It's Monday on Tuesday

It's been one of those days over here in freelance land.

First, I went to the grocery to get a roast to put in the crock pot. I picked out a lovely grass-fed organic chuck roast. But when I got home and opened the package I was overcome by the stench of rotten meat. Phew! Stinky! Back to the grocery to return it. I thought I had chicken in the freezer, so I'd just put that in the crock pot.

When I got home, I realized I didn't have any chicken in the freezer. Rats. So I guess we're having pasta for dinner.

Then I went downstairs to see if we had an old aquarium in the basement that I could use for a brooder, and lo and behold! There was at least 2" of water in the basement! Turns out the hot water heater finally went. I couldn't shut the water off, so it just poured into the tank and then out until the plumber could get here. $750 later, and we'll have hot water. And a wet basement to clean up.

And then, to top it all off, Bandit has learned how to hop over the gate that has kept him out of the kitchen and my office for the past month or so. We've enjoyed not having to worry about the dog eating off the counters or taking dishes out of the sink or going into my office and doing heaven knows what. But that's all over. As I write, he's in the kitchen nosing around in the dirty dishes and ... well, here he comes into my office to chew CDs and empty the wastebasket. Oh joy.

On a happier note, 24 years ago today I was giving birth to my daughter, Cassie! Yeesh, time flies!!

Starbucks makes their bad coffee instantly worse

While I spend a lot of time at the Starbucks in one of the local Barnes & Nobles, I confess that I really don't like their coffee. It's too strong, it's too bitter, and it's way too stinking expensive. I have the tea, because Harney and Sons is one of the best and oldest tea blenders around.

Today comes news that Starbucks has found a way to make their bad coffee even worse: instant coffee.

Apparently the company has been selling its Via Instant Coffee for the last eight months in Seattle and Chicago, and now the rest of America - and Canada! - can have bad coffee faster.

For me, I'll stick to my Tim Hortons. No uber-hip pretense, just good coffee with a smile.

The Chicken Project posts have moved!

So that they don't get lost in the other posts, I've moved the chicken posts to their own blog:
http://chickenadventure.com/

You can read all about the chicks, the project and the people who are helping me along the way ... like Joyce the chicken goddess and my friends at the East Rochester Post Office, who will take delivery of my chicks when they arrive by express mail in a couple of weeks!

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The Great Chicken Project: The chicks are ordered!

Yesterday was a big day: the chicks were ordered! I'd planned on ordering three chicks, but Joyce at MyPetChicken.com agreed that four would be better. That if something happened to one of three the last two wouldn't be left with just each other. Apparently chickens get bored in just a pair.

Joyce was a huge help and told me story after story about her chickens. Her story about her hen Lenore convinced me to get a Sussex. In all, yesterday I ordered the Sussex, an Orpington, a Wyandotte, and a Rhode Island Red.

Joyce and I had discussed the Polish chicken instead of the Rhode Island, but there is some concern that because the Polish chicken is timid it can get picked on in the flock. She said that since the chicks would all be raised together the chances the Polish hen would be picked on was much smaller; she wouldn't suggest adding a Polish hen to these adults.

The last thing I want is to go out some morning and find a Polish hen pecked to death in my backyard. So I opted for the RIR instead.

I think Joyce was disappointed. The Polish hen is, as she described, wacky. A great pet, very gentle and friendly.

I thought all night about the Polish chicken. The girl at Country Max had told me about her Polish chickens (she called them the dumbest chickens she'd ever had but also the most fun), and Joyce was clearly a big fan. So today, despite the $10 charge for changing my order, I called this morning and added a Polish chick.

Well, two.

I explained to Joyce that I thought about what she said, and that if I wanted a Polish chicken I needed to order it now rather than try to introduce it in the spring.

"Now's the best time to do that, right?" I asked.

"Well, yesterday would have been the best time," she replied. "But I'm glad you're getting one."

As Joyce was verifying my order she added, "Are you sure you don't want two?"

"Sure. They'd probably be happier in a pair, right?" At this point, I would have done pretty much whatever Joyce suggested, since she is the undisputed chicken goddess. "That way if I did have to separate them, they wouldn't be alone. Right?"

"Oh, yes," she agreed. "I'm glad that you got two. If you're going to be strange in this world you should have a buddy just like you."

Words of wisdom from Joyce the chicken lady. And you wonder why I take her advice?

My chicks are scheduled to arrive sometime around October 14th. So I have a few weeks to tell David that instead of three chickens we're going to have six. I guess six chickens are just as easy to care for as three. Right?

FUBO, part 2

Yesterday, I posted about why I ordered FUBO stickers. I know, I know, flipping a figurative bird to the government isn't necessarily something you'd expect from me, but if you read the post I explained that I'm feeling a bit at my wit's end.

I was surprised, however, by the reaction I got from some readers. In order to put your mind at ease, let me just clear up a few misconceptions:

Contrary to popular belief, I am not a sheep. Just because I am a fan of Glenn Beck, for example, doesn't mean that I follow every word the man says like he's some sort of Messiah. I believe in being Berean in all things - searching the Scripture, checking facts, reading for myself.

Right now, I've started reading Thomas Paine's "Common Sense," before I read Glenn Beck's version, because I don't want Beck's thoughts to taint what I hear Paine saying. It's the same reason I just ordered a copy of "The Federalist Papers"; if I want to know what the Founding Fathers thought, I figure I should read it for myself.

I also think that it's important to look at life from the other side once in a while. I watch the BBC news every night to see how things going on in the world are being interpreted by outlets other than American major media. Sometimes I like what I see, sometimes I don't. Often, I see a perspective I don't see on American TV.

For the same reason, I don't limit my friendships to people who are like me. While I do have a large group of evangelical Christians in my social circle, I also have deep, intimate friendships with people who are gay, agnostic, athiests, Democrats, you name it. I'm not talking mere acquaintances. I mean people who I depend on, who I would trust with my life, and who feel the same way about me.

Another thing has helped is the fact that I'm deeply interested in life outside of the US. I've traveled to Mexico for mission trips, and learned that living conditions we would be appalled at, people in Mexico are grateful for. I sponsor children in India, Uganda and Columbia through Compassion, and I know the things we take for granted, like freedom and food and safety.

I know that no matter how much bitching we do and how things can always be better, America is still one of the best places on earth to live. And if we don't start realizing it, we may end up losing it all.

No, we don't want to be like the rest of the world. Sorry, Europe, the Middle East, even Canada. No, I don't want the government more involved in my life. I don't want the government involved in my health care. I don't want any more tax dollars spent on things that, if we were really living like the Christians we claim to be, we would be doing gratefully and willingly on our own, without government mandates.

I'm sorry, I apologize for the rant. It's just that I'm fed up and I don't know what to do about it. Don't think you know everything about me just because I sport a FUBO sticker.

Why I ordered FUBO stickers today

Under normal circumstances, I don't go in for political bashing. I get that not everyone is on the same political page I am, and sometimes there isn't even a page that represents my political beliefs.

So I've avoided the Obama bashing. Sure, I disagree with everything that comes out of the man's mouth, and I'm tired of being called a racist because of it. But I've stayed out of the protesting movement.

Until today. It's been building, I confess, but I've reached my limit. I'm tired of the move toward socialism. I'm tired of the government stomping on the Constitution. I'm appalled that on the 70th anniversary of the day that the Soviet Union invaded Poland, Obama announced that he's ending the Eastern European missile defense plan, essentially leaving Poland at the mercy of the Russians.

I heard a man on the radio talking about his mother, who had emigrated from Poland as a child, and who was in tears over the news. She'd been born in 1939, and understood what a lack of US protection means for Poland.

A week or so ago I applied for my pistol permit, because it was one of the few things I felt I had power over any more, and I believe that if you don't use your rights you'll lose them. So even though I have no intention of getting a gun, I applied for my permit based solely on my Constitutional right to do so. (Of course, now I'm thinking about getting a gun, for the same reason. It's my Constitutional right. Right?)

And today, I caved and ordered a FUBO sticker. Not because I want to literally flip the bird to Barak Obama, but I want to figuratively flip a political bird to the Congress and to the President for their policies and for the direction that the country is headed.

Don't get all up in my face about it. When liberals were opposed to George W Bush, they protested and argued and yes, booed him when he addressed Congress. So now that the shoe's on the other foot, and you're seeing people who are opposed to this President's policies, understand that's just how America works. Thanks to the Constitution, I can voice my concerns and opposition and arguments, and in a free Republic do so in safety.

I can even sport a FUBO bumper sticker if I want.

You can, too. Just visit FUBOWear.com for bumper stickers, t-shirts and more.

The Great Chicken Project: Chicken personality & egg production

I talked today with Jim at Nature Berry Farms about getting some chicks. Unfortunately, they really won't have any of what I'd like until spring. But he will have some Golden Comets in October. The Coment, he said, is a great egg producer.

I told him I wasn't super concerned about the amount of eggs I'd get; since these would be pets joining our family of dogs and cat, I was more concerned about temperment. So I'd take moderate layers in exchange for some personality.

That's good, he explained, because the really good egg layers tend to have the least amount of personality.

Egg layers are kind of like writers, I guess. The ones with the most personality are the least productive. I can relate to that.

Bawk, bawk!

The Great Chicken Project begins

For those of you who aren't following me on twitter, you've probably missed my musings about how I want to start raising some chickens.

I know, I know. As my friend Shannon says, "They sh*t, sh*t, sh*t." And he should know; he has chickens.

But for the past few years I've joked about getting some chickens. It started maybe the first time we went to Key West; the island is overrun with chickens, and there's something a bit tropical about the clucking all around. There were chickens loose years before on Grand Cayman when we were on our honeymoon, and a couple of years ago when my sister and I joined my dad and stepmother in Hawaii.

Chickens, chickens everywhere and not an egg to eat.

My David is always talking about how he'd like to move out West, someplace where the hunting is good and our nearest neighbor is 100 miles away. He said if we moved, I could get a second dog and some chickens.

If you know me even a little bit, you know that while I am not a pampered woman by any means, the idea of being miles and miles from civilization sounds like a living hell. Even with high speed internet.

Then in April, I got a second dog. So I started to wonder why I had to move to the wilderness to have chickens.

So last week, when I was registering Bandit with the village office, I asked - half joking - about keeping chickens in the village.

And lo and behold, I can. All I need is a permit for each chicken and approval from the building inspector for the coop. David is totally on board; in fact, he's having fun designing the coop, although he did make a comment about me having a bright idea like this just four weeks before hunting season.

But there you go. With a simple OK from the Village, The Great Chicken Project has officially begun.

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So now I'm a "young girl"?

I was out this weekend looking at sheds and chicken coop ideas, when an older gentlemen said to me, "I had a couple of other young girls in this week looking for chicken coops."

I poked him on the arm. "That's so funny, you called me a 'young girl.'"

In dead seriousness, he said, "What are you, like 22?"

Let's assume he was being generous and guessing low, assuming I was in my 30s. Still, it was sweet.

"Double that and add one," I laughed - and he looked genuinely shocked. "I have a 24 year old daughter," I added.

"I never would have guessed that," he said. And then he showed me some sheds.

So that makes up for the comments this week about women my age who have bad eyesight, and who can't lose that soft middle and behind because "women our age" store fat differently, and women my age who ache every morning or who have gray hair that's hard to cover.

HA! I'm a young girl.

It's turning out to be one of "those" days

I should have know it was going to be one of those days when I woke up with a mild headache and a brilliant writing idea. Things could only go downhill from there.

The headache is likely due to two days of computer shopping and setting up two netbooks, one for my mom and one for darling David. I had a lot of fun with my mom and David is pretty good with the computer after his class. But I spent a lot of time looking for a neoprene sleeve to fit a 11.6" Acer, which I was told today technically isn't a netbook and so doesn't really have a sleeve. That alone tuckered me out.

This morning, I had an appointment with the contact lens tech at the eye dr, a follow up to my eye exam last week when I learned I need bifocals. I'd forgotten that they couldn't find my chart last week, and I probably should have called to see if they found it, because of course it was still MIA so they couldn't do anything.

If I had called, I wouldn't have had to go, which means I wouldn't have had to put my contacts in, which means my headache wouldn't have gotten horribly and quickly worse.

Good news: I didn't stress at all about the lost chart or the fact that I'd have to come back. While waiting, I think I found a pair of frames I love.

Bad news: I thought I'd better look around some more before I order them, so I went to the mall to a couple of eyewear stores and wasted a couple of hours looking at frames.

The result: my head is killing me and I feel nauseated.

The bright spot in the morning was this nifty writing idea that was on my mind when I woke up. It's something that I kind of tossed around with two writing friends a couple of weeks ago - doing something different every day or week for a year and writing about it.

I know, hardly a groundbreaking idea. But I love reading books written by people who tried something new for a specific period of time or set a goal for a year, and then wrote about it. AJ Jacob's The Know It All and The Year of Living Biblically. Kevin Roose's The Unlikely Disciple. I'm even reading Julie/Julia, about one woman's experience with Mastering The Fine Art of French Cooking.

My idea: you learn something new every day. Or a variation: try something new.

The premise is that for the great majority of my life I have been (and, to a certain extent, still am) ruled by fear. Or laziness. Or a combination of both. I have a list of things I've never done but wanted to do - from learning to change a tire to giving blood to taking a cross country road trip to writing a book.

At the same time, there are a lot of things I've done in recent years that were notable firsts for me that I would have liked to have written about: I read the entire Bible in a year. I took my dog through training to be certified as a therapy dog. (Shoot, just getting another dog was a first that I'm still feeling the effects of months later. )

When I talk about those firsts - applying for my pistol permit last week, for example - and share my fears, my ineptitude and general inability to accomplish much of anything, I always hear from people in the same boat who cheered me on and then found the courage to try something themselves.

Hence the idea: I do stuff for a year and write about it. Learn to change the oil in my car. Learn a new language. Maybe finish a writing project. You know, important stuff. And I'd let my friends help me find the challenges. You'd be surprised out many things are outside of my comfort zone. But I figure if I can do it, you can do it, so maybe the idea would inspire someone else.

It's not necessarily a bucket list - things I want to do before I die. It's more of a daily challenge to get off my butt, get out of the house and do something. Anything.

In any event, in the light of the morning it seemed like a brilliant idea. But as the day has worn on, I've come to the conclusion that it's probably a stupid idea, one that no one will care about. Since I rarely finish anything, I don't know how I would even manage to get through 12 months of adventures.

So here I am, at 1:48 PM, with a headache and backache, two dogs who really need some exercise, and just enough motivation to crawl to the couch and take a nap. Which I won't do. But I will think about it all day.

See, it's one of those days.

My eyeballs are as out of shape as the rest of my body

I went to the eye doctor this morning, where I learned that it's time for bifocals.

I had a feeling that would be the verdict. Two years ago I had a scratch on my cornea and had to stop wearing contacts for about 6 weeks, after which the doctor was surprised to see that my prescription had changed dramatically, and he thought I was borderline bifocals. Since I wear gas permeable lenses, and since there was such a drastic change, he wanted to wait and see how much more my eyes would change before he prescribed bifocals.

Needless to say, I haven't been back since.

But I've been having problems - eye fatigue, can't see up close in contacts, can't see at all for hours after I take out my contacts or after a couple hours reading.

Yup, it's time for bifocals.

As we age, the doctor explained, the muscles that we use to contract to see far and near start to get ... I don't remember the word he used, but "lazy" was what he implied. They can't contract as fast.

Same problem I have with every other muscle in my body.

I don't really care - when I was a kid I was part of some eye experiment to see if they could prolong or lessen the worsening of nearsightedness, so I had to have drops in my eyes at night and I had to wear bifocals (imagine a third grader having to constantly explain why her name is Elizabeth but you can call her Joanne, and no, there isn't some big scratch on her glasses; add in the goofy hairdo and you have a recipe for therapy 30 years later. But I digress.)

When I told the doctor I was curious if whatever they did had any effect, he replied, "Obviously not. Look at your prescription."

And so here I am looking at bifocals. One good suggestion the doctor made until I could get new glasses was to wear an older pair of glasses when I'm at the computer. Less strain on my eyes and less adjusting to distance when I'm done. And he's right; with these old glasses the screen is much clearer, and my eyes don't feel tired.

I don't know if there are exercises or yoga for eyeballs. If so, I probably would buy the tape and not use it anyway.

Besides, I'm getting enough exercise switching glasses.

Video: Extreme sheep herding

As the owner of two Border collies, this might be one of the coolest things I've ever seen.