Hens Don't Crow

I'm always amazed how often I turn out to be wrong about something.

I mean, I know we're all wrong from time to time. It happens to the best of us. But I typically take wrong to the extreme. 

Let me give you a for instance. See this bird?

It's name is Miss Janet. 

See? Next level wrong. But I digress. 

The other day, Justin, Buggy Boy and I went out to the coop to visit the chickens and bring them some leftover watermelon. As we looked at them, we began saying out loud what we've been thinking for a couple of weeks now.

Those hens look an awful lot like roosters. 

BUT, we assured ourselves, roosters crow. And these chickens don't crow. Never. Not once. (I know you can already tell where this is going.)

Cut to literally five minutes later when we were heading back from the garden and we heard it. The crow to end all crows. 

Aaaand now we have roosters. 

Two of them. 

Unfortunately, we want nothing to do with roosters. We're only in it for the eggs, and we happen to have a toddler whose grabbiness rivals that of a drunken frat boy. The last thing I need to worry about is him coming eye to eye with a potentially aggressive rooster to practice using his "gentle hands." 

Full disclosure: they're never gentle.  

Luckily for us (and for the roosters), a friend of a friend has a farm a few miles down the road and takes in orphaned hens-turned-roosters. Apparently this happens a lot. Go figure.

So now Miss Janet and his friend Dion are living out the remainder of their non-egg producing lives running around happily on a big farm with lots of other unwanted animals. 

At least that's where Justin told me he took them. 

That's probably true, right?

Turning Weeds into Wildflowers

You. Guys.

It has been FOREVER since I last posted. But let me just say, it has been one of those months around here. You know the kind: nothing too terrible goes wrong, but absolutely nothing goes right, either. We've had a whole lot of first world problems over here at the ole' Could-Be Cottage lately, and things have only recently started looking up.



Allow me to give you an example:

About a week ago, Justin took on an extra Saturday shift at the clinic where he works, so Buggy Boy and I were on our own for the entire day/evening.  So, of course, there was a freak tornado warning out of nowhere, and we had to get into the basement in a matter of -30 seconds. This involved wrangling:

1. An almost-2-year-old with a penchant for putting gross things in his mouth and rubbing his belly like they're yummy in his tummy
2. A 100 lb. dog who, for the record, is a huge baby and refused to go down into the basement without being dragged by the collar
3. Every toy within arm's reach because the only other interesting thing for a toddler in our basement is an ever-growing collection of dead bugs, and there isn't enough wine in the world to make that game fun
4. And our emergency kit, including a flashlight, blanket, water, (possibly a couple of 10 lb. weights) and snacks, because heaven forbid we have to sit anywhere for any period of time sans honey Teddy Grahams

While we were down there poking dead bugs with an old board I found reading stories and doing puzzles, I noticed some water had leaked in on one side of the basement. Of course.

We survived the storm, and the next day, Justin went down to the basement to search out the source of the water. It appeared to be coming from a removable panel in the ceiling that leads to God knows where. In a brief, but stupid moment of boldness, he steeled himself, looked up and removed the panel. A flood of mouse poop and this little relic rained down upon him in waves.

(Please note I did not watermark this picture. If you'd like to claim this little beauty as your own, by all means, help yourself.)

Yes, folks. That's a snakeskin. So now we've got that to deal with, as well as a possible (read: definite) black mold problem from all the moisture in the ceiling and wall.

Although, I will say it almost made it all worth it to watch my 6'3", 215 lb. husband, the love of my life, father of my child, yelp and flail his entire body like he was in a Taylor Swift video.

I won't lie guys, it was good.

So here's the good news: things may not be perfect, but we're choosing to focus on the positive. We have our health, a beautiful (if a little waterlogged) home, and each other.

So tonight (the first night in a MONTH that it hasn't been raining), I thought it would be fun to spend a little time with my favorite guy. Defender of basements. Slayer of snakeskins.

Thanks to all the rain we've had lately, it's been impossible to mow, so the yard has been taken over by Queen Anne's lace and Black-Eyed Susans.



And I can't think of a better way to spend an evening than sipping sangria in a field of weeds wildflowers.

I'll be back tomorrow with the world's best white sangria recipe. Seriously, you're going to thank me for this one!