In Twenty-Ten I Resolve to...

Not put eggs in my sweatshirt pocket and then shovel chicken poop and drag it down to the compost pile, forgetting said egg,  because nothing good comes of that.

And not lose weight and not become organized, 'cause face it, it's just not happening.  So I resolve to accept my weight and my slovenly ways. 

That's it.  Those are my two resolutions.  No eggs in pockets and to accept who I am.  Perfect. 

I hope you have similar resolutions, except if you don't have chickens, because well that first one just won't make much sense.  Though even if you don't have chickens, it's still a good idea to NOT put eggs in your pockets.  There you go, my gift of worldly wisdom to you.  You're welcome. 

Smiles from the farm,

Lisa

The Blizzard of '09, mouse poop and Merry Christmas

Yeah, yeah, yeah the EAST COAST was bombarded, blasted and bombed with a nasty BLIZZARD.  The east coast?  Really?  I do believe we have the eastest coast up here in Maine.  We got nuthin.  Just the old dirty snow from a few weeks ago.  The blizzard of '09, yeah ok, whatever. 

Anyway...it's really close to Christmas and I'm not ready and I'm stressing a bit and there is so much to do so I'm feeling a little peckish.  To add to all the glory, I've run out of cat.  Which is kind of like running out of nutmeg but instead of not being able to enjoy a tasty eggnog, I've got this....

We happen to live one of those roads that is a little bit from town.  Our house is hidden by trees and it seems it is a perfect spot for dropping unwanted cats.  In the past when we have run out of cat, we have just waited and another shows up.  This may seem a bit callous to you kitty lovers out there, but be assured that the kitty we take in is spayed/neutered and vaccinated (sometimes not on time, but nonetheless).  I try to catch all the extra kitties and take them to the shelter.  Well it seems my bitching and moaning about the irresponsible kitty droppers has taken hold and we have no more kitties.  Our last little foundling, Precious,disappeared about a month ago and she is sorely missed.  So if a kitty doesn't show up soon, we will be buried in mouse poop and that is just gross. 

                                      

                                       

Smiles from the (kitty missin') farm,

Lisa

If I Were a Snowman...

If I were a snowman

all white and freezing cold

I'd never plan for hard times

‘cause I’d never get that old

If I were a snowman

standing just outside your door

 once conceived in joyous revelry

I'd be thought of no more

If I were a snowman

my fate so abruptly dealt

there'd be no time to love nor hate me

and no mourning when I'd melt

If I were a snowman

my heart just made of snow

there'd be nothing on the inside

That the outside doesn’t show.

If I were a snowman

I'd freeze all your hurt and pain

I’d keep it in my frigid breath

and then simply vanish with the rain.

Ode to Chickens in the Kitchen

One little chick so cute and so mellow

Like a dear piece of heaven, only in yellow

Two baby chicks so soft and sweet

the only thing better than two chicks, is three!

Five little birds like a flock of love

peeping and cooing like a little lost dove

Ten fluffy butts all in a row

I’d show you something cuter, but what? I don’t know!

Fifteen tiny chickens growing so fast

The fluff and the peeping surely won’t last

Twenty-five birds just pooping and peeping

So smelly and rancid, my eyes they are weeping

Thirty-Two smelly crappers, just crapping and stinking!

Somebody tell me, WHAT WAS I THINKING!

Smiles from the (never thinks things through) farm,

Lisa

PS: Yes I know there are not 10 fluffy butts in that picture.  Have YOU ever tried to line up ten baby chickens to take a picture of their butts?  I didn't think so.

They don't make 'em like that anymore...

In following a link to see drunk dogs at a dinner party as directed by June of  Bye Bye Pie, I found this video.  I think we need more dogs with prosthetic arms to milk sassy goats.  I really do.



Smiles f rom the (ain't no dogs here) farm,
Lisa

If she doesn't scare you, no evil thing will...

Am I a monster for wanting a thick, luxurious coat made from the teeny, tiny hides of  BABY CHICKENS!?

YES!

Howibble, howibble, howibble, howibble...

Fine, I'll just wait until you're grown.

Then I will eat your unborn children.  Muhaaaahaaahaaa

Smiles from the (cheep-cheep) farm,

Lisa

The DaOttie Code

In breaking news, it has been determined through really high tech stuff that beneath the face of the iconic Mona Lisa, another face was painted first. We can only hope that Dan Brown will get to the bottom of this mystery.

Smiles from the farm,

Lisa

Thank You

My Dear Friends,

Thank you so much for your warm thoughts.  We're still adjusting, but with as much peace and humor as possible.  Life goes on.  Today is good and that's all that matters.

Smiles,
Lisa

Pile it on...

For everyone who is graciously following my stumbling, bumbling life...please bear with me, it seems I've fallen face first and damn it if I can't get up.

Last Saturday Big Bud had a seizure.  I remember when I was about seven years old a kid punched me on the bus, right in the stomach.  I couldn't draw a breath.  This is just about how I felt on Saturday.  The entire world shrunk to fit on the head of a pin and seconds were hours, minutes were months.  The rest of the day was spent at the emergency room and all I could think of was next week, next month, next year.  All I could do was cry.  I cannot put a band-aid on this, kiss it and make it better, I cannot change this. 

For days I have held my breath waiting for another one and when they come I still cry.  I have begged God to stop them, I have bargained with him.  I have hated him.  But as time and experience does, I have learned and adapted and adjusted.  I don't cry as much now. 

In fact, we've taken to calling them "episodes".  Episodes aren't as scary.  Episodes are like when Elaine needed a Square to Spare, and Saturday morning reruns of Johnny Quest.  Episodes are our new normal.  Like the one where we tried to keep a portable EEG machine attached to a very active 6 year old for 48 hours.  And during the said 48 hours there was, of course, no recordable episodes.  Shortly after ripping all the wires off of his head, they started again.

I'm tired and my stomach hurts and I'm trying really hard to find some solid ground.  For a chick who was obviously chasing butterflies when they handed out the patience and grace, not so easy.  Do-able, just not easy.

Still smiling,
Lisa

The sacrifices we make as parents...

As I waited in line with my child, I cautiously stole glances at the other people here.  Some looked perfectly healthy, and some were pale and tired. 

There was no guarantee that once we got to the front of the line that we would be able to proceed.  It seemed as if there had been a miscalculation and not everyone would get through.  I wondered if they would come pick the lethargic ones out of the crowd and move them to the front.  Afterall, they seemed to need this more than us. 

I could have waited for this, or done without it entirely.  However, I had to think of my child.  It was for her that we were here.  No line was too long for her. 

My back straightened and I held my breath at every sneeze, cough and raspy intake of breath.  Certainly the military precision of the employees could have afforded a moment to pass out surgical masks, especially in this environment.  I stifled my reflex to cover my baby's face.  She smiled up at me and I reassuredly squeezed her shoulder.  "It won't be long now." I whispered.  She nodded and leaned closer to me.  Loud, firm voices directed the lines and kept order amongst the masses. 

Just last week there had been a flu clinic at the auditorium and the line had snaked around the building and down the street.  Then this week the middle school had held a clinic in the gym.  We had attended neither. 

We finally reached the front of our line, the nice young man in the crisp uniform held out his hand for our paperwork and as I handed him our "New Moon" tickets,  I fervently hoped that the rest of these idiots had gotten their shots, 'cause not only did I have to suffer through this ridiculous movie, I really didn't want to end up with the stupid flu. 

Smiles from the (Mom of the Year) farm,
Lisa