We are not an urban farm.

I would love to be an urban farm.  I have chickens.  I have rabbits.  With a little (ok, a lot) of work, I could have vegetables in a few years. 

Still, we are not a farm.

I went away for a lovely weekend in the mountains with some girlfriends.  I came home and one of the dogs had mauled a chick.  Of course, it was Stella's favorite chick, Caramel.

Caramel was alert and seemed happy as Sandis carried her around the house wrapped up in a towel.  You might be thinking, "well, there must have been something wrong for the chicken to put up with that."  But no, they are used to being toted around, even riding in bike baskets.  The girls made her "Get Well, Caramel" cards.

Later I was able to check her out.  It was bad.  I was pretty sure her upper leg bones were broken.  She had one bite near the top of her leg where it met her back where there was a large hole and you could see all her muscles.

It was really bad.

Somehow I steeled myself against taking her to the vet.  Partly because of the high bill that would be inevitable but also because I didn't feel confident that there was a lot that could be done for a chicken in her condition.  Sure, maybe with several thousand dollars, CSU could have operated on her leg, maybe.  But to what avail? She could have easily died from the treatment. Or even simply as a result of her injuries despite treatment.  I told Stella that a vet couldn't do anything more than put her to sleep, and I truly believe that.  I wouldn't, even with unlimited funding, put a 10 week old chick through a surgical ordeal that she would have a slim chance of living through.

That was Monday. 
On Tuesday, Caramel passed away in Stella's arms.

You may think I have already proven, through my even considering a chicken vet, that I am too soft hearted for an urban farmer.

But wait, there's more.

Yes, Caramel has been cremated and her remains will stay with Stella forever, just like Sirius'.  For some reason, having the ashes gives Stella comfort and a sense of closure.  One that no one else in the family feels.  For us, the photos, the memories, that is what matters.  For Stella, that physical having of the ashes is important.

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Now, as a side story, I must tell you about Stella's amazement at cremation.  When we left the pet crematorium yesterday, she asked where they would bury Caramel.  I was confused, bury her? She was being cremated.  I told Stella that after they burn the body, they put the ashes in the box for you and there is no body left to bury, but we could bury the ashes, if she'd like.  She responded, "THEY ARE GOING TO BURN HER!!!!"  Apparently, this step in the process somehow slipped by in Stella's mind.  She wasn't sure how they got the ashes from the body before burial, but it was NOT by burning.  Trauma on top of trauma.

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As another side story, Brian never again wants to raise chicks.  The poop, the children carrying the poop machines around the house, the getting the two groups of hens used to each other without killing each other off, the dying and cremation...it's all too much for him.  Maybe we'll buy pullets the next time around.

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And Amy, if you are reading this, don't worry.  It is totally our fault for not paying attention to the dogs in the garage and letting them get at the chicks.  Next time your pups come, the chicks will be in with the big chickens and it will not be an issue.  It was one slip-up.  Not a great one, mind you, but not your or your dogs' fault. (and we don't know for sure which dog anyway)


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Did you know that clicking is scientifically proven* to be good for your health and well-being? True**! And you can vote for me and my blog by clicking! Coincidence***? Improve your health today by clicking here.  Or here.  And once again here.  Just for good measure, click here.  Your body will thank you later****!

Fine print
*       - not even scientifically studied.  If it has been, I have not read about it.
**     - not true
***   - totally NOT a coincidence
**** - your body won't care at all.  Thanks will not be forthcoming.

Several weeks ago, Stella walks into the living room where her father and I are sitting.  She indignantly announces, in a loud, venomous voice, "Daddy! You cannot put razor blades in the soap! When you wash your hands, you get scratched!"

There was silence. 
There was literal jaw dropping.

Recovering slightly, I said, "Honey, no one put razor blades in the soap.  No one would ever, ever do that.  Why would you say that? Did you get cut washing your hands?"

She responded, "No, but I could have been!" And flounced off.

I went to the bathroom to investigate the slicing soap and found this:

It was a dangerous soap that Stella herself had made at the UU Craft Extravaganza last December.  A plastic dinosaur in melt & pour soap whose tail had escaped from its sudsy confines and scratched my child, leading her to believe that her parents had put razor blades into the soap.


Sometimes, just sometimes, having your child be an outside-the-box thinker, is not a good thing.




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Did you know that clicking is scientifically proven* to be good for your health and well-being? True**! And you can vote for me and my blog by clicking! Coincidence***? Improve your health today by clicking here.  Or here.  And once again here.  Just for good measure, click here.  Your body will thank you later****!

Fine print
*       - not even scientifically studied.  If it has been, I have not read about it.
**     - not true
***   - totally NOT a coincidence
**** - your body won't care at all.  Thanks will not be forthcoming.

http://www.cnn.com/2013/04/15/us/boston-marathon-explosions/index.html

Some days, my empathy is not a good thing.  Right now, my heart races, the tears well, every last muscle fiber is shaking.  I am in shock.  I can't function at a normal level.  

And the one person who I personally knew running in Boston is safe.

This is why I don't watch the news.  It's too hard.  It sends me into an emotional tailspin every. single. time.  Yes, I know it's reality but I cannot handle reality and function as a normal human being.  And I need to function.  I have people who depend on me. 

It's not that I don't care, it's that I care too much.  Too deeply.

  

I just overheard Stella in the kitchen arguing with her sister.  She was saying that The Doctor isn't real and that he is played by an actor.  Even more so, that he doesn't regenerate, it's just different actors.

And to think, I used to like that kid.


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Did you know that clicking is scientifically proven* to be good for your health and well-being? True**! And you can vote for me and my blog by clicking! Coincidence***? Improve your health today by clicking here.  Or here.  And once again here.  Just for good measure, click here.  Your body will thank you later****!

Fine print
*       - not even scientifically studied.  If it has been, I have not read about it.
**     - not true
***   - totally NOT a coincidence
**** - your body won't care at all.  Thanks will not be forthcoming.

 

Sometimes you tell yourself just what you need to hear.

Last night I dreamt that some people came to visit us.  People to whom we are connected.  People who I will not name.  The visit went as well as could be expected with these folks.  Then I got a letter.

The letter was only partially readable.  Some words were missing or partially missing, as if the printer they used was running out of ink.  Reading this, I could see their disappointment in me.  I was crestfallen.  I had been so inconsiderate on their visit.  I had caused others pain.  That is never the person I intended to be.

Then, after several days of crying and misery, I re-read the letter. 

It turns out I could just make out all the missing letters and words if I really tried.  They had actually typed the letter and the imprint of the letters was on the paper even if there was no ink to make them stand out.  It took some doing, but I was able to make out the entire message.

And the message had changed entirely.

They still were expressing their disappointment but it was different.  The diappointment was with who I was fundamentally.  How I conducted my life.  My values. Nothing I had done, per se, but who I was.

And my sadness lifted.  I hadn't done anything to offend other than be who I was.  And I like who I am. All of the sudden, I knew: it wasn't about me, it was about them.  And years of burden lifted. 

Wow, just wow.

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PS: Lest you think all of the dream was prophetic, there was one point where we were visiting a building that did not allow pets and I distinctly remember my exasperation at Stella having brought her sow and piglet on leashes, to this.  And how the girls whined and cajoled and finally walked the pigs back outside. 

Not all dreams should come true.

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Did you know that clicking is scientifically proven* to be good for your health and well-being? True**! And you can vote for me and my blog by clicking! Coincidence***? Improve your health today by clicking here.  Or here.  And once again here.  Just for good measure, click here.  Your body will thank you later****!

Fine print
*       - not even scientifically studied.  If it has been, I have not read about it.
**     - not true
***   - totally NOT a coincidence
**** - your body won't care at all.  Thanks will not be forthcoming.

 

It is definitely unsettling and a bit creepy when this peeks out at you from your refridgerator.  I only wanted the quiche, please let me have it evil, weird, scary face that lives in the depths of my icebox.

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Did you know that clicking is scientifically proven* to be good for your health and well-being? True**! And you can vote for me and my blog by clicking! Coincidence***? Improve your health today by clicking here.  Or here.  And once again here.  Just for good measure, click here.  Your body will thank you later****!

Fine print
*       - not even scientifically studied.  If it has been, I have not read about it.
**     - not true
***   - totally NOT a coincidence
**** - your body won't care at all.  Thanks will not be forthcoming.

I have solved the organizing nightmare of plastic lids!

This has been a problem for ages.  First it was Tupperware.  Those plastic containers with lids you had to go to home parties to obtain.  They would last a lifetime but cost a fortune.  Of course, seeing the dollar signs, companies couldn't help but try and make cheaper, more available alternatives.  One of these was Pop-top Storables.  We had these.  And they had the ingenious little thingie on their lid that if you lined it up with the bowl's handle you could press down and pop the lid right off! Because, as you know, it's so difficult to get the lid off a plastic bowl, right?

Yes, we still have some of these lovelies even though when I searched online for a photo of them, the only thing I found was a patent that expired in the 80's.  The 1980's.  30+ years ago.  And we still have some.

Then we moved to the disposable plastic bowls in the 90's.  Even cheaper! Have an even shorter life! Even more fucking lids! Every damn time you bought new bowls, they had "improved" them and the lid design was a wee bit different.  So your 2 cup bowls that looked the same had different sized lids.  But the same color as before with only a slightly different size so that you couldn't tell it was the wrong one until you put it on, it didn't fit and now needed to be washed. Yeah!

All of these lids were a nightmare.  We had lids from the 80's through today.  They were crammed into two drawers.  There were so many that they would spill out and every couple months we'd have to remove the drawers to dig underneath them for the 30 or so lids that escaped.  The best part? Probably half of these lids no longer had the matching bottom but you could never find the top for the bottom you were using.  AHHHHH!

I'd had enough of the mess and annoyance and the general use of plastic.  I bagged up all of our plastic bowls and lids (minus the few Brian refused to give up.)  I also bagged up all our glasses and cups, except a few coffee cups.  

They've all been replaced by Mason jars.  Good for storage and drinking.  Reusable until broken (won't wear out.)  Only 2 sizes of lids, wide mouth and regular.  All lids fit reasonably in ONE small drawer. 

1/2 pint, pint and quart jars for storage

1/2 gallon jars for soups and ice tea.  And look, and empty shelf.  And the coffee supplies on the bottom shelf instead of the top.  Why did we put the thing we use daily in the most inconvenient spot? No idea.

Pints and 1/2 pints

Pints for drinking with coffee cups above

Almost empty cupboard! Our cupboards were all bursting before.

And look, they're good for dry storage too.  Quinoa in this one.

And because they wandered into the kitchen when I was taking pictures of the cupboards, here are some bonus pictures of the girls with the chicks.  The chicks are 7+ weeks old now.  (Note to Brian, they were taking them outside and paused for a photo op, they weren't playing upstairs.)

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Did you know that clicking is scientifically proven* to be good for your health and well-being? True**! And you can vote for me and my blog by clicking! Coincidence***? Improve your health today by clicking here.  Or here.  And once again here.  Just for good measure, click here.  Your body will thank you later****!

Fine print
*       - not even scientifically studied.  If it has been, I have not read about it.
**     - not true
***   - totally NOT a coincidence
**** - your body won't care at all.  Thanks will not be forthcoming.

 

Words/phrases that Stella finds hilarious for no reason:

• pupilary distance
• bipedal
• trout
• apparatus

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Did you know that clicking is scientifically proven* to be good for your health and well-being? True**! And you can vote for me and my blog by clicking! Coincidence***? Improve your health today by clicking here.  Or here.  And once again here.  Just for good measure, click here.  Your body will thank you later****!

Fine print
*       - not even scientifically studied.  If it has been, I have not read about it.
**     - not true
***   - totally NOT a coincidence
**** - your body won't care at all.  Thanks will not be forthcoming.

 

The older child is surly and disagreeable.  Anything you ask is unreasonable, even if that is getting on her soccer gear for her soccer practice.  She is constantly exasperated by her mother, father and sister.  It doesn't matter what we do, we are just weird and embarrassing. We talk about subjects that shouldn't be talked about, we eat foods that are disgusting, we insist she take showers.  It's really a pretty awful life for her. 

I thought this lovely behavior was due to hormones and the close proximity to teenage-dom.  But no.  It's this:

We gave her the water that activates the defy mechanism! What were we thinking! And usually I read labels so carefully.  sigh. 

I'll have to look for the antidote (which I believe will work in approximately 10 years.)

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Did you know that clicking is scientifically proven* to be good for your health and well-being? True**! And you can vote for me and my blog by clicking! Coincidence***? Improve your health today by clicking here.  Or here.  And once again here.  Just for good measure, click here.  Your body will thank you later****!

Fine print
*       - not even scientifically studied.  If it has been, I have not read about it.
**     - not true
***   - totally NOT a coincidence
**** - your body won't care at all.  Thanks will not be forthcoming.