No Strike Zone

You may notice that I've no photographs on my blog of late. I've broken yet another camera. This time, it was when I hit a miniature horse with it. Now, before you call the animal rights activists, you should know that I have a no strike policy with all my animals and children and almost never, ever hit one. This was in self-defense.

Roxie was having a bad-mare-day and bared her teeth at my midriff with the intention to give me an instant tummy-tuck, no liposuction needed. Instinctively, I swung with my right hand to knock her off her course of action. That hand contained my palm sized digital camera with the lens open from taking pictures of Etta. It broke the spring that allows the camera to open and close, and is now stuck somewhere in the middle, neither open nor shut, and will not work. I suppose I'll have to rely on Anna to feed me a photo now and again.

Notes:
Baseball season begins today. William was less than pleased with the 8:30 a.m. Saturday practice. Dh and I were less than pleased with dealing with him less than pleased. He has a foot sensitivity - the socks aren't right, the shoes are too tight, there is a rock in the shoe, there is dust in the shoe....Took 1/2 hour to get the shoes right. Are you sure it was a princess and a pea, or could it have been a prince?

Lauren arrived at her destination.

Etta's cut is almost healed. Shall I ride?

Move Back Behind the Line

I couldn't help inching forward, and honestly, wasn't over the line. Still, I was shooed back by the uniformed security. Don't they know my baby is over there, taking off her shoes, ready to get on her first flight alone? Nor do they care.

I watched people in the line. Two Amish men and one woman seemed incongruous as they took off their shoes to go through a metal detector to fly through the air in modern technology. Somehow, I expect better of them, taking their buggies across the open plains for days, dodging all sorts of dangers. At least, their appearance suggests that would be the case.

Cursing my short stature, I stretched to see. Was she through? I suppose she was, and I resisted the urge to be the helicopter parent and call her with one last suggestion. It's not like she's not flown before - traveled to Europe twice and Japan once. She'll be gone for two weeks this time to another piano event. I'm getting used to letting go.

Still, she touches base, just landed her first leg of the trip, plane delayed for the second leg. I watch online for updated information - oh! now they are boarding. I now switch to watching the plane in flight for a few moments. But, the horses are hungry and chickens need to be watered and fed. My day is beginning, as so many do, and I haven't time to sit and lament that she is gone.

Sleep Tight

William told dh he had the best dream. "I dreamed that the floor was made of pizza and I could eat all I want!"

Notes:
I have been so busy, I hardly know what to write. Not much seems funny when you are dead tired. Maybe this week will be slower. (Right.)

Research on Etta continues. It amazes me that in her paternal lineages, there are some of the most highly regarded Arabian horses ever, yet she has been given away not once, but twice and was starving and had sores. I am going to start her on senior horse food today and see if the beet pulp in it will help bulk her up a bit.

The weather this summer has been just weird. Normally, we are sweltering in the heat of July. Yet, it is unlikely to get out of the 80's (F) this month. I'm enjoying it.

Picked green beans at a friend's house and put up four quarts. I hope I did it right - don't want to poison anyone.

Effie

After a bit of research, I discovered that Etta Mae was raised in a town about an hour and a half from here. I reached a man by phone who had bred Etta's mom, Odette, to Bold Fortune, a very successful endurance horse in these parts. Because he thought this line of Arabians produced both smart and calm horses, he was breeding half-Arabians to sell. Etta was one of his broodmares, chosen because her gray color crossed with a cremello horse should produce a buckskin or palomino horse. Because of her genetics, however, Etta's babies started out the desired color but as they aged turned gray, which was not desired. After a divorce and a need to thin his herd, he decided to find a home for Etta and her mom, Odette. Etta had had eight babies by then. He still owns one mare which is for sale. He's going to help me get her papers.

He had called her "Effie" - using the "F" from Fortune and the "E" from Ette for F-E or Effie. I dislike the name in part because it sounds like one is cussing the creature, as in "that Eff-en" horse. She deserves better! Given that she spent most of her time a broodmare, she'll likely respond to "hey horse" or whatever. Her calm demeanor came from often being in the barn around children, chickens, dogs, tractors, you name it.

The story was interesting but he saved the best for last. He gave Effie, now Etta, to a man that wanted the horse for 4H kids. However, up until this time, the mare had never had a bit in her mouth or had been broke to ride. By my estimation and record of her last birth in April 2008, that means although she is sixteen, she's only been ridden for a year or less. Gulp!

Horses always provide the most interesting learning experiences.

Notes:
I gripped the wheel when I left the fairgrounds last night, trying hard not to gun Eugene's (my van's) motor and ram into someone's car. The desire to do so was there. I had watched three heats with Wm and dh of the demolition derby. What a, uh, cultural, experience trumped only by the even preceeding it: grown men riding around on souped up lawn mowers trying to turn each other over or ruin each others machine.

Run Down

It would take me awhile to catch y'all up with this month's happenings. So many things that went through one brain cell and out the other that I thought to write but hadn't the time.

I'll try to do a quick run down. First, welcome to Etta Mae, my newest addition to the family (see right). Phantom, a horse obtained last November, continued to be scared of his own ghost. Little did I know how prophetic his name was! Luckily, the man from whom I got him was willing to trade with me for a choice of two Arabians, both 16 year old mares.

Now before you get worried about me getting my sorry old behind on an Arabian, let me tell you that right now, Etta Mae is the most docile horse I've owned since ol' Smokey, the pony that came with my house (that's a story for another day). I hold out the possibility that once she is returned to good condition, her personality could change.

She was starving along with her pasture mate when this man took her ownership from a neighbor. He says she looks good compared to a few weeks back. This makes me sad, for she is such a gentle soul and I can't understand mistreatment of animals. She had an open, oozing sore about 5 inches long, and what appears to be old cuts with fungus on them. On a scale to determine condition from 1 to 10, she rated a 3, pretty thin. I am looking forward to her recovery, but Lauren rides her bareback already. Her only vice appears to be a little pushiness to get out of her stall, something trainable.

Her show name is Bold Fortune Ette, and through the wonders of the Internet, we found that she's had at least two babies, named Creme Etta and CC Lilmiss Bolderblew. I am researching to see if I can put together her history.

Other things happening this month:
Lauren's big "project" has concluded. She was attending the Kentucky Governor's School for the Arts for three weeks at Transylvania University. Given the choice, I know she'd still be there. Great friends were made and an amazing atmosphere for someone whose passion is the arts. Lauren was one of 225 students (10 pianists) chosen from over 1600 students who auditioned.
Durning the time she was gone, the horsey, chicken, and pet-sitting chores rested squarely on my shoulders, keeping me in prime manure.

These past two weeks, I have been shuttling Anna back and forth to a high school. What? you might say? My kid in public high school? In fact, I fought on the phone for her to attend this high school class to which she was given a scholarship. It is a two week, intensive art institute based on man's relationship with glass. Today is the last day, but not over until the reception and art show tonight. She got to blow glass and lots of other neat things.

The county fair is this week as well. We got entries together for both the open and 4H Divisions. Anna got 4 blue ribbons in the open (out of four entries) and won Grand Champion in the 4H Fine Art Division, 1st in Painting and 1st in Watercolor. I was also very proud of our 4H Club which, in it's first year, took 3 Grand Champions (in two fairs), and took eight class championships, not to mention blue ribbons! We also participated in the county parade, making our own banner. The float won 1st place and we had fun riding on it.

Lauren had her 18th birthday this month, and 41 people gathered at our house for a barbecue and to celebrate. It seems impossible that my baby is an adult.

William has been happy with swimming lessons, berry picking and playing with friends in his crushed limestone pile (better than sand).

Oh, and that isn't all that has been going on, but you get the gist of it. I'm pooped. And it isn't over yet. But all good, all good.

Lauren and William at the County Fair

Click here for photo

"Mom, I feel a little sick," said William in my cell phone. I'd left him with Lauren at the county fair. It seems he went around in a circle one too many times. The rides at the fair always make me a little nervous after I noticed a bolt missing from one last year. The "carnies" make me a little nervous too, itinerant workers with their cigarettes and tattoos, making this too sheltered country girl keeping her eyes always on her child. Still, at Wm's age, it is a memory in the making. He recovered from his sickness and begs to go again tonight. He won't be going, but I will - I will be working in the concession stand for 4H. That should produce a few blogs.

PS Mom and Rosie - there you go, now you don't have to look at the butterfly on the man's hat today!

Butterflies That are Not Free

William and I went to a butterfly exhibit while in Maryland. In the greenhouse, hundreds of butterflies flew around and humans marveled and photographed them. A couple of Asian tourists with very large camera lenses looked for the perfect shot. I was amused to see one on top of this man's hat as he looked all around for a butterfly to photograph. An analogy for life, I think. Sometimes, the very thing you are searching for in life is right where you are, if only you could see it. (I showed this man the photo, but he could not speak English, so that was the extent of our laugh together.) And anyone who says "butterflies are free" haven't paid the admission price to this exhibit.

Notes:
William and I picked about a cup of blackberries today, but noticed that there are many, many red ones. Will we get to them before the birds? Also found some peppermint in the creek.

John, a young teen who has battled a brain tumor, comes over to help me train the miniature horses for pet therapy. I am so pleased to see his bubbly personality coming out as he is so much better on an experimental treatment. This made me happy today.

I am sometimes asked how I have time to blog. Well, I don't watch TV for the most part. I watch only "Bones" and "House" when there are new episodes and those are taped. And then, my housekeeping standards are not high and my husband is loving and understanding. My blogs often write themselves in my head as I go about my day, and when I have time, I mostly just type them out. As you see from my gaps, sometimes I don't have time.

I miss Lauren!

Wordless Wednesday - Laugh

Censored

Already, William understands the implications of a mom who blogs. "Don't put that on your blog," he warns, somehow knowing that the photo I want to show you is the one he doesn't want you to see. "Put this one (see above) on the blog. I like that one."

He didn't say I couldn't write about the photo though and the face a young boy makes when he is being dragged in the heat to see monuments and historical sites that he couldn't care a rat's patootie about. Suddenly, all his bones disappeared and he began sinking to the ground, unable to go another step.

We had fully intended to take a tour, ride the hop-on-hop-off bus, but each day, it seemed there were things we had to do first, places to be, and we never quite managed to get on that bus. So we walked. And William did not want to walk. I remember stories of another little boy (who grew up to be my husband) who also felt this way about sight-seeing. And Washington is a lot to see, not enough time to see it all, just time to get a glimpse.

My Town Monday - Paradigm Shift

Everyday, as I water chickens and lead horses to pasture, feed my family and clean my house, people are descending down long tunnels to the underground Metro. There, they sit or stand quietly while on the way to a job or home. So many ways to go through life, so many unique paths.

I enjoyed a view into a different lifestyle from my own. At lunch, I sat with my family on Independence Avenue and watched young business people stroll by, talking or glancing at iPhones. Later, I walked and walked. So very different from home, such a different heartbeat, but pleasant in it's own way. I wondered would I adjust to the crazy driving, the sounds of sirens, the deference paid to people in power. Perhaps I would, but I've chosen differently.

Staying with my brother-, sister-in-law, and nephew in nearby Maryland, I was impressed with a botanical garden a block from their house. Beautiful walks lined with trees and gardens, and the trees were so tall! I hadn't noticed that our trees were short until now. I suppose our trees in forests are tall, but these trees in the park were towering! We asked questions of them as if we were in a different country: "How do you....?" or "Where do you...?" In a way, perhaps we were in a different country of sorts.

Now, back in my town, I think of the quiet people on the train as I go about my chores. I think of the crowds trying to squeeze in the door of the Metro to not wait another 10 minutes before going home. I think of the mom who drove the train that crashed, and died doing so. She worked to send her son to college. So many everyday lives out there, heros in their own right, but unknown to me as I pet Aloha and kiss Roxie good morning. Going away is good. It makes us remember our way isn't the only way, yet appreciate where we are. It makes us see our towns through another set of eyes.

Go to Travis' blog to see other MTM blogs.

Notes:
I finished New Moon, the second book in the (what do you call four books in a series? quatrology?) I still maintain that much as you love him, NO MAN is worth losing your soul. There.

The chickies grew tremendously while I was away!

I saw Michelle's victory garden. There was a man in a white coat (and cell phone, was he really working) in the garden. That's cheating! If she is going to set an example, I want to see her out in the heat sweating like the rest of us!

Junosmom goes to Washington

It was hard to not take it as an omen, but the Metro red line crash in Washington DC the day before we were to leave and ultimately, use public transportation in Washington DC made us country folk wonder what were were getting ourselves into. I wondered how this would impact our ability to get around, given that our generous hosts, my brother-in-law and family, lived along the red line. Thankfully, he was not on the train that day nor would he have been southbound. And, we have found that with a bit of patience, the city still moves, still gets you where you need to go.

After a few days in the city, I am amazed at the writing material. You need only sit in a spot for a few minutes before you have something or someone which catches your eye an makes you think. I must admit people watching is one of my favorite sports, one that I don't indulge in much in my small, rural town. Everything was so very different, even the atmosphere. I wonder what I'll ever find to write about after I fully explore this trip. My country life seems so - quiet - so uneventful after this trip.

Anna with Congressman Geoff Davis at the Capitol

We ventured out of our rural comfort zone for a ceremony - Anna won the Congressional Art Competition for our district. We saw her painting displayed in the corridor between the Congressional building and the Capitol. If you find yourself there some day, look for it in the Kentucky section. It will hang there for one year. I will miss it, for it normally hangs in my house!

I have photos, but still need to sort both them and my thoughts about this week. My family, (sans Lauren who is off on her own adventure), finally, by the last day, refused to walk any farther. I still had more museums to see but they staged a mutiny. More later....

A Homeschooling Moment

Donuts in our house are a luxury - I rarely if ever buy them. My nutritional lapse occurred because an expected early morning rise, and I didn't want to do dishes (and I wanted one!). Bringing them home the night before, William asked how many we each could have, given that there were four of us at home. I explained that a dozen meant there were twelve donuts.

He thought a moment, "Well, six plus six is twelve......"

I knew immediately this was one of those homeschool moments. He was figuring out math intuitively, the best way. I waited for his brain to make the next leap.

"Three!" he shouted. Yes! I had just witnessed how the human brain begins to figure out math without being taught. Curious as to his thought pattern, I asked how he figured it out.

"Well, mostly, I guessed."

(Sound of deflating balloon.)

Notes:

I felt a little guilty sending Diva (white hen) off to a new home, as she was "pregnant" and due any minute. I am relieved to hear she was delivered of two fuzzy chicks! Thanks again, PITA!

Twilight (Spoiler Alert)

All you need is love, all you need is love,
All you need is love, love, love is all you need.

- Lennon/McCartney

No Facebook update of mine stimulated more response than the one that stated I was reading Twilight by Stephanie Meyer to "see what all the fuss was about". Evidently, there is a fuss. If you don't know about Twilight, it is a book which spawned a movie about a teen that finds herself in lust love with a vampire. One such Facebook comment was "don't go all Edward on me". Well, not this chickie.

I won't deny I enjoyed the book, or that I was compelled to finish it, though it is is written on a much lower literary scale than I usually read. Even the Harry Potter books were much better literature. Yet, something was nagging at me as I read and tried to assess this tale that millions of teen girls are reading or watching at the movies.

In the end, I decided that the author must have put her finger on the same teen feeling that the Beatles' sang about decades before: all you need is love. In the book, our protagonist, Bella, loves Edward and Edward loves her. There are scenes of suspense, he saves her life several times, and there is conflict. Typical fantasy love story plot. So what bothers me?

Her reasons for "loving" Edward, besides the fact that he several times saves her life, center around his beauty, that she is the only human who has ever touched him emotionally, and that he has amazing powers. I suppose she also loves that his family has chosen to not eat humans, rather dine on wildlife. (This makes them more moral than the average vampire.) She loves him because he is forbidden, off-limits, dangerous.

Throughout the book, the theme is that they are not of the same world, the relationship is an unhealthy, if not fatal, choice, yet the sexual tension makes it all worth it to them both. Bella is willing to lie to her parents, leave friends behind, give up being who she is, and indeed die to satisfy her love for Edward. Somehow, this message left me empty when I finished the book. Perhaps it is also the lack of mention of the meaning of (human) life and our immortal soul. (Vampires nearly always live forever.)

I guess I've lived long enough to know the Beatles' were wrong. Love isn't all you need. I suppose I should keep my crotchety old pie hole shut and leave the teens to their fantasies, but I will first leave a message to them: don't try change your essential self to fit someone else because you think you love them. You can and will find someone who will love you for who and where you are.

My Town Monday - Storms

Weather is giving us an opportunity to study science frequently. For some reason, we have had a lot of storms, from ice to wind to floods and rain. Meteorologists have had a stellar year in Kentucky.

I will say, however, that our area, our town is blessed. For some reason, the storms seem to congregate to our northwest, and on radar, appear to be heading straight for us. Through the miracle (curse?) of modern technology, we can watch online for circular patterns and heavy downpours. Yet, many times, it turns as it crosses the Ohio River and goes south of us. One county in particular about an hour away seems always to be hit hard. I tell my daughters, "Never live in that county!"

There is something about the topography or the river that seems to protect us. Even the county to the east of us, which is flatter and more open, seems to get a lot more damage. Of course, we still have had our share of wind and ice, even the topography could not save us from that.

The frequent rains this year have resulted in a bumper crop of interesting, and sometimes large mushrooms. But, I'm not that adventurous to try them.

For more MTM, go to see Travis. Better yet, write your own and tell Travis and he'll link to you, too!

Photos above were taken on a stud farm (for horses, thought I should clarify that) up the road. They raise Thoroughbreds.

Bosch as in Posh

Happy Father's Day to my dear husband who allows me to include him in my blogs, exaggerate a great deal, and doesn't bat an eye when I buy a cool dishwasher. I love you!

I told Dh he should accompany me to buy a dishwasher, but he played golf.

"It will cost you," I warned. To be fair, he did offer to cancel his tee time, but I declined. I had been good to the dishwasher, used three times a day, it was now fourteen years old and showing it. Only the bottom rack got clean and this is how it looks (to the left). Above you see the utensil basket. Yes, it has two jars in it upside down. These are to prevent anyone from using those spots because the forks and knives fall through. It is truly time. But I wanted to pick the new appliance out myself and stay true to my word.

I first wrote about my appliances back in 2004. This dishwasher was still a young'un. But tomorrow, it is GONE. Having for a month done dishes by hand, my daughter asks if I am replacing her. My reply? It doesn't load itself.

First published: Friday, December 10, 2004 and aired on public radio.

Tools of the Trade

"Harry* thinks we need to buy a backhoe now," commented my husband's cousin at the wedding reception table. We were catching up with family news, having not seen each other since August. Harry and Shawna* had moved into their own "money pit" this past year, escaping suburbia for rural New Jersey. As is often the case, there were a few little surprises in store for them in their new residence, including the state of the septic system, hence, the backhoe. Having enjoyed his experience with the borrowed machinery, Harry felt they should own their very own backhoe, in the event of another ditch-digging emergency.

We laughed at the preposterous idea, while at the same time commiserating that there were costly machines and tools in our very houses that our men had purchased so that they could be prepared for just about anything. "Yet," Shawna said, "if I pull out both racks of my dishwasher at the same time, the whole kitchen tilts." Appliances used daily, more than the saw and special drill bits that gather dust in my garage, limp along in my life. My mother-in-law fares no better. While visiting recently, I could not get her dishwasher to start. "Oh, you have to lean against the door with your hip and jab the start button hard with the handle of a knife, " she instructed.

We have a special implement that attaches to our tractor (yes, tractor, not lawn mower) that is called a hay fork. This little item is used three times a year to move a roll of hay from our hay trailer, also used but three times a year, to the ground. In contrast, our fifteen year old refrigerator, opened about a zillion times a day, is held together with packing tape. The interior is a cave without illumination, since the lights long stopped working. I hate to even think what lurks in the dark corners. And while I'm on the refrigerator, why is it that the little plastic shelves, which break off like saltine crackers, aren't better made but cost almost as much as the refrigerator costs to replace?

My washing machine, which runs continuously, lasted fifteen years with several replacements of the agitator spline. It was a good machine, if you did not mind the sound of a jet engine just off your kitchen. It finally died from an overload of sheets and towels, and I stood agonizing over the models in the showroom. After much soul searching, I thought of Harry's backhoe, and bought the most expensive one I could afford.

*names changed to protect the guilty

Relativity

My son takes such flattering photos of me. Some, while I wipe messes off the floor with my rear in the air, some with my mouth full of peanut butter and jelly sandwich. These are the only photos that will remain of me, for I am always the one taking the family photos.

Someday, they'll look for a good photo for my obituary, and they'll have to choose between the PB&J face and my baby pictures. People will say, "Gee, she lived to be 109 and all they could find was her baby photo?"

Still, the candid shots are very revealing. But I found a friend: Picasa 3! I found I could airbrush out lines under my eyes, but apparently not the lemon sourpuss mouth. I look at these photos and it is natural what comes to mind: "How did I get OLD?"

I still feel like me inside, yet, my skin is softer on my bones, my curves a little broader, my endurance not as long. I'm strong for my size, but a fifty pound water bucket now shoots pains in my hips where babies once rode. I look down at my arms and wonder where I got them, for my arms have smooth skin, strong muscles (at least the ones I remember). Somehow, I'm not quite ready to be old, but it is happening without my compliance.

Evidently, someone got the word got out to some dufus at a retirement home who sent me a mailer. Yes, retirement home. I'll be eligible in less than a decade. I wonder if they'll mind William being there. He'll still be in high school. No, I think not. Besides, there is so much left to do, so many things I thought I would do. What happened to all the time?

Notes:
The barn was quiet last night. I am used to the sound of Travis chuckling to Diva, fussing around while I do evening chores. He, Diva, their two eggs and two black chicks went home to a therapy farm yesterday thanks to PITA's help (love ya, PITA! She's such an animal lover like me!) I know that I did the right thing, and they went to a great home, but I can't help miss them a little and hope they understand. What am I thinking? They're chickens, for goodness sake! At any rate, my husband will be happy that I've kept my word and kept chickens out of his mulch, as I should.

Science Friday: The Science Behind It

Today's science lesson is about something I learned long ago, not this week, so I hope that you'll pardon my stretching of my own guidelines for Science Friday. But, has come to my attention that members of the public, friends of mine even!, don't know about product testing of everyday items. I consider it my civic duty to share this information.

Have you ever considered how a company can make claims on certain products, such as, oh, say antiperspirant? How do they know that you will smell less if you use Brand A versus Brand B? Well, I had the opportunity to work for a certain company, Take-a-Gamble, many years ago in research. I'm sure everything is done differently now. Still, I'll not forget seeing a short woman on a ladder sniffing at the armpit of a tall man in a blinding white dress shirt. Yes, someone's job was sniffing armpits. Each day, each man was given a clean white shirt and was instructed to use the products given. She determined if the product was effective. The control group could use only soap, no deodorant.

Of course, her job could be worse. How do you think they test diapers? Well, yes, panelists needs to use them, stick them in the freezer and then at some point, the diapers are returned, weighed and well, inspected to make sure they work. Panelist get free diapers although I wonder how they explain the soiled diapers in their freezer to their friends (if they have any left, that is. I'm sure they don't stay for dinner).

From there, you can imagine other bathroom products that might be frozen and returned, but I'll leave you to your imagination. So, the next time you use a product, you might consider the science behind it, and the poor souls whose job it is to make sure you don't smell.

Please?

Yesterday was a full day: morning chores, pet sitting, an art workshop Anna is helping to teach, swimming lesson, piano lesson, meet with homeschool group for a movie, the girls went to the grocery for me. By the end of the day, we were happy to sit on the back porch and enjoy a little of the summer evening. We treated ourselves to grilled steak, baked potato and a salad.

Now, most people have difficulty with dogs begging at the table, and I want to reassure you that they were there, under the table. But our dogs know not to jump up or bark. I guess I'll have to train our miniature horses in table manners next. Evidently, they thought we were having carrots.

At first, it was cute. It quickly became annoying. No one wants a horse eating from their dinner plate.










So, we kicked them off the deck and barricaded them with chairs. And they gave us these looks. Roxie tried her cute "please?" look while Chiron just looked hurt.












Roxie, not to be thwarted, went around to the other side and tried to find a way to slip through the bench rail and the deck. Since that obviously didn't work, they set about trampling my hostas and eating my butterfly bush. For some reason, our intended relaxation did not happen.











Notes:
I picked some rhubarb and put it in the 'fridge. Lauren almost used it in her tuna salad, as it greatly resembles celery (but doesn't taste the same!).

Why Did the Chicken Cross the Road?

"Mom, chicken!" Anna warned. I automatically braked the car and then looked. Sure enough, a large black chicken was crossing the road to get to the other side. I suppose had you told me when I was younger that I'd live in a neighborhood where I might have a bumper sticker "I BRAKE FOR CHICKENS" and mean it, I would have laughed.

The chicken had run from a farm house to a very nice brick home on the opposite side. Why? Well a mate had already preceded this chicken, but likely, they were planning to dig up the nicely mulched flower beds. I imagie the owners of the house will not be pleased. That (rightly so) gets under dh's skin when I free range chickens and he comes home to see the mulch spread out all over the yard.

So, I've been trying to get rid of some of the chickens but I hear a common refrain: "I'd love to have your hens but my neighbors would be unhappy if I have a rooster." What has this world come to that people don't like the cheery morning sound of a rooster? As for us, our neighbors, who have ducks but do not want chickens, like the distant sound of Aloha and Travis calling to the sun each morning. But then, they are not right next door. The neighbors who are never do complain, but then I've not asked their opinion. Likewise, I find it amusing to hear the peacocks and turkeys a neighbor has on the other side of me.

My favorite sound, however, happens when sleeping a bit late on a cool, rainy summer morning. A mockingbird used to sit in the holly tree outside our bedroom window and go through all the songs she had learned, each one distinctly different, probably twenty in all. She didn't return this year, and I miss her songs. I hope one of her relatives moves into her former territory.

Notes:
We had rain again today, and everything is very green.

Someone is interested in buying Phantom - but they are from Maryland! I think that is quite a long drive!

Happy Birthday to my sister, Teresa!

Powerless

Do they not know I have a blog to manage? "They" being my provider of Internet service. On top of that, I am desperately trying to give away chickens and sell my pony, important stuff you know. Yet, once again, I have no phone or Internet at my house. You may wonder by what nefarious means I am blogging. (Can you tell we are studying SAT words at our house? Did I get nefarious right?)

I sit in the parking lot of Anna's art studio, stealing their wireless service like a junkie. She's assisting in teaching an art workshop this week, and today, I'll be in this same parking lot four times, dropping off and picking up as she also has art class tonight. It is only fair that I get to catch a signal in the air to write to you, isn't it?

As for this workshop, they are making musical instruments out of gourds. Interesting.

Notes:
Diva (aka "Scary Chicken") sits still on her eggs. I wonder if she'll be disappointed or if there are chicks in there?

Little boys don't mind getting rained on at a minor league baseball game as long as he can have pizza, peanuts, cotton candy, hot dogs, Coke, and can play on the playground conveniently located inside the stadium.