‎"...a little 'trouty', but quite good" ~ Eve Kendall, North By Northwest

Monday, September 19, 2016

Wood Elves in the Tower


As I was getting ready to go to Saturday's wedding, Sugarplum said "oh, is this the wedding we were going to have guests from?" and my stomach dropped like it does when you realize you almost had company AND 14 chickens in your guest room for the weekend.

My friend's son got married, and because they are adventurous, outgoing people, they had friends coming to the wedding from all over. When we got married a friend invited me to extend her guest cottage to friends who were traveling from a distance, and I thought it was time to repay that favor. I did not, however, have the couple's email address or phone numbers, and while I meant to ask the groom's mom, it never happened and the opportunity came and went.

Meanwhile (and beforewhile), we had a security breach at Fort McChicken and lost all but Gloria. Gloria is visibly lonely so we got her some friends. Fourteen of them. When they arrived, they fit comfortably in a large cardboard shipping box on the kitchen table upstairs in what we are turning into a guest suite. Yes, I know there are articles about how you should not kiss your chickens or let them in your kitchen but technically it isn't a kitchen yet because things happen slowly around here. And no, we do not kiss our chickens. But I have been reading Gloria bedtime stories because she has been through a lot and I am not a monster. Admit it, you would too.

Over the last month the chickens grew and so did their nursery. Now they are in two large shipping boxes, connected by a cased opening because the kids have been super into Fixer Uppers lately. I drew the line at putting in a custom island and a farm sink.

When Sugarplum reminded me that we almost had guests up there, all I could picture was friends arriving at the wedding covered in chicken dust. Chicken dust, for the uninitiated, is what happens when you have baby chickens in your house. It's a product of baby food and wood chips and it gets everywhere.

The wedding was in the garden of a home on the ocean, with twinkly lights and twinkly people. My friend was elegant and radiant, and each family member and guest was kinder and more effusive than the last. In one toast, the bride was recalled described as a Dungeons and Dragons wood elf - which speaks to the childhood nerdery of the groom, as well as the wood elfness of the bride. The toaster clarified, for those of us not in the know, that a wood elf was beautiful, mysterious, magical, spiritual, and a little bad ass.

So you can imagine how fun it was to watch the friends of a wood elf at a wedding. And you can imagine how quickly "phew! that was a close one" turned into "damn. we blew it."

How fun it would have been, and what an honor it would have been, to host any of these friends.

The moral of today's story is, there are people whose friends would be quite alright in a guest suite with 14 chickens.

I'm going upstairs to dust right now, so we don't miss out on anything else.

#LoveIsTheMessage917

Tuesday, September 6, 2016

The Prodigal Chicken

Once, there was a chicken. And she came to her caretaker and said "human caretaker, please give me the goods which fall to me so I may go and find my way in the world." The human caretaker does not speak chicken, so she just said "nice chicken!" which the chicken took to mean "well, sure."

For three days and three nights, the chicken wasted her substance with riotous living. And when she was a mere shadow of her former self, she thought, "the chickens of my birthplace are eating cheerios and leftover grilled eggplant napoleons with a balsamic reduction, while I am eating bugs and diving in dumpsters! I will go to my human caretaker and tell her I am no longer worthy to be called her prettiest chicken who lays the prettiest eggs."

And while the chicken was yet a long way off, her caretaker saw her (with the help of the upstairs neighbor who actually saw her first), and she went to her, and fell on her neck and DID NOT KISS HER. Because she's still a chicken, if you remember.

And the prodigal chicken said, "caretaker, I have sinned against heaven and in your sight. I am no longer worthy to be called the prettiest chicken who lays the prettiest eggs, but will you please let me back into the coop where I will be safe from things which are trying to eat me?"

And the caretaker heard, "cluck, cluck cluck, cluck, bwaaaaaak," and said "oh, who's the prettiest chicken who lays the prettiest eggs, WHO?!?! " and gave her some cheerios off the floor (with some squash seeds for good measure) and let her back into the coop.

And they lived happily ever after.

(Add to the ever-growing list of Trout Towers oxymorons, one brave chicken. I have no idea where she's been, but I suspect Vegas.)