Y’all. I just had a four day weekend. Four. It was so great. Those personal days I’ve earned (?) don’t roll over, so I figured I’d use one. So there are only like 5 that I wasted. Oops. Next year!
Anyway. You know, and I know you know, you want to know what I did.
How about a list?
Ok, if you insist.
- went erranding on the bus to the old-skool strip mall on what used to be the north end of town but is now the middle, sort of. I got a new dish-rack and it has made my life better.
- went strawberry picking with Elsie, who had also taken a day off, and my new-ish housemate, who is great. I saw this really nice lady who I used to see at the market all the time and she remembered me and gave me a hug! And asked me to pass on a message to another vendor at the market, so I felt very much in with the in-crowd from the market. Also, we got a fuck-ton of strawberries, which my housemate and I got washed and hulled and sugared by 9 pm. Maybe there is a picture? There is!
- went to the market with LB and S and made out like a fucking bandit: in addition to the usual haul from my CSA, I also got my neighbors’ CSA because they are out of town; a bunch of meat, because summer paychecks will be thin so I want to stock the freezer; the best bulgolgi, ever, plus a Korean melon kimchi that the nice lady from Wolf Creek said was “very expensive”; 9 pounds of rhubarb to make jam; goat’s milk from Elsie, because we like to have our own little market at the market. Hooray the market!
- made jam with most of those strawberries and froze the rest, excepting probably 3 pounds that have been on the counter and are now almost all eaten.
- had S and D over for bulgolgi and then went out (out?!) and had drinks with them.
- cleaned the house and did laundry because it was perfect laundry weather.
- had dinner with LB, S and D again, at S’s this time.
- went grocery shopping with S and got more jars, because the strawberry jam used up all the little ones I had.
- made more jam with the rhubarb.
- made a pork but in the crock pot.
- took not one but two naps in the hammock. Pictured is Sunday’s nap. Monday’s nap was less sunny, if still fair of face.
- contemplated that there are only two days of school left. Well, 1 and 1/2, really.
There were also Chicken Adventures, involving a mass escape this morning when I went to refill their water bowl and an entire day of freedom for Kate Olsen, while the Kardashians, who are wilder but a little more gullible, or possibly just less scared of me, were rounded up with promises of food and confined for the day as usual. They were pissed, or else they were squawking their normal amount and I read meaning into it. Kate, make no mistake, seemed a little taken aback by her full day of free-ranging solo and stuck close to the house, for which I am glad. Can’t have her digging up the neighbor’s plants again.
Apparently, it is easier to dig a grave with a pointy shovel than with a flat one. Or so I am told by my neighbor who is on his way over to bury my second dead chicken of the summer. They are old, these chickens, and there is only one left. Kate, if you must know. Although, to tell the truth, Ashley is still large and in charge down in Esmont, so there are really two men standing, title of this post aside. Sex of the poultry also aside.
Now, I’ve had chickens for a while now, if you’ll remember. There were these guys, who turned out to both be roosters and got sent to the country to have a chance at full free-rangey-ness and both ended up in their rightful place on the food chain via a hawk. Then I got the big girls, Mary, Kate and Ashley, and then two random others from a friend, Valerie and Meghan, Jr. Valerie took up the mantle of resident rooster with pride, stretching up to crow and hopping on the other chickens’ backs for Fun Times (What? You have a problem with my trans chicken? Get over it.) but a raccoon or something got her all the same a couple years ago.
So for sometime there have been three. Mary, who never laid any eggs and was sort of mean. MJ, whose name had to be shortened, because otherwise it made me sad all the time. And Kate, who laid occasionally, but went broody this summer and almost got put in a pot for her pains.
Mary died close to two weeks ago. She was listless and hanging out on the ground one evening (next to a stick that I thought was a possum tail, which caused me to jump *and* scream *and* scrape my knee, which was The Best Story Ever to the children at camp that week), and then the next day she was dead when I came home from camp. It was a little sad, and my roommate buried her over by the cats on the north side of the house. She was old, and I wondered if there was something not right with her insides, on account of the No Eggs Issue. Who knows.
And then, last week, Meghan, Jr. started looking listless. And pale, if you can imagine it. And then she disappeared while I was on bed rest. I sort of hoped that some animal had taken off with her – doesn’t that seem a more fitting way to die? But no. After 4 or 5 days outside in Virginia in August, I found her by smell, behind the crazy old painting of the Queen of Hearts that leans on the fence by the chicken coop. Funny, it is easier to call her by her old, real name now that she’s dead. She was a sweet chicken, she’d allow herself be held and would come running when I’d call to all of them.
Anyway, she’s going to be buried with everybody else. I will have to expand that flower bed, man, it’s getting crowded over there. I never thought I’d bury my chickens; they aren’t really pets to me in the way the cats are. I mean, I like them; they are living things. But I don’t love them the way I love the cats. But I’m sadder than I expected about Meghan, Jr dying. Not in a weepy, keening sort of way, but in a “wow, that animal’s life is over and we saw each other every day” sort of way.
(just in case you need some additional hate-free chicken)
Do we even know each other? It’s been so long….
Just kidding. I know you’ve been bouncing in your collective seats, biting your collective nails, wondering wtf is happening in Starrhill. There’s nothing so exciting as the news from here.
In no particular order:
- nothing – for real, nothing. It’s summer and that’s how we roll around here. I’ve been taking care of various children to pay the bills and sitting on the porch with drinks and generally doing nothing.
- small skunk sighting – not a baby and not an adult, but cute. Also surprising enough to make me jump. And cute enough to make me think of Pepe Le Pew and worry for my little girl kitten, who does look a good bit like the little black cat Pepe’s always after.
- vacation – woo and hoo! I haven’t had a real vacation in years. Years, I tell you. The gf and I went up north, stopping at her folks’ in LI and then on to Western Mass for a wedding (as a side note, the officiant made a very low-key and lovely comment at the start of the ceremony about how marrige is a right and that we hope soon it will be in everyone’s reach – warmed my little gay heart), which is totally at the top of my weddings-attended list. Then post fab-wedding weekend (yes, it was a whole weekend, yes it was *fab*) we went back to LI/NYC. There was beach time, there was boat time, there was city time. We ate more Korean food than you can shake a stick at. The gf’s mama gave me a skirt. And some beach glass. I got to see the gf drive a boat and yes,it was a hot as you might thing. I slept late and got tan.
- I haz an air conditioner in my bedroom. Some people are more, shall we say “sensitive” to the heat. Oh, the things you do for love.
- not pregnant – again. And then again! *sigh* And, yes, this has been the blight of my summer. If I had gotten knocked up, or if I were not ttc, this summer could be labeled as One Of The Best Times Of My Life. But no. TTC fucks everything up. Don’t let me discourage you, though.
- RE visits – see above. RE visits with company, and by company I mean the gf. Yes, Clem, I’ve changed her name, just for you. I’ll remind y’all again that my RE is the best RE: full of science and stories and willing to explain any and everything he does *and* immediately and totally inclusive of the gf – asides to be sure she understood terms like ICSI and full eye-contact and hand shakes and generally just being great. Keep in mind accompanying me on RE visits holds no additional meaning for us. So don’t jump to any conclusions – yes, I’m talking to you. And you. And, yes, you, too. Good lord, y’all.
- drugs – not recreational ones. Just my old friend Femara. You might remember that The Pregnancy That Wasn’t occurred sans meds and so I opted to continue trying without them once I got back on the horse January last. Oh dreams of un-assisted conception, how far and hard you fall. Anyway, yeah, I’ve given up on that shit. Western medicine. Bring it.
- the peeps – um, well, ah…. things have changed with the peeps. They are big now, as you might guess. I almost don’t recognize them in those pictures from a few months ago. So, ah, the other thing is that both those peeps turned out to be roosters. Ha. One of them started crowing and getting rather aggressive and so I passed him on to a friend in the country. He eventually got eaten by a dog but he had a good run at country life for a few weeks before that. Before his passing, but after his exile from Starrhill, I bought 3 more peeps off of Craigslist. All girls. They are blue laced Wyandottes we like to call Mary, Kate and Ashley. And, yes, you counted right. There is still one of the Original Peeps here in Starrhill. We like to call him Lola. I would end up with genderqueer chickens.
- IVP visit – Woo and Hoo! We squeezed in a visit with Jude and her fab and adorable fam. They are fab and, yes, I pretty much love Northhampton, like the good lesbian I am.
- June visit with my cousin – woo! She’s big now. It was like a real adult visit. I heart her.
- the gf – yes, I know some of you are stalking me just because of her legs. I see you over there, hoping for another picture of her in shorts. Sad to say, my camera is broken. Anyway, it’s pretty damn good these days, y’all. Blissful and lovely for here, please.
- work – what work? (Ok, I am looking forward to it just a little bit, as cho-girl is coming to teach with me again.)
- fermenting – so far I’ve got pickles and sauerkraut and radishes under my belt. Some are more successful than others. Also plum jam from plums the gf and my roommate scavenged from the tree by the school. I’m sure there will be more putting up in the next weeks as I try to hang on to whatever summer I can.
It’s time for a nap after lunch (leftover fritta with leeks and zucchini from the farm, maybe some peaches). Log your lunch. I’ve missed you.
Or, this post is not all about my boobs, despite what it looks like.
Neighbor Baby hearts Teh Peeps. Who have a new and improved home not immortalized here. This is their old not-so-hot home.
Folks who have done their required reading will remember the neighbor cooked a Whole Pig in my drive way. Other folks who’ve read Little House in the Big Woods will remember that the pig’s tail was a Big Deal in that book and hence a Big Deal to me, although not to anyone else. It was delicious. And doesn’t my gf have nice legs? I love when she wears shorts. And will somebody tell me why posting and aligning pictures is so fucking hard in WP?
- school’s done
- the yard is trashy, but there is a whole pig (yes: Whole. Pig.) smoking in the drive way, which adds to the trashyness in a way that makes trashy into Trashy.
- the neighbors are on chicken duty for the weekend, and Whole Pig duty. They win
- Also winners – KG and her fab fiancee, who are in town for A Wedding
- Music last night, and Wednesday, with Jim Waive. Everybody wins!
- New dress for aforementioned wedding (and forty-eleven other weddings to come) bought with gift card from LB. Said new dress allows me to loan other dress to said LB for yet another wedding
- nice times with The New Girl
- market this am with good old JG
- Junior cat is mat-free
- chickens can be outside almost all the time
- did I mention the Whole Pig in the driveway?
(just so we know this is not a blog only about my peeps)
In no particular order:
- there are one and one half days of school left. Thank fucking god. I don’t blog about work, but this year has sucked.
- the peeps spend most days outside, which is great, because they are messy as shit. For real. But I heart them.
- no camp for me this summer (teaching, that is). I have a fab new babysitting charge – let’s call her….. ah, something. I’ll come up with something.
- ttc shit is totally overwhelming and hence paralyzing. What to do next? Can’t think about it, can’t decide, can’t deal. Woo!
- recent fab visit from my white grandma involving tea at my house – twice! Woo for real!
- general blah > general not blah. This bites.
- j says I’m not blogging enough. Who am I to argue with her?
- the kitten, who were once so tiny, are now 1 and very big. I also heart them. The boy one likes to lay around “guarding” the peeps when they are outside.
- The New Girl is being…. well, herself. We’ll see how all that goes, as I can’t really be much of anything but myself, and those mesh less than well recently (see #6 above).
- house and yard are, as per usual, more work than I want to deal with. Lame. Dirty and untidy do nothing to make me feel good, and yet they are so hard to send packing.
- I have a new doula client, which causes me to remember that I really, really like birth work.
- LB is very good at keeping up with folks, for which I am grateful.
- my csa started and the neighbors are going to roast a whole pig in my driveway.
What’s new with you?
I’ll just keep on collecting baby animals.