Oh, how my little dinosaurs are growing up and when I read an article the other day about how chickens are descendants of the dinosaurs who survived the meteorite, which only makes sense, I felt even prouder of my feathered babies than ever. They are really and truly survivors.
When the boys came over this afternoon, we went out to the coop to see them and we now definitely have a new Nicey. One of the Rhode Island Reds who is curious and relatively tame. She sat on Owen's shoulder and no, I did not have my phone to take a picture and I am so mad. He claims that this is the niceyest Nicey of all.
I did six miles this morning and that damn hill which is both gradual AND steep did not feel quite as bad. Is it possible that I might actually get stronger? My total for the week- almost twenty-three miles. I am a bit amazed that I am doing this. I really am. I suppose I knew I was capable of walking for more than three or so miles but having never really tried it, I was not sure.
Now- let's see if I can keep it up.
And if any of you are wondering if I've lost any weight- let me share this with you.
So no. I'm still plump as a partridge.
Well, perhaps a stronger partridge.
I need to cut this short as I am going to make venison tacos for these boys.
The really junky kind with El Paso taco seasoning and Ortega crispy taco shells. I can't wait!
The object which is Owen is holding is a carrot ballet dancer. His name is Carrotovia.
He's a Russian Carrot Ballet Dancer. Owen can make him spin and do pirouettes. His tutu is made of kale leaves.
Isn't he cool?
I told two Jehovah's Witnesses today that I was an atheist. When the sweet little white-haired ladies wearing calico dresses with their holy books and pamphlets clutched to their bosoms asked me sweetly why, I said, "Many reasons and it's none of your business."
"Thank you for your time," they said and they got in their car and drove away.
Sometimes I wish I had a bulldog in the yard.
Happy Friday, y'all.