all over the yard, looking ashamed not to have been involved right from the get-go, like they've commited an unforgivable social gaff by not providing Immediate Chicken Supervision before now.  At this point he's leaning his head against the board and looking beaten.  Geraldine is helpfully standing on his foot, just in case he really thought he was going to get anything done without all this nonsense.

I'm laughing so hard I can hardly stand up.
Finally I take pity on him and call the kid back indoors, relocate the tortoise to the back of the yard and scatter some chicken goodies away from the work site.

Things Aren't Always What They First Appear...

I was going through some old photos tonight and ran across this one of my husband standing out in the back yard of the old house one evening years ago.

 Which looks fine, all is normal...until you realize that he has a chicken on his head.

She'd decided that she wanted to roost there for the night.

This was Poof the white crested black Polish hen's first night with us.  She had been sold to us from the feed store, who not only claimed that she was a rooster, but also 'mean'.  Well, as I stood at the feed store looking at the chicken pen, I knew that they were wrong on the 'rooster' part, and asked the lady helping me why they took this particular bird to be 'mean'.

"Because if you walk into the pen, that bird comes right up to you and tugs on your pant leg!"

Ah.

Anyone who knows chickens, knows the difference between flogging--a quick charge at you and a beating with the wings and claws, a true attack--from the behavior this woman was describing--a bird walking up to you, gently grabbing your pant leg and tugging a bit to get your attention.

What Poof was really doing was the universal chicken signal that means, 'Pick me up.'  Certain chickens are little attention sponges and demand affection.  Sometimes they'll also stand on your foot so that you cannot get away without paying attention to them.  I knew right away that Poof had been someone's special pet, and she came home with us.

I was right--she was as sweet, gentle and friendly as they came, and took especially to my daughter, then 4 years old, who was also the one who named her.  This was taken the same evening, when Poof wanted to climb into her lap.

 Poof wanted nothing more than to hang with people, and would actually, honest to God play with my daughter--first she'd chase Poof, then Poof would chase her, and back again, around and around the nectarine tree, the kid giggling like mad.  If the kid stopped before she was ready, Poof would come up to her and want to play more.  None of the other chickens would participate and would in fact look at the two of them like they were crazy.

'Now don't you chase me!'

...and off they'd go.

Other chickens running away from the crazy-headed chicken.

It was one of the weirdest, sweetest chicken behaviors I've ever seen, and they played like this for several years.

The Perfect Coat For My Daughter!

So since it was raining and being nasty outdoors and we couldn't run Chickcam, we decided instead to hit some of the thrift stores in town.

Found the kid a pair of jeans--she's in between kids and young women's sizes and is a human stick insect to boot so she's hard to fit.  So, yay, pair of jeans!  I found a cool old handblown green glass bottle that looks to have held some kind of spirits, the wavy glass is beautiful.

But far and away the find of the day was this--an authentic jet pilot's jacket!

It fits the kid because it's a size 'small'--the guy who wore it must have been tiny!  It's got a sheepskin liner and was made in Hawthorne, CA.

The patch on the left is for the 'Be-Devilers', a group known as the 'Fighting Phantom Squadron', VF-74.  This guy apparently flew both Phantoms and Tomcats, I've narrowed the jacket's age to about 1983-84.  I've come up empty on researching the actual pilot, but there is some info and a Facebook page online about the Be-Devilers.  Below is the patch on the left arm.

The right arm, with an F-14 Phantom patch and below it one for a Tomcat ('Anytime, Baby!').

The jacket is heavy black nylon and is in stunningly good condition. I've got a message in with one of the guys on the Be-Deviler's Facebook page to see if they can give me any more info.  I showed the kid the cool info I'd found on the jacket's history, and we warned her to TAKE CARE OF IT, it's a piece of history.

I love thrift storing, you never know what you'll find!

EDIT:  My sister, who is in the Navy (duh, why didn't I ask her about it before...?), tells me:

"Her Jacket is carrying the rating badge of a "Aviation Structural Mechanic" Not necessarily a Pilot. Probably a Flight line mechanic for the Squadron. Could be anywhere from a 3rd class Petty Officer to a 1st Class Petty Officer."

I WAS kinda wondering why it wasn't leather, but thought maybe it was because things had changed.  Thanks sis!

Coooooooookies!

So today the kid and I were making Christmas cookies after she got home from school, which inexplicably ends at 11:30AM for the final three days before the Christmas break.

I think between finals and the holiday frenzy that kids indulge in the teachers have had enough.

At any rate, while it snowed outside we swarmed into the kitchen and made two things:  my mom's recipe for Bourbon Balls and Cream Cheese Sugar Cookies.

The Bourbon Balls are made from Vanilla Wafers, pecans, corn syrup, cocoa powder, confectioner's sugar and awesome all ground up together and formed into balls.  Oh, and bourbon.  Bourbon Balls in the past have also become Rum Balls, Brandy Balls--whatever is handy, really.  They are simple, yet the sort of thing that people take a bite of and then stop--their eyes widen, they moan 'Oh, my GOD' around a mouthful of cookie and their eyes roll up in their head.  They're that good.

The Cream Cheese Sugar Cookies are Sugar Cookies, Take #2.  I foolishly tried to make my regular sugar cookie recipe the other day because I didn't have cream cheese on hand...and THAT recipe called for shortening only, haha.

This marked the last time I ever bake with shortening at this altitude ever again.  It was 2012's Thanksgiving pie crust fiasco all over again.  Into the trash it went...

The cream cheese version uses butter only, thank you, and will be the only way I make the damned things from now on.  While we were baking, I had the MP3 player blaring away while the house birds chirped along.  We're noisy bakers.  At one point I realized I was striding through the kitchen with a bottle of bourbon clutched in one hand and a gallon Ziploc bag of granulated suger in the other, singing along loudly with 'Time Warp'.

Good times.  I mostly refrained from doing the dance, though.  Couldn't risk spilling the bourbon.

The kid helped cut and decorate the cookies.

They are quite pretty...

But some artistic license crept in.  This glum little fellow, for example.

This little guy is happy though, despite being one of the 'burned' cookies my husband always requests.  He's weird that way.

Between these and the molasses cookies, chocolate covered peanut butter balls and raspberry meringues that are on for tomorrow, we'll end up with a good amount of holiday yummies to take to the school, local fire station, our dentist and other places.

And yes, we have a proper dentist, his office encourages the bringing-in of goodies, just like the places I used to work.  I knew I'd found the right dental professional when I saw the pile of flyers offering 15% off at the local gourmet chocolatier sitting on their front desk.

Arg Fargl...

So the kid has been out back playing in the little bit of snow we got today, and just came in the back door while I was making enchiladas.  I hear her ask from behind me, "Do I have snow on my head?"

I cringe.  I know my child well enough to know that I probably do not want to turn and look. *sigh*  I do anyway.  "Yes, you do.  Go OUTSIDE and brush it off."

She does so, then returns and races down the hall.  "Imgoingrightbackout!" she calls over her shoulder.

Meanwhile I shove the enchiladas into the oven to do their thing.  I glance at the sliding door and outside is Dusty, covered in snow.  "Geez, the dog is covered in snow, too!"

The kid calls out, "That's because she's been rolling in it!"

Oh, swell.  I leave the kitchen and head into the living room.

"I have, too!"  chirps my child.

AUUUGGGHHHHH...  I don't realize that I have actually voiced my anguish aloud until the kid says, "What?"

"Nothing."  I grump.  "I'm sure there isn't an ounce of dirt in your hair."

...so does anyone make industrial-strength shampoo?

Raspberry Chicken Stew Cookies, Of Course!

So today was mostly devoted to running Chickam and cooking.

I decided to whip up a batch of raspberry meringues--deceptively simple, elegant little four ingredient tidbits that are super simple to make and crunch when you bite into them yet melt in your mouth.

Started with egg whites from the girls out back.

I was going to make half of the batch raspberry flavor and the other half coffee flavor, but got all involved and forgot to seperate out half of the finished meringue mixture.  So raspberry it is!

Toss together the egg whites, raspberry extract and cream of tartar.  Normally I make these with a teaspoonful of Chambord instead of extract, because, well, Chambord is awesome and luscious and made of angel whispers from God himself.  Next stick it in my trusty 900 year old KitchenAid mixture and beat the living Hell outta it 'until soft peaks form'.

Hmm, not there yet...

There ya go!

Now to add the sugar while the KitchenAid is whirring away and get it to 'stiff & glossy', which is what all little meringues aspire to be when they grow up.

Yeah, baby!

Onto my battle-scarred cookie sheets they are dolloped.  They don't spread but do puff up the tiniest bit when you bake them, so you can put them pretty close together.  Into a 300 degree oven for half an hour, after which you turn the oven off and forget about the things for anywhere from 2 hours to overnight.

Done!

They really do look disturbingly like styrofoam, and next time I make them I think I'll use an icing piping bag and try to make them look like packing peanuts.

Into the cookie jar they go!

At my house the cookie jar is a repurposed glass iced tea jar.

At the same time, I was making a chicken/vegetable stew for the animals.  I ladle the finished stew into muffin tins, freeze them and then I have little yummy chicken/veg disks to go on the dog's food or mix with rice for the chickens on cold days as a treat.  So the kitchen smelled of raspberry/chicken.

The kid ventured into the kitchen at one point, looking confused.  'What are you making...?'

No hesitation whats-so-freakin'-ever. I chirp out, 'Raspberry chicken stew cookies!'

She looks fascinated/disgusted for a moment, then disgust wins--but is quickly masked when I bend her a steely '...and you'd better like it!' gaze.  She wanders off in disappointment.

One of the true joys of parenting is messing with your kid every so often.

Happy Halloween!

So the kid went with 'Werewolf'' for Halloween this year.  Since it's for school and no masks or appliances are allowed, we did makeup, plus little wolf ears and a tail.

She wanted to be a pissy little werewolf, so I obliged.

 

'Look fierce!'

She already had the UNR 'Nevada Wolf Pack' shirt, so it worked out well.

Werewolf Makeup Practice Run!

Since I haven't ever done any Halloween makeup besides the zombie thing and the kid this year decided that she wanted to be a werewolf, thought I'd better practice. I was trying to follow this excellent tutorial here:  http://www.beautylish.com/v/rusuqv/werewolf-makeup-tutorial

We started with a base--white Halloween pancake mixed with regular foundation.  I was going for a pale ivory but got it a bit too white.

 

Next I added some brown cream makeup shading, making the widow's peak, going around the hairline and adding the beginnings of a fur beard.

Filled in the eyebrows and brown areas with black and brown eyebrow pencils for hairy details, added brown around her eyes, put in some scowly forehead & nose lines, then on her lips added some dusty rose lipstick with a bit of brown eyebrow pencil outline.

Fussed in the details, blended things and made the eyes more dramatic.

Took her out back and used temporary black hair spray to add black streaks to her hair and blend the makeup into the hairline better.  Smudged some of the black hair spray into the beard & widow's peak areas but forgot to add some to the eyebrows, which would have helped.

Then commanded her to 'look fierce'.

She didn't need colored contact lenses since her eyes are so light anyway (plus she's too young for them).  Fangs will also be out during school hours, but she'll have full fangs and claws for Halloween night trick-or-treating.

For school hours I practiced some nasty, filthy werewolf claws using yellow, brown and black nail polish.  Less messy than makeup and won't smudge or wash off.  I didn't use any makeup to pale out her hands since she'll be at school that day.

.
A few things I'll change on Halloween--less white in the foundation, the white pancake doesn't want to blend and tends to look too unnatural.  I'll also include her neck makeup on Halloween day.  No foundation under the widow's peak and beard areas, it tends to make the black/brown look too purple.  She had trouble trusting me to do makeup around her eyes and isn't used to it yet, so no mascara.  I'll also do a better job on her lips and eyebrows.

Her costume will be your basic jeans & t-shirt, but the shirt is from UNR and reads
'Nevada Wolf Pack', which I thought was appropriate and funny.  She'll also have the wolf ears and a tail she requested.

But considering I've never done a werewolf before, am working with grocery store cosmetics and don't have a clue what I'm doing, for a practice run it came out OK.