We have a big garden. This we know to be truth. And everything seemed all grand and glorious with said garden until I realized I had to weed it.
Oh, the humanity!
I think I am just going to have to ask David to get a few truckloads of bark so we can cover them up and pretend they are not really there. Ignorance is bliss. I have picked weeds for a couple of hours everyday and I can’t even tell. I just finished reading a book written in the voice of a gal from the 1800’s and I totally wanted to write that the weeds have me “purely addled.” Because when I read the book, I was certain “addled” meant angry. And addled just sounds like a word that would impress, wouldn’t you agree?
Turns out it means “confused.”
So, its a good thing I didn’t write that the garden had me purely addled. I would have looked like an addled idiot.
Before I forget, I must do the COW.
For it pleases us so.
Awhile ago, I informed all y’all that I intended to get a sign for my chicken coop and I asked for input on what the sign should say.
I was thinking not-so-creatively and coming up with things like:
“Chicks and Hens”
or
“Chickens”
You know. To keep things simple.
Christi’s suggestion was hilarious and deserves the COW:
“No Vacancies”
Ha! I loveth it. For those who may be unawares, my husband has some odd habit of driving all around the world acquiring chickens.
There’s no more room! I repeat! There is NO MORE ROOM.
In other equally exciting news, there are fifteen baby chickens living on my kitchen table. They were all supposed to be Rhode Island Red chicks, but three popped out black in color. Oops! Not sure what happened there. Apparently, and this might shock you, we don’t really know what we are doing. You know. With the rabbits, chickens, children, and life in general.
Having baby chicks live on your kitchen table is not for the faint of heart. My house stinks and quite frankly, the novelty of the idea is wearing off. One baby chick has a gimpy leg, but seems to be thriving otherwise. I told John Arabel David there would be no “taking care of it.” You never know what a farm and ranch husband might do, you know?
My mother’s birthday was yesterday. Mother? Are you reading this? Hello! Happy birthday! She called yesterday a little aggravated.
Me: Happy Birthday!
Mom: Thanks. But somehow someone let Facebook know and Facebook has been sending my phone tons of messages all day long.
Me: Well, when you created an account, you entered your birthday so that’s how Facebook “knows.”
This may have been tricky for her because I am pretty sure I set up her account. But we need to only give her as much information as she can handle. Or she might explode.
Mom: Oh. Ok.
The funniest part to me is that she tried to thank my cousin, we’ll call him Gregory, for that is his factual name, but ended up making
“Thank you”
as her status update for the day.
Later on we were texting, because, you know, it is the year 2012 and texting is the wave of the future. In case you didn’t know.
We were discussing getting together on my mother’s day off and I told her our plans and she said she would like to join.
But then she realized that I had not invited her, so she sent me a text that read something like:
But that’s okay if you want to ho with someone rosa.
I believe she meant to say “go with someone else.” But what do I know?
So, I texted her back:
I was not going to ho with Rosa. You can come.
And I thought it was so funny and it brought an ever-so-slight smile upon my face. But she didn’t respond and had to call me later on.
Mom: Um, Taylor. I got your text and, well, I didn’t have my glasses on, but I don’t understand who Rosa is.
Me: Mom. You wrote Rosa. In your text. Did you look back and read it?
I think THAT made her brain explode. And then she, once again, had to blame it on her missing glasses.
Alright. I’m off to weed that dreaded garden. And tomorrow, my addled mother and I are going to ho with Rosa.
Later.
Now that is just plain funny! Goober parent updates are my favorite. And don’t lie. You didn’t smile ever-so-slightly–you totally cracked yourself up.
And… I’m going to make your chickens a sign.
it seems that your mother knows the correct meaning of ‘addled’!
That’s funny, Sandy!
You may want to consult a garden book about control of weeds with plastic and mesh etc. Also some plants do better with other plants and worse with some plants. Lots of things shouldn’t be planted near strawberries, for example. Also bugs don’t like marigolds so some folks will plant marigolds between rows. There are way more hints than I will ever know. I just know their out there. And what does LJs wife want for her birthday??? Any wants? Realistic or otherwise?
correction they’re not their. sorry
Ok, maybe you read these comments, maybe you don’t. But, I don’t care because I’m going to write this anyway. Did you know that chickens HIDE eggs? Like if they get all high and mighty with their bad selves and decide you don’t need to take them anymore before they’re fertilized? AND, did you also know that they get warm and sweaty feeling (like a child with a fever) when this happens AND they’re actually hiding and hatching eggs? I learned this at a science conference I went to this week from a chicken owner. I told her of all your chickens and rabbits and she thought it was hysterical. I told her to read your blog. Anyway, so maybe “the lumberjack” is not ALL to blame for the multitudes of chickens you have. (in that last sentence I first accidentally wrote children – HA!). I thought I’d drop a little of my chicken knowledge on you – ok, all of my vast chicken knowledge on you. Be informed.
I wouldn´t let Rosa come along. I heard she´s a ho.
It sounds like your mother and mine would get along famously. And be able to be addled together, to boot. Love the No Vacancies. Have fun with Rosa and company.
Maybe you could get Rosa to hoe while you and your mother go out and enjoy a fine day !
Two birds with one stone, so to speak.
I think maybe we’ve figured out why Handsome Dude cannot keep track of glasses–it’s hereditary.
Oh, the giggles.
Ho with Rosa.
Love it!!!
Love a mom with texting.
I sent my mom a text this week that said “spawing for a safe flight”.
Was clearly supposed to say praying. I have a new phone. Ugh.
She must have got it for she sent me a text later that said…
“thanks for the prayers. in denver now. lots of weird people. maybe I should spaw for them.”
Again, Love a mom with texting.
I got new glasses and a new phone and am sending all sorts of crazy texts. Then I try to send just the corrected word and I get a text back asking me to explain the second text. Bother.
I’m thinking ‘No Room in the Inn’ might need to be painted on a sign and hung on your house/chicken hospital. Baby chicks and their accompanying aroma in the kitchen would give me the peepee shivers as a famous blogger likes to say : )
Hmm. Based on your concerns with LJ taking care of the chick, you will be horrified to read this:
http://andi-rambling.blogspot.com/2012/06/rescuersbut-not-down-under.html
But you are too funny Taylor. Too, too funny.
I so hope you are “hoeing weeds” and not actually ‘pulling weeds’ because it is a lot easier with a hoe than with your fingers…Besides, using a hoe breaks up the dirt and that means that the vegetable roots get more air and water, etc. I think. But I don’t really garden myself.