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Bee it ever so humble. . . I think my feather babies missed me as much as I missed them.
After The Phone Call, hubs left before dawn in the bee truck since the passenger vehicle had car seats in it. I followed in the passenger vehicle soon after the gk's and car seats were safely in parental hands. Over the course of the crisis, the FIL's cowboy caddilac became one of the details on the attention list. Dead battery and under-inflated tires from lack of use in its cramped storage space in the chemical mix of the Man Cave. Hubs decided the luxury imitation pickup was in need of a road test. The attempt to blend luxury and utility serves neither purpose well, but it still needs tending.
I left mid-mornng in the passenger. Hubs followed some odd hours later in the cowboy caddilac, leaving the work truck in the luxury driveway. Hope the HOA isn't offended to action. . . Kinda spooky having that big mechanical pig in the driveway. Is the employee squad following with the sharks in tow?
Just breathe. . . Think I'll go harrass the chickens in their roost. It is good to be home, if only for a short spell. It feels kinda odd for the word, "home" to be feeling so comfortable on my nomadic tongue.
Replies
Say hi to the hens for me:-) Glad you can have a "vacation" at your home for a little while.
i'm so glad you can be with your hens. i spent some time w/martha this morning and it was such a comfort. i really am thinking hugs to you and enjoying the picture of you with your gals clucking around you, silly old chickens bring an amazing amount of almost everything good xo
Two of my last batch of chicks are crowing now. The more aggressive of the two has started attacking people in the yard. He went after my 3 year old grandson this morning.
Home-grown chicken is amazingly sweet and tender meat. Methinks it's time for a sweet meat treat. Cock-a-doodle-do to you, too, sir. Don't mess with my grandbaby.
Or. . . I'm not one to set up sporting events, but I am an opportunist to the core. While the optimist and pessimist are busy arguing over whether the glass is half full or half empty, I see a drink and quench my thirst. With two roosters in the yard, maybe I should sell tickets and call in the bookies. I'm betting on the Japanese silky. The silver was quicker to mature and is feistier but the silky is already twice his size and still growing. Silkies are a gentler breed, but beware the wrath of a patient soul.