First This, Then That


It is my absolute, honest to goodness intention to answer emails, reply to comments, make some phone calls, mail mice, clean the sewing room, finish quilts, write thank you cards and send them, and to sit in a meditative state of inner grace and prayerful mindfulness that will result in a happy outcome to our epic housing odyssey. Additionally, I will wash dishes, fold clothes, sort mail, supervise baths, and be 3 places at once when necessary. I sent my Mom the robotics' schedule, which she acknowledged is "totally constant and terribly demanding." It sure is. Don't expect to cross paths with us at any of our usual social gathering places or winter balls. And yes, Geoff is still in crunch mode, so yeah. Sigh. I do have good intentions though, so you know.


Last Spring when I brought home chicks, it was with conviction and certainty... I could keep chicks in our small yard, because we were surely on the brink of being in our own home. Soon. Maybe sooner, and for sure before Autumn. Definitely by the holidays. Absolutely before rain, Winter, the New Year. Did you know that our coop-henhouse is an Ikea picnic table? It's not like we weren't using it and I just decided to salvage it for chicken housing. But once I could see the little wire cage I was keeping the chicks in was not going to work much longer, I began to see our outdoor table in a different light. I painted it and Geoff helped me add wood and wrap it in wire. It's portable, and cute in blue with red details. With our vinyl table cloth it is mostly weather proof. I hung bells all over it, which twice have served to warn me when the possum came calling. And the girls, the chicas call it home. This morning Betty looked dear and snug sitting their nest box.


Hello Lady Betty Orpington.


It is with great pride and amusement that I announce: We have 3 hens! Last week Fantam began laying and this morning we had not 1, not 2, but 3 eggs in the nest box. Frida, a.k.a. Buttercup, joined her sisters and left her very first egg. And she was so sweet and actually allowed me to give her a pat and hold her for a sec, which is quite unlike her. Maybe by Summer we will have a proper hen house and garden for them to roam. Maybe they are happy enough beneath the picnic table, adored and cared for.

An anonymous commentator left this message: "I'm jealous - such a wonderful life, chicken pancakes and all."
And this morning I said to Geoff, "I think I must have the most boring blog in the world," which, in all honesty was a bit of sleep deprived whining. But I am aware of that strange space that exists between what is wholly real and daily and trying, and what I post about in my blog and I think that space exists for all bloggers. We want to share and we want to preserve and we want to report and sometimes rant, and many of us also want to emphasize the best of what crosses our path, the brightest moments, the highlights. I censor myself. I do not post about the chicken pancake pan that sat unwashed on the stove for a day and half, or the oven door that fell off in my hand. I hardly dare to say that 2 of the showers in our house are out of commission and that only 2 toilets work, sort of. You can use the guest one, but don't put anything in it. Such a wonderful life. Yes, it is a wonderful life, a messy, disappointing, embarrassing, chaotic, creative, exhausting, blessed, unpredictable, challenging, sad, happy, joyous, stressful, comfortable, wonderful life.

Last night I made a stuffed hippo dance and sing, like a puppet show. It was late and William was sitting alone at the computer, teaching himself how to use 3D Studio Max. The show was for him. I sang "I'm the hiphopopotamus, my lyrics are bottomless..." And we both knew what I was singing, the ridiculousness, the joke. And we were both laughing. And that's one of those moments that I want to remember forever... one of those wonderful life moments.

Thank you Brett and Carey for sharing those pictures of your hilarious Chook Wagon. May I post some of those here, on Chickenblog?

And Arthur, your picture of your Lola and Betty, was such a wonderful surprise. We have Lola and Betty chickens, and in Holland, Arthur and his wife have two precious Jack Russell Terriers named Lola and Betty. I would like to post their picture here too.

Oh dear. It's almost 7 p.m. I have a kitchen to clean. Max and Maria need baths. By 8:30 I should be picking Alex up from school. And is today Wednesday? I'd better ask William to take the trash and recycling to the street. Also, Martha Stewart sent me a last chance letter, so I need to decide whether or not to renew my subscription to Living magazine. I may pass... I love the first hour with the glossy, polished, staged publication, and then it sits in a corner taunting and mocking me and my wonderful life, and I feel so unMartha, so short of the ideal.

We *Heart* Cheese

I cannot rightly explain why I chose to post the cheese for a third time. I mentioned it in yesterday's post. I showed the wax covered, Bucky faced cheese in an earlier post, and I cannot promise he won't show up again, in some future post. He cracks me up.
Look at him. He's feisty and proud, and he's Cheese! It's hilarious. Bucky can be anything he wants to be. He can be the usual mascot things like sweatshirts and bumper stickers, but the Badger, he really branches out. He's stands for corn chips and salsa, for bed sheets, lampshades and area rugs. I found tire covers with the fightin' badger boldly standing guard. I love that he came to us as cheese.

I remember after one summer visit to Wisconsin, William lamented the glaring and sad lack of mascot pride in California. He asked why we don't have a character, something dear and confident, that unites our state in a campy, spirited fervor of team and state elation. It's kind of sad that we are missing that. Not sad sad, like pollution or animal abuse, just a unique opportunity missed. Briefly, we had The California Raisins, but it didn't last, and I can't say they gave me that same amused sense of delight and familiarity that I get when I see Bucky Badger.


Bucky is like real. He's like a family member that reminds of home, and makes us sing:


If you want to be a Badger,
Just come along with me,
By the bright shining light,
By the light of the moon;
If you want to be a Badger,
Just come along with me,
By the bright shining light of the moon.


By the light of the moon,
By the light of the moon,
By the bright shining light,
By the light of the moon;
If you want to be a Badger,
Just come along with me,
By the bright shining light of the moon.

Actually, it made me a bit squeamish about slicing into him to get to the cheddar cheese. Geoff had to do it.


Do you know what else is different in California? In So Cal? We bring snow home. I had forgotten about this until a couple of days ago. I saw a family standing in their driveway and they were shoveling snow from the bed of their truck and dropping it in their driveway. On purpose. Put. snow. on. your. driveway. I would not know this is absurd had I not lived in Minnesota for a year, and during the worst blizzard in 100 years. But I remember throughout my early childhood seeing families return from the local mountains carrying as much snow as they could collect and piling it on their cars and in their trucks. It was like a prize, a hunter's trophy...We were in the snow! We have proof! I envied those lucky families, those cool folks with their frosted souvenir. If you think this is hilarious, then I will know you have real winter.

I wonder what Benjamin would think of walking out in to the snow. He looks like he is dressed for it, but I think it would still be a shock.

Thought... Benjamin, in a fez, would be an awesome mascot.

Do I even need to mention that I have not cleaned the sewing space, or finished any of the 3 quilts I am working on? Ah, but I did finish the crocheted blanket and it's adorable. Not sure "adorable" is a word I typically apply to things I make or possess, but this pink on pink, with baby blue, afghan with a row of popcorn stitches and a shell edge is undeniably adorable. No picture. Sorry.

There must be a lot I need to do. I seem to be procrastinating. I'm very tired. I am sleepy too.

Happy Birthday Ron. We want to take you to the movies. Our treat.

Thank You Betty! Thank You Fantam! Thank You Wisconsin!

Fantam laid her first egg! Dear fluffy, plump and lovely Fantam the Dark Bantam left us a petite oeuf. And what does one do with fresh oeufs? How about breakfast crepes... or creeps as we affectionately call our amateur attempts at the French classic.


We could have tried omelets, but we already ate Aunt Carol's wonderful Bucky Cheese! So we settled on another taste of Wisconsin, courtesy of Laura, Gary and Sophie.


Direct from the North Woods and just as tasty as can be with real maple syrup, pancakes, aka creeps. Sometimes we call them Hencakes.











Now we go forth and greet the brand new day.

The Best Made Plans...

Well.
Wow.
Hmmmm...
So, Alex is in a robotics club and today was the first day of strategy meetings for regional competitions. Today was the first day of many and even though I am not in the club, I have just had a small taste of how hectic, busy and robotically absorbed our lives are going to be. It's really cool stuff and I actually loved hanging out and checking in. But, um, wasn't I supposedly doing something else today?

ROFL

I so totally blew that off... the whole thing where I was going to come clean with projects and cleaning, post about it and show the process. My bad. Ah, but not all bad. If you want to see how the process was supposed to work, then I suggest you visit "Infinity More Monkeys" and see a successful version of what I had hoped to accomplish today.

And now I am going to talk Geek with my guys and see what's up for tomorrow. My plan is to go with the flow.

Today and Tomorrow

I say, let's begin with a joke. I don't tell enough jokes, considering how much I love jokes, especially rather bad ones. This joke came from my brother Hans:

A rope steps in to a bar and takes a seat. The bartender eyes him suspiciously and barks, "We don't serve ropes. Get out!"
The poor little rope slunk out, sad and dejected.
Then he pulled himself together, so to speak, and tied himself in to a knot and tousled his top end.
He turned around and walked confidently up to the bar.
The bartender caught sight of him and yelled "Hey you! Didn't I kick you outta here already?"
And the little rope replied, " 'fraid not."

Feeling something like a frayed knot myself, I giggle knowingly.

I am so behind!

So woefully behind.

To say nothing of my behind.


Today I am going to do somethings. Some. Things. I am being nonspecific, because I feel uncertain and uncommitted and unprepared. The holidays have taken their toll. Yes, I felt the deep, spiritual uplifting joy of seasonal gratitude and reflection, but honestly, I have to say it's a lot of work getting to that plane of existence, and sometimes the returns turn out to be something less than coal. My friend Anne may be reading this and having a chuckle at my expense... she knows what I am not saying.



Yes, so. So, I am going to clean some and move stuff around, and I am going to make a few calls and reply to some emails and then I am going to line up projects and give them serious consideration and devise a plan for finishing those projects. The new year does that to most folks... we feel a drive to begin anew and make things right and done and good. I am not alone in my quest, and I am extra inspired by Jennifer to commit to project completions. Tomorrow I will show the beginnings, middles and ends of WIPs and domestic projects.


My first thought, when thinking of joining Jennifer in tackling tasks and blogging about it, was to possibly finish the pink crochet blanket I started December 26th. I've made tremendous progress. It's getting big enough to appreciate the weight and comfort of it and to like the pattern that I settled on. I am far enough along to feel eager about seeing it complete, and even more eager to imagine it in the house that I want to move in. to. this. year.


I set the afghan on the floor so I could document the size, or the beginning, and prepare for documenting my task completion. Looks good, I though to myself. And, Ha! I guess I can have a glass of sparkling California wine, stay up 'til 1 am and crochet!

Err... or not.

On closer inspection I realized that I was 2 rows short on the last blue stripe. Grrrrr.


So, my first project or task, was to unravel two perfectly good dark pink rows of crocheting.

Yes, frayed so! lol


Then I'll add the missing blues and continue again with the dark pink, 8 rows of light pink, 2 rows of dark pink, 6 rows of blue, 8 rows of light pink, 4 rows of blue, 6 rows of light pink and 2 or 3 finishing rows of dark pink all around.


Even unraveling yarn is more interesting than the other tasks I should be attending. Check with me tomorrow and see if I get anything done, or better yet, join us and share your progress.