Not just a number

It’s just a number,

It doesn’t define you.

It doesn’t tell your story,

It doesn’t speak to what you’ve done.

It doesn’t showcase your children,

It doesn’t celebrate with friends.

It doesn’t toast birthdays,

It doesn’t enjoy long quiet evenings, snuggled up on the couch.

It’s just a number.

So why is it so important?

Why does it change how we feel about ourselves?

How we feel about others?

Why is it so hard to look at that number steadily climb as the grey hairs come in and the wrinkles form?

It’s just a number, but it matters so much.

In a world full of judgement and hate,

Where we constantly find ourselves alone,

Is it really any wonder that it’s not just a number?

Babysitting

Our neighbor had to go into the hospital for surgery this week, and asked if we would look after his animals. So of course we accepted! We go up to his place to check on his birds- he has a bunch of baby chickens and turkeys, and racing pigeons. They're very cool. The most fun, though, is we have his 4 ducklings staying in our brooder. Our bathtub brooder in our master bath.

You may remember when we got our chickens and they stayed in the bathtub brooder until the coop was finished. And yes, Toby is once again fascinated and highly protective of the babies.

Little whack whacks

We're only watching them until this weekend, but we've already decided that next year, we want to get some ducks. They're awesome. But here's what I've learned about ducklings this week:

1. They are hilarious when it comes to water. They had one of those little chick water things, but they emptied it within minutes every time we filled it and put it in the tub. I put the little litter box in filled with water so they could have supervised swim time, and the first thing they all did was drink a bunch. I suddenly realized that they could get a proper drink from the chick waterer because their bills are too big/work different. So we went to the dollar store and picked up some smallish disposable cake tins. They love it! And yes, they like sitting in it and splashing a bit, but being in the bathtub, that's just fine. We just have to change out their straw occasionally.

2. They grow fast! Yesterday morning one of them was standing as tall as it could trying to reach the mesh over the tub, but was still about an inch too short. This morning they're all chattering away at the mesh! They don't even have to stretch up that much!

3. The sound they make is not as high pitched as the chicks. I'm sure if we had 21 ducklings, the noise would be comparable to the 21 chicks. There are times they are quite loud. However, the peeping sound they make is several octaves lower than the cheeping the chicks made. It doesn't pierce your skull in quite the same way. One of them, the little black duck, is already starting to make little quacking sounds.

The most important thing we've learned, though, is 4. They smell REALLY REALLY BAD! I mean, HORRIBLE! Who would've thought that 4 ducklings would be so much worse than 21 chicks? Honestly, Steve duct taped a screen over the window so we could open it and get some air flow because we thought we were going to pass out from the stink. They're not as dusty as the chicks, but geez they stink! Before we get ducks of our own, we're going to build a duck coop and run that they can go directly into, because there's no way we would last very long with this smell!

We will miss them when they go home this weekend because they are fun to have around. I definitely will not miss they smell, though.

Tribute

Asha

It's been a few weeks since I've updated here, and mainly that's because I just wasn't up to talking about it. We lost our beautiful cat, Asha suddenly. I suspect she'd been sick for a while, but she hid it quite effectively. It still hurts that she's gone, and there are still moments when I look for her.

So fluffy!

Steve got Asha after his first marriage broke up and he was struggling. Her name, Asha, means hope, and that's what he really needed.

Pounce!

She was never really a playful cat, but she was a voracious huntress! After a few birds, Steve put a bell on her. It didn't stop her entirely, though. She still brought birds in on occasion, and lots and lots of bugs!

Unamused. 

When I met her, she did not like me! I was the other woman and she let me know she was in charge and Steve was her's! We would sit on the couch at night watching tv, Asha in Steve's lap, and she would growl at me if I tried to snuggle too close to Steve.

Love

Eventually, I won her over and she would lay in my lap and growl at Steve if he tried to displace her.

Living in New Zealand, it rained a lot. She had a cat door that gave her the freedom to come and go as she pleased. When it rained hard, though, she would go out her cat door, get thoroughly soaked, and sit at the glass door in the back and meow at me pitifully. I would then stop what I was doing, get up, let her in, and towel her off while cooing over her. As soon as I was done drying her, she would go straight out the cat door, around the house in the rain, and sit by the back door again meowing at me pitifully. By the third toweling I'd tell her that was enough and if she did it again, she was on her own. So, she'd curl up and go to sleep in my lap.

Sun worshiping

On sunny days, you could always find her just by looking for the softest, sunniest spot.

Getting comfortable is an art. 

And she was always adept at getting really, really comfy!

Reaching through the wall. 

We did a massive building project to our house, and it included effectively cutting one half of the house off from the other. We realized that Asha needed a way to access the whole house, so we put a cat tunnel in one of the walls. When we sold the house, a lot of people thought it was a great idea!

Front door guard. 

Asha thought it was great, too. She had a sunny spot where she could watch the goings on out the front door. It was one of her favorite spots.

Boo

Of course, you can't have a black cat without the Halloween reference. She didn't like company, so she wasn't big on trick or treaters, but I think she liked the decorations.

Not quite best buds

When we brought Zack home as a puppy, she was ready to disown us. She eventually tolerated him as long as he was properly afraid of her. Toby was something else entirely. He was never afraid of her, and she eventually ignored him.

She hated the flight from New Zealand to the States. And hated the drive from California to Texas just as much. But she was regal about the changes.

Just keep scratching

As long as she got plenty of hugs and scratches, she could cope with just about anything.

Hunting for lizards

When we bought the farm, she decided she really liked being a farm cat. She never wandered very far; she never had to go far to find lizards to hunt.

"I think I love you."
"Please remove this thing."

When Jynx joined the family, Asha was pretty much resigned to the fact that I bring babies home as often as I can get away with it. It was still a grudging tolerance rather than acceptance, but Jynx doesn't give anyone the opportunity to not love her. Asha was no exception.

Good-bye

So, good-bye my beautiful girl. You will never be forgotten.

The one where we say good bye to Weezel

You may remember last fall when the chicks arrived. We had ordered 12 Australorp female chicks, but when we picked up the box, we were told they threw a few males in there for free for added warmth. We'd ordered 12 expecting 8 to survive- we'd done our research and made peace with the fact that not all the chicks would live to see adulthood- so were seriously surprised to find 21 peeping chicks when we opened the box! There were 13 little black Australorps, and 8 yellow chicks.

Every single one survived.

We figured the yellow chicks were all male, and as it turned out, the extra Australorp was, too! Denzel is quite the handsome devil. At the moment my camera is vexing me, but I'll try to get a great photo of him in the sun soon. He's also huge! He comes to about my knee, and looks down on our Cairn terrier mix, and all the neighborhood cats!

As for the yellow ones? Well, that's farm life, and they were quite tasty. I've never had meat that we raised and butchered ourselves, but I highly recommend it. There's something satisfying in knowing that your food had a great life.

When we butchered them, though, there was one that was just too small to justify killing. There was no meat on him! I'm pretty sure he was the little runt that I'd had to treat for pasty butt a few times. We made a rapid fire decision to try to find him a home. I named him Weezel, and posted "Free Rooster to a good home" on some of the online boards I'm a member of.

Hello!

It wasn't until after I posted that I realized what a stupid thing it is to post a free rooster to strangers. I'd rather butcher him than submit him to possible cock fights!

So I went to take down the post, and already had a hit. I had a look at her profile, and she looked like a decent person, lots of chicken care posts, how to pamper your chickens, the whole thing, so I messaged her to arrange for pick up of Weezel.

She never got back to me.

There was another person interested, and she looked really nice, too. Young couple just getting started, born and raised in farm country.

She never got back to me either.

Then one a home schooler claimed him. She had to finish their coop, so I agreed to hold him for another week. But then she realized she'd bitten off more than she could chew.

Meanwhile, our girls had started laying eggs and Weezel was getting more and more frustrated. Denzel was nearly twice his size and so was the dominant male. Weezel was not allowed to mate with the girls, and they would squawk and fight him off until Denzel came over and beat him up every timed he tried. We were getting worried that he was going to get hurt.

Another home schooler, who already had two hens and wanted to start breeding them was interested. So, we arranged for pick up. She lives a fair distance away, but I had to go to Costco (70 miles away from us, but only a short drive for her) anyway, so I packed Weezel in a box, and off we went!

She loves him! She didn't really get a great look at him when she picked him up because he was in a cardboard box, but a few minutes after picking him up I got a text from her: "This rooster is gorgeous! Thank you so much!"

Weezel gets to live happily ever after.

Sometimes stories do have good endings.

Whanau Head Count

Ok, we're all here. But wow it was a close run thing!

Last night, at 1am, we got nailed by the strongest storm we've experienced in Texas. I was waiting for a tornado warning, although I'm not entirely certain the push would have come through the weather. I'm pretty sure the radio and cell towers we can see from our bedroom window got nailed by lightening. And I was shocked there wasn't a scorch mark in the back yard from a bolt of lightening (with the thunder at the same moment, that's how close it was) that put me in a fetal position! It takes a lot to do that to me!

The most interesting moment, however, was when Jynx got out of the bedroom and we had to go get her.

Since I was up anyway- there was no sleeping with the intensity of the storm- I decided to get up for a waz (my new favorite word, it means to pee). Which is when I discovered we were out of toilet paper. So, Steve, being the amazing husby (my other new word, purely by accident) that he is, asked if I had enough to finish.

"I'd have to use kleenex."

"Hrrumph. That's not good for the system."

"I could use the cardboard tube, but that's not good for anything."

He got out of bed and went to the storage room to get more. Jynx waited for him by the door. I knew what she was up to, so I tried to distract her, but as soon as that door cracked open, she was out like a shot!

When I got out to the lounge, Steve was looking miffed, holding her food dish, and Jyxy-ing to the couch. She was under the couch and refusing to come out.

Suddenly, a new noise joined the constant crashing of thunder and pelting of rain. Steve and I looked at each other and started closing the windows which had all been wide open. Not all the way, mind you, if a tornado were to hit, you don't want the windows closed. I know that much at least.

Then, the french doors blew open.

Seriously, they just blew open!

There was lots of crashing on the porch, and I had visions of ultimate destruction. Steve leaned his weight into the doors to shut them again, and the strobe light effect of the lightening showed us the armageddon happening outside. I got very scared, I'm not ashamed to admit.

We got the doors closed, and I turned back to find Jynx crouched by the couch. I picked her up and she was shivering, poor thing. As we walked down the hall, the power kept flickering off, which added an even more ominous feeling to the whole event. We went back to the bedroom and sat on the bed waiting for it to either blow over or pick us up and take us to Oz.

It blew over.

The destruction wasn't nearly as bad as I had feared, either. We lost some branches off a few mesquite trees, and one of the pecan trees snapped off completely. Out on the road, there's a couple of telephone poles that are down, but we're on satellite so we didn't notice.

I think today is going to be pretty much wasted, though. Being up for nearly 2 hours in the middle of the night because the world is shattering doesn't lend well to a restful morning!

Although, we're also very thankful. It could've been much worse. According to the reports this morning, there was a tornado that touched down a few hours drive northeast of us. Injuries reported, but no deaths, thankfully.

Spring in Texas! Isn't it fun.

Kiwi-isms: Yeah-Nah / Nah-Yeah

"Whanau" is a Maori term meaning family. I've talked about this before, but it bears repeating.

Steve is a Kiwi, meaning he is from New Zealand. When we got married, we lived in New Zealand for a number of years, which means I picked up a bunch of the local colloquialisms, or Kiwi-isms. I also got an entire class of preschool kids to use "Dude" in the proper Californian fashion, much to their parents dismay, but that's a story for a different day.

Today's Kiwi-ism is the extremely useful Yeah-Nah/Nah-Yeah combination.

When I was a kid, I would sometimes be asked a question that deserved a positive "yes" response, but was framed in a way that "yes" didn't really make sense.

What?

For example, this morning I had just finished making the coffee and Steve asked, "Did you make the coffee already, or not yet?" As an American, that's kind of hard to answer. Instead of a simple yes or no, you have to fully explain that yes, the coffee is made. It's much easier with yeah-nah.

"Did you make the coffee already, or not yet?"

"Yeah-nah," meaning yeah, I made the coffee, nah it's made. If I hadn't made the coffee yet, I would've said, "Nah-yeah," meaning no, I haven't made the coffee, but yeah I would. If I hadn't made the coffee, and wasn't planning to, it would simply be, "Nah," with a strange up slanted inflection and a pointed look meaning you're making the coffee this morning, dude.

Ok, it's not the best example, but trust me it comes in handy. It's just really hard to explain!

"That movie was good, but it wasn't the best ever."
"Yeah-nah, it was alright." = Yeah, it was good; nah, it wasn't the best ever.

"That cake wasn't very good, was it?"
"Nah-yeah!" No, I disagree with you, it was the absolute best! Mmm...chocolate.

Sorry, I digress.

Now, it should be noted that this is not the American yeah-no/no-yeah. I did a quick Google search, and this is a huge phenomenon in American speech patterns that I was unaware of, but with, apparently, different connotations. From what I can tell, the American yeah-no/no-yeah is just a way of starting a response, sort of like "you know," "like," "so," or even "uh." It's a pause while people's brains fully absorb what's just been said. The Kiwi "yeah-nah/nah-yeah" can be a stand alone answer.

So, next time someone says that the dry tasteless chocolate wasn't very good, huh? You can reply confidently with, "Yeah-nah!"

Bunnies made of hate and barbed wire

I have eczema.

I suppose I should be relieved it's not ring worm like I thought. Although, ring worm is curable, eczema isn't.

Right now, all I know it that my legs feel like they're being humped by bunnies, if bunnies were made of hate and barbed wire. That should give you an idea of how I feel, and why I've been a little out of sorts for... a while. This flared up about 2 months ago. It's gotten very old.

I don't even get the benefit of cute twitchy noses. Hate bunnies can't smell. 

Also, the doctor announced that I have rosacea. Seriously?

And he circled two moles that we need to keep an eye on.

How did one doctor appointment age me so much? I went in 34, and came out somewhere in my 60's.

Well, it's after 5pm now, so I should probably eat dinner and get to bed. Phbbbt.