Sir Mix-A-Lot is Alive and Well in my House

I am so over my post traumatic vacation disorder that it is hardly worth mentioning. Nothing like industry and a lunatic kid (my son Wyatt) to make me forget any wrongs in the world and focus on the present.

Wyatt has been up to his worst. While in time out today for his ludicrous antics, spastic behavior, and name calling, he starts singing, "I like big butts and I can not lie..." Laughing hysterically at his own vocal prowess, I sighed deeply wondering if there is any hope for this child.

Then to make things more annoyingly worse my baby Ella starts in singing with him in her innocent wee toddler voice, "I wike big butts, I canot wye." Then she giggles in little fits while I resist the urge to pummel her brother.

In my head I am screaming at my husband who has been periodically chanting this once popular hip hop song as he walks around the house aimlessly indoctrinating my children with the verses.

I can't help but feel this song and the particular lyric is directed at me, and not in a good way. And for the record, I wear a size 12 pants and am just shy of 6 feet tall. However, I do not feel I have an abnormally sized buttock. I think I have a normal buttock to height ratio, but I could be wrong. Just being called big butt is disturbing on some level or another.

This is a picture that Wyatt took of my butt while he was on a wild photo shooting spree a few months back. I knew there was a reason I did not delete it. I needed some evidence!

Oh, before I forget. YES, Frogs in Your Formula, chocolate is the root of evil. Frogs and I have had a recent disagreement about "chocolate." And I am convinced that SIL, Suzi at Savy Suzi and her accomplice Cookie Girl are conspiring to put me in a size 14 via chocolate poisoning.

Yeah, I am that serious. Just eliminating my chocolate consumption to 0 as in zero or only one piece daily has resulted in the loss of 4 lbs of weight in a 6 day period. But I digress. I still maintain that I do not have an butt that would make anyone say OMG, she has a big butt and I can not lie...

Anyway my dearest and loving spouse and I have confrontations about what he thinks passes for human language. I am guessing my verbal standards are slightly higher than normal but why should I not expect my husband to rise to the occasion in parenting? Sadly, lets just say Mike has no filter between his brain and mouth and it results in some things getting through that just should not be said in front of kids.

Mike and I have had numerous conversations about his unsuitable topics and specific wordings and how it effects the kids vocabulary. This is pretty much what it is like every single stinking time. And by stinking I really mean F-ing.

I say, "Mike, do you even hear what you are saying right now?" Of course you must imagine me saying this in the annoying wife voice that all men hate.

Mike's response is, "Wha?"

The wife replies, "Um, let's see here.... You are singing Sir Mix-a-lot and chanting about big butts. Does this not occur to you? Your kids can hear you and repeat everything you say!!!!!"

Mike's response is, "Huh?"

My irate finale is, "Dude. Stop. It. Now. I don't need Ms. Cindy (Wyatt's preschool teacher) reporting to me how Wyatt is telling the 4 year old girls how he likes "big butts." SERIOUSLY Quit it."

"Oh they don't listen to me anyway," Mike finally replies with a nonchalant wave of his hand and shrug of his shoulder. Basically, he is dismissing my implication of his guilt in our children's non standard language edification.

"When the principal calls us from Kindergarten, you know, real school, YOU are going to be the one getting off work to deal with the situation. I will not be going to school on behalf of you. YOU can explain it all to the school staff," I retaliate vehemently.

Then Mike replies, "OK. No problem."

He makes me ill some times.

And on a totally random side, Suzi sent me this and I thought I would answer for the world to see.

Three names I go by

1. Julia
2. mom
3. neighhhhh!

Three jobs I have had in my life
1. Biological Consultant
2. ice cream scooper
3. flower delivery woman

Three places I have lived
1. Honolulu, Hawaii
2. Mountain View, CA
3. Davis, CA

THREE TV Shows that I watch
1. American Idol
2. Ugly Betty
3. Ummmm do Blogs count?

Three places I have been
1. Hoover Dam
2. New York City
3. Anzo Borego Desert

Three people that e-mail me regularly
1. Suzi
2. Kirra
3. Aunt Karen

Three of my favorite foods
1. Broccoli
2. Brussel Sprouts
3. Spinach

See I am taking this no chocolate thing really seriously.

Three things I am looking forward to
1. Wine and Cheese pairing party this weekend
2. Going to a horse show this summer
3. Some day having a bigger house

That's all folks. Keeping it light tonight!

I Just Don't Know

I just came back from vacation and should feel great right? Well, a non-specific brand of melancholy or maybe just unease has settled into my body for which I have no rational explanation. While pulling weeds and watering my garden I muddled through my mind, turning over the random thoughts of discontent that floated between my ears.

The squashing of mud through my crocks and happy talk from my toddler did not seem to console me. As Ella ran around barefooted in her underwear chasing the cat saying, "Meow, meow, meow," louder and then quietly, alternating in her effect practicing her vocal skills, I tore out rip-gut brome, curly dock and Italian rye grass. They invade my landscaping no matter what I do. Plucking out the aliens from my beds did not seem to dissipate my malcontent or broodiness.

"I help you, MawMaw?" my bright cherub asked me. She has a joyful countenance which cheers all in her sphere. Moments of brightness and sparks of light come from her little aura. She can't help it. It is effortless for her.

"Of course, Ella Belle," I replied softly. She meandered in and out of my work area along our berm. I let her come and go as she pleased.

Drifting back to me, gravity pulling her, she questioned, "I water da poppies, MawMaw?" The sparkling girl came back after looking at some ladybugs and wanted help in her way.

"O.K. sure," I responded since I could not dampen her eagerness.

Back and forth the ebb and flow of our morning work was tidal. I know she will always come back to me again. My baby girl acts like our moon, a glowing satellite circling round her earth bound Mommy. She nears me and changes the flow of our little ocean, gently moving the course of our work.

Thusly occupied, my mind spinning in a planetary trajectory, I ran though the varied and fractured thoughts that were plaguing me. A day ago, my Gemma horse whacked a tendon somewhere and now needs to be wrapped and rested for MORE time off. Thus my monthly lesson is likely to be canceled next week.

Then I lamented the extra pounds that vacation gifted me, albeit back to my normal schedule they are leaving like a slowly moving fog. Lifting over the next few days, I think things will be back to normal on the scale of things. But chocolate is evil, that I know.

Later hanging laundry to dry in the wind and sun, I wondered if it was just that I was awakened by howling and screeching every two hours last night. Wyatt has a severe ear infection and is insufferable with his misery. I feel like screaming at the poor child, but maintain neutrality to the best of my ability at his lamentations.

However, being ripped from my sleep just as the weeds were torn from their earthy beds, I suffered root shock from his shrieking, "Mommy! My ear is popping. Can you hear it? It hurts!"

I don't enjoy hanging laundry. Too many pieces, not enough space, too much time. The lingering headache from Wyatt's screams was not helping my distaste for saving money...in this manner. I still refuse to line dry the socks and underwear and they go in the drier.

The bright sunshine and gorgeous weather has little effect, it just leads to the damned hot summer that is forthcoming. I have to shake off the gloom and doom somehow. But not being a person who is easily kept down or even so much as depressed I battled back the glowering in my mind since there is no rest for the weary.

I walked to the house so I could feed the little beasties their lunch before nap time. The steps to my house land on gravel base rock. I hate the rocks. Just one more thing to make me annoyed. They migrate onto my deck and in the house. I don't hate much but I hate that gravel.

Cooking lunch I pondered that maybe it is the economy, both stagnant and oppressive threatening to send us into the poor house. My little cooking angel dragged her chair over to help me with the preparations saying, "Kye schmell dat?" Then taking a big sniff declared, "Yummy! Kye taste dat?" The words "Can I" have somehow morphed into "Kye." She always brightens my day in a way that no amount of sunny weather can.

That voice in my head says, "The basics lady. Just the basics." We can feed our selves and have a place to live. Some folks are much worse off then us. There are a handful of bloggers whom I know have hit very hard times, so by comparison we are just fine for now.

We are not there yet, but if things keep on like they are, we could be in trouble eventually. That being said, Mike and I have discussed at length during our drive to Washington where we could relocate if the worst of worst happens. The emergency back up plan to date is liquidate and move out of state. Mike wants to move to Nashville, Tennessee for some reason that he can not lucidly explain. I do not like hot and humid. I would insist staying on the west coast unless some other overwhelming consideration could sway me to go elsewhere. So that being said, why do you like where you live and would you recommend us moving there?? And how are you feeling all this weight?

Hopefully, this moody spell will pass. It always does sooner or later. The circles go round and round once again...

We're Back!

This is going to be the mother of all photo posts. Just so you are warned. I throw in a few words every now and again just so you know I am still here. The short summary: we hiked and biked, played at parks, ate a lot, visited much, drove many miles and had lots of fun.

One of the frequent visitors to our cottage were the numerous hummingbirds fighting over the feeder outside the kitchen window. They were great. We don't have this species at home so this was a special treat.

Also, I kept hearing a loud shrieking call from what I knew had to be a larger bird and finally figured out that the ospreys were a dime a dozen on Bainbridge Island. In fact they were nesting on a water tower at nearby Battlepoint Park. Then, driving down the free way, I frequently spotted bald eagles cruising around the edge of the waters. It is undeniable that the mighty big and mighty small convene in the Pacific north west.


We took the ferry into Seattle to visit with family. The ferry is like the coldest hair dryer you have ever used. Your hair whips anywhere and everywhere and you are eating hair and doing your best to see around your long tresses....


Basically, if you like the way your hair looks, never get out of your car while aboard the ferry, because you will have a rats nest by the time you are done with the 3o minute ride.


That concept does not apply when you have excited kids, however.


Wyatt liked walking around the deck looking for mischief. He gets a little wild glint in his eye and I thank the safety professionals that there is wire caging material surrounding the deck.

He just can not help himself. He is a wild child.

But one more nice picture with Dad and we put the camera away and enjoyed the wind tossing us around like rag dolls.


We visited with my cousins in Seattle and took a picture of all the cousin's kids. The kids in the picture are from left to right: Ella and Wyatt, Mia and Hanna (my cousin Kiel's kids), and Grant, Alex and Emma (my cousin Greg's kids)


Walking through the woods, second cousins once removed (or something like that), Ella and Mia walked hand in hand.


Down at the beach the kids could not resist going in the water. I say no thank you!!! Way to cold even for me.

My dear and loving spouse looking stern and tough.

My sweet boy looking stern and tough.

The day before we left we visited the skate park on Bainbridge Island. They have a great skate pit where Mike could jump his bike a little. It's not really meant for bikes and they have signs up saying skate boards only but since no one was around we just went for it.


The graffiti was appropriate for a skate park I think. There were the obligatory skulls and zombie faces, profanity and drug references and undecipherable word pairings.



Wyatt not one to back down from a challenge dropped in too!


The men can actually share the same space. Amazing.


And Ella not to be left out of anything ran around in the bottom of the bowls getting in the way of everything. Good thing it was just us in the park that morning.


And we took a family portrait with my aunt Karen, and cousin Greg's family on their lawn. My Aunt has quite a view of Puget Sound!


Finally, to close out the vacation I am showing Ella playing on a piano that has been in our family for many generations. It belonged to my great grandfather on my moms side of the family. Maybe Ella will learn to play an instrument in the tradition of both of my parents. I somehow did not have the patience when I was 6 years old. I can only hope she is more focused than me!


And after cleaning my house and floors and laundry and kids and truck I am ready for my own personal vacation! It's just back to the grind again!

Pictures from Bainbridge Island. Can You Say Vacation?

After a 14 hour car ride and two amazingly good children we arrived at Bainbridge Island, WA. It is beautiful with it's tall trees and lots of water. The quote of the day was from Ella who said, "I wanna look at da big pond."


I am always amazed when I see trees as precariously perched as this one along the shoreline.


Ella likes the little kid chairs at out rental cottage. They are on the porch an she thought they were just right to bring out her blanket and bunny for a little snuggle. While we were watching the local fauna including chickadees, towhees and hummingbirds I caught site of something big moving through the trees.... Bragging rights go out to the first reader who can id this bird.


We have spent some time terrorizing downtown BI on bicycle and Mike has not yet been chased along the street with disgruntled towns people, but that is only a day away from occurring. Mike likes to ride his bike down steps and bunny hop benches and shrubs and such... We did however spare the city center from Mikes presence by visiting a waterfront park where Wyatt and his Dad could pedal in total freedom.


Ella and I brought up the rear in the stroller and Ella thought pulling the beanie down over her eyes was the best fun in the world.

That's better!

Finally, here's a picture of Ella and I along the rocky shore line.


Tomorrow we will go to Seattle on the ferry! That is always so much fun. Driving a car onto a boat is always a little exciting and strange to me.

I will be back visiting blogs next week. I just wanted to put up a brief summary just so ya'll know why I have been kind of sparse lately. Bye for now!!

New Definitions

I think this photo gives a new meaning to "kiss my ass."

Why Men Like Motors

From a very early age Wyatt wanted to be behind the wheel of power. It started with a simple,

"Hey Mom, look at me!"

Some of his early words were, "John Deer." He made a very grumpy old man driving the miniature John Deere gator.

"I got corn to tend, Lady! No time for pictures now..."

And when motorized vehicles were not available he attempted to coerce his cousin Adam into pushing him around the yard. Not such an easy feat considering the base rock is not a smooth surface.

"PUSH ME ADAM!!!!"

Then with bigger things on his mind it turned into,

"Can I just please start the tractor now mom?"

And with a need for speed he was saying,

"I am totally going to ride this here dirt bike one day soon!"

And on Easter all the boys got to drive the tractors for real. And you can see them wearing their "manprons" (aprons for men) in action!

A Holiday Portrait

I actually got a picture of everybody today using my handy tripod! I knew it would come in handy at some point. I wish everyone a happy holiday.


Don't mind Trevor, on the bottom right, he refuses to take pictures. He is so pleasant like that...

"How To"- By My Son Wyatt

The other day I was busy organizing the 7,500+ digital pictures that are on my computer. Yes, I said 7,500. Sickening is it not? Lets just say my kids are never going to wonder what they looked like when they were growing up. But the fact that I was preoccupied with electronic filing was undeniable.

Meanwhile, Lucky kitty, the infamous cat who's twin was killed out on the road, was playing in the house with the kids. Here's Lucky in a tree. He loves to climb trees.


Well, lets just say that Wyatt was playing with Lucky, and Lucky was not objecting in any recognizable form to the games. My son likes to wrap the cat in blankets, carry him around, and otherwise treat him like a stuffed animal.


I was throwing out the usual advice, "Be careful with the cat. Hey, don't do THAT! He may scratch you." and so on. I am a good mommy after all and not totally preoccupied with the computer. It shows right?

Wyatt, paying no heed to any of these words of caution, herded Lucky into the bathroom for some mysterious reason. Then my child went inside and shut the door behind him.

With the click of the closing door, I was thinking, "Hmmmm. Looks like trouble. Smells like trouble. Trouble will follow. It is really only a matter of time."

I called out, "Wyatt, let the cat out of the bathroom."

Silence.

I repeated with a stronger urgency, "Wyatt, you have to let the cat out of the bathroom."

Still no reply. I sat and organized photos for a few more moments. OK maybe a few more minutes longer since there were no screams of terror from either the cat or the kid. I mean, what could they possibly be doing in there anyway? I heard some bumping and rustling, but that could be normal right?

Seeing as how curiosity killed the cat, I had to get up and see just what the heck they were doing in there. One must take into account that Wyatt was trying to pee on the rooster last week, so I would not put it past him to try the same trick with the cat.

Rising to walk the short distance to the bathroom, I could hear running water as I neared the entry. Turning the handle and cracking open the door, I was not prepared for what was inside. Frankly speaking, no parent wants to see what I witnessed.

My child had a sink full of water, soapy bubbles on his right hand and a very wet cat clutched in his left hand. As I looked upon the scene, Wyatt looked up at me and proceeded to gently wrap both of his hands around Lucky's chest. Then he dipped the cat's posterior in the water. Then lifting the cat out of the sink he placed him on the counter and started to brush the wet fur with his soapy hand while carefully holding the front half of the cat with his other hand.

There was water all over the floor. A sheet of water lie on the counter top and around the sink. One wet black cat was held by an equally wet boy. All this in a matter of four unsupervised minutes.

There was no sign of struggle from Lucky. My son did not have his eyes scratched out. Apparently, the cat accepts bathing by children now, among all the other things he tolerates.

"What are you doing?" I asked. I guess this was kind of obvious. He was washing the cat. The better question was my follow up, "Why are you washing the cat?"

I must admit that during this strange encounter, my attempt to hide laughter was impossible. I was chuckling wholeheartedly at the site of the two of them in the bathroom. The fact that my son was not irreversibly scarred for life was amazing. Any other cat I have ever know would have dug it's claws into human flesh leaving five inch slashes and yowled like it's fur was on fire. But not Lucky.

Wyatt then said assertively, "Mom, Lucky's butt stinks. I needed to wash his buttock. I did it cause I needed to." And yes, Wyatt likes to use the word, "buttock." Daily, I thank my husband for that lovely addition to Wyatt's vocabulary.

Since we adopted Lucky, we have noticed he does smell more than any other cat we have ever owned. Actually, I don't think I can remember any other feline with whom I have been acquainted ever having a discernible smell. There is usually an odor in Lucky's vicinity. It is like a special aura. In fact, Lucky might possibly be half or one quarter skunk. He farts like a dog and if you happen to be holding him at the time of emission the resultant stench clings to your clothes for at least five minutes. So it is no understatement that Lucky's butt smells a little. Instead of "Walter the Farting Dog" I could write children's books on "Lucky the Farting Feline." What publisher do I pitch that one too?

"I don't think you should be washing the cat, Wyatt." I continued my response through smiles and restrained laughter. "It's not funny to wash the cat. Really, Wyatt, he could scratch you badly. If that was Shmobie you'd be in the emergency room."

This is Shmobie below. He's a 20 pounder...

"But Mom, Lucky does not mind. Really!" My son had a point. The cat was sitting calmly in his hands complete with water dripping off his back. Or it's just that Wyatt knows how to wash a cat properly.

Nothing had gone wrong yet, so I took this as a sign and I repossessed the cat from Wyatt. I let Lucky free in the living room where he immediately sat down and began to lick himself in a workman like manner. It was just another day at our property for him. Then Wyatt and I cleaned up the flooded bathroom.

I think Lucky is basically the best dog we have ever had.

Easter Bunny's, Pumpkins, Orchards and Poppies-Random at it's Best

We were without home phone, cell phone or Internet access for the past 36 hours due to the sabotage of the fiber optic lines in our region. Amazingly we survived! It is hard to imagine that only ten years ago I did not even use the Internet or have a cell phone.

However, Easter is near... Do you have an emergency plan just in case the BUNNY eats all the loot before delivery?


And did you know Halloween costumes are great to pull out and let the kids go wild about now? Somehow Wyatt decided he need to wear his old Pumpkin costume which now is three inches too short for his legs and gives him a massif wedgie, but these wardrobe malfunctions did not seem to matter... And cousin Trevor, is wearing a size 2T lion costume which look like Bermuda shorts. But seeing as they both want to ride the rocking horse it makes for fabulous entertainment for all.


Here is a picture of a pear tree in our little orchard that I have been tending for several years in hopes that we will have our own fruit and be somewhat more self sufficient. These trees are going on four years old and are really putting on some size now.


Another monumental achievement this week was replacement the drip line in our little orchard for the FOURTH time... Very sore spot for me since my dear and loving husband inattentive and inconsiderate husband has mowed the irrigation system AGAIN. And this year, as a preventative measure, I wound up all the lines into nice neat coils and placed them on the berm outside of the flat mowing areas. BUT my husband backed the mower up the berm and mowed the lines anyway.

There were a few foul words thrown around our place over this little incident. But I did not take pictures of the carnage. I was just too disturbed. But imagine a mower with 200 feet of black tubing wrapped around the blades. Kind of like an tractor with hundreds of tentacles...


And my final parting shot is of my California poppies which are blooming in profusion in my garden. They are joyful and bode well for a good weekend.

Happy Easter!

The Rooster Report

I was finishing who knows what out in the field next to our house yesterday, and I looked over toward the chicken enclosure to see Wyatt and his cousin Trevor in the poultry pen. They were stalking some bird or another, but I really don't care anymore. If the hens have not learned to run from the kids by now, then they must suffer the consequences.

Then I watched the boys pivot toward Mr. D, the resplendent Danish rooster. Unaware of the fact they were being monitored, they had some form of mischief on their mind. As I peered across a span of 100 feet, I could see two parallel streams of yellow water arching toward the fowl bird. Yes folks, the boys were trying to pee on the rooster. It was funny, but I had to make them stop and see their evil ways while stifling my chuckles.

What is a mom to do? Cocks peeing on cocks. But never was there a better transition to bring up the topic of our roosters.

I have been waiting, or rather procrastinating, and dragging my heals in the mud with hopes that I would have pictures worthy of featuring our two beloved and adored roosters. And by beloved and adored, I really mean annoying and aggressive. Then there is this little voice in my head that says, "Yes, dumb ass. Roosters are supposed to try to kill you." In summary, they are turning into total a-holes. Yeah, imagine that. Mean roosters. Go figure. Again, my husband and brother-in-law revel in delight that "they" are developing territorial behavior.

First order of business is to discuss their personal appearance...

When the "foul-fowl" arrived we knew they were going to be ugly. We were warned they were shy a few feathers. But that they defined the term"eye sore" was another matter of which I was cogent upon their delivery. They were ugly. Beaten with a gigantic ugly stick ugly. And I aways wanted pretty chickens. I have since given up on this lofty dream of mine. I will settle for total skin coverage at this point. If they develop tails, that would just be a bonus.

Basically, our chickens have been poster children for Rogaine or feather transplants, or hair loss concealer that colored hair spray that stupid bald guys use to cover their dome. And by stupid bald guys I only mean those who think there is a chance in hell that hair spray will cure their ill fated genetic coding... Sorry bald men, I am just stating the obvious. There are those sexy bald guys like Patric Stewart and Yul Brynner, but our roosters are not in that league. However, I guess the likelihood of my offending bald guys is about as good as our chickens growing feathers since I only have female readers, of which I am aware.

But on to the roosters... One of our roosters was especially afflicted by a pronounced feather loss pattern across his buttock, legs and tail regions. Rhodie, affectionately named after his breed type, Rhode Island Red, was by no understatement the most bald of the motley menagerie. However, over the winter notable progress could be seen in feather growth across the obscene rear end of this fowl bird. I was getting my hopes up since it appeared that a toupee like carpet of auburn colored feathers hung over Rhodie's butt, looking like a good comb over. Did I just write good comb over?? Is there such a thing. I guess The Donald could take a few lessons from our birds. In summary, there are now feathers where there were none before so I have to take this as a good thing.

(Somebody asked why they have a lack of feathers and it boils down to pecking. The Danish hens peck the feathers off everybody...)

Here are some before and after photos to demonstrate my apparent frustration with my fugly roosters.

Below is what they look like nine months later.

Rhodie has coverage of his butt, but still has no tail...

The colorfully feathered Mr. D is at least trying to grow something from his ass.



Enough already about the physical...It what is inside that really counts.

Week by week, little by little, Rhodie the rooster has finally shown he has balls. They may be hard to see but they are undeniable there. Mr D established himself as fully testicled early after his arrival since he would periodically jump the kids just for fun.

Just last week our pair of roosters, Mr D. and Rhodie proved they can assert their manhoods in a new and deadly manner. I was told a little story by my SIL, Suzi (Savy Suzi), about some character development in our two adorable and affectionate feisty and increasingly territorial roosters. In fact, these mini pit bulls with feathers paired up for a mutant Ninja rooster style attack on poor defenseless Suzi. All they needed were little black masks and death star blades strapped to their spurs to make the picture complete.

I did some research on "ninjas" and found that they wear special slippers with a split-toe design that improves gripping and wall/rope climbing. They are soft enough to be virtually silent, thus decked out in some three-toed black ninja slippers these birds would have been impossible to detect... Suzi would have been doomed, but lucky for her the rooster ninja masters have not made it to our property yet...

Attack of the Ninja Roosters

Thank Ye Olde Dame Penniweg!

The story goes like this:

Standing on the back porch Mr Ninja-D who is "skilled in the art of going unperceived," was quietly doddling around near the door. He was blending with his environment and trying to look like one of those painted wooden rooster ornaments you see in old country stores.

He was standing still, oh so very still. Suzi, blinded to the fact that a live rooster was guarding her door, went to enter the house. Biggggggg mistake! At the moment she went for the door, the ninja rooster awoke to blast poor Suzi's leg with a double spur attack.

Once and twice the violent spurring persisted, but Savy Suzi combated the assault with a Karate Kid kick sending the cockerel flying off the porch, tumbling head over heals down the wooden steps. Score: 1 for Suzi, 0 for rooster. Apparently, Suzi has been training with a master herself.

Since by definition ninja means, "one skilled in the art of stealth," Rhodie the cockerel ninja snuck up on Suzi in the chicken's pen with intent to assassinate her. She does after all steal all the eggs from HIS hens, so retribution was in order!

Sidling up to Suzi slowly at first, Rhodie inched his way carefully into an attack position. When he got within three feet of her legs he sprung in to action. Raising his hackles he charged Suzi, spurs flashing.

But Suzi pulled out her own Crouching Tiger Hidden Dragon martial arts moves to combat the assault. I think she actually levitated and did a cartwheel kick to send Rhodie flying backwards into the metal wire fencing. He bounced of the mesh and dusted off his feathers, still stalking Suzi but, was then aware of Suzi's Ninja prowess. Lets just call her Master Suzi, now. Score: 2 for Suzi, 0 for the roosters!

So you see, having roosters is just a lot of fun. And you just never know when that special attack will occur, plotted especially for you. It's nice to know you are loved by your chickens now isn't it!

I guess maybe those roosters deserve to be peed on once in a while...hee hee....


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