O.K., the chicks... chicks ALWAYS come first.
I have four more baby chicks. What can I say? Chicks happen!
But it is not my fault. I blame the Uber Chicken Breeder friend of mine who messaged me and said (and I quote), "I am coming your way to make a run to the feed store; if you want anything, call me." Are you kidding me? Who asks something like that and expects a "no" answer? Of course I do!
"I'll take two Splash Marans. Oh, and do you have any Easter Eggers or Olive Eggers?"
"I have one Ameraucana I hatched by accident. You want it?"
~ side note... NOBODY hatches anything "by accident."
I mean, what happened. She woke up one day and found a chick in her bed
and said, "Gee, how'd that happen?"
Anyway, you know what my answer was to "You want it?" "Yes, of course."
"Anything else?"
"Well, what else have you got?"
"I have lots of Blue Marans."
"Oh, OK. Yes, I'll take another one of those too. Please make sure it has feathers on its feet."
"OK, see you in about an hour."
THANK GOD she did not say "anything else" again!
So here we go... two Splash Marans, one Blue Marans and one Ameraucana... because, like I said, chicks happen!
And, of course, we have names... the Easter Egger is Billie Holiday (of course, because Easter is a Holiday), the Blue Marans is Bessie Smith, the Splash Marans with the freckle on its head is Etta James and the other Splash Marans is Ella Fitzgerald. The Marans will go by first names if they are pullets and lasts names if they end up being cockerels. The Ameraucana (Easter Egger) will probably be Billie Holiday either way.
O.K. now, part two... the dog!
Well, one of my journeys was to pick up this cute green gingham bassinet which I found used, in excellent condition for next to nothing. It even came with two little matching storage baskets that are so cute. That new grandboy is going to need a place to lay his head when he is at Grandma's house.
So on our way home, I noticed Gus had abandoned the co-pilot seat. When I turned to see where he was, this is what I saw... he was IN the bassinet!
Sorry for the poor cell phone quality photo. This was taken backwards, over my head, while sitting at a red light. No animals were harmed in the making of this photo... but if they had of been, he would have deserved it!
Now then, last but certainly not least.
Today we went shopping for a new mattress for our new house. Well, my husband was running late, so that meant I had plenty of time to check everything out, decide what "I" wanted, and then lead him directly to it when he got there. So, in this case, late is perfect timing. I like that logic.
So I narrowed down my choices, knew which one "I" preferred, but waited for him to try things out and then choose the one that I knew we wanted. I told the lady helping me that she could go ahead and write most of it up. I was pretty sure my husband would prefer the same mattress I preferred, but we'd let him try another one too to be sure. We were going to go with an adjustable bed frame platform thingy, whatever they are called... because we are old and generally "aching and paining" when we go to bed... and at any given time my feet may be swollen and need to be elevated or one of us may have nasal congestion and need our head elevated. But I was quite sure that this would never happen at the same time for each of us, so the split adjustability was going to be essential. Outside of that, there were features that I really didn't care about either way. One of them vibrated like those hotel beds you used to be able to put a quarter in (and the fact that I can remember those beds just tells you how old/achy/painy I am). So, I told the lady that I really didn't care which platform we got, so we would let my husband pick that out; that way he would feel like he had power.
So, he showed up, we showed him the options, he picked what I wanted and we went to check out.
THAT'S WHEN IT HAPPENED!
Someone at the check out counter said, "Oh, you are the chicken lady, aren't you?"
I said, "Oh, I have baby chicks in the car and it's hot out." At which time my husband was dispatched to the car to turn on the AC for the babies.
Then another customer chimed in, "You are a mother clucker."
Then the owner's grandfather wanted to know what I thought of a cheap chicken coop he was looking at for a pet chicken. I told him it was junk and wouldn't last more than one season, unless he was planning to keep it inside.
The look of confusion was priceless. He didn't say anything, but I could tell by the look in his eyes he was envisioning chickens living in the house and wondering if people really do that.
I stared back at him with a very serious look that unequivocally said, "Yes, people really do that."
When I was all done with the paperwork, I came out to the car and my husband got out and said...
wait for it...
wait for it...
wait for it...
"You have fans????" That lady knew you; she knew you were the chicken lady.
Is she some kind of fan? Do you have fans???
My response was as follows... I made sure to make no eye contact.
"Yes, I have fans. Of course I have fans."
Nothing more was said.
Nothing else needed to be said.
That said it all.
