Wednesday, June 25, 2014

This Day In My Life

So I went to the dentist. Well, I only saw the dental hygienist whom I do dearly like. We show each other pictures of our grandkids. We talk probably too much which is fine with me. We are of an age, I think, and I am sure we share many of the same past experiences. When we get down to business, I always tense up. I try not to but as hard as I concentrate on finding my happy place, controlling my breathing, I always find myself with my hands clenched together, my muscles like steel. Over and over I remind myself to relax and the sweet lady working on me repeatedly tells me, "If anything I do bothers you in any way, just tell me."
And it's not her.
We all know that.
She discussed implants versus permanent bridges with me. The permanent bridge sounds pretty all right to me. I will (I will!) make an appointment with the other guy to discuss these options.
When we were done, I paid up and flew out of that office on wings of joy, feeling as if I could now conquer Mt. Everest. I drove to the New Leaf, saw my Billy, bought Tryptophan and cheese and Tamari. On to Publix for other stuff, then Costco for olive oil and gasoline and a brand new pair of men's cargo shorts! I was home by 11:30. I unloaded it all, changed into my new cargo shorts feeling tres chic, put on my gloves and went out and cleaned the henhouse, put down fresh hay. I made myself a lunch, ate it, and the boys arrived.
Then I got busy.
They ate approximately fourteen snacks apiece and drank approximately twelve beverages. We went across the street to play with Leo, the dog who lives there. We played on the play set. We gathered the eggs. We fed the chickens corn. And crackers.
Here are my very cute farmer boys.

My god but I love those children. 

We watched some TV. We built a city with blocks. We changed a poopy diaper. We washed hands and faces. ("Tank-you," said Gibson.) We ate some more. We drank some more. 
They were only here for three hours and when they left I felt like lying on the floor because the bed was too far away.
But I did not. I made a shot of espresso. I washed the snack bowls, the glasses, the pan I scrambled an egg in for Gibson, the blender I'd made him a smoothie in.
I tidied up. 
I wrote a few pages. 
And now here I am. 

I am very excited about dinner tonight. I am going to make a sort of Eggs Benedict with asparagus. Fuck cholesterol, this is happening. I watched a little video last night of Jamie Oliver demonstrating how to make perfect poached eggs and I am going there. Seems like the most important part of the whole deal is very fresh eggs. Got plenty of those! Perhaps mushrooms will be involved. Maybe even spinach! Something different that I have never made instead of one of the four things it seems to me that I am constantly making. Clam spaghetti, beans and rice, pork chops and sweet potatoes, stuff with chicken in it. 
Of course I make more than that but as every person on this earth who cooks seven dinners a week knows, it is so very, very hard to come up with new ideas. 
Maybe we should all discuss this more often. It would be a public service, don't you think?

All right. Animal pictures. 

Chickens first. 

Sorry about the quality of this picture. I know. It sucks. However, I have designated that white chicken as Cha-Cha. Her comb is noticeably larger than Chi-Chi's. That's Butterscotch behind her.


Miss Nicey who is still the first young chicken to greet me although she does not exactly want to be held anymore. But she's still mighty nice.

All right. These two are sad. So sad that they could easily be used on those late-night commercials which plead with you to send your money to some organization to help these poor dogs find their forever home. These dogs HAVE found their forever home. And they are going to live forever. 

Again, crappy picture. I am having issues with photography. Don't judge me. Please.
That is Dolly. She is the smaller one. She walks like five feet a day. That's not only the distance but the speed. It is so painful to watch her making her way from the bed she sleeps in in the library to the door and down the steps when she goes outside. When we make her go outside. Which is difficult. 
Yes. She is sweet as pie. 
Yes. She can still bark. 
Sometimes she even lays down outside in the sun for a nap. 

Buster. Dear god. I mean...really? Does that look like a happy animal? He walks as slowly as his sister although every time I feed Maurice, he makes his way to the kitchen and as soon as she steps away from her dish he gets down on his belly and slides under the butcher block counter to eat whatever is in her dish.
Then he vomits. 

They are both so very deaf and blind but their sense of smell is quite intact. And, as I said, they still bark. And when Jessie gets in tomorrow they will be overjoyed and they will show it. 

To round things off, picture-wise, here is Maurice.

Her mama and daddy's joy. 
(Gag, gag, gag. True.) 
GODDAM IT! I'm a crone, I needed a cat. 
And she is such a fine one.

All right. I'm going to go cook that dinner. The cardinals are taking little dips in the birdbath, Mr. Moon is home, the evening-time crickets are cranking up a racket, and I could not ask for one thing more. 


  1. OMG. I LOVE YOUR CHICKENS. I am way too lazy to work the way you do, however. But I still need the espresso. WTF.

  2. I couldn't get past the clam spaghetti and want to know how you make that. The rest of the post was hilarious and yes, a tad on the gag side when it comes to THAT CAT.

  3. I made a quiche last night from fresh feral chicken eggs and it was delicious, if I ever get enough eggs to do it again I will add spinach. Gail

  4. Denise- And I am way too lazy to go to yoga. So there you go.
    Loving you with espresso power...M

    Elizabeth- Heat olive oil in a pan. Add chopped onions and smushed garlic. Let soften. Put you water on for your pasta. Open two cans of chopped or minced clams and dump them in with the onions and garlic. Add a sprinkle of oregano, salt, and pepper. Simmer. Cook your pasta. There you go. Easy as hell, delicious as can be.

    Gail- Chickens, as I have said so many times before, have done more for the human race than Jesus.

  5. Oh, the dogs, the dogs! How I have longed to see them, and there they are. My heart springs wide open at the sight of them. And your description of their ways is just too, too good. How I laughed at their "forever" home meaning, in this case, that they will live forever. And Maurice spurs me on to restart my search for my own crone cat (me the crone, of course; not the kitty). I had given up my search. And did you know - you probably did- that orange female cats are rare? Or maybe not rare, but not common like the gentlemen orange cats? Maurice is a beauty.

  6. Andrea- Well, I talk about the dogs enough. It was time to show what they look like now. And yes, they are going to live forever and they have lived with us forever and thus saith the lord.
    I did read that most orange cats are male. Maurice is a special cat. But then, of course I would think so.

  7. Hopping out of lurkdom for once...ohhh, those boys of yours! And Oh! The chooks!
    And thank you for the clam spaghetti. I also wondered about it. My children (of whom there are four) will be mighty relieved to have a different pasta dish. Here I run to Red Sauce, White Sauce, No Sauce-and-suck-it-up.

    The dogs though...they are, I'm sorry to say, the picture of misery, and the miserliness might just rub off on you! You have (as if you need it!) my permission, encouragement even, as a vet tech, daughter of a farming vet, to send them on to their forever home, shove them over the rainbow bridge, and to do it happily, without guilt!

    Mrs F

  8. That hat on Gibson is just one of the most fabulous things I have ever seen. Wowza, those children.

    Last year I stayed with a man from Indonesia and he used to make us all big bowls of ramen but he'd spice them up and poach a fresh egg in the broth. Holy moley that was good. I had no idea poached eggs could be so incredible.

  9. Love the pictures, as usual. Those are some handsome chickens, and handsome grandkids.

    You know, when Dave and I had Ernie and Ruby, we knew they were both old. But it wasn't until they had died and time passed and I looked back at some photos of them that I realized how TERRIBLE they looked toward the end. When you live with them day to day you just don't notice the change as much. Weren't you going to talk with your kids about options for the dogs? (Not that I am suggesting anything -- you and they know what's best in that department.)

  10. I just got a bridge. I have never had one before. It is OK except that it all feels dead there. I don't notice the nerves in my teeth unless they hurt but really I guess I do notice subconsciously because I can't get over the feeling that I have a lump of something or other there. It's a big improvement though in the way it looks and works. So I am not moaning :)

  11. "In the arms of the angel..." My god! Those little dogs are old!
    My mom had this little wire-haired terrier that lived to be 18 and near the end, she had to stomp on the floor to let the dog know the door was open so she could go out. It was blind and deaf and had a huge tumor on it's back. Then for Christmas she gave us all a cup with a picture of her dead dog on it and I always called that cup the dead dog cup.
    I'm a morbid person.

  12. You remind me of the women I know who grew up on farms. You do so much with the given day that I'm tired just reading about it. Well done, indeed.

  13. Mrs. F- Well, I am just loving the fact that you commented. Are you British? I think the word "chooks" is one of my favorites. Please come back and comment more.
    And your words on the dogs really made me realize that yes, they are probably miserable.

    NOLA- Simplest thing in the world. And aren't the simplest things usually the most elegant and best? Gibson loves that hat. It loves him.

    Dave- Yep. I'm going to discuss this issue with the kids this weekend. You're right about waiting too long- it happens because we do see them daily and even as they fade, we seem them as compared to yesterday, not a year ago.

    Jenny Woolf- Thanks for the feedback on that! I am afraid it will feel that way to me too. And frankly, it doesn't really show, that hole in my mouth, but chewing is problematic.

    heartinhand- We practically have to do that to tell our dogs it's time to go out too. But none of them have huge tumors. I would have called that cup the Dead Dog Cup too. Seriously. Who wouldn't?

    Vesuvius- Honey, I have one day like that out of maybe every week. Trust me. I couldn't keep up as a farmwife if I had to.

  14. Clams linguine is one of our favorites, although we use quinoa linguine now. We order that on line.

    The dogs don't look too bad to me. But then I just see their bright little eyes.


Tell me, sweeties. Tell me what you think.