Igor.... It LIVES!

The sad thing is, this blog is probably an accurate depiction of my life.

Moving on, because I've been silent too long and I have things to say! 

Thank the springtime rain. The shift in weather seems to have awakened my deeper sense of the world. Or something. 

Firstly, I stumbled one step deeper into that dark, cavernous realm called "adulthood". I'm pretty sure I stubbed my toe, and what on earth is that dripping sound? Am I the only one who hears something very large breathing?

My Monday last week started off like this. Yes, that is self-inflicted. Thankfully I'm able to keep the greater life lessons contained to my work place so I at least have someone around to help me pick up the pieces. 

Long story short (because frankly it's embarrassing) I swallowed my tears and replaced the impaled tire with my donut, arranged for and paid to have the tire replaced, and, with the help of a new jack and tire iron, replaced the tire. 

All this with only a little muscle and prodding from my parents. Despite the pain to my pride and my savings account, I'm proud of how I handled myself. (Also, one of my co-workers said I got farther by myself than his wife would have and, coming from him, that's a true compliment.)

2) We have 30-odd eggs about to hatch. 

Item three: there's also a guinea pig now (not mine). No pictures, though. Chubs is extremely shy. We now have poultry (too many to count), canines, reptiles, rodents, and fish. All we need is a house bird and a pony and we will be complete. (Mom also wants goats. We're holding her at bay for now, but no promises. (We don't even like goat milk.)) Someone may try to add felines to that list. I'm dubious of the wisdom of that plan. 

     3.5 - we are also now the hosts of our own hoarde of little cannibals. 

Do not be fooled by their fluffiness. Do heed the warnings of the red light. These are meat birds. Their sole purpose in life is to grow big and fat really quickly and then...! *mimes slicing throat* This picture is a little old and they're already well on their way to the dinosaur stage. They eat, they sleep, they drink, they eat, and if their food isn't constantly full they will turn on your...or each other. If regular chickens are the sharks of bird-kind, these are piranhas. 

Four, as most of you know, is that I have discovered a new artistic outlet which has lasted longer than a month: painting on canvas. Mostly words, because I love those, but a few are just awesome patterns. 

It's all very trial-and-error but I'm catching on quickly. Now master calligraphy.... (More pictures on my Instagram account [the_magicmirror] , because they be many.)

And speaking of social media and the like, (5) I broke down and joined Pintrest. (That's how I broke into the canvas gig.) No, I will not share. The last thing I need is encouragement. Next up: Etsy!

VI. I have managed to sustain a houseplant for more than a month! 

It got a little withered at one point but is surprisingly resilient and perked back up overnight with some water. I looked for one labeled "low diffused light" and "light watering". That is the key. 

7) I haven't washed my hair since Monday. Be jealous. I have rediscovered dry shampoo, and it feels a little like cheating, but my temples get greasy. (You're welcome for the random fact you probably never wanted to know.)

Ocho - my favorite word at the moment is "embrace". Think about it: not only does it mean acceptance and open arms; but is also means safety, arms wrapped tightly. It's a warm hiding place against the world; it's a place of rest; it's a promise of support. *pulls out canvas* plus, it rolls rather nicely off the tongue. 

That really is all I have for now. The goal was to bring everyone up to speed. Can't say as I covered everything, but it's the first step that's always the messiest. I wanted to get over that one quickly. 

Springtime - the Colorful Part

As I have said before, spring is my favorite season. However, within that season, there is a specific time which I always anticipate more than anything else about spring, and that time has come:

The trees are green again.

It always seems to catch me by surprise. One day I'm walking along, kicking through puddles and grinning and bits of green poking up in the garden, and then I look up and realize the trees are bursting with that sharp, bright new green of springtime.

Were I able to dance, I would do so every year when this happens. As is, I content myself with a whoop and a fist pump.

It's ridiculous, really.

Speaking of gardens, I am finally getting my own in place. The vegetable garden has yet to be established, and once it is we will be loading it with mature plants, like as not. However, Mom and Dad granted me my own "bit o' earth" in which I can cultivate a flower garden. Probably scattered with herbs, because they are my new obsession.

At the moment, I have a small 2x6 stretch of exposed earth with some grape vine cuttings and a couple canna bulbs. That stretch will probably get some more annuals set in. At the other end of the garden my new rose bush is in place with another canna in an old metal pot. Eventually I'll be setting up a spot for some peonies and hens-and-chicks, and I'd like to add more cottage style plants and the herbs throughout the season.

All of this I am doing with little more than my gloves, a trowel, a chicken, and a machete.

Yes. Machetes make great gardening tools. I pulled Dad's out of the garage, Wes sharpened it, and I'm using it to cut away the sod. Lobelia is my faithful gardening partner. She realized I was digging the other day and came over inquiring about worms. When she discovered there were also June bugs aplenty (eugh), she was ecstatic. (Note: chickens are also great for pest control.)

We pulled the chicks (did I mention we have about 30 more we got last month?) outside to get some fresh air, and I treated them to samplings of worms as well. If you want some cheap(ish) entertainment, get chickens. When they first taste worm.... Oh, it's hilarious. Our little bully Albert was always too slow and the girls would taunt him with their catch. He ended up standing in the middle of the pen screaming in hurt and indignation.

My weekend was full of fresh air and dirt and ant bites. On Friday, Mom took me with her on a run around town to check some yard sales, and we got a wheelbarrow. I am in the process of spray painting it sky blue. The girls like the color, though Mom and Dad are more skeptical. 

I also found a model ship that had been stored in the previous owner's tool shed. It's missing a couple sales and it's quite dusty, but for $7 you won't find me complaining.

So that's been my week. Well, that and we had Missions Revival last week. Always a wonderful time. It's one of my favorite annual events at church. The speaker was our missionary to the Philippines. He also spoke last year. The challenge was "serving as senders", and he spoke on how we as a church can support our missionaries in all aspects of their work, from furlough to the field and back.

Next on the list of church events is VBS. I pitched in last year and loved it, so I committed myself to returning this year. The theme will be more difficult than last year (which was Western): sports.

I'm not a sporty person. The best I manage is a leisurely jog. If only I could rent a fencing uniform.... Actually, I want to dig up something obscure or weird, like scuba diving or dressage. Regrettably, most uniforms are skin-tight or look ridiculous off-field. But that's half the fun, right?

So that's life at the moment. I should have more news to share in the next couple of days. The eggs Mom put in the incubator are starting to hatch. Their breeds are a complete mystery. We were hoping for some Barred Rock eggs, but we aren't really sure what we put in. I'm still hoping we don't end up with one whose father is Gerard or - horror of horrors - the late Presley or Aidan. Here's hoping.

It's Spring...and I have Nothing to Say

I think it's finally safe to say spring is here.

I have never before been so ready for winter to go away. Yes, around February I will hit a phase where I'm impatient for the weather to turn, but this winter I about went stir-crazy. Usually I force myself to tough it up and remind myself how much we need the cold and snow, but not this year.

And now, at long last, the snow is turning to rain and I can abandon my winter coat. Woot!

In honor of the warmer weather, I've been forcing myself to get out more and walk my dog. (Her energy level from being cooped up all winter is half of what drives me up the wall.) I had intended to get myself a membership at the gym for my birthday. I even bought myself some neon-colored running shoes and promised myself that if I could keep it up for a month I could get some real running pants. (Yes, I have a self-bribing system I enforce to make myself perform. You clearly have never seen me in a gym.) I walked in, all ready to slap down my debit card. I took one look at the line of treadmills and shuddered. Then I saw the actual price for the membership and promptly left.

I'm not that dedicated.

So springtime! Of course, it would be easier to believe if all those bulbs I planted last autumn would sprout. Not a single crocus, no sign of my hyacinths and tulips.... Not one green tendril.

We did get more chickens. It's already been established that we are crazy, but just so no one forgets. And they are new breeds from the kind we have. I've officially lost count.

Soon most of the roosters will be gone, except for Rocky (our nicest Buff) and Gerard the Brahma because he's too funny to kill. Mom is hoping to hatch some chicks from our flock, but we kind of want to separate the chosen hens and Rocky to avoid any spawn from Gerard. Funny as he is, he has enough quirks that we don't want to see what sort of creature would result from crossing him and a hen. (If it happens, we're naming the thing Napoleon.)

The ducks have been loving the mud puddles. Poor Alfac injured his leg on the ice in the winter and it healed wrong at the ankle, so he has a permanent limp. Our driveway is a mess now due to the flooding, and I put my rain boots to good use.

Clearly I'm rambling. It has taken an hour for me to get this far. I'm working on a more "deep" post, but it's not finished. However, I knew I kind of needed to say something.

After the murderous winter season we endured, all I want is to see something green and living. My aloe plant just isn't cutting it. I have plans for a flower garden on one side of our yard. Hopefully we'll also get in a vegetable garden like we didn't last year.

We had a spring cleaning session among us girls a couple weeks ago, and I discovered two things: 1) the color of my floor, and 2) the fact that I apparently do not clean my room during the winter. Oops.

Ok, I'm done blathering. With any luck, I'll be back later this week with something more worthwhile, now that I have gotten spring out of my system.

How I'm Slowly Coming to Grips with Adulthood

I'm sitting in another coffee shop this evening, polishing off some hot chocolate and contemplating the wrap and pie I just ate, which almost filled my meal budget for a week.

Yes, it was delicious.

Per usual, I don't really have much to say. I'm trying to work myself back into the blogging rhythm. Bear with me. Or, conversely, come back in a month and see how I'm doing.

In a month, I'll be 20. Yikes.

I'm not ready for that, guys. Mostly mentally, though a little emotionally as well. 12-year-old me was sure I would at least have a boyfriend by now and be halfway around the world on some grand adventure, or autographing my latest best-seller.

I miss childhood. The world felt so much bigger then. Now I'm settled into my adult job, doing my best to budget and dealing with the responsibilities of maintaing my own car, buying my own clothes and food, and not having to run every social engagement by my mother for approval. (Seriously, she is insisting I be the independent little adult she raised me to be and plan stuff without her ok. It's weird.)

Most days I struggle with my lack of time management skills. I get the feeling this may be a life-long practice. Bother it all, but I am bad at it. Once upon a time, I was that little girl in the corner stuck in her book with a bag of chips. Now I only snatch enough time to read right before bed or in the morning before work. It hurts.

Also, I forgot to mention that over the winter (starting in September, really) I went on something of a health kick. Suddenly I found myself enjoying hummus (which I once swore I would never eat), buying essential oils at the health food store downtown, craving organic granola, and snubbing potato chips and pizza. What? Part of it can be attributed to the fact that by September I had been working a real job for a year. A job that required me to be on my feet and moving around. Turns out what I wanted during my beautiful childhood was a little more activity and a little less curling up to read. Much as it pains me to admit. (Come on. One fencing class made up the whole of my school sports career.)
When I switched to my desk job this September, I had a small moment of panic. Suddenly I was back to sitting for most of the day.
In short, I'm more conscientious of what I eat now. I'm even contemplating a membership at the gym. (Please contain your shock.) But I'm still learning, still adjusting. I'm slow like that. My biggest struggle right now is the feeling that I'm just spinning my wheels. I can't quite explain it, but it's like I just can't manage everything in my life, like I'm missing something in the chaos. Not that I have a lot going on, but I'm trying to figure out how to arrange everything so I can still do the things I love, the things that matter.
I think part of it is this horrible weather. Usually I love winter, or at least know how to endure it, but this one is making me feel a little stir crazy. I'm daydreaming of my garden this year. We didn't get one in last year, and that was rough. Which is silly, because before then I had a grand total of two years as a gardener. I put in a load of bulbs around the front of the house, and I'm eager to see how they will look. Mom is making plans for the vegetables we will have. Mostly I'm happy that the chickens will be contained to their run and I will be able to enjoy the fruits of my labors in peace without worrying that someone's beak will destroy them for a snack.
I'm also hoping to get into a good walking/running habit with Sasha. She's been driving us all a little crazy lately with her boundless energy. It's embarrassing what a terrible dog owner I turned out to be. Live and learn, right?
The beauty is that I can only imagine the ways God is going to use all of what I'm learning. I'm just trying my best to make the most of it while I'm here. My inner child whispers that somewhere there is a lesson that could save my life one day. That annoying mature, practical part of me groans.
I came here tonight with Mom, who had a Search and Rescue group meeting. Wanting to meet the people she and Dad always talk about, I joined them in their separate room for a while. It got weird when I choked on a bite of lettuce and realized if I showed signs of distress, I'd have half-a-dozen people jumping to offer assistance. Wesley and Heather know how well I handle the suggestion of CPR. I carefully and slowly swallowed that lettuce and soon left. And now I'm waiting, because I didn't expect it to take this long.
At least here I don't have the distractions I'd have at home. Like chores and a dirty room and a cuddly puppy and one of Allenna's shows on TV. That's the problem with me and time management: I have time, but worrying about how to manage it leaves me tired and I end up wasting my time.
And I'm just rambling. I should probably go. I will say, before I do, that my goal is to blog Fridays and Tuesdays as often as I can manage. I never realized how much of a stress relief blogging is to me. (Well, the stress mostly came from guilt that I wasn't blogging, but....) So until Friday, I hope!

Breaking the Silence

So that was an unintentionally long absence...of a month.

Right.

Not that I'm not busy and have nothing to say. On the contrary, I have plenty to say. But I got stuck on a Peru-related post and writer's block is an obstacle with which I still struggle. I plan to return to the Peru topic  after a while, but I'm going to let it rest for now because my life remains ever eventful and I don't want to miss that.

I think the hardest part of blogging is picking it back up after not writing for a while. Followed closely by figuring out what to write.

I don't want to do a recap. Not a full one, at least. I don't want to jam this post chock-full of ramblings.

High on the list of "important things happening in Amber's life" is that I got a new job! It came in a round-about way after I'd given up on a different job opportunity I'd been pursuing. The company is owned by friends of ours, and Wesley worked for them a couple summers ago. Our family histories met years ago when Mom was worked at a pizzeria owned by the wife. (Ah, such found memories....)

A very basic way to describe my job would be along the lines of "office administration", though it entails more than it sounds (and I now know what it feels like when someone says their head is "swimming"...). It's a (mostly) desk job, though my new dwelling with not be a cubicle. Actually, at the moment my area of operations is right next to a big window.

Mom worked this same position in a part-time capacity a while ago, so she's able to help me (or sympathize, mostly) as I adjust. I don't officially start until the week of the 22nd, because I have to work through my last two weeks at the smoothie shop. However, I've already run a few "practice rounds", so I have a very basic understanding of what I will be doing. Very basic.

Let's see....

We got more hens a while back. Two Ameracaunas (or Easter Eggers, as I believe they are in truth), some true Rhode Island Reds (decidedly darker and more red than our original batch), and some more White Leghorns. It took them a few days to get adjusted to the rigamarole of life among the Royce flock, as well as a couple nights hiding under the coop or in the trees, but they're pretty well integrated now. Soon we will bid adieu to most of our roosters, and for most of them we couldn't be happier to see them go. Presley, one of our Polish roosters, is maniacal and lives solely to torment every living creature he comes in contact with. Some of the Buffs (who all turned out to be roosters) are almost equally evil, and are the epitome of everything I despise in chickens. We have one guy who's decent and for the most part ignores us, which I guess is the best we can hope for.

Oh. And the ducks are both drakes, unfortunately. They are dubbed Aflac and Waddles, and they remain ridiculously endearing.

The only other thing I can think of right now is that Autumn is nearly upon us. Last week we had one day in the high 90's with lots of humidity, and a few days later we woke up to temperatures just above freezing. The trees are on the brink of turning. We're all thinking a road trip is in order.

I pulled out my collect of scarves and fingerless gloves and am eager to return them to use. Spring is still my favorite season to experience, but Autumn is my favorite for the wardrobe.

Okay. I have nothing of use to say, so I'll cut this short. Now that my reintroduction is over, I can move on to more important things. Good grief.

More on the Poultry (naming, the coop, and the neighbors)

I started writing this post a couple weeks ago but got distracted. I figured since I need to keep at the blogging and since I haven't mentioned much about our poultry (yes, I'm still stuck on that) I'll share.
Chickens are turning out to be a great way for me to use names I've always liked but would never attach to a cat or dog, much less a child. A person can name their chickens anything they jolly well please because 1) they don't have to worry about the chicken learning to answer to a name, 2) few people are really going to care what the chicken is named and even less how to spell it, and 3) practically anything goes, because it's a chicken. Name the members of your flock Nugget, Fried, Grilled, Rotisserie, and Crispy; name your soon-to-be-dead roosters after your ex-boyfriends; give them all names from characters in your favorite book or movie or TV show (and now I want a chicken called "The Doctor"...). It all works.

All of our unique chickens (meaning all the ones we can tell apart from the rest, which is about half) have names: Lobelia, Rex, Betsy, Ginger, Euroclydon "Rocky" II, and Crooked Beak are just a few. It makes it easier to care for them, I think, because there's a little fun in doing roll call and screaming names when they bite you instead of, "You blasted chicken! I'm going to have your legs for BBQ'ed drumsticks!" (though that's fun, too).

As I mentioned above, one of our chickens is called Crooked Beak. She's one of the four Americaunas, all of whom we can manage to tell apart. Crooked Beak's name is self-explanatory: her beak is askew. She has to get food down to the back of her beak to grind it up. Despite this deformity, she's actually very sweet. Probably the nicest of the Americaunas. However, when all of the other favorite and prized chickens were getting named, Crooked Beak was excluded from being dubbed something funny or outlandish or cute.

Mom hates the name and wants us to change it, but no one can think of anything better. I tried pirate names (because they have names like Black Beard) and we've considered trying to find Native American names (because of descriptive names like Sitting Bull) but nothing works. Then I found it: Prunaprismia.

Yeah. Caspian's aunt in Prince Caspian. 

I haven't even suggested it to the family (I know Heather would flat out refuse, though Mom seemed to think it was funny when I pointed it out for a prospective future poultry monicker). They wouldn't even let me name my own dog, and I'm surprised Lobelia is still thusly entitled. But it's worth a try, and it's nicer than Crooked Beak (as if we're all looking to be loving and humane to our chickens). We shall see.
In other news, the coop and run is finally coming together. Dad and Mom have both been busy and away from home a lot, so it's been getting done in stages. We got the fence up a couple days ago. Now the ducks spend their days outside and nights inside in the old chicken house, and the chickens are supposed to stay in the coop or fenced area at all times. (I'm still marveling at how difficult it is to corner a chicken. And none of the roosters like me, so it's even harder because they bite me.) However, some of the chickens (mostly the Americaunas, those pesky things) are natural escape artists. The surest way to lure them back is with food, and it usually works; and they also come back every night.
But talking about the ducks, they've kind of adopted our neighbors' flock, especially the two little mallards. For a while the mallards were coming over every day, usually early in the morning, and yelling for our ducks to be let out so they could socialize. I think they were also hoping to beg for some food. Now the ducks all take turns having play dates at each other's homes. Again, they do come home at night.
Oh, yeah. Probably a month ago now, Dad found an egg by the "duck pond". At first we though it was a chicken egg, but Mom declared it too large for a young hen to have laid. So apparently it's a duck egg. This is good because it means we don't have two drakes and also because we have a duck hen to call Jemima, per Heather's desire. (If it turns out both are hens, I want to name the other Daisy, just to be equally unoriginal and cute.)
That's about all I have to say right now. Hopefully I'll exhaust the chicken topic soon and move on to bigger things. We shall see.

Changing Gears for Summertime

I think a personal summer challenge should be to write more than three posts a month. Even that will be a challenge with the way our summer is shaping up.

It isn't really warming up, that's for sure. We're somehow still in spring mode, weather wise, including the rain. We don't even have our garden in the ground yet because of all the rain and cloudy days. No corn this year.

I'm trying to think what happened in the last couple of weeks. Well, for starters, I came home one day by bus, skipped up the front steps greeting the chickens, and was met at the door by my grim-faced mother. 

"Before you come in, I need to tell you something."

Naturally, my first thought is, "Great. Who died." My bus driver no doubt saw the shift in my demeanor. I know my shoulders drooped and I tensed up.

"What?" I asked cautiously.

"Sasha was hit by a car."

Commence meltdown.

Most of you already know the end of this story. Mom had warned me because Sasha was in miserable agony and on edge. I came in quietly and knelt beside her where she lay on a towel spotted with blood. Mom explained that she'd just put Sasha out and was painting when she heard a noise outside and looked out to see a dog lying on the side of the road across from our house. Some older lady had been driving a van (which hadn't reached the speed limit for our stretch of road, as evidenced by the fact that my dog was still alive) and Sasha, who had mysteriously escaped from her run, had darted in front of the vehicle. Mom went out calling to Sasha, who didn't respond at first, and the lady turned around in a neighbor's driveway and came back, hysterical.

"Is that your puppy?"

By this time, as I understand it, Sasha had stood up on her own and dragged herself into our yard. Mom got her inside and called the vet. They said it wasn't safe to sedate her in order to x-ray her while she was so alert and still so much in shock. Mom was afraid her leg was broken.

I'd heard the nasty stories of people with broken bones, and how sometimes you can see the broken parts pressing the skin. Sasha's right front leg, the injured leg in question, didn't look mangled or twisted or unnaturally positioned in any way. She also had a cut lip (as in you could see how her tooth had bit right through it) and a few small-ish open wounds on her other legs. She was quiet and still, which in and of itself is startling. Mom said when she'd first brought Sasha inside, Sasha had been hyperventilating and thrashing around.

A little while later, Sasha started that back up, and I about broke down, wondering why on earth we had to wait for tomorrow morning to help her. We couldn't give her any sort of human pain meds in case there was internal bleeding (which, Mom warned me, the vet wouldn't be able to deal with).

However, as the day worn on, Sasha started rolling onto her back to encourage me to scratch her belly and even hobbled a bit when I carried her outside. She didn't drink much and wouldn't eat, though.

Fast-forwarding to the vet visit the next day:

Thankfully, no one else was there. Sasha's last vet visit was a nightmare, as you may recall. However, miraculously, Sasha didn't turn into a slavering beasty when the vet and his assistants appeared. She just maintained her miserable appearance. The vet had me walk her around (I'd carried her from the car and up the steps) and decided her leg wasn't broken or fractured, because no dog would walk on a leg in that condition (although, this is my dog...). Then he took her into the other room.

I cowered in a corner, afraid of the moment when Sasha would snap and show her dark side.

She growled darkly for a while as Mom stood beside her and the vet checked (or tried to check) her mouth. Finally, the vet asked Mom to step outside. Like children, animals act differently when their "parents" are around. He said a soothing owner reaffirms an animal's suspicions that the situation merits fear and retaliation. Good to know. If I want my dog to behave, I'll just step out of the room.

Fast-forwarding again: in the end, the diagnosis was bruising and nerve damage on her right leg and shoulder and some cuts that would heal on their own. Huzzah!

For the next few nights, while she still was having trouble walking, I slept in the living room with Sasha. She wasn't supposed to get excited (and for that we had medicine, which turned Sasha from her hyperactive self to a semi-normal dog). Oh, and we were warned that "in rare cases some dogs will up and die a few days after an accident as a delayed reaction from the shock, even though they looked healthy. I don't want to worry you, but I have to warn you." Comforting, no?

So my obsessive self eyed my dog nervously for the next few days, wondering if, true to character, she was one such rare dog. I know: morbid. I don't know what to tell you.

And that was that. She's still hobbling, but her spirit is back.

Mom thinks her mysterious escape ("mysterious" because she didn't break any part of the lead or her collar) was brought on by the presence of a certain rooster who had been stalking our house for the past week. No one will claim the stupid bird, and he kept strutting up crowing like Peter Pan and attacking our chickens to assert his authority. He even had the ducks scared. He plucked poor Presley's head feathers and chased some of the others under the cars. It took days, a lot of rocks, gardening tools, and other flying projectiles and eventually Dad with a disc to convince him that this was our territory. We haven't seen him since.

Our own roosters (and we have at least six, and one crowed once at me but which Heather still believes is a hen) are starting to work on their crowing. Rex (formerly "Arexi", the little Bantum) is the loudest. He's still by far the smallest, though one of the Polish (Elvis, the girl) is close, but Rex knows how to strut his stuff and crows defiantly at anyone or anything who questions his authority. The ducks are bigger and still as nervous and clique-ish as ever. We had some friends over a couple days ago and the girls wanted to catch one of the ducks. At one point Heather was following them and they came around a car not knowing the ducks were there. One of the ducks was so startled that he fell over like a fainting goat.

I can't think of anything else right now except for VBS, which I am helping with this year. (I haven't attended or helped with VBS in a while.) It helped me make up my mind that the theme is "The Great Western Round-Up". I am working with the kids on the Green Team to memorize their verses each night. While they eat.

Do you know how hard it is to get hyper, excited, hungry children to pay attention when there's food in front of them? It's a study in patience, I will say. And I think I may already be losing my voice.

The kids are split into three age groups after the opening assembly and penny offering. The groups rotate throughout different activities and classes before returning to the main auditorium for a final lesson, songs, and a couple group games. We were all singing along and I was repeatedly poking the shoulders of misbehaving children in front of me when one of them turned around and informed me that I had "the voice of an angel." And I don't think it was a compliment. 

I'm just trusting that someday I'll be thankful for all my voluntary work with children. I'm already thankful for past experience. I only uttered one dangerous word (being "butt", as in "those workers are busting their butts *cough* to get you your food, so please be nice to them") and I don't think I really lost my cool, though I was almighty close.

We return again tonight. I wore my only decent Western outfit last night (and it turned out better than I'd hoped). I might go into town later and check out some thrift stores, it being my day off. Can you believe I only have one decent denim skirt? Me, the former homeschooler. I know.

Oh! We also had our annual BBQ Fundraiser Dinner. I forgot about it because it wasn't the usual tiring day for me. I worked the money table. Well, before that Mom and I and a lady from church spent all day baking 45 cakes at the church. We had a decent turn-out, and I always love helping. 

Well, I need to go. Hopefully I will return tomorrow....

Gardening with the Chickens

I think it's safe to say my opinion of chickens has changed rather drastically. I won't say I love them. I do, however, take great pleasure in observing them.

Today was another beautiful day. After hours of helping Mom on the computer, I was itching to get outside. I grabbed my bow and went to practice. Eventually, Allenna joined me. I determined that I really need to work on my aim. (Don't worry. Nothing broke.) Dad tightened my bowstring for me yesterday. I think it actually helped a little. Not with the aiming, mind you; just with general drawing.

After a while (and mostly because my arms were tired) I handed the bow to Allenna and went in search of my gardening supplies. I've had some plants waiting for a few days to get in the ground, and I figured now was as good a time as any to take care of them. The chickens and ducks have been hanging out in the little corner where the some of the flowerbeds are. They steered clear of me for the most part, at least when I made like I was going to touch them. If I ignored them, they played at being bolder and would peck at my feet.

I started by turning up the dirt in the flowerbeds while contemplating a good place for my primroses. As I did, I uncovered some insects. I grabbed the nearest chicken and plopped him in the dirt. He didn't realize I was trying to help him, and scuttled off. A minute later, however, another one wandered over and realized what treasures I was uncovering.

Chickens are little like seagulls in this way: if one finds something interesting, you can bet the rest will quickly pick up on it and come running to get their share. Soon four or five chickens were pecking around in the dirt.

Then I found a worm.

As far as I know, our chickens have yet to encounter a worm. Eagerly I scooped it up and called the chickens. Most regarded me suspiciously and walked away. One of the older Buffs, however, saw I was offering something and hurried over. She pecked inquiringly at the worm, decided it was promising, and took it. Another chicken soon noticed the first beating the worm to a pulp in the dirt and came over to investigate. The first grabbed her meal and started running.

Apparently a running chicken is a signal to all the others that there are good things around. In under a minute, it was like watching tackle football.

I wish I could have taken a video, but my phone was acting up. I did get a picture, which I will try to post.

I found some more worms when planting my peony. Soon I had the chickens trained to come running when I tossed something to them. 'Twas delightful.

Meanwhile, the ducks held themselves aloof of the reveleries and lashed out at any chicken who scrambled too close. If the chickens are small minded, the ducks are even more so, and pretty much intolerant of any creature but each other. But now both of them will accept apples from me. They still have serious separation anxiety. The best way to get them back into the garage is to pick up one. The other will follow as quickly as he can (they're very clumsy on their big feet), both of them screaming all the way.

One day I may base two characters off those ducks and their inseparability. For the moment, I'll amuse myself with the backyard antics of them and the chickens while I garden.

Full Day

Today has been a long, though wonderful, day.

It kind of started around 4:30 this morning when I woke to Sasha licking my elbow. Still not sure what that was about. I actually woke up around 7:30 and was downstairs in time to say good-bye to Dad. Then came a few quiet hours shuffling around the house before Mom, Wes, and I headed out to run errands. We dropped my car off to get some work done, then went to a couple stores, a rummage sale, and a restore before picking up my car. We came home with a stove, a mattress for Wes, a kiddie pool (for the ducks), and some books and clothes for me (old hardback copies of Charlotte's Webb and Black Beauty). After unloading, Mom and Wes went back out and picked up a new bed for him from some friends.

The chicks and ducks were put outside for the day. They didn't wander very much, but they really enjoyed it once they got used to it. I found that the best way to get an accurate head count is to count by breed: "One Bantum, one Brahma, two Leghorns, four Americaunas, etc."

Then Wes got my bow (which I got a couple Christmases ago) and set up a make-shift target along the house. Turns out I can't handle a bow with a draw weight of 40 pounds. But I didn't break anything and didn't hurt myself = success. I was given instructions to practice drawing, starting at 10 reps a day, and build up my muscles (and I actually do have muscles now that I've graduated from home-bound homeschooler to working single).

It being the first truly nice day in the last couple of weeks, I decided I should take Sasha for a walk. I haven't been to the park yet, though Mom and the girls have gone a number of times. Heather and Hershey came along with us.

I was wearing a work-out tank and yoga pants. And was warm.

We didn't walk long. Heather suggested a jog, but that lasted no time at all before I started cramping up. And Sasha has two speeds: waddle or galumph. But it was fun. And, for the first time this year, I turned on the air conditioning in my car. (I'm so glad I have a car with AC!)

Home to cleaning, reorganizing, and playing with the fowl. And I managed to assemble a little shelf for our DVD's almost all by myself. I let Mom handle the nailing at the end. But yay me!

Then a friend stopped by so she, Heather, and I could run through a practice for a rather impromptu special for tomorrow. We've sung the song before, though it was a while ago. We had a recording of the music from the pianist at church, and we tried practicing with it playing on Dad's computer. However, the speakers weren't nearly loud enough, so we ended up moving to the friend's car to practice. Whatever works, right?

Around the same time, Allenna returned home from a couple days with some friends, bringing yard sale loot with her.

More cleaning, alphabetizing DVD's (how long with that last?), supper, and reorganizing. The fowl are now in the garage. And boy was it fun rounding them up! No wonder chicken chasing* is a game in some rodeos! The Polish especially, though some of the smallest, are crazy quick. And turns out possibly 5 of our 6 Buffs from the second group of Buffs are roosters. Yay.

I was kind of hoping to do nothing today (the last few days have been kind of stressful, for some reason) but it turns out this sort of activity was just what I needed. Maybe it was all the fresh air and going barefoot? All in all, a beautiful, enjoyable day.

Mom's been working in the dining room for the last week (or few weeks) painting, including the table. Now things are finally back to some order, and it's looking amazing. I love having a separate, good-sized dining room!

Well, I think Dad got a movie, so I'm signing off.

 

*Look! The chicken with the blue lei in that picture is a Polish!

Snack Time

I feel like I'm still recovering from yesterday. It got cold again today, and the wind returned. The crest point (or whatever it's called) for the river, which is supposed to happen tomorrow, is now supposed to be lower than the record by a good two feet. We didn't get as much rain as they predicted, I guess; at least not as constantly as it was looking. We did get some snow today. Well, a freezing mixture.

I worked a couple hours this morning/afternoon, and then Mom and I were out and about. And round-about, due to closed roads. We were hunting for a place to buy bulk chick feed.

And yes. I'm going to talk about the chicks again.

Man, I need to take some pictures! Presley, one of the Polish, has a mop head right now. The oldest keep perching on everything possible. Mom built them a better coop. Now they're on the floor, in the open. They have staring contests with Sasha when she comes through headed for the back door. They're mostly friendly, crowding around when someone talks to them. ('Cept for Glinda and Galadriel. Stuck up snobs, those two.)

The ducks are another story. They're nervous and loud and easily agitated. They only respond in a relatively calm manner to Heather, and I think it's more of grudging acceptance. Unless by some strange quirk of nature they prefer the loud mimic-squawking and purposefully off-key singing.

I've been trying to coax them out of their constant state of nerves, but most days I don't have the patience for it. I've already tried giving them chopped apples once, Heather having read they like chopped fruits and veggies, but they cowered in a corner. Today I tried again.

I spent a little time petting them. They shivered like chihuahuas, but they didn't run circles in blind panic. Then I got some apples.

Neither responded to me. You'd think I was some wicked abuser back to torment them. I held the apples as close as I could manage, but they kept pulling their heads back like it was poison. And then one of them got a whiff of the treat.
The next thing I know, a little duck bill and pecking at my hand, and then the duckling's whole head is vibrating as it - gummed? - the snack into mush and swallowed. And it repeated the action over and over. It still wouldn't pull its body out of the corner. If I held my hand just out of reach, it wouldn't move. And the second duckling was still refusing to accept my offering.
Meanwhile I'm about to collapse in a fit of giggles because the way the duckling was eating was so cute and funny. I finally managed to coax the second to get a bite, but he wasn't as enthusiastic.
Now I know why ducks are often portrayed as, well, feather-brained.
Well, the chicks are all tucking in for bedtime and the brownies are cooling, so I'm off.

Springtime, true to form

So, I sat down to blog today after my inexcusable absence and discovered a short draft of a post I'd started a week ago and completely forgotten about. Right. So here's that:

Jessi informed me yesterday that you cannot have a dream involving people you've never seen before. I have to wonder how that works for writers, because we often vividly imagine fake people.

Any way, I'm still trying to decide how I feel about that fact, because what brought it up was me telling her about my dream Sunday night.

As you may have guessed, it was another wedding dream.

This was has just cause. One of my cousins got married on Saturday.

My groom had a face! I just can't remember it. I do remember the hair color, which has been pretty consistent. But the ceremony wasn't even a key part of the dream. Nope. We got stuck in the Canadian wilderness in a blizzard. Go figure.

And on with more recent junk!

We've been getting a literal flood of true spring weather. The main road we take into town has been closed the last few days and we've all had to adjust our routes. Irritating, to say the least. However, I haven't even had to worry about driving lately, because.... I've been taking the bus.

Yes. This lovely city of ours has a bus system. (Actually, I have to use the county bus system because of where we live.) No one in the family really even acknowleged the fact until last week when Wes's van went ka-poot and suddenly I had no way of getting to work. Until my boss reminded me of the bus, which a co-worker uses.

Mom grabbed the idea like it was a life line and she in a hurricane.

I about had a nervous breakdown. It was pitiful and childish. I am ashamed.

In short, I've had...eight bus rides now! Yay me. On the first one, I actually sat with notebook in had and scribbled out every random thought, intending to turn it into this long blog post. Obviously, that didn't happen, and I am so glad! In short, I toughened up and managed to get through, though inside I felt like a piece of Jell-O at the mercy of a fork-weilding toddler. By God's grace (and yes, I mean that) the driver of my first-ever bus ride was super nice. Awesome, really. As was the old man who drove me home. (And I've never had the same driver twice, as yet.) The old man could be a tour guide with how much he knew about my neighbors. (Not that our stretch of road is really worthy of touring.)

So yes. That's about the only exciting thing. The chicks and ducks are growing (and, in the chicks' case, growing ugly). I kind of neglected them for a few days, being so busy with work and life in general, and when I returned the ducklings were about twice their former size and more obnoxious than ever. And I discovered it was pointless to name the  Buffs. I can't tell them apart at the moment. Sigh. Lobelia was getting to be so adorable in a chicken sort of way, too. She had this habit of hopping onto people's hands and trying to climb up their arms. She might be the chick who keeps flying up and perching precariously on the edge of the box. Regular daredevil, that one.

Um....

Well, crazy weather, bus rides, growing poultry, weird dreams. I can't think of anything else. It's been a rather unremarkable April. Some people will contest this, saying the weather is horrible, but hello! It's spring. Despite the name, it isn't all skipping through a field of flowers under a clear blue sky with a warm breeze blowing along. It's wet. And sometimes cold. And windy. And muddy. And we need it. Remember last year?

<end rant>

Man. I thought there was something else blog-worthy I wanted to write about, but I can't think of what it was. Guess I end here for the day.

Oh! I'm considering a sort of challenge to myself to post everyday. Not forever, obviously. Maybe a week at first, to see if I can do it. We shall see.

April Fool!

I've never been one for April Fool pranks. Or any other pranks or practical jokes, for that matter. I always feel kind of guilty for making other people freak out and then laughing at them, and I can't say I really enjoy being laughed at most of the time. I think the worst prank I ever did was refold an empty gum wrapper, stick it in the pack, and offer it to someone. (I know. Homeschoolers. I can't tell you how much pleasure my 7-year-old self derived from that "trick".)

Today I saw people on facebook posting about April Fools Day pranks, but wasn't really worried to be the recipient of any. I spent my day in innocent bliss: washing dishes, playing with the chickens (oh, we got four more....), giving Sasha a shower, and pining for sunshine.

Around 4:00, I remembered that I'd been meaning to check my library account because I had some books coming due. I got on and saw that I had quite a few actually overdue. Snap. Since I had to be to work in an hour, I figured I'd better get moving so I could drop the books off at the library.

As I was cramming things into my purse (I really need a better catch-all purse), my phone rang. Work. Now what?

When I answered, one of my co-oworkers asked if I was almost there. Not understanding at first, I asked her to repeat the question.

"Um, no. I'm not in until 5:00."

"No. You're scheduled for 4:00."

Cue panic attack. Psychological pranks are possibly my least favorite. So I'm freaking out, Mom is freaking out, and I somehow end up on the floor. Then my co-worker starts laughing, and I hear more laughter in the background. (Yes, she had it on speaker.) Through the laughter, she choked out, "April Fools!" I proceeded to huff about what a brat she was. And then I chuckled and hung up. Right.

I left soon after, and my run to the library didn't take as long as I thought, so I ended up getting to work early anyway. And for the rest of the night, we were all on edge. I really hate this "holiday".

In other news, we got four more chicks a couple days ago. Mom, Heather, and I set out for an hour-long drive to a hatchery with the intention of getting the much-desired Silkies. Unfortunately, there'd been some miscommunication somewhere along the line; the Silkies were all gone. Turns out they're in high demand this year. A little disappointment on Heather's part, and then we got three Polish chickens and a Brahma. They could be either hens or roosters, but they already have names. The Brahma, Heather's concilatory/Easter gift, is named Ginger. And she (though it may be a "he") knows she's exotic. And she has some attitude. On the other hand, the Polish chickens are pretty quiet and easy-going, so they get picked on (quite literally) by the others. They are Elvis, Presley, and Aida or Aidan. (Yes, Elvis and Presley. I tried to convince Mom that if the one she dubbed "Elvis" turned out to be a hen, she could call it "Presley" because it sounds more like a unisex name, but the next day one of the others was Presley.)

We're getting quite the collection. 23 chickens and 2 ducks. The oldest ones are starting to hit the "dinosaur stage", where they lose their baby fluff and start getting their adult feathers. When we went to get the last four chickens, we saw some ducks in this stage, and they were, quite frankly, ugly. As Mom put it, they looked rather like they had mange: fluff half-gone and feathers poking out all over the place.

I'm starting to think it was a bad idea naming the chickens; at least the Buffs. They're becoming kind of hard to distinguish from one another. Lobelia is still the lightest of the older set. I just keep an eye on her so I know which one she is. It helps that she's the most daring. She likes sitting on people's hands and arms. Mostly, she's trying to escape (and she can get some good air when she flaps her wings) but in that regard she's nicer than the rest.

Anyone getting bored yet? I know it's short, but I think I'll end here for the day. I'm still working on my Easter post. Maybe tomorrow....

Duck, Duck.... (plus: A Cute Moment at Work)

Add ducks to the list of critters currently in our care. We're turning into a farm. All we need now is a cow or two, maybe a pony.... Just no pigs.

The ducks were Heather's idea. She and Mom went to get more chicks yesterday and came home with 10 assorted chicks and 2 Pekin ducklings.

And I thought the chicks were loud. We're finally getting the ducklings used to our hands, but only because we continued draping them in the box and wiggling our fingers and talking to the ducklings all day yesterday. Whenever we'd pick up one, it and the one left behind would both scream, so it was doubly loud.

Of all people, Wes suggested a name for one of the ducklings: Aflac. We're all in agreement. Heather wants to name the other Jemima, but we don't know if they're male or female.

We got 6 more Buffs (and Mom thinks most of our first ones were Buffs as well), 2 White Leghorns, and four Americaunas, the latter of which are beautiful as chicks but apparently turn out pretty ordinary/kind of ugly as adults. The new Buffs (which all look pretty much the same) are a straight run. If they're roosters, they won't be lasting long, so I'm having to refrain from throwing out more names.

However, one of the Americaunas has black around her eyes coming back to her cheeks. Mom said it looks like eyeliner, so she is Sabrina. I had said the chick with the red stripes from the first half-dozen was named by Allenna, but it was actually the other Banty. She is Arexi. Mom thinks the striped one might be our only non-Buff from that bunch. I think it could be a Rhode Island Red, and suggested Cheryl (Miss Congeniality, anyone?).

Rocky is gone as of this morning. Even among the new ones he was the runt, and with so many running around he had it rough. Although yesterday he laid down for one of his frequent naps (I was beginning to think he was narcoleptic) and one of the Whites cuddled up with her head on his back. 'Twas adorable. (Oh. And I want to name the Whites Galadriel and Glinda. Even though we can't tell them apart.)

But enough about baby fowl. I know I said I wasn't going to write about work, but something happened yesterday that I wanted to share.

I was scrubbing counters when a little boy, maybe 6 or 7, walked in. I waited a second to see if a parent was following, but he was on his own, so I went up to the register with a grin. He had a $20 wadded up in his fist and a handwritten list from his mom. He quietly gave me his order.

Then he asked if it was "Happy Tuesday". My co-worker, who'd wandered up with me, suggested he might mean "Text Tuesday". The poor kid wasn't sure and looked uncomfortable. My co-worker asked if his mom had a text. He didn't know. I wasn't sure what to say when another customer, who was sitting down eating, said, "Here," and slid his phone across the table to offer his own text message.

"Looks like someone's got your back," my co-worker told the boy with a smile.

I told the boy his total, forgetting to say "dollars" and "cents" after the numbers. He looked all confused and nervous, repeated the total questioningly with "dollars" and "cents", and then mumbled that he didn't have 80 cents. My co-worker stepped up, pointing out that he had a $20, which meant he'd get change back.

Once the transaction was complete, I thanked her profusely. I'd been at a loss, feeling kind of stupid because I wasn't sure how to go about the whole thing, but it was cute. When I brought the bag with the smoothies out to the boy, I cautioned him that it was kind of heavy and offered to carry it out to his car, but he told me he could do it, and off he went.

In other news, the weather still doesn't really feel like spring. At least, not all the time. Yesterday we had hail mixed with freezing rain. Today we have sunshine. I know, this way we don't get lots of mud while everything melts all at once, but I'm so ready for spring.

On Sunday, my old Sunday School teacher asked Dad how we liked living in the country. He said he and Mom are enjoying it and he grew up in the country working on farms, kind of mumbled through how my siblings feel, then looked at me and said, "And this one loves it." I get a garden plot bigger than our old backyard, and that's only on one side of the house. What's not to like?

The Chicks have Arrived

It's old news to a lot of you, but we have chickens!

Yes. Quite against the better judgment of the reasonable side of my brain, I'm excited. And I have succumbed to the adorableness of chicks.

And half of them already have names. Even the hypothetical ones we hope to get.

They arrived on Saturday. Mom went to pick them up. (She only wanted a few to start and couldn't order less than 25.) Half a dozen red something-or-other pullets and two banties (which could be either hens or roosters). We got them all settled and then just stared at them for a while, laughing and "oooh"ing. They all have this funny habbit of melting when they go to sleep. The first time it happened, I thought one of them had died. There she was, sprawled out on the bottom of the box, head cocked at an odd angle. One poke and she was up, and we all laughed some more.

The banties are about half the size of the red ones, and the smaller of the two has been picked on and practically trampled relentlessly. When I went to work Saturday night, I was sure I would come home to find him dead (yes, we call that one "he"), because he'd been very unsteady and listless most of the time. He's still alive, though. However, he's definitely the "runt", if chickens have those.

The red ones could be Buff Orpingtons, Rhode Island Reds, or New Hampshire Reds. If their coloring now is any way to tell, we might have one or two of each. Most have dark reddish backs and heads, and one has defined red stripes on her head and the sides of her back. One is a light creamy color without much red at all. Since Buffs are the lightest of the three types, I think the last one is a Buff. Therefore, I called her Lobelia.

Yes. I know. But I couldn't help it.

We all (indeed, everyone in the family including the dogs and, unfortunately, the cat) have spent a lot of time with the chicks. There's almost constantly someone peeking in to make sure the runt is still alive, and to say "hello" to the others. And, of course, to pick them up and play with them. Dad and I have even held one for Sasha to look at. She's been real gentle about the whole thing, sitting still with just her tongue moving (and it never stops moving). "Chicks are friends, not food."
Only once has any of the chicks willingly got into our hands, and that was for Heather. The rest of the time, they either cower or flap their wings and try to jump the three feet back to their box.

Mom has to keep reminding us that chickens aren't the brightest. I'm reminded of finding salamanders in Vermont when I was younger, and of how they kept walking when you picked them up, right off your hand.

Running with the idea that the banty runt is going to be a rooster, I dubbed him Euroclydon (or "Rocky").

I couldn't help myself. Wes asked, "What kind of dinosaur is that?" It's actually the storm that blew Paul's ship off course. (Call me a dork, but it's a cool name.) I've been wanting to use it as a name for a while now. I'd prefer to attach it to a dragon, but those are kind of hard to come by, and dogs stop responding when the word is longer than two syllables, so chicken it is. (Watch. "Rocky" is going to be a hen, along with all the rest.)

Those are only two I've named. Allenna named the striped one, but I can't remember what, and Heather has only named her hypothetical silky. It will be Ginger.
They'll probably be in the house for a month and a half at least, based on how the weather has been all March. By then, I think the novelty will have worn off and we'll be playing with them out of necessity. Mom's chiropractor (one of her leading sources on all things chickens, if you can believe it) said when she had chicks she would play with them, letting them roam around her when she sat down and talking to them, and they were some of the nicest chickens she'd ever heard of. So that's our mission.
Mom thinks the non-Buffs among them might corrupt the Buffs, who are supposed to be docile and friendly as a rule. Probably that idea that good in the company of bad tends to turn bad, not turn bad to good, or something. (The illustration of one bad apple in a bunch of good ones.) It probably has something to do with how generally good-natured Hershey couldn't teach Sasha manners.
Comparing pictures of chicks to mature chickens, it's obvious their coloring can change drastically. I don't know if we'll be able to keep these guys straight very soon.
This whole "naming the chickens" thing has come to prove to me that if a person insists on something long enough, odds are everyone else might decide they're willing to accept it (within reason). It only took around 40 hours of me calling the light-colored chick Lobelia for the rest of the family to play along. Now to introduce them to Roisin....