Geisha School Dropout

Omnivore's Dilemma

Today, nothing much to report except I roasted a chicken to reward Isaac for giving props to my chicken roasting skillz on his Mothers Day essay.  And to tell you the honest-to-god truth, I was observing Rosie wandering around yesterday and noticed her nice muscular thighs and her wide chest, and started drooling.  NO, I'm never going to eat Rosie, but I did feel like some chicken.

Just *look* at those thighs!

And yup, just tried some and it tastes good.  I had my piece outside in the backyard.  Rosie jumped up onto the picnic table to steal some, but I just felt like that wouldn't be kosher.  Friggin' Rosie.

Later, the kids will be bouncing their faces off with their buddies.  Actually, these buddies are the same kids I wrote my very first guest post at Kimchi Mamas about...yes, we became great friends. 

And Now, Your Moment of Zen

Cheep Cheep has turned broody, which means she is in major pissy mama mode and is hogging up the nest box all to herself and snapping at anyone who tries to enter.  She seriously sits there all day and night, which means poor Rosie has lost her backyard roaming buddy and she doesn't have a good place to lay her own eggs.  

Because of this lack of poultry companionship, Rosie has gotten a little...eccentric.  I think she now considers herself an egg-laying dog.  Sometimes I walk out of the office to grab something to drink and I'll see her on the couch looking out the window, or in the kitchen pecking bits of food out of a frying pan.  Pretty soon I'm going to ask her to pay rent. 

This morning, Rosie stood by the patio door waiting to be let in.  I didn't want to because 1) she isn't housetrained, and 2) it just doesn't seem right to encourage this behavior, but I had to open the door for Maggie anyway and so Rosie rushed in, immediately jumped onto my desk and sat on some papers.  

We shooed her away before she actually lay, but I have definitely felt that kind of desperation before while waiting in line at the women's restroom, so I felt a little guilty.  

If you told me a year ago that I would have these kinds of feelings for a chicken, I would have unfriended you on Facebook. 

Year in Review: 2010

2010 was a helluva year, one where our family spread out roots, having lived in our neighborhood for more than two years.  Isaac and Emi were finally invited to birthday parties, we got to know all the pho restaurants within a few miles from our house, and we didn't have to change any of our basic information on our tax return!  Isaac learned how to read, Emi learned how to talk like a human being, and we added two chickens to our family.  All in all, I think we all grew stronger and more confident.  Here is a list of the most notable stories from each month:

January: To think that this recent spate of rain was bad!  Our neighborhood floods and I find solace in, of all things, palm trees.

February: A little chihuahua enters and exits our lives, and I still regret sending him home!  Emi still asks where little Bito went.  Darn doing the right thing all to heck!

March: The world loses one of its brightest spirits.  Oh Renee, it still hurts each time I see something beautiful or funny, to not have you say something clever about it.

April: Emi earns her sassiness crown, and Isaac can't stop kissing a girl from his class.  This all makes for one crazy-ass Mama.

May: Depression, aka the Black Dog, scratched at my door, wanting back in.

June: Summer in our household = veggie porn, bonfires, sports camp, and World Cup-inspired jingoism.  Bossy little girls are always in season.

July: Flipping off airplanes while smoking a 2-year-old cigarette is an awesome hobby for a little ol' rebel like me.

August: I list my morning routine, where take care of all creatures, big and small, and seeing it all laid out that way helps me to realize I'm a freak.

September: Isaac and his literacy totally throw me off my game.  Killing cones!!!

October: One family's trip to their neighborhood Target, aka raw, unadulterated crazy-making.

November: Emi's verbal antics catch the eye of one member of Tears for Fears!

December: Isaac apparently took Feminism 101 in utero and lectures me on gender stereotypes and self-identity.  

I hope you and your loved ones have an awesome New Year's Eve, and I'll see you in 2011!

 

William Carlos Williams Was Right!

so much depends
upon

a red wheel
barrow

glazed with rain
water

beside the red
chicken.*

(and kiddie detritus)**

* original stated "white chickens."

** and no detritus.

-------------------------------------------

PS: As you read this, the kids and I are heading to Las Vegas to hang out with my family, including my sister!  We will be back Christmas Eve.  Tim has to stay home because he'll actually be working for Santa on the 23rd and 24th.  It's kind of an interesting story, one I hope to tell when I get back.

A Few of My Favorite Things

It's Winter Break in the Mang household, and since it's been so rainy these past few days, I thought I should take some time to list the things I am thankful for before I blow a gasket.  I can't believe the last time I listed things that made me happy was almost two years ago!  Shameful!  

1. Not dieting

I've decided to give myself a pass this holiday season by not paying too much attention to my diet.  I obviously still have to lose more weight, but I'm fine with it not being right now.  Obsessing over calorie/carb/vitamin/protein count has made Julie a dull, crabby girl.  As Tim said to me the other day, "Can you please eat whatever you want so you can be happy, even if that means eventually needing mobility assistance?"  Consider it done!  

2. Proper rain gear

I never found a pair of boots that could accommodate my Chun Li calves.  But a couple months ago, in a fit of restlessness, I decided to order my first pair of galoshes, and I am so glad I did!  The Tretorn Skerry boots I bought stop before my legs really start to expand, so although my calves balloon out the top, I'm still protected from the kids' splashes!  Paired with my bright yellow raincoat, I am completely impenetrable during this series of storms, and I'm a happy fat camper once more.

   +    = 


3. Whatever color Cheep Cheep's eggs are

I just can't stop staring at my chicken's eggs!  Is that creepy?  Here is what they look like compared to both a white and brown egg:

And this is what they look like inside:

I love that golden color just as much as the green eggshell.  Ah, my inner Martha has reawakened.

I ate Cheep Cheep's first egg raw, mixed with some natto.  It was divine.

4. My resident first grader

Isaac has lost 3 teeth in 3 days, and he started to feel a little bad for the Tooth Fairy.  He left her a note last night:

And who looks this adorable with 4 missing front teeth?

5. Emi for just being Emi

Eggstatic!

One of the unglamorous parts of raising chickens is trudging outside at 6:30 in the morning (and on days like today, in the cold rain) in order to put food and water into their troughs and lower the drawbridge from the coop to the run.  Once they're down there noshing, every other day I raise the drawbridge back up and clean out the coop.  I perform these duties like a rusty automaton, still woozy, sometimes even without my glasses on.  But today was special!  I looked down, and I saw a light green egg laying in the bedding!

Cheep Cheep is a mommy!  Well, not really...we don't have a rooster, so these eggs are unfertilized.  But if not a mommy, Cheep Cheep is now a woman!

Since I only look up there every other day, I suspected this egg was laid yesterday, so I went back around noon and lo and behold, there was another one, still warm and even more vibrant than the first!

I dunno, you guys, I really can't do justice to the feeling that came over me then.  First it was pure shock, but then I just felt so blessed to be able to witness something like this in my little piece of Long Beach.  Cheep Cheep just created one of the most nutritionally dense foods in the world from chicken feed, water, grass, and the occasional insect.  Is that anything short of pure magic?  

 

Cheep Cheep's little green gems, and a regular large brown egg for scale.

I am so proud of my little lady!

Back to Life, Back to Reality

Love at the Petrified Forest: Remind me why I left?

My trip was fun.  But now I'm back, and I have noticed a couple changes since I left: all three of them seem to have subsisted on cereal and apple juice the whole time I was gone, and Emi can really, really talk now.

Dealing with the kid maelstrom after 5 days of wine- and massage-coma has been...dizzying.  Not necessarily bad, just a little overwhelming.  My brain actually scurried back to Napa Valley, found the nearest silver oak barrel, popped the bung, and dove right in, hoping things will look better in 2012.

Two examples of what I'm dealing with right now:

Right when I met the kids at home, Emi squealed "I want to show you something!"  She then proceeded to show me a Target toy catalog, extolling the virtues of each product contained therein.  On the way to dinner, she actually begged me for a skateboard of all things.  "Pwease pwease pweeeeeease, Mommy?  I never had a skateboard, and I want one weally bad."  When asked why she wanted a skateboard, she merely stated, "Are you kidding me, Mom?  I always wanted a skateboard."

Can she really say that to me?  And when did I become Mom?

Isaac tried to distract her by pointing out, "Look!  That sign says 'Martial Arts,' just like my tae kwon do class!"

"Mommy, can we pwease pwease pweeeeeeeeeeease go to the martial arts?  I always wanted to go to the martial arts."

"Emi, we already go to tae kwon do!"

"But Maw-awm, I really want to go to this tae kwon do!"

"Well, it's only for adults."

Then Isaac, Mr. Helper, chimes in, "No, the sign says adults and CHILDREN."

Goddammit!  Literacy strikes again.

Emi immediately pounced on the opportunity.  "But I'M a children!!!"

I had absolutely no further retort.  If you pressed your ear against mine at that moment, you would have heard the Emergency Broadcast System. 

--------------------------------

After dinner:

"Do you remember when Dr. Evil died?" asked Isaac.

"Yes, of course I do, Bu."

"Well, then why didn't you cook her, Mom?"

"You really think you would have eaten Dr. Evil if I had cooked her?"

"Yes!  I like chicken!"  

So much for worrying about whether allowing Isaac to see Dr. Evil's body would traumatize him or not.

Then Emi chimed in, "But then she would get hot when you cook her.  Then she would get burned.  Then she would say, 'Ba-GAAAAAWK!'"

Heaven help me.

Animal Photo of the Week: Bubbles

 Ah, now that’s the life! In this sweet photo, Bubbles turkey brings new meaning to the word “relaxation” as she basks in the warm sunlight that shines on her pasture. Sunbathing, a favorite pastime of lots of birds, is just one of the many natural behaviors that turkeys at Farm Sanctuary get to engage in that those on factory farms do not. Packed by the thousands inside large warehouses and denied even a quiet place to rest, let alone the chance to go outside, these birds lead frustrated lives as their innate desires are thwarted by the unnatural conditions they endure. Had Bubbles not been rescued, she certainly would have never known the contentment she experiences at our New York Shelter today.

via farmsanctuary.typepad.com

I will be eating turkey this Thanksgiving, but I just thought Bubbles looked too sweet not to share.  Maybe I'm delusional, but after decades of living with different degrees of vegetarianism and animal activism, and to this day only owning 1 pair of leather shoes, I have come to believe that you can love animals and still eat them.  I do try to buy meat from animals who were treated with some modicum of respect during their lives, I make sure the animals directly in my care are treated well, I donate each year to animal welfare organizations, but that's it.

The way I see it, Mother Nature is one cold-hearted bitch.  Animals kill each other for a variety of reasons, and it's hardly ever for noble ones, nor do they try to do it with the least amount of pain and suffering.  Hell, even the hawk who killed my chicken Dr. Evil killed her by pinning her down with his claws, pulling out her neck feathers, then repeatedly pecking at her neck until her head was severed, then she went off with the head, leaving the most nutritious parts behind.  I dare say that was more terrifying, painful, and wasteful than what a humane farmer would do to a chicken.

(Gawd, am I Debbie Downer today or what?)

Did anything memorable happen yesterday?  Oh, I sent out the Evite for Isaac's birthday party.  I trimmed the guest list down to family and close friends, so we shall see how that goes.  I treated myself to an oatmeal white chocolate cranberry cookie and was so inspired by it, I resolved to bake some today.  During tae kwon do class, Emi declared she was a baby and said she needed milk, so she kept ramming her face into my boobs.  What's weird is that I actually felt the pins-and-needles let-down response.  Sigh, I miss babies.

Magic

Yesterday, out of his own accord, Isaac made a little tombstone for Dr. Evil.  As we stood by her "grave," Isaac teared up a little, but we hugged and I made sure to let him know how proud I was to see how he was becoming such a thoughtful, caring person.  I choked on the words at first, because I was so fearful of being cheesy or disingenuous; the words "I am so proud of you" seemed too earnest to be true.  I really need to let go of that paralyzing fear of trite phrases.  Just because they're said a lot doesn't take away the sentiment, if the sentiment is real.

I think this year I will work on being more affectionate to my family.  I realized recently that there are days that I don't kiss or hug Tim or the kids, and that's bad.  I'm also going to focus on resilience.  Grace under fire, the coolness of a cucumber, a person of whom Ma Ingalls would approve. 

In the evening, we dropped the kids off with my parents (the third time in that many years!) so we could go to the Magic Castle.  It took us two hours to get to Hollywood when we budgeted one hour, so our friends were waiting for us outside.  But once we uttered the magic words, the lobby bookcase opened up and this incredible enchanted evening commenced.  

It felt so amazing to hang out with my old friends (three girls I've known since elementary and junior high school and two of our significant others), it seriously felt like it was the day after high school graduation and we were just picking up where we left off.  I can't recall the last time it was so easy to converse with a group of people, and I definitely felt this teenage thrill every time I saw them take a sip of their wine or talk about sex or men or "Dexter."  We were being so naughty and talking about grown-up stuff!  Then brainflash: we ARE grown-ups!  Whoooooaaaa.  I never believed I would have lived to see this happen.  Note to 21-year-old suicidal self: 32-year-old self thanks you for sticking it out.

There has been a lot of buzz around the "It Gets Better" project, and deservedly so.  I really believe it will save lives.  Last night was my "It Got Better" moment.  No matter how much time has passed or what hardship has altered you, there are people who knew the real, purer, happier you and will be able to still see that part of you, even if you are not able to see that part in yourself.  Once a friend, always a friend, and I am so relieved and lucky and grateful to have witnessed it for myself.

Dyin', Part Two

When I wrote yesterday's post, I didn't realize there would be a part two.  But such is life.

Yesterday, Tim worked from home so we could have a birthday lunch together.  After we picked Isaac up from school, I left the two boys at home so I could go grocery shopping.  The chickens were enjoying their afternoon free range time, trying to keep cool in the 90-degree heat by hanging out in their normal 3:00 bush.

I got back home and started putting the groceries away when I noticed Cheep Cheep poking her head out of a shelf!  She was actually sitting inside the Crock Pot, her golden eyes daring me to not allow her to stay there.  It was a strange moment.  I figured the heat brought her inside, but then again, it was odd that she overcame her fear of Maggie and Isaac to hang out there by herself.  

I knew it would freak her out if I tried to grab her then, so I knelt down to her level and offered her some chicken scratch, when suddenly Rosie waddles towards us from the direction of the living room!  I was simply flabbergasted.  Now that they were reunited, they both willingly went back outside.  I asked Tim if anything happened while I was gone and he said nothing seemed to be the matter.  But I figured something was really wrong when Rosie and Cheep Cheep scurried back to their bush without their usual conversation.  My heart sank when I noticed that Dr. Evil wasn't bringing the rear like she usually does.

It didn't take me long to find her.  Next to the bush fluttered some stray feathers and Dr. Evil's body, still mostly whole, just her head missing.  I did some quick Internet research and discovered that this was the modus operandi of raccoons and red tailed hawks, and since it wasn't nightfall and we've seen hawks around before, I knew our neighborhood lawnchair lurker finally attempted a kill after months of waiting.  

After Tim picked her up and placed her in a paper bag for safekeeping, I called for Isaac to tell him the news and to have him help me herd the other two into their coop.  He took it very calmly and asked to see her body, which we showed to him because it wasn't all that gruesome.  He grew quiet and said, "She was such a nice chicken.  I'm going to miss her.  Are we going to get a new one?"  I told him I doubted it, not until we could guarantee their safety.

But maybe we can never guarantee that.  I knew there was a risk of our girls getting sick or killed since they are pretty ideal prey animals, especially Dr. Evil, who was slower, smaller, and more docile than the other two.  But I always pictured predator and prey scenarios to be more noble than this.  Why did the hawk just take her head, and perhaps more importantly, which unlucky neighbor is going to find Dr. Evil's black puffball on their doorstep?  It just seemed so senseless and wasteful.

We told Emi the news after dinner.  She took the news well, and headed off to play with her dolls.  I overheard her telling her dolls that Dr. Evil was in a bag. 

We buried Dr. Evil in a corner of our backyard on a bed of woodchips, with some chicken scratch and a couple superworms.

I'm very sorry I let you down, Doctor.