Can a Sister Get a Break?

Okay, so this is how our school year has gone so far. We started out with just the usual school stuff.......going to school, coming home from school, homework - you know the drill. Then it progressed from school to volunteering in the school library, girl scouts, Wednesday after school clubs and working the bookfair. I also work 12 hour shifts on the weekend and 2 3-11 shifts during the week. I'm REALLY tired.And I'm so torn! I love volunteering in the library, but I'm gonna have to get a grip because my house is a disaster inside and out; My poor goats are missing me terribly(Well, what can I say? It's true - I'm not bragging!) and it's a toss-up as to whether I'm spending more time at school or at work. I have resolved to cut back to mornings only at school except for special circumstances. That's fair enough. And for a new turn of events....apparently I've gotten so tired that I can't even get my days straight. Today I showed up at work and it was the wrong day. In my twenty-three years of nursing, I have never shown up on the wrong day. WTF!!!! I seriously need a break. I am so annoyed with myself! Totally jacked up my whole day! I tried to the salvage the day by coming home, doing laundry and working in the yard - I can't say no to plant therapy.We had leftover lasagna for dinner and now I'm relaxing and watching a movie called "Death Note" with my son. Kind of weird. Nothing says relaxation like a good Japanese suspense/thriller complete with dubbed voices and some freaky floating "death god". Alrighty then.

Okay- how cool is this? I haven't
put a blinkie on this thing in a really long time! I might say something meaningful some day soon, but in the meantime - HAPPY HALLOWEEN!

What Happens When Novices Buy Chickens....

As was posted before, I bought three chickens in hopes of fresh eggs. Ha Ha. What I got was two roosters and a hen. Not conducive to anything but hen abuse. Chocobo was promptly relocated to a friend's farm where he now resides with many other chickens and has a new girlfriend, whom I'm told he visits every day............across the street. I guess long distance relationships aren't a problem for roosters. Maybe they could give the males in our species some pointers. (Cheap shot, I know.) So now we have Huevo and Poachie left to terrorize everyone and make no mistake about it - they do. Huevo merely sees a person and drops his wing and starts sidestepping - this apparently being code in chicken for," Look alive human.....I'm getting ready to beat you like a drum." Even hens are kind of ornery. One day I was walking through the yard and felt something hit my leg - not terribly painful, but definitely with a little force. I looked down and there was my sweet little Poachie - attacking my leg! What gives? My sweet little chickens have left only to be replaced by freaky feathered terrorists!

Living the dream..........?

Well not exactly. For years I've enjoyed baking bread - not only for great bread but for therapy. Sadly, it went from being therapy to torture when for some reason my bread-baking mojo left the building. Now - I can't even fix a decent pizza. What's going on here? When I was visiting my parents recently my mother came up with the answer. In an attempt to help me with my weight problem, i.e. excessive consumption of carbs, God has taken away my bread-baking mojo. Not her words exactly but that's the gist of the discussion. Who knew? Seriously - I couldn't bake a bread dough ornament -it's that bad! So, I have completely let go of the bread ideal - no more wonderful smells emanating from the kitchen: no more fresh-baked bread; and maybe worse - just one more little piece of my identity chipped out and fallen by the wayside. That's a bummer. First, it was running and now this. What's next - are they gonna take beer off the market?

They're Big Girls Now

It amazes me how fast the chickens have grown - they are gorgeous, extremely independent and even willing to be held and snuggled. The other day, I was mowing the lawn and the girls decided they needed to investigate, so in their little posse of three, they came truckin on out to the front yard to see what was going down, as the above picture shows. As it turned out, the whir -whir of my reel mower did not impress them and they went back to the backyard post haste. Hopefully in another couple of months, we're going to be having some fresh eggs, assuming that these girls will leave their eggs in a place where I can find them. I've heard stories. We built a little chicken coop since that's what you're supposed to do, but as time as has gone by, we slowly discovered that "free range" has less to do with the health of whatever we as humans are going to consume and more to do with their health and quality of life. Since we've left the door to the coop open, the girls are loving life, roaming anywhere and everywhere they choose, hopping into the coop when it rains, and sleeping with the goats on the porch. These girls take their job as the poster chickens for the non-confined life very seriously. So - if we get fresh eggs it will be a wonderful bonus, but if we don't, well then there are three lucky chickens in my backyard living the good life - and three lucky humans loving it.

And Then There Were Chickens...........

Well, it had to happen sometime. In the name of better living through fresh eggs, we acquired three chickens about one week before Easter. How original. The names aren't originals either - you can tell somebody has been watching a little too much iCarly and someone else has been playing a little too much Final Fantasy. (I plead guilty on the iCarly charges, but Final Fantasy - niet, nein, nanka! So these little girls - no cock-a-doodler's here thank you very much - are named Poachie, Huevo and Chocobo. They are Rhode Island Reds, they are priceless and in fact, I am so deeply attached to them that I can now add chicken to the list of things I cannot stand to eat because it might hurt my feelings.
Chickens are awesome, I'm tellin ya! I never knew how cool they are. When they get to about 3 and 4 months old, they at least appear to be fully grown and they know no fear! It's sooo funny. We were really worried about how our cats were going to behave and keeping the chickens safe. Ha. And. Ha. We need not have worried - chickens do not have time to be bothered because they are so incredibly busy checked everything out - and I do mean everything. The back porch, under the back porch, the playhouse, the goats, the goats horns - you name it. They are also very sweet - I enjoy holding them and smoothing their feathers and they enjoyed being held and smoothed. They are sort of like clucking security blankets.

In Bread We Trust

Well, we've been enjoying the good weather so I haven't visited the blogosphere. I must say the Struan I mentioned in the last post turned out very well - unquestionably the best toast bread ever. And I haven't even brought up the grilled cheese sandwiches. Yum. I'm not really big on photographing food, so I don't even have proof of my culinary effort , which I realize is quite remiss of me in a world where blogging about food without pictures is like eating movie popcorn without Junior Mints. Hardly believeable. I am a mere amateur (an experienced amateur, but amateur nonetheless) but trust me on this - if you are a baker then Struan is the dream you are waiting on to come true. It is real, it is truth in bread........truth you can hold in your hands. If you do the work you will reap the rewards. A beautiful loaf inside and out. I love the history of Struan. The bread that was -according to the legend - baked by the oldest daughter of the family to celebrate the harvest. Gifts of grain to the family and fellow farmers. When I work with the dough I feel as though I am part of the history, albeit in a very distant way. Corny? Maybe,but I enjoy the vision of the daughter kneading the bread on a table in front of a fireplace with happiness in her heart for a bountiful harvest when I am kneading my dough on my contemporary American counter. Sound corny? I don't even care because my family is consuming something made with a thankful spirit; real through and through, instead of the questionable contents of a plastic bag. Serve up a loaf of truth t0 your family; talk about what real bread means with them at the dinner table. Let them know that it's not just food for the stomach - it's food for the soul. Trust me - it's worth your time.