The ladies from our first hatch this year have begun to lay--delicate, petite little first eggs that we sometimes find left lying in the run like little whoopsies. The roo boys have also begun to crow, much to Weedcat & Bloop's disgust--although Meeko's crows are just single note, drawn-out 'Ooooo's. Weedcat stared at him in disbelief and carefully crowed back at him, obviously trying to show him how it's really done.
I don't expect to get many eggs from this year's chicks this late in the year, but next Spring should be a 'Oh my GOD I've laid an EGG!' caterwaulfest supreme. Right now everyone is concentrating on growing feathers as the nighttime temperatures steadily drop, all the chickens are getting amusingly fluffy and are lots of fun to scoop up & snoodle.
As for me, I'm concentrating on pre-snow yard cleanup and the final shots at house projects like painting before it gets too cold & wet. This week is slated for things that I call "Killin' Rats"--small, unexciting, annoying chores that need to get done.
Jack
Showing posts with label Killin Rats. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Killin Rats. Show all posts
Monday, November 4, 2013
Sunday, August 14, 2005
Ya Gotta Think Like A Kid...
Tomorrow I go in for surgery...NOT my favorite thing...to remove the
metal bar and 6 or 8 screws that are holding my left ankle together.
Yesterday and today I've been trying to get the things done that require
me walking/driving/leaving the house/being upright. Bank...grocery
store...gassing up the car...the kind of chores I refer to as "killin'
rats"--that is, things that have to get done, but nobody likes doing.
I'm also digging out my Advance Directive paperwork to take along, much
as thinking of that kind of thing is Big Time No Fun and makes me cringe
a bit, it's gotta be done. My own personal take is: No heroic
measures (which means no rescusitating me or placing feeding tubes if it
means I'll be a vegetable and have no quality of life), and if I pass
away I want to donate any organs they can use and cremate the rest of
me. Strip me for parts and burn the rest, heck I'll be long gone anyway
so I won't care. *L* J. has the same plans, although he still needs
to officially fill out the paperwork. Hate that general anesthetic,
*bleah*. I really am fascinated by surgery anyway so I'd prefer to be
able to watch, but they don't allow it.
This evening I was out enjoying the grass and visiting with the chickens since I'm going to be in the house for the next few days/weeks (our house is raised and has no wheelchair ramps). Phoenix the rooster
Ain't he cute? Goofy, but pretty!
came over to be friendly, so I picked him up, talked to him and petted him. I teased him a bit with my standard line as I gently felt his little meaty thighs, "Ooh, aren't we a yummy, meaty bird! Umm, yep he's just about ready to eat, FEEL those meaty little drumsticks!" Phoenix just gives me a "Sure, like you'd ever really eat me. I know you're full of BS." look and bears with it. N. came over and said, "Can I?" OK, I said, but gently. She does, feeling his thigh and saying, "Yum, ice cream!"
I was laughing so hard I had to set Phoenix down. Drumsticks=ice cream, in the mind of a 5 year old... :)
This evening I was out enjoying the grass and visiting with the chickens since I'm going to be in the house for the next few days/weeks (our house is raised and has no wheelchair ramps). Phoenix the rooster
came over to be friendly, so I picked him up, talked to him and petted him. I teased him a bit with my standard line as I gently felt his little meaty thighs, "Ooh, aren't we a yummy, meaty bird! Umm, yep he's just about ready to eat, FEEL those meaty little drumsticks!" Phoenix just gives me a "Sure, like you'd ever really eat me. I know you're full of BS." look and bears with it. N. came over and said, "Can I?" OK, I said, but gently. She does, feeling his thigh and saying, "Yum, ice cream!"
I was laughing so hard I had to set Phoenix down. Drumsticks=ice cream, in the mind of a 5 year old... :)
Tuesday, May 11, 2004
The Circle Of Life...For Today, Anyway
My back patio is a disgrace--covered in dust and chicken poop it will
have to be cleaned very soon. I mentally add it to the list.
Life...and I mean everyday, run-of-the-mill life...is such a fleeting, tiny slice of adventure.
My daughter home sick with a fever and cold symptoms and the accompanying grumpy 'tude, a visit from a very nice city official regarding the dirt on and the weeds under my '69 Plymouth--she said she felt stupid bugging people about it but it was a new thing she had to do. I promised to clean things up and everyone was happy. Later I listened to the guy on the next block rev his Top Fuel dragster at heart-stopping decibel levels for two solid hours while he worked on it, and wondered where the city's priorities were currently being housed. I had a few unladylike ideas. One of my sisters calls this kind of typical City thing a "Cranial-Rectal Inversion".
After that I went out to the back yard a few times to hang out some laundry. Each time I appeared the entire flock of chickens would come running up joyfully, hopefully...but no goodies. Did you know that chickens can look dissapointed? Then the siren call of Patio Cleaning was heard, so I took daughter out armed with sidewalk chalk and plastic dinosaurs plus the boombox and an ELO CD for me. She was no problem but the chickens and the tortoise kept getting entangled in my feet or would go spelunking in the Mysteries of the Open Garage and then would have to be rescued and/or hauled out. The tortoise felt a deep inner need to carefully....slowwwwlllyyy...investigate every tool I was using. She also came back later to play in the hose water when I hosed off the patio,resulting in my shoes getting soaked.
The patio needs revamping, right now it is an ugly and uninviting holding pen for things like the trash cans and the barbeque. I just have to figure out how to use what I have to improve it, and step one was cleaning. On to step two!
After cajoling Miss Grump into ingesting a tuna fish sandwich I accidentally stomp a HARD plastic Disney 'Stitch' toy which cheerfully tries to imbed itself in my bare foot. As I yowl with pain I try not to use any words I'd rather not have a parent-teacher meeting about later on. Where are my shoes? Out back on the porch drying, of course...
After this I load the kid into the car, preparing to descend on the cable company office and fling money at them. Bless my stars, just as I get into the car my husband arrives home and volunteers to go drop it off, the darling. He also mentions that he has a sore back and neck from tossing several hundred pounds of machinery on his back and running it up some stairs. *sigh*
Take confused 4 year old back into the house and spend the next 20 minutes explaining to her what just happened. Four year olds must have Union rules which state that each occurence, question or statement must be repeated 20 times. After that I give up.
Tonight I skip the 5 o'clock news in favor or sitting in the back yard savoring the cleanness of it, blowing bubbles for the kid and playing with the chickens.
One of whom has pooped, right in the middle of my nice, clean patio.
Life...and I mean everyday, run-of-the-mill life...is such a fleeting, tiny slice of adventure.
My daughter home sick with a fever and cold symptoms and the accompanying grumpy 'tude, a visit from a very nice city official regarding the dirt on and the weeds under my '69 Plymouth--she said she felt stupid bugging people about it but it was a new thing she had to do. I promised to clean things up and everyone was happy. Later I listened to the guy on the next block rev his Top Fuel dragster at heart-stopping decibel levels for two solid hours while he worked on it, and wondered where the city's priorities were currently being housed. I had a few unladylike ideas. One of my sisters calls this kind of typical City thing a "Cranial-Rectal Inversion".
After that I went out to the back yard a few times to hang out some laundry. Each time I appeared the entire flock of chickens would come running up joyfully, hopefully...but no goodies. Did you know that chickens can look dissapointed? Then the siren call of Patio Cleaning was heard, so I took daughter out armed with sidewalk chalk and plastic dinosaurs plus the boombox and an ELO CD for me. She was no problem but the chickens and the tortoise kept getting entangled in my feet or would go spelunking in the Mysteries of the Open Garage and then would have to be rescued and/or hauled out. The tortoise felt a deep inner need to carefully....slowwwwlllyyy...investigate every tool I was using. She also came back later to play in the hose water when I hosed off the patio,resulting in my shoes getting soaked.
The patio needs revamping, right now it is an ugly and uninviting holding pen for things like the trash cans and the barbeque. I just have to figure out how to use what I have to improve it, and step one was cleaning. On to step two!
After cajoling Miss Grump into ingesting a tuna fish sandwich I accidentally stomp a HARD plastic Disney 'Stitch' toy which cheerfully tries to imbed itself in my bare foot. As I yowl with pain I try not to use any words I'd rather not have a parent-teacher meeting about later on. Where are my shoes? Out back on the porch drying, of course...
After this I load the kid into the car, preparing to descend on the cable company office and fling money at them. Bless my stars, just as I get into the car my husband arrives home and volunteers to go drop it off, the darling. He also mentions that he has a sore back and neck from tossing several hundred pounds of machinery on his back and running it up some stairs. *sigh*
Take confused 4 year old back into the house and spend the next 20 minutes explaining to her what just happened. Four year olds must have Union rules which state that each occurence, question or statement must be repeated 20 times. After that I give up.
Tonight I skip the 5 o'clock news in favor or sitting in the back yard savoring the cleanness of it, blowing bubbles for the kid and playing with the chickens.
One of whom has pooped, right in the middle of my nice, clean patio.
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