And apparently that is all they're doing.
When one thinks of chickens, the word "industrious" doesn't automatically spring to the front lobe of the brain. But is it too much to ask that when we faithfully pour chicken feed into their feeding bin and make sure they have plenty of water, and most of them are females--that we get some eggs in return? Have I mentioned the heat lamps and light timers so that they think it's still summer? Since there are no chicken labor laws (yet) limiting their production, this has always worked in the past.
So the other day I actually had to bu..purcha... Words cannot describe my pain as only a picture can.
Soon our newer chicks should be old enough to start laying, so we shall not be put in this position again. Only then will shame be erased and self-worth restored.
Nate, who is in charge of the chickens, got in an unspecified accident while doing chores the other day. After making a couple of inquiries, I suddenly remembered that trying to obtain accurate stories about injuries from boys who were horsing around makes me reach for the Advil. So instead, I decided to photo-document it as any self-respecting blogger would. Since this fortuitously happened on a Thursday morning, which is when Abigail's physical therapist comes to the house (she's also an RN), I figured we'd butterfly it and ask her opinion.
Plus one's doggie to comfort one in time of distress doesn't hurt. Our nurse friend Jeanne pronounced the butterfly bandage well-done, and no stitches necessary. Then Nate and I discussed what was really important: What story to tell girls in the future when they asked about the scar. My suggestions ranged from shark attack to tiger brawl. Nate said "What if I just explain that I was horsing around with my brothers and got a piece of metal to the face?"
Apparently, my son never wants to date.
But back to the weather. I got this update yesterday because I subscribed to text updates from the local station. That's right, I'm a happenin' 21st century mom.
"Persons traveling early this morning should be prepared for icy road conditions. Black ice is nearly impossible to see. Avoid sudden turns and hard braking, and maintain a safe distance between other vehicles. In case of an accident, pull far off the roadway if possible and remain in your vehicle."
Some people never listen.
We found this guy when we were on our way home, nearly to our driveway. By that time, the guy's buddy had been summoned and was waiting at the bottom of our drive to take him home. Mind you, when I drive the 15-passenger Eggplant, I need a certain amount of traction to make it up our icy driveway when coming in from the highway. But the buddy was parked at the end of our drive. When I slowed and motioned that I had to get in, he kept making waving motions and shouting "We're okay! He just has to get some medication for his children out of the truck." I said "I live here, and need to get in my driveway." He finally said sorry and backed up, but by then I had a line of motorists behind me that were Not Happy at being stopped on a highway. It was a process, but I finally got backed up enough to get the traction needed to get up our award-winning driveway.
As I later relegated the tale to our children, 15-year-old Josh said "Hah! Yeah right, had to get 'medication for his children' out before the authorities arrived."
I hadn't thought about it like that. He's probably right, it might have indeed been -medication-, but probably not something he'd want anyone else to get dibs on.
But enough about family problems and weather-related incidences. What really matters is that, apparently, the show Two and a Half Men has been canceled. As many times as I could say that I'd seen it coming due to the mildly-put substance abuse by the show's main character, I had hoped that those involved would continue to work around him. Apparently, this came to its inevitable end. A friend of mine--Olive's Pearls (who remains humble despite being a part of BlogHer)-- and I have been on death watch for Charlie Sheen for a few weeks now. Here was our exchange today:
Jen: "That horrific scream you just heard was Jon Cryer and Conchata acknowledging their unemployment. Hey, in an unprecedented turnabout, perhaps they should replace Sheen with Michael J. Fox. I'm pretty sure Fox could play drunk."
Me: "They could re-name it 'Spin City.'
Jen: "It's just so freakin' sad. Such a good show, and such talent all around. It hadn't even jumped the shark yet, and he has to blow it all to pieces. Carlitos, you have let me down!"
Me: "It's not over until Conchata sings."
Jen: (about her 11 year old daughter): "It involved a long and carefully edited explanation of what Charlie Sheen's been up to, a description of the wacky truisms of Yogi Berra and a few very basic facts about opera, but it was worth it to Agatha share in the LOL."
Me: "I am now burdened with the task of trying to make the phrase 'wacky truisms of Yogi Berra' work seamlessly into a conversation."
Jen: "We're too erudite and renaissance for own good."
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Since Jen's IQ is slightly (okay, a lot) more than mine, I had to stop there. Just know that I mourn the loss of this show. It got me through some difficult times in my life. As they say, "Laughter is the best medicine that won't get you taken to court after your pickup ends up in the ditch."
Safe travels, everyone.
