I completely forgot to answer the question a bunch of you asked the other day – just what IS the average life expectancy of a chicken? I thought for sure I had heard somewhere that chickens can easily live to be twenty years old (!), but a Google search led me to this page which … Continue reading “8/6/08”

I completely forgot to answer the question a bunch of you asked the other day – just what IS the average life expectancy of a chicken? I thought for sure I had heard somewhere that chickens can easily live to be twenty years old (!), but a Google search led me to this page which says that average life expectancy is eight years and extreme life expectancy is fifteen years.

Also, a couple asked about eggbound..ness (?). I think of it as being kinda like constipation, only instead of being unable to have a bowel movement, the chicken is unable to pass the egg. There are things you can do to try to help the chicken – putting it in warm water to relax the muscles is one thing, and there’s something else that involves lubricant and a latex glove, and I’ll just let you figure that one out on your own.

(Or read this and laugh your ass off.)



It appears that y’all think the double-bladed mezzaluna (or even the single-bladed) is not worth the space it takes up in the kitchen. See? I’m glad I asked instead of just ordering it and letting it sit in the drawer for a few years before I tossed it out (or put it on the giveaway page)!

Speaking of kitchen appliances, remember last week when I was all “Wah, tomatoes, I hate you! :whinewhinewhine: ?” and reader Michele emailed me and said “Buy this right now, whiny! It will change your life!” and because I am very obedient I was all “Okay, ordered!”

Well, it came Monday. Monday evening before bed I took my two and a half gallon ziplock bag full of ripe tomatoes out of the freezer and left it on the counter to thaw. Mid-morning yesterday I set that tomato strainer up and got started.

Twenty minutes later I had nine cups of tomato puree. Now, let’s compare that with the weekend before last when it took me TWO AND A HALF HOURS of peeling and chopping and foodmilling to come up with 5 1/2 cups of tomato puree.

I am totally a convert. That tomato strainer is MAGIC and Michele is the reader of the week, and since I promised to name a chicken after her if the tomato strainer was as awesome as she claimed….

Meet Michele the chicken!


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Okay, Michele the chicken is actually a rooster (and I expect he will father many many pretty babies in his lifetime), but since Charlie and George are girls, I figured it would go along with the naming scheme if we gave the rooster a girl’s name, right?

I could have named one of the newborn chickens Michele, I suppose, but they kind of all look alike at that age, so at least this way I know which chicken we’ve named after her. We’ve been calling him “The tri-color rooster” and “The ‘hey guys’ rooster” (because he’s so curious and friendly), so it’ll be good to have a definite name to call him by.

So, to sum up: Reader Michele = Awesome. Tomato strainer = Awesome. Tri-color Rooster = Michele.

Now, y’all tell me – what is your number one, go-to, absolute favorite kitchen tool?



Fred suggested last week that I try making something with chicken and eggplant, and after MUCH discussion we decided I’d made this eggplant/ chicken parmesan dish consisting of a layer of baked eggplant slices on the bottom of a baking dish, topped with shredded chicken, a good amount of Ragu, another layer of baked eggplant, then shredded mozzarella on top.

So I measured out how much eggplant I’d need, and I baked it, and do you know what happens when you bake eggplant slices? Are you ready for this? It shrinks.

I KNOW. Imagine my shock.

So I didn’t have enough eggplant, and after thinking about it for a minute, I was all “Hey! I’ve got these slices of eggplant in the dehydrator, and they’re not dehydrated all that much! I’ll just use those as is!”

Fred tried to be the voice of reason, all “Shouldn’t you rehydrate them and maybe bake them a little?” and I was all “PSHAW, no! They’ll be fine!”

They were not fine. They tasted like I’d put slices of rubber in there. Also, apparently I don’t like the taste of shredded chicken and Ragu together, because I took one bite and was like “Um, no! I’ll be eating cherry tomatoes and mozzarella for dinner tonight instead!”

So I would call that there experiment a resounding flop.

I’m not cooking dinner tonight, because I have a dental appointment at noon (I’m having a filling removed and re-filled) and then I’m going to Sam’s and then I’m NOT going to come home and cook dinner, so I told Fred he’s on his own. I’ll probably pick up a salad somewhere – unless I still can’t feel my lip from the Novocaine, in which case I don’t suppose I’ll be eating anything for dinner.

Tomorrow night I believe I’m going to make chicken salad. Upon cleaning out the freezer in the kitchen over the weekend, I realized I had several packs of boneless skinless chicken breast halves left over from when I bought them in bulk from Sam’s some time ago, so I want to get them used up. Fred’s been wanting chicken salad (made with the sweet pickle relish I canned last year), so that’s what we’ll be having at least tomorrow night, if not for several nights.

And now I’ve gotta go vacuum the house. I want to get that done before I have to leave for my dental appointment and the Dyson don’t run itself!




Living dangerously.

Kara is wily. She lays down so the kittens get excited about nursing, then she grooms them, and then she walks off and the kittens sit there like “Wait. I thought it was time to eat! Now I’m all hungry and CLEAN!”

There’s always someone around to jump into the picture and swish their tail by your face at any given moment.

Pretty Kaylee.

Pretty River.


Joe Bob made himself a nest, and Inara came along to see what he was doing, and hissed at him. He was like “And your point is?”


2007: (Miz Poo, upon seeing me pick up a fly swatter and walk toward her, whines and runs away. Like I beat her spoiled ass on a regular basis! I don’t, but I oughta. She deserves it.)
2006: No entry.
2005: No entry.
2004: The morning I wake up and find a cricket in bed with me is the day I start closing the cat door at night, believe you me.
2002: No entry.
2001: Yeah, like YOU don’t have a voice in your head that reads things to you…
2000: No entry.