Foul Humor

What is the difference between
Bird Flu and Swine Flu?

For bird flu you need tweetment
and for swine flu you need oinkment.

OK, if that didn't make you smile... dance along with this bird: CLICK HERE

The Minorest Minority

Just for the heck of it, I Googled, "how many Portuguese immigrants in US" to see what would come up. Have you any idea how many sites track that statistic? I tried, "number of obese Americans," then, "cigarette smokers." I should have majored in statistics. Evidently, there's no shortage in that job market. Finally, I typed in "number of short-waisted women."

Nada. Zilch. Big zero. Oh yeah, there was a list of sites to click, but none indicated a tally for my select group. Am I in such a small minority that there are not even statistics? (I will go back and check out some of these sites... They had tips for dressing to camouflage our 'disfigurement', and places to order special clothing.)

Wait a minute! Did I hear myself correctly? Camouflage? Gee, do they have sites with tips to camouflage being an immigrant or a smoker? Should I be ashamed of being short-waisted? Isn't it punishment enough that we grown old before our time? You didn't know that? Yes, we do.

For most women, they feel old when their breasts sag to near their waist. For us, our breasts are there when we start high school! Do you know what that means when we get love handles? We can practically tuck them under the sides of our bras! Do not laugh! It is not funny!

As if that isn't bad enough... We short-waisted women are of normal varying heights. My BF is 5'10". I am 5'5". We share this hideous deformity. What this means is that we both have legs longer than average for our height... Translation: Pants are always too short!


Refer to this diagram:
You will notice the pants are identical. The figures are identical in height and width. Which one appears more attractive? Which one looks short and chunky? Which one has saggier breasts? Which one should legally be allowed to appear in public? Strike that last question!

The nearest category to short-waisted in the average department store is petite. I am not petite. In my dreams, yes; in reality, no way, Jose! In that same department store, they have outfits designed for ethnic tastes; they have business attire; they have sections for teens and old ladies. Why is there no section for us? How long must we take this? We have a mixed-race President, yet no short-waisted clothing department!

ALF-CIO, are you listening? Is there a short-waisted Supreme Court Justice? How many short-waisted women make up the Senate and the House of Representatives? It's time we stand up and be counted!

Murder at Hedgeapple Creek

...or was it?

mur⋅der

–noun

1.

Law. the killing of another human being under conditions specifically covered in law. In the U.S., special statutory definitions include murder committed with malice aforethought, characterized by deliberation or premeditation or occurring during the commission of another serious crime, as robbery or arson (first-degree murder), and murder by intent but without deliberation or premeditation (second-degree murder).

2.	Slang. something extremely difficult or perilous: That final exam was murder!

3.	a group or flock of crows.

–verb (used with object)

4.	Law. to kill by an act constituting murder.

5.	to kill or slaughter inhumanly or barbarously.

Depends on how much you want to stretch the definition. OK, it wasn't a human being, but it was calculated, and it was extremely difficult. Well, no... it was physically easy; but it was mentally difficult. It's always difficult, but it's part of life on a farm. It was not a flock of crows. Yet, it was definitely not inhumane or barbarous!


If you don't want to read about the downside of life with farm animals, then stop here; but if you've ever fancied having a mini-farm with a few chickens, then you might as well be prepared.


'Angel Wings' is what I called the chick. She was so beautiful - light red changing to brilliant white. When her wings were spread in the sunlight, she looked as though she was ready to soar through the heavens. If ever a chicken was beautiful, it was Angel Wings. (dirty, nasty birds)
She was one of the tamer birds. Angel Wings stood out from the others, as she grew more beautiful every day. She stood out in another way though, that wasn't a good thing...


Hubby was out gathering eggs when we heard a ruckus. One of the black hens was screeching. Hubby looked to see Angel Wings' rear sticking up from a nest. She sat up and looked at him with egg dripping from her beak. She was eating the egg. She had already acquired the taste. According to the books Hubby has studied, once a hen acquires the taste for eggs, there's no turning back. It must be destroyed. I'm not going to tell about that.


Reality isn't always pretty on a farm. You must keep in mind the purpose of raising chicks. If you want them as pets, then have them. Fine. On the other hand, if you want them for eggs, then it's a whole different thing. Luckily, I'm not fond of birds. Oh sure, the finches at the feeder are pretty and fun to watch; but as pets?


My mom has parakeets. They're nasty. When I'm over there, I do let them hop onto my finger and I talk to them. I'm not an animal hater... but I would never have them in my house. If something happens to Mom, someone else better take the birds. OK, I've gotten off track...

We have a lot invested in the chickens. Selling eggs will never pay for it all. (Hubby went a little overboard on the chicken house. He tends to do that.) We do hope that selling the extra eggs will pay for the daily expense of keeping the chickens. We prefer to eat things that are not tainted with hormones and pesticides. Aside from dusting for mites, our chickens are all natural and cage free. That's the ironic part...

Chances are, if our birds were caged on a big poultry farm, Angel Wings would have never had the chance to taste an egg. She wouldn't have access to them. I imagine there is a mechanism to roll the eggs away from the cage as soon as it is laid. Nobody's going to reach under thousands of chickens all day long checking for eggs!


With free range chickens, they share nests. Even with empty nests available, we've watched one hen wait until the other hen is finished and vacates the nest; then she jumps in for her turn. Then go in and out as they please. They roam the fenced area looking for bugs in the ground and whatever else chickens do. We feel they must be satisfied with the size of the area, since we know they can fly out anytime they please. (No, we haven't clipped their wings.) The entire area under the ten-by-twenty house is elevated and open, so they can go under for shade or to get out of the rain without having to go back inside. We feel our chickens have it pretty good; but like I said, in a caged environment, Angel Wings would still be with us.


So, if you've thought about raising a few chickens in order to enjoy your own fresh eggs, does this make you reconsider?


On a much happier note... Hubby's final count on the corn: 250 ears in the freezer!

Stars of the Family

I couldn't resist sharing this video. I do hope the link works. My daughter posted this one on her facebook page. My two youngest grands, Grace and Melody, are performing their original hit song in a local pub they call The Basement.

The lyrics aren't quite as deep as Dylan, but for their age... Hey, they're having fun!

Today at Hedgeapple Creek Farm

That's what Hubby calls the farm... Well, that's what he calls it for the present time. First it was Triple Creek because technically you can count three creeks. Then he called it Crooked Creek. I liked that name. We have absolutely the most winding creek you ever saw. You probably cover several miles if you walk it vs 1000 feet as the crow flies. It flows all four compass directions! Depending on his mood, he's had many names for the place. Someday I'll paint a sign.

Anyway, today he picked corn with his dad. Good corn! Last year he switched and planted some type that didn't have as much silk, so was easier to husk. Yeah, so! It didn't have much flavor and the kernels were tough. Now that he's back to growing Golden Jubilee, I can speak to him again. A lot of people love Silver Queen corn, but not me. He used to grow both... Golden Jubilee for me, Silver Queen for himself and his folks. However, when I'd cook the Golden, they'd all remark about how much better it tasted. Well, yeah... That's why I like it.

They're not finished picking yet, but there's already over a hundred ears in the freezer... and we had some for supper tonight. Here's a picture of the corn from the kitchen door. They're in there somewhere.
They didn't do as much weeding this year as normal. There was quite a bit of morning glory vines growing through the corn. This ear had a vine wrapped around it as it grew. Makes for an interesting pattern.
I thought I'd check on the Tennessee Muskmelon patch. Hubby raises them in a raised bed. (Pardon the pun.) Sadie decided to inspect them a little closer. These melons grow oblong, like a watermelon. The strange weather we're having might interfere with the melon harvest.

Today was a beautiful day for stretching out on the deck for a little sun. That's what Little Bear thought anyway...
Here is some vary rare footage. Chubs and Squeaky are partners in crime (chasing off Mickey), but I've never seen Chubs do this before...



Background: Chubs and Little Bear are siblings. Squeaky is LB' s son.

Goats in the Rain

The other day I had a post called Fair Weather Goats where I talked about how the goats will not stand out in the rain. Today I caught them on my camera. This was taken with my zoom at max; so even though it looks like it was pouring down rain, it was a very light sprinkle. (I was standing outside with my camera.) As soon as they feel the first drop, they head for shelter. The opening for them to get back to their house from where they are is about 30 feet down the fence in the woods. I don't know which are more timid... the goats or the chickens. Probably the goats.