I know, you’re not supposed to blog about why you haven’t been blogging. (Of course, you know how fond of blogging rules I am.) But I have been so. very. busy. in a not-online-for-blogging kind of way, and I thought you might like to know why.
(Please forgive my horrid photography, though the disco pink is a product of the heat lamp.)
Allow me to introduce the Timechooks. Fore-left is Perpugillium Brown (Peri), and nearly hidden behind her is Melanie Bush (Mel). To the right fore is Leela of the Sevateem, and right aft, the yellow fluffball, is Nyssa of Traken.1
Yes, they are all named after companions of the Doctor. Yes, I am unrepentantly geeky. Yes, I really am ok with this.
For context, because to some people this seems sudden — first I did not have chickens, and then I started talking about getting chickens, and a week later, Timechooks! — but in truth I have known I wanted chickens for longer than I knew I wanted children. And a mere 8 years, 2,500 miles, 4 houses, 1 mortgage, and 2 children later: chickens!
I am more than a little excited. Allow me to show you an interpretive dance of how excited I have been the last month:
But that is not all! Oh no! That box Leela is doing her Dance of Joy in, under Nyssa’s calm and watchful eye? That would be during an early stage of…
Veggie beds! And portable strawberry beds2! And no dog poop!3 A month and a half ago, this corner of our yard was grass and shit and sun. Because for once Portland in Springtime has been cooperative (yay sunny weekends!), and because I Was Determined, there are now two fully installed up and running vegetable beds (and strawberry beds!). Although obviously I hope we are able to harvest food from here, at this point I almost don’t care4 because I am so very proud of how much I have been able to do.
How proud? This proud:
BUT THAT’S NOT ALL!
Reasons the next
Having acquired chickens and installed a vegetable garden, the next several weeks will be spent building a coop to house the chickens and a fence to keep the two apart. And somewhere in there I have to finish painting my office (friends are staying with us in a couple months and would probably appreciate having some place other than the cupboard under the stairs5 to do it in), cook, clean, parent, and, y’know, not go crazy.
And I want to tell you about why these things are/are not amazingly good for my mental health, the joy in finally putting in to action desires I’ve had for nearly a decade, the satisfaction and pride of completing a project I’ve set out to do, the humility in realizing I cannot do it all (at least not at once), the sheer fun (and feminist implications) of working with power tools, and so much more –
But if you’ll excuse me, I have to go buy lumber.
- Their breeds, respectively, are Ameraucana, Speckled Sussex, Welsummer, and Buff Orpington. Now you know. ↩
- Made out of old PAX drawers from IKEA we hadn’t yet gotten around to tossing out, which yes I do believe was exceptionally clever of me. ↩
- Note: There is probably still dog poop. ↩
- Note: I care very much. ↩
- No really! We have a cupboard under the stairs! It is, I swear unto you, for reasons indiscernible but please someone become a multibillionaire writing a story why, pink! ↩