Them chickens' jackin' my style

Okay, first off, my post got lost somehow, disconnect between blogger and laptop, last Thursday and I never got back around to posting again since I worked with Dad painting on Saturday and, well, I'm lazy lately. So here's the old post.

Thursday:
Lost my fucking post. Grumble grumble. The one time I don’t save it somewhere else. Okay, I’m cooling down. Not. It’s too hot to calm down. My chickens are panting and I’m still crabby from sweating out my brain cells last night in Lansing. Ran the gauntlet to Toledo today with Gram so she could go visit the family there. My cousin’s getting married in North Carolina so everyone but Dad and I are off to the Outer Banks.

I read The Spanish Pearl by Catherine Friend over the weekend. Really good read. I had this whole thing about how the characters are interesting and can sustain themselves through more books, unlike most romance novels where the characters lose it after they ahem lose it. But of course I don’t remember what I said. That’s why I wrote it down. Stupid computer. Stupider technology.

And today:
Okay, so missed last week due to I’m not sure what. But it’s raining today and I have no ideas for a scene. Good time to catch up. Been making 500-2500 words a day for the pirate novel. It’s bad when you’re 40,000 words in and still aren’t sure what’s going on or what’s going to happen. Oh well.

Dana and I made soap today. Yup, lye and lard soap. It smells a little funny, but it’s setting up and hopefully the second batch turns out smelling like roses…err… rosemary and spearmint. It was a fun project, even if it did take forever to stir and stir and, well, you get the idea.

The chickens, the baby barred rocks, have an outdoor exercise yard now. Actually, it is the yard since they fly over their pen and just go wherever they want to. Chaos. Fucking chaos. But they aren’t eating three coffee cans of feed twice a day anymore so whatever the little shits…er, tykes, gotta do. Let’s just say much beer gets drunk waiting for the chickens to go in at night and catching the ones that decide they want to sleep rough.

It’s rained the last couple days so the garden and my hot tub herb garden (which Dad says is the best use our hot tub has ever been put to) have both exploded. The spindly little piece of dog shit tomatoes are dense as any purchased plant and up past my waist. It was definitely a worthwhile experiment.

Molly, my grandma’s Jack Russell/mini Aussie, has been staying with us while Gram’s away. Let’s just say the old lady’s dog doesn’t understand why the heeler’s keep trying to play with her. Of course, if my heelers did manage to get her to play, she’s probably be the fetched object rather than the fetcher. Chaos.

So that brings us about up to date. If anyone reading is interested in homemade soaps, drop me a line. Or beef for that matter. Or chicken. We're getting a product list together, including seasonal availability, and plan to be ready to take orders in the near future. Anyone interested, or who has questions, please leave a comment and I'll get back with you. Thanks.