The Happiest Radio Station in the Whole Wide World

I have to explain that I hate the radio. My husband is a news addict. This would be fine, there is nothing wrong with being informed, it's just I don't want to listen to the news all the time. In the car. In the house, streaming live off the net. All the time. It never stops.

The stories are never good either. This is not uplifting. I do not like hearing people who sound emotionless and dead telling me about how the earth opened up and literally swallowed a two month old child while her mother had to claw her way to freedom and nobody knew what happened to the kid until her body was found two days later.*

This is why I think that I should make a Radio News Station, but it will only report on happy things. Things like puppies being saved out of storm drains, and the successful birth of rare and adorable animals at the zoo.

We will have the rainbow report, in which we will report on how many rainbows happened worldwide that day, and also people can call in with unicorn sightings.

If the traffic is bad we won't report it. So there will be a lot of traffic reports at 3:00am. “Every things is all clear here Tom, no accidents to report, all lanes are wide open. It's a perfect night to be on the roads.” Same with the weather. Or alternatively, we will only give weather reports from areas that have nice weather. “It's another bright beautiful day here in Florida Tom, sunny with a high of 75. Another perfect, perfect, day.”

There will be a portion of the show where we read emails sent to us about peoples good luck, their well behaved children, and their obedient, loving pets. We will devote the morning hours to reports of people who have achieved their dreams, such as getting that big raise/job they have been wanting, finally selling a painting, or finishing up construction on their dream homes. For the early morning news, we will only talk about happy stories, like counties signing peace deals, or putting in new hospitals and the like.

I think it will be the best radio station ever.

*This was a actual news story on yesterday. Sink holes are a bitch.

Caffine Optimism and a Good Day

Caffeine makes me optimistic about life. Really, it does. Today we visited our favorite coffee shop. I normally don't drink caffeine, but today I said what the hell and got a small tea. Then I came home, and decided to go hiking. Not that pussy kind with trails and shit either. The kind where you and the dog come home muddy and scratched up with sticks in your hair and you are both panting kind of hiking.

Did I mention having 30 acres is awesome? Because it totally is. (Except for the part about the unending spirit crushing maintenance that comes with inheriting a place that has been left to rot for a good number of years)

We saw a good number of wild turkeys in a field, which I did not get close enough to count because I did not want the dog to bananas and chase them. Also, I spotted the dog attempted to murder a gray squirrel, and I stopped to admire two of the three impressive waterfalls on the place. The sun was shining through the trees, and it was warm enough I didn't have to wear a coat, even if I had to wear a full set of thermals.

Then I played fetch in the yard with the dog. Well her version of fetch. Basically we chase each other around the yard like looney's and fight for possession of the bone, which I then dutifully throw for her.

After really exhausting ourselves, I put the dog inside and went and collected some eggs, warm from the nest, and gave both the rabbits and chickens some treats. This, this right here folks, is what life in the country is all about.

It's about getting eggs warm from the nest, and being tired at the end of the day. It's about being able to go out in nature and just be. It's about playing with and petting, and treating your happy healthy animals that come running when they see you. It's about watching a different sunset set every day and breathing in fresh cold air that doesn't smell like exhaust.

This right here is life in the country, and I'm damn proud of it.

Moving The Chickens

Well, the new chicken coup still does not have a metal roof, but the decision was made to move the chickens any way. The tar paper should be enough to keep the inside snug and dry, and so far it has. We actually moved the chickens a while ago, but I am just getting around to writing about it because I am a terrible lazy person.

Now, moving the chickens from the old coup to the new involved waiting until they were all inside and ready to sleep, and then catching them and carrying them to the new coup. We decided to use the net. Now the thing about the net is that the old coup is small, with a low ceiling. So bashing the net on things was almost a guarantee. Also, in order to get the nest boxes out, we had to remove the window. Or more correctly, what was once a window that was now a hole in the wall covered with chicken wire.

It was decided that I would be inside netting, and that Scott would stand outside the window, take the net and deposit the ruffled chickens to their new home. I got into position, cornered my prize rooster and swoop, in he goes. Then, as quick was he went in, he thrashed his way out of a rooster sized hole in the net and ended up back on the floor of the coup, looking around with a bemused expression.

On to plan B. Scott goes to fix the net and I pull the piece of mill felt that the previous owners had been using as window shutter down, and prop it closed with the remains of the window. I step back inside, and proceed to use my Level 6 Chicken Catching Skills to catch me some chickens. I am rather good at catching chickens, if I do say so myself.* I have caught and moved four chickens by the time Scott comes back. I revel that I have been doing all right without the net, but he feels the need to use it since he spent time fixing it. So in he goes.

Everything was going fine, surprisingly. He would hand me out the net, and I would grab the top to keep the desperately flapping bird inside, and run it over to the new coup, return the net, and the whole process would start again. I learned to keep the shutter flap down, since the guinea hens would fly for daylight if they could see it. I could not resist however, peeking through a corner, and watching the action.

Some of the chickens were quite stupid, and would panic, running out into the open and promptly getting caught. Others were smarter, hanging back at the edge of a large group, and tying to stay under the cover of the perches. It was great fun from my stand point, except that when one of the chickens would freak out and fly they would fan dust and dirt right into my face. My eyeballs were getting kinda gritty.

However, on the last bird, which turned out to be a god damned motherfucking guinea hen, everything went wrong. Scott passed her out, and I tried to close the top of the net, but she was in at such an angle that I couldn't get it closed all the way. Now let me take a moment to explain that guinea hens can fly. Not as good as ducks, mind you, but pretty god damed good. Like, way better then chickens good. Like, right out of the top of my shitty net good. I saw what was happening in slow motion,** but I wasn't fast enough. I could see her flapping away, the net coming off her like the cheap piece of shit it was, my hand letting go of the net and moving so fucking slow through the air. I meant to grab her wing, right at the shoulder, but she was already moving, her sleek gray body sliding away through the cold air.

I made a grab.

I felt my hand close around something, and I remember thinking 'I've got her!” Then time sped up again because he's a dick like that. I looked down to realize that I was holding a handful of tail feathers. I looked up to see the guinea hen flying majestically away into the woodland. Possibly to start a new life free of nets and humans and reliable feeding schedules.

Son of a bitch. Me and Scott made a half hearted attempt to look for her. Half hearted because we had no idea what we were going to do if we found her, and also because it was getting dark and cold. Luckily I found her the next morning, safe and sound in the old coup, where I promptly lost her through the window, chased her into a corner in the garden, netted her, and placed her into the new coup where she was reunited with her friends.

So the chickens were moved, and no body died, or got lost, or exploded or anything bad like that. Win? Win. WIN!

*Remind me to tell you about the time that the rooster got lose in my dad's house.

** I have always wanted time to slow down during a catastrophe. Normally when something terrible happens my auto pilot shows up and takes over and don't remember a thing from the moment the bad thing started till when it was over, besides running. It's always THAT'S FALLING! And then- “why am I standing all the way over here?” And the one time, the ONE TIME it does and it's all cool, it's all because of a stupid motherfucking guinea hen. Sonofabitch.

Red Dead Redemption is a Terrible Addiction.

I have been lazy about writing blog posts. Mostly because I have been sleeping in and then playing Red Dead Redemption till about 1am.

For those of you who don't know, Red Dead is a Cowboy Western game where the protagonist shoots up half the west. It's also as addictive as all hell. I can't stop playing it. I want to play it right now. You don't understand. You can set grizzly bears on fire in this game.

I actuality played through it once already, but the addiction was terrible and now I need to play it again and see what I missed the first go around.

It's pure sweet addiction here people.

There was a point when I had to stop so I could go to work. And also my husbands birthday was in there somewhere, which we celebrated by making cupcakes and going for a long walk in the woods because I have 30 god damned acres and we are going to use it by god.

It's gotten so bad that I think Scott realized that if he wants to spend time with me he needs to come watch me play the game. Now he doesn't play video games himself, but he will on occasion watch me play. This is useful because he usually spots things I don't, like hidden treasure and power ups and what not.

However lately he's been drifting into the bedroom and watching me play for hours at a time. I guess having me show up for meals or tea breaks every once in a while wasn't enough interaction time for him. Which is why I love him.

Also I've been wandering though the house shouting “IT'S NOT AN ADDICTION I CAN STOP ANYTIME THAT I WANT.”

I may need therapy when this is all over.

Chicken Coup 4: The Paint-a-thon

EDIT: I wrote this post shortly before Christmas, but the holidays got in the way and I forgot to post it, so I'm sticking it up now. Don't judge me.

So, I managed to paint in the inside of the chicken coup in two caffeine filled days. My right arm feels like it is about to fall off. It was a bit unnerving to be up on a ladder, painting stuff above my head while practically vibrating from the caffeine.

But it's god damned DONE.

HA HA WHOO! Ahem.

The best part was stepping down off the ladder, and heaving a big sigh of relief, and looking down to see that my dog was covered in paint. I do not know how many dog owners feel about what I like to call emergency bath time, but I sure as hell don't enjoy it.

Now I maintain my dog is the best dog ever because she hopped reluctantly into the tub and stood mournfully while I cleaned her. It does not turn into a wet dog wrestling match. I am very thankful for this. On the other hand, though, she does love to shake her wet shampoo covered self. All over me. And the Bathroom. Towels? What the Fuck is that Towel shit? Towels are for pussies she says looking back at me while shaking herself all over the particle board cabinets*.

I don't think I will be able to paint the outside until spring however. It is simply going to be too cold. Somehow, I just can't work up the energy to give a damn about that.

* I am going to build a house no matter what. I don't care what it takes. I am so fucking sick of everything inside being made out of particle board.

Want more Chicken Coup Adventure? Here's Part Five.

 

The Door Was Open Again

So Scott left the door open again last night and when I got up this morning the dog was gone. I did what any self respecting wife would do is this situation, I woke up my god damned husband and told him that he was was going to go look for the god damned dog.

Now he swears he shut the door last night. I doubt that he did. Either that, or the cat has learned how to open doors. Luckily, as I was stepping out to feed the animals, I see the dog running out of the garden, where she had presumably been eating things out of the compost bin. Yummy.

So I catch her and bring her back inside, no harm no foul.

But why is the door still open in the mornings? There are three possibilities.

1. The door is not shutting properly and is popping back open when the wind hits it.

2. The cat has figured out how to open doors.

3. Scott is forgetting to shut the door at night after feeding our outdoor cats.

Now, if number one was true, I would expect the door would also be popping open during the day as well. Even if it was something weird like the cooler night air is causing the wood to shrink and the door comes open, I would doubt it. Today has been colder that the past two days combined, and the door is still shut.

My cat is pretty dumb.

I think number three is more likely. I'm thinking of setting up my web cam and aiming it at the door all night and seeing what the hell is going on. I'm not sure it will record for eight hours, but I'm willing to give it a shot.

All I can say is it had better not be motherfucking Mothman.