Alien Life Form!

Today we decided to get the chickens a little treat, thinking they'd dig it and feeling guilty that they've been in the barn for more than a month now. So we got them a GIANT compressed block of seed and other things near and dear to a chicken's heart. We figured it would take them several days to work on it, and it'd give them some entertainment.

But at first it was NOT well received.

Minimum Safe Distance was kept at all times, and even ever-hungry Sora, the white Leghorn, was cautious. Moet the buff Frizzle Cochin and Boots the partridge Cochin, both fearless bantams, were in the vanguard and took point on Operation What The Hell IS It.

Eventually they relaxed a bit and moved in, Sora and Gloria, our two main foodotropic girls, trying an experimental peck. Phoenix the roo is getting closer, but still keeping an eye on The Thing.

Hurrah, The Thing is found to be food and therefore is wholly approved of! Peepsquire moves in to claim King of the Hill rights.

But what we expected to last at least one day was GONE in less than two hours. I blame the Brahmas, who eat like a cloud of 50,000 locusts and are the size of small horses.

Some Things Defy Explanation...

...in a rational, sane universe, anyway.

Like the tile we saw in the kitchen of the last house we toured--I've formed the hypothesis that the previous owners lost a bar bet. What else could explain not only the color of this tile, but the wooden edging, complete with little buttons to knock loose, never to be seen again? Wood edging, on a kitchen counter?

It's like they skipped off to the hardware store and chirped, "We'd like to see the tile that looks like dried vomit, please!"

It doesn't get any better up close.

Nasty. I've said it before and I'll say it again, the 70's era was a time of cultural tastelessness throughout America. Despite the kitchen tile the rest of the home is lovely and we've made an offer on it. Luckily for me I both own a hammer and know how to lay tile.

New Models!

Did some more folding the other night, finished some Scottie dogs:

And some really goofy-looking tom turkeys.

The Scotties are easy but require precise folding. The kid took a shine to that particular model and has folded a few of her own to play with. The turkeys are also pretty easy but have one sequence that is a bit tricky and takes a bit of fussing the paper into place.

Next will be some snails and winged boxes!

High Pigeon Weirdness...

Pidge is developing some strange but amusing talents. This morning I came upon him thus:

He had made a little tunnel out of the newspaper we gave him to play with--he loves to tear it up and arrange it--and he was cooing softly. All I could see was his rear end sticking out.

When I tiptoed around and peeked, here's what I found:

He was cooing quietly at the peanut like he was telling it all his best secrets. Even when we laughed at him he just looked at us mildly and went back to his peanut-cooing.

Later on he had carefully adorned himself with newspaper shreds--notice the band around his chest and feet, too--and was proudly showing us his new look:

He's such a funny, happy, uncomplicated little soul, we love him!

Yikes...

More house-hunting photo treasures...this time the World's Scariest Bathroom!

This, mind you, was the master bathroom. Nice...

The turquoise toilet (and it's matching sink) was vintage 1950's and actually kinda cool--but needed a new seat, obviously. The shower and it's mold garden was also vintage and a right horror. Why the previous owners had chosen to lay nice slate tile on the floor yet LEAVE everything else is a mystery.

And I cannot explain the weird water shut-offs just outside the shower nor the odd wasted space they occupy.

SNOW! Well, Yeah, But...Also, Nature's Caltrops!

So we had our first snowstorm of the year the other day, the kid was all excited about it for two days beforehand. Despite us telling her it wouldn't get down to our elevation, she was hopeful...

She asked if we could 'walk up to the snow' and we had to gently tell her that no, that snow was about 2000 feet higher than where we were standing, and we weren't hiking up there today. Patience, grasshopper, soon there will be PLENTY of snow to play in.

What's that creeping up onto my porch...?

We've done some house hunting in the last couple of weeks, and THESE damned things...Bullheads...are everywhere up here. The plant in the pictures was only one of many crawling it's way towards the house we were touring. Anyone with any sense HATES the damned things like nothing else. Go barefoot just once outside and you are in for a howling good time. Because they never, NEVER lie flat and harmless--they always have at least one or two points sticking up, and they are virtually uncrushable when you stomp on them. They don't do the decent thing that plants are supposed to do and rot over time, either. Like cockroaches, they never die.

A close-up of Nature's Caltrops!

What makes them extra-nasty is that they embed themselves in your shoes so that they get tracked into the house, where they then hook into the carpet, coming OFF your shoe...and later, after you shower and are padding around barefoot with bare feet tenderized by soaking in hot water....you find them.

I may start a public service of 'Bullhead Removal Via Flamethrower'. Hell, I could Tom Sawyer it up and charge people for the privilege of torching the damned things themselves.

It's...It's a Rake, Isn't It?

I have to explain.

Now--the thing about this is, when we were kids, my dad thought it a real hoot at Christmas to gift-wrap for each of us three kids...a rake. We lived on a large ranchette in the country with lots of trees, plants, gardens and animals...

so rakes were very useful things, granted.

However, to a kid at Christmas when the number of gifts you could expect to get were quite limited anyway...the rake joke thing got old quick. But not for dad, O Ho Ho, every damned Christmas you could count on getting a new rake.

So this morning, my birthday, I woke up to a nice gift, all wrapped.

My first reaction, of course, was 'Oh, a rake...' 
My husband saw the strange, strangled look I gave it, then I burst out laughing.  Cue husband and daughter staring in concern at me like they thought I was having some kind of episode.

And I had to explain the rake thing.

It turned out NOT to be a rake but a very nice and beautiful dragonfly garden ornament made of steel. Much better than a rake.

But now that I've told them that story, I shudder to think what Christmas may hold...