So Nance and Rick left Saturday morning. That’s right, they got here late Wednesday and left early Saturday. Not NEARLY enough time, if you ask me.
And Nance and I never did get around to making a video, either. Like I said – not long enough!
Thursday we hung around the house in the morning (and could have made our video then, I suppose, but we are slackers and had better things to do. Like talk about the state of the nation. (Ha!)) and then went out to lunch at Logan’s Roadhouse. Then because I needed to pick up the paperwork for Rumba and Samba (who went to the pet store on Friday, see the last few pictures I took of Samba, here), we drove up to the shelter I volunteer for, and visited with the kittehs.
This is Ladybug. She looks a LOT like Nance and Rick’s cat Julie.
I don’t recall this one’s name, but he “sings” when he purrs. It’s very neat.
(Pics courtesy of Nance. I don’t think I took a single picture while they were here!)
By the time we got home, Fred was home from work. Nance knows how Fred is about being the one to show off the animals, so they’d kindly stayed away from the dogs and chickens and pigs so he could do so. George and Gracie were all “Woohoo! New best friends for us!” and the pigs were all “Where is the food, pls?” and the chickens were all “Whatevs.” You know, the usual.
We had Terry’s Pizza for dinner, and it was pretty damn good. We spent a good part of the evening playing Catchphrase (yes, we really do live it up!) and since Fred can hardly keep his eyes open past 8:00 these days, we were in bed by 10.
Fred took Friday off, and I don’t know what he spent Friday morning doing, but for the most part we all sat around for a few hours, each on our separate computers (we are dorks) and then I took the kittens to the pet store, and when I got home Nance and Rick were ready to go.
And Fred was all “We’re going somewhere?” It turned out that when we’d all been talking about going up into Tennessee the night before, while Nance and Rick and I thought we were making plans, Fred thought we were just talking.
So we went to Tennessee, stopping at several stores along the way. Nance and I went into a Factory Connection somewhere in Tennessee and got some really good deals. I got a hooded fleece jacket for $3.50 and a hooded sweater for $5. (Not that I was in particular desperate need of either, but a bargain like that, you really can’t pass up.)
We went to our favorite store in all of Tennessee, the Bodenham General Store, and then went down the road to another store that was jam-packed with stuff. So jam-packed, in fact, that Fred knocked over and broke a bowl. The woman who owns the store wouldn’t even hear of him paying for it, so in desperation we walked around the store looking for something to buy. We ended up buying a big-ass thermometer with a rooster on it that Fred put on the big coop (in case the chickens need to know the temperature, obviously), and I picked out a very old Coca Cola crate. One day, I’m going to get my ass in gear and sew a cat bed to go into the crate.
(Nance is laughing at me right now, I guarantee it.)
We got home mid-afternoon and hung out for a while, then headed to Decatur to have BBQ for dinner at Big Bob Gibson’s. (We always drag them to Big Bob Gibson’s when they visit and if they hate it, they’re too nice to say so. Big Bob Gibson’s is some really damn good BBQ, but I find it odd that they don’t have hushpuppies there.)
Nance and I were honestly planning, when we got home from dinner, to make a video, but Fred was all spazzy about playing games and “OMG! It’s almost 7, the night is almost over!”, so we just gave up the video idea and played a round of Taboo (which just isn’t as much fun as Catchphrase, because it’s kinda stressful), then played a few rounds of Catchphrase.
And early Saturday morning, they were up and gone, and the visit was over. It was like they were hardly even here and then they were gone! I could have used one more day, but I guess it’s a good thing they left Saturday, so they could take a leisurely drive home and not worry about having to get up early the next day for work.
While Nance mocked my adorable new boots over on her site and pointed out that I’m a great big dork who tucked her jeans into her boots, what she failed to mention was the REASON I was tucking my jeans into my boots. I tucked my jeans into my boots because I was wearing ankle socks, and the tops of the boots were rubbing my legs and causing great irritation and pain. The next day I wore long socks and didn’t need to tuck my jeans in to protect my legs, but did she mention that? Noooooooo. Brat.
They’re adorable boots, are they not?
I had a credit at Zappos, and after I went out to the back forty in my crappy $8 Walmart boots last week and went slip-sliding all over the damn place (because $8 Walmart boots do not provide a great deal of traction, FYI), I decided I needed to invest in some decent boots. So after much hemming and hawing, I ordered a pair of the Gypsy Cowgirl Coll boots, and since shipping was free, they didn’t cost me a thing.
I love Zappos.
And so far, the boots are working out very well for me and they’re cute to boot (har!), so I call that win-win.
Beginning on Friday and continuing through the weekend, the Crooked Acres chicken population jumped by 34 baby chickens. This time around, having read something on a message board, when Fred took the eggs off the turner on Wednesday, he put the eggs in egg cartons in the incubator. Usually he sets them on their side on the floor of the incubator.
At first it looked like we weren’t going to get a very high hatch rate, but slowly more and more eggs hatched, and by Sunday afternoon we only had two eggs that hadn’t hatched, and there was clear activity coming from those two eggs. Sunday evening, the last two eggs hatched.
Of the 35 eggs that Fred determined were fertile after 10 days in the incubator, all but one hatched (that one pipped and then died in the egg). That’s a phenomenal hatch rate.
Having such a high hatch rate means that now we have over 100 chickens. Number 101 happened to be an egg laid by a silkie (god only knows who the father is). S/he’s a smallish bird, but not terribly smaller than the other babies. Almost all the babies, except for the silkie cross and Sassy’s egg, turned out to be either yellow or reddish.
Silkie cross, freshly hatched.
Silkie cross, dry and fluffy.
They are, as baby chickens tend to be, unbearably cute.
A few of the baby chickens were having problems getting hatched, so Fred took the initiative to give Mother Nature a hand (you are NOT supposed to do this, by the way, you’re supposed to let what’s going to happen, happen. If you “help out” a chicken having a hard time getting out of the shell, you very well might end up with a chicken with Issues, and might have to end up putting it down). So far, they’re all doing well, though I won’t really relax until it’s been a few days.
Lucky the chicken (the first one Fred “helped”).
Stinkerbelle always looks so angry, doesn’t she?
Previously
2008: No entry.
2007: No entry.
2006: So when I reached down to pet his head, IT WASN’T HIS HEAD I GOT. ::shudder::
2005: Killing the messenger.
2004: Howling and hissing and growling and yowling ensued.
2003: No entry.
2002: No entry.
2001: Gather ’round, younguns, and hear the heartbreaking tale of farts and betrayal…
2000: You still love me, though, right? Um, right?