Eggs

January 4, 2010

I love having my own chickens and getting fresh eggs. Every morning I walk from my house to the barn to feed the animals. As I approach the barn the chickens hear me and begin "talking" to me. They greet me by flying up above the partition of their coop so they can see me and confirm I'm really there. When I open the gate to their pen they all rush forward and gather around my feet, making it really difficult to walk.

I check their water and food, and then head for the hen house. This the best part--gathering the eggs. It's like Christmas--okay, maybe more like Easter--when I slowly open the door to reveal what my chickens--my wonderful, smart, talented chickens--have given me today!

Sometimes it's only two eggs--it is winter after all. But sometimes it's as many as six eggs. And they are all a beautiful variation of green: sage, mint, moss.

I don't know which hens are laying and which aren't. Maybe they take turns. I'm sure they will all be laying when summer comes along. Then I will have nine eggs a day! I can't possibly use them all, so why I bought nine chicks to raise, I can't tell you. Of course, I didn't know then that they would all be hens, but I wouldn't have it any other way.

And it's funny how I can't waste any of the eggs. When I used to buy eggs at the store--you know, those plain, boring, white eggs--I never thought twice about making an egg-white omelet and tossing the yolks. I know it's healthier to eat just the whites, but I can't waste any part of what my "girls" have created for me!

So, it's eggs for breakfast each morning; scrambled with veggies, over-easy with turkey bacon, hard-boiled for egg-salad. Oh, and don't forget the deviled eggs I make as an appetizer for almost every party I attend!

Anyone need any eggs?

Wakeful Moments

January 3, 2010

I'm best in the wee hours of the morning. No, I'm not talking about sex. I'm talking about ideas.

I wake up almost every night at about 2 a.m. with my brain in full gear remembering the things I'd forgotten to do the day before, worrying about money, coming up with a new marketing idea for my business--and creating my next blog. Like this one!

My husband grumbles as I fight the wakefulness at first. I toss and turn and fluff my pillow yet again, trying to get the sand man to sprinkle more sleep on me before finally giving up and turning on the light.

First, I reach for my handy-dandy pad of paper and pen always sitting faithfully on my nightstand. I capture the illusive idea; make the to-do list; write the worries and how to fix them--all while listening to my husband snore away in blissful sleep. I envy how he can sleep through the night with never a worry. Oh, I forgot. I do all the worrying for the family! I think it was part of that invisibile contract I signed when becoming a wife and mother.

Anyway, once I've scribbled the latest wakeful though, I turn to my sleep aid. Again, no, not sex. A book. This is when I get most of my reading done too. But these aren't the books I'm supposed to be reading: "Making the Most of Your Business," "How to Shear Sheep," "Growing the Biggest Pumpkins." We're talking juicy, romantic, sex-filled vampire books (okay, at least lately since there are so many of them now). Did I say "not sex" earlier? Well, maybe I was wrong. Maybe it IS sex that gets me back to sleep--at least vicariously through my book...