Tastes Like Chicken

We have poultry. You may have noticed them in the post somewhat below. The one with pics of The Small One running about in her skivvies and wellies.

To be specific, we have 12 birds. 2 turkeys, 4 Bard Rock chickens and 6 Rhode Island Reds.

The Small One loves her birds. So does The Man of the House.

The birds are somewhat dangerous.

Why, you may ask? Do they bite? No. Peck? Not really. Rake one fiercely with their claws? No, not at all.

They are dangerous because they spark OBSESSION.

The Man of the House felt he would like a couple of birds. He came home with 10. Then, several weeks later, he showed up with 2 turkeys. Then he began to talk of exotic chicken breeds. Silkies, Bantams, Crevecoeurs.

Then...it happened.

He wants pigs. And sheep. And cows.

The Small One wants a pony. And a cowhouse (as she calls barns). Maybe some gokes. (Goats).

A farm, my friends. The Small One and her daddy want a farm.

I would not have thought it.

In other, related news, three of the hens have begun laying. Teeny little eggs, as they are still very young. The first day The Small One found eggs, this is the conversation I had with her.

SO-Do chickens have eggs?
Me-Yes, they do.
SO-Are they in their stomach?
Me-Mmm, yeah, close enough.
SO-Do they poo them out?
Me-(laughing) Something like that.
SO-(looking quizzically at the egg in her hand) Well, can I eat it?

Naturally, I howled with laughter, then followed her in and she fried herself a tiny brown egg with lashings of butter.

(Yes, I let her cook on the stove. Yes, I keep a very close eye on her. How else will she learn?)

Mmmm, Toasty

I love my bed. It is big and comfy, the pillows are perfect and the sheets are crisp and cold.

After working late on a wedding gown tonite, I went into my room to take my rightful place on the left (stage left) side of the bed, next to The Man of the House.

But, alas, I could not.

You see, The Small One had been eating Cinnamon Toast on my side of the bed and it is rather...sandy.

So, I leave The Man of the House to enjoy the comforts of the bed himself and I shall betake myself off to the bed of The Small One.

Which is delightfully free of crumbs and sugar. Though the pillows aren't as nice.

ugh

I am overworked.

The Small One is feeling neglected.

It is wedding season.

You know I make and alter wedding gowns, right? You can check out my website at www.thedress.net . It is a bit messy right now. Because it is wedding season and, yeah, I don't have time to fix it right now. Sorry.

So, here, because I am just too tired, are some photos of The Small One that illustrate why I enjoy being a mother.

Truthfully, the child would never come into the house if she didn't have to.

She loves her chickens: This is a daily occurence.

From Lilly

From Lilly

From Lilly

And her dogs.

From Lilly

This is also a regular occurence. Shedding of the clothing. Playing in the dirt.

From Lilly

From Lilly

From Lilly

From Lilly

In Review

Hello there, and welcome to another installment of Has it Really Been a Month Since I Last Posted. Because that is what I think every single time. Where exactly does the time go? Oh, I know, it is wedding season, that lovely time of year when I can't even call my soul my own. The Blessed Brides seem to think that I belong to them, 24/7.

Anyway, on to my subject. Do you like to read? I do. I am a voracious reader. Don't get me wrong, I won't read just anything. I am (sort of) discriminating in my tastes. Though some people may like a good trashy read, I myself usually pass.

Why do we say that? I, myself? I mean, it is really redundant. It isn't as though one would say "I, yourself" or "I, himself", right? Although, perhaps one might. Once upon a time, long, long ago when I was still in college I had a friend named Ai. Prounouced "eye". I was telling my roommates something about him one day, and I started the story thusly. "I was sitting next to me on the couch..." they heard. What? "I was sitting next to me on the couch..." Confusion reigned. You were sitting next to you on the couch? I don't get it. "Oh! Haha. No, AI, as in the person who lives across the street, was sitting next to me on the couch!" Oh! Laughs all round and I carried on with my story. Which I don't actually remember at this juncture' the point being that one might indeed say, Ai, himself.

You know, we had a lot of oddly named people in that complex. A guy named Amerik and a girl named America. A guy named Tuna (I think his given name was Ryan) an apt. of guys named Larry, Moe and Darryl, but we called him Curly (and he was).

But, I digress...

Do you like to read? There was a meme going around on Facebook for awhile of the top 100 books that people ought to have read and the deal was that Americans had in general only read around 30 of them. I had read 80 or so. I likes me some classic literature. A lot. But, I also like some good, dorky fantasy as well. Hook me up with The Belgariad and The Mallorean anytime. Then there is the be all and end all of literature, which is classic fantasy! Does it get any better than this? I think not! T.H. White's The Once and Future King is a delightful book from cover to cover. The Lord of The Rings? Awesome. It is true, I am a sucker for a good fairy tale, I cannot deny it.

I get my street cred by reading Jane Austen and Anthony Trollope. If literature can have street cred, something of which I am not sure.

I have been asked before what is my favorite book, and truthfully? I do not know the answer to that. I love books. Here is a partial list of several faves, as I cannot pick just one.

Mary Stewart's Crystal Cave Trilogy-best King Arthur books, hands down. Although they are about Merlin.
The aforementioned The Once and Future King-yeay King Arthur!
Gone With the Wind-I love Scarlett, that is one hell of a woman.
The Chosen and The Promise by Chaim Potok. I would recommend anything he wrote.
Harry Potter-of course
The Emily Trilogy by L.M. Montgomery. I also love the Anne books, but the Emily's are definitely the fave. Much darker.
Emma by Jane Austen-although I like all of her books.
Anything by Anthony Trollope-so entertaining!
The Forsyte Saga
John Adams by David McCullough-so fascinating.
Jeeves and Bertie novels by P.G. Wodehouse-absolute howlers.

That is a short list of books I love. I could go on indefintely.

Then, there are books I don't love. What are they, you ask? Sit tight and I shall tell you.

I do not like modern smut, though I won't turn down good 18th or 19th Century smut, since it generally isn't actually smutty. Well, except maybe Lady Chatterly's Lover, which I have not actually read.

I do not like Gothic Romances. Jane Eyre? Blech. Wuthering Heights? Ugh. The Tenant of Wildfell Hall? No, thanks. I think Gothic Romance is not romance, it is idiocy. I do not care to subject myself to it, thank you very much.

I also do not like badly written sequels by person's other than the author of the previous books. Take for example, Scarlett, the sequel to Gone With the Wind. Dear heaven above, was a worse book ever written? Of course, I read it. I wanted to know what the author did with Scarlett. It was plain a couple of chapters in that she DID NOT understand the character of Scarlett, which she proceeded to butcher in the most heinous manner. Margaret Mitchell must have rolled over in her grave.

I do not like boring books, though I confess to loving books that others might consider boring. If it bores me, I probably won't finish reading it. Moby Dick, I am looking at you!

I do not like dark and depressing novels. Anything by John Steinbeck does not belong on my personal library shelves. So depressing. Yes, I get that he was writing about the human condition during a particular point in history, and yes, I get that things were dark and depressing, but that does not mean I want to read about it.

Evidently I am an escapist. Hmm. Intersting.

I do not like cheeseball romances. Nicolas Sparks. Ugh. Seriously. No offense if you like him. I just don't.

So, there you go, there are some of my likes and dislikes. I am a re-reader. Big time. I have a couple of shelves full of books that I have read countless times. Always good to fall back on when I haven't anything new to read. And it is hard for me to find something new to read. I don't often read newly published novels, because too many of them are so trite. I rely on the suggestions of friends and family whose taste I trust, my dad in particular. He has good taste in books and knows my taste, so I have a pretty good list from him. I have read some fairly obscure (now) books thanks to him. Here are a few good ones-

The Thorn of ArimatheaThe Egyptian by Mika Waltari
Quo Vadis (not really obscure, but, you know)
A Short Walk in the Hindu Kush (laughed my head off!)
The Last Grain Race
Kon Tiki by Thor Heyerdahl (I think)
Endurance
Ghost of Everest
The Silver Chalice-Thomas Costain
The Last Plantagenet-Ditto
The Magnificent Century
A Distant Mirror
Hmm, that is all I can think of off the top of my head, but good reads, every single one.

Well, that about does it for tonight. Won't you leave a comment and tell me what books you love? I am always on the lookout for something new!

A Peek

It is nearly 2 am and I am sitting in bed next to my blessed daughter, The Small One. Laying in bed with her is a bit easier sometimes, than with The Man of the House for one simple reason. He is a light sleeper, she is not. I can type, read, knit, listen to audiobooks, eat sunflower seeds, what have you, whilst in bed with her. With him? Not so much. So, I let him wander off to slumberland by his lonesome and I sit cozy in bed with my little fidget, because, you know, I don't always want to sit out in the front room to do whatever it is I am doing. It is lonely and not cozy.

That is not to say that I don't sometimes like to do just that. Sit out in the front room. In fact, sometimes, I like to fall asleep out there in front of the fire. But then, I usually wake up all sweaty, with drool on my pillow. Thus ends the romance.

Anyhoo...Did you know The Small One will be three in a couple of weeks? Three? THREE? What the...? Where did the time go? What happened to my wee sweet baby? I swear she was there a couple of minutes ago. Now she has been replaced by a smart, mouthy, funny, rowdy, hyper little girl. Or big girl, if you ask her. She likes to remind me that she is getting bigger. Of course, if she doesn't want to do something, well, she just tells me she is too little. Whatever. It always seems to work in her favour, sizewise.

She is a big girl, though. And one who brings me insane amounts of joy. Sometimes, okay, lots of times, I like to just sit and watch her. When she is unaware that she is being watched, she is soooo adorable. Does the funniest things. I love to watch her concentrate and try to blow bubbles. I love to watch her sit on the couch and color with her markers, so determined. Seeing her out in the yard playing with her daddy, her dogs and her chickens makes me smile.

And yes, they are her chickens, just ask her! She has 10 of them, in case you were curious.

She is a bold and independent sort, just the kind of girl I like. She is a girly tomboy, is that possible? She loves pink, and princesses and makeup and fluff and sparkles and dollies. And she loves racecars, and dumptrucks and dirt, and climbing and dogs and horses. And chickens, of course.

And I love her.

Sundays

Sunday mornings are sometimes difficult here our household. Not because we aren't holy and stuff, you know. Okay, we aren't holy, but we try. ;)
Anyway, The Small One, she does not enjoy having her routine messed with. And Sundays? They mess with her routine. Not pleasant.
I would like Sunday mornings to be nice and peaceful, but they aren't. In reality, they are an ongoing fight to get The Small One ready. And then, when we finally make our way to church, she fights about going to nursery, which is utterly ridiculous because she LIKES nursery!
This morning was no different than usual, fight, fight, fight, finally get to church, take her to nursery and she glues herself to me. So, I sit down in nursery with her and try to make her get off of me. I am not terribly successful. (And before you tell me I should just drop her off and let her cry, yeah, that doesn't work. She barfs if she cries too hard and the nursery leaders tell me they aren't up for that.) I rarely make it to my first meeting. Aargh.
Fortunately, she acclimates and I am usually able to leave her there at the point that they switch rooms. That means snacktime and as it involves cheese, she is always up for snacktime.
After I pick her up from nursery, it is time for the main meeting. Of course, having already been through 2 hours of church, the last hour is exceedingly difficult for her. She goes into the chapel and makes her rounds. There are certain people she has to say hi to before the meeting starts. Social little infant.
Then the meeting starts and so does the aggravation. She hates being trapped in a pew. We try to keep her entertained, but are not always successful because, you know, sometimes we like to listen to the speakers and not her. Oh, well.
Today, she picked up my scriptures and climbed into Daddy's lap for a story. He took them and started very quietly "Once upon a time..."
NOT GOOD!
She says, not quietly, THAT IS NOT HOW WE READ SCRIPTURES!!!! WE SAY "AND IT CAME TO PASS!!!!" Oh, dear. Well, at least she is familiar with the scriptures, right?

Latest Words from the Small One

She continues to entertain.

Never fails, really.

Wanna hear the latest?

Because it is pretty amusing.

How about this.
Saturday, I got dressed in some fairly comfortable and, I thought, rather cute clothing. It consisted of black leggings, a tan turtleneck and a short black dress over the top.

I came out of my room in the outfit and added a knit headband and some Ugg style boots. And then I walked into the kitchen where The Small One was waiting to go to Memma's house. She took one look at me, crinkled up her adorable little face and said,

"Don't look like that! You need go change!"

I looked at her and smiled and inquired into her opinion concerning my attire. Do you like it?

"No, I fink its really, really, really, really ugly."

No exaggeration. She honestly said really at least 4 times. Maybe more. I laughed.

Shortly thereafter, The Man of the House walked in and looked at my outfit. Hmm, judging by the expression on his face, I gathered he didn't like it either. So, I asked his opinion of my sartorial choices. He thought I looked like a Russian peasant.

I took The Small One over to Memma's, still wearing said outfit and walked in the house. My mom looked at it and said, "Well, that's interesting." I told her to ask The Small One what she thought, so she did.

"Small One, do you like your mamma's dress?"

"Yes, it's...NO! I fink its kind of ugly!"

I took the dress off at that point. When she has such decided opinions about something, she is probably right.

And here, just for the sake of amusement, is a picture of The Small One eating a cinnamon toast sandwich. Without pants.

From Lilly

And here are a few pics of her hangin' with dad in the evening. This is a nearly nightly occurence.

From Lilly

From Lilly

From Lilly

They like to work together.

Oh, and I nearly forgot! A house exploded about 100 feet from me last week! How weird is that?!?!

The Small One and I had gone down to the Covey Center to meet The Man of the House, who was TD-ing a ballet in the space. We went to get dinner, took The Small One back to the Covey to watch the ballerinas for a bit (which she thoroughly enjoyed) and then she and I headed home. As we were nearing our turn, I considered heading over to the gas station to get a drink. Then I decided I didn't want to bother as The Small One had conked in the back seat and I didn't want to wake her and drag her in the store. So, I turned off State street to head home. Then, I remembered a very important fact.

There is a gas station nearby with a drive thru! Dr. Pepper would indeed be mine. So I turned down the next cross street to head over to said drive thru. It was about 7:40 in the evening and quite dark. There I was, driving calmly along in my lovely residential neighborhood when, all of a sudden,

KABLAAMMMMM!!!!

An earth shaking explosion. It shook my car, rattled the windows good, but curiously, did not wake The Small One! I looked in the direction of the sound and a HUGE plume of smoke and flame was rising over the trees just to my left. I reached the cross street and turned down it and then promptly had to pull over. The street was blocked with debris. Bricks, glass, insulation, stuff. I got out of my car and walked over to a girl standing nearby, in the parking lot of a local diner.

What happened? I queried. She looked at me, a bit shocked and said, "It just...it just...the house just exploded!!!!"

There was a loud hissing noise coming from where the house had been (there was not much left) which I realized was probably gas. I told the girl we should probably get out of there, she agreed and turned to go to her car in the parking lot and I realized she had been in the diner when the house blew. I got back in my own car, flipped a U and headed back up the street as the emergency vehicles came howling down (from 2 blocks away) And still, The Small One did not budge.

I drove back down the next day to see the damage, as I could ascertain nothing but a mess in the dark the previous night. And here, for your viewing enjoyment, are pics of said damage.

From Lilly

Notice the debris up in the tree.

From Lilly

The roof of the house and a semi trailer belonging to a nearby business.

From Lilly

From Lilly

Oh, and in case you wondered, I did not get my drink that night. I was so shaken from the violence of the explosion that I completely forgot about it. Blasted it clean out of my head, if you will.