Monday, July 15, 2013

Peas and Chickens

A text conversation with my sister: 

10:36 a.m. You need to blog more. 
For my sake alone
10:37 a.m. Yeah I know. I'm feeling uninspired. 
10:38 a.m. Get inspired--duh
10:39 a.m. Duh. I'm in an, "I'm never going to be good at anything phase." 
10:51 a.m. Bummer. Are you upset that the chickens don't let you touch them and prefer Butch (my husband's family nickname)?
10:56 a.m. Yes, I'm terribly jealous. 
10:57 a.m. You really shouldn't let that impede your creativity. 

Let me just tell you, when you get chickens, it always comes back to the chickens--even my lack of blogging. There is basically an endless stream of chicken humor going on in our house, and Walter and I just never get tired of it. We say things like: 

-What are you making for dinner?
-Well, I just put a chicken in the oven.
-Which one? 
Hardy-har-har. 

A few nights ago I was talking with my sister and told her all about how Walter finally succeeded in taming "his girls" so that he can hand-feed them and they let him pet them at night when they are roosting. 

-Do you want to come out to the coop and pet the chickens with me?
-Yeah right, they aren't going to let me touch them. 
-I'm telling you, they all line up in a row and I pet each one.
-Well, okay, I guess I need to see this. 
-I whistle to them as I walk up to the coop and then before I leave.
-Isn't that sweet. (In other words, your're so weird)
I must admit, I finally witnessed this nighttime relationship my husband has with our chickens (don't get any weird ideas), and though he claimed they weren't as docile as they usually are, I did get to pet one of them. 
-See, wasn't that fun? They aren't usually so skittish, I think they just didn't like that you were there. 
-That's nice. Next time I'll leave you and your girls alone. 

There is one chicken in particular, Zebra, who is especially friendly with Isabella. Leave up to Isabella to name a chicken, Zebra. That's like naming your Dog, Cat, but whatever. 

I was so excited to shell peas and couldn't stop exclaiming how adorable my peas were. You know how people stage their newborn baby to look like a pea in a pod--cute, right? Let me just tell you, real peas, in a real pod...way cuter. They slept all night in our fridge--didn't wake up a single time.  





If you have a kid with a g-tube and are interested in the shirt I have on, you can go to feedingtubeawareness.com to find similar shirts.












-Isabella, are you sure that's what you want to wear? Do you see how there is a completely different pattern on the shirt from the shorts? (sorry, I don't have a picture)
-Yeah. But I think it looks pretty.
It was basically a floral explosion, but she thought it looked it pretty, and I couldn't argue with that because I want her to be creative, and expressive, and proud of how who she is.

That's why I kept my mouth shut when she walked out of her room in this:

Just don't forget to bring spare clothes for when the ballerina thing has run its course.

2 comments:

  1. Your pea pictures are hilarious and awesome. Walter is also quite hilarious with "his girls".

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  2. I always love your blog! We can't get enough of it and we live 15 minutes away! The peas are cute, the chicken's are funny and Isabella was adorable showing up in her ballet outfit to ride her scooter!

    Love you,

    Mom

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