Look What We Are Having For Thanksgiving!

Gobble! Gobble! Gobble!



Bob called me yesterday and said he'd picked up a couple turkeys and to get the shed ready for some new babies. So let me introduce my turkeys. We've named them Thanksgiving and Christmas.



What you talking about?

I know next to nothing about turkeys, except they poop MORE than meat chickens and are possibly even dumber. Fortunately, we only have two, so how bad can it be?



He also brought home three Leghorns for egg-laying. Leghorns are the industry standard for the large white eggs you see in the store, and we get 95 percent of our eggs from Leghorns. Bob wants a bird that is going to lay every day and has a good feed conversion ratio.

I prefer colorful eggs, but it's his backyard, so I figure what's three more?



Our birds have a good life. They free range all day long.



When I go over in the mornings, they are usually in the weeds by the tennis court.



I bring them over all our bad produce and I would hazard to guess that they eat better than a lot of my children's classmates, or even some of my friends. You know who you are.

So it pains me to say that I am probably going to have to cull one.

I've learned a lot about myself on this venture and it's really not that different than being a business owner. When we owned our business, we treated all our clients with respect. We were friendly with them. We got to know them.

But they weren't our friends.

Likewise, when we bought the rental homes, I have refused to get sucked into our tenants' drama. I have grown to like them. Greg is very respectful.

But they aren't our friends.

I will kick them out in a heartbeat.

So when I came upon Bareback eating an egg the other day, I knew that I had a serious problem, because of my chicken support group. Egg-eating hens will wreck your whole flock. OMG. I have a FLOCK. It's a bad habit to break, and once they start pecking eggs and get a taste of it, they will teach the other hens to do it.

Egg eating is punishable by the death penalty.

I like the egg-laying chickens. I treat them respectfully and humanely. I like their personalities. I have gotten friendly with them.

But they are not my pets.

They have a job to do and if they don't do it, then I cannot afford to keep them alive.

So she gets one more chance and then I'll have Bob turn her into soup.

Meanwhile, I have put decoy eggs in their nests.



The idea behind the decoy is that when she pecks it and it does nothing, then she will lose interest and hopefully that will break the habit. She was the one sitting on eggs and now she is eating them. She's completely psychotic.

If anyone else reading this wants to chime in or has any other ideas, I sure would appreciate chicken advice.

It's not easy being a farmer.

EDITED TO ADD:

Oh my hell. Those turkeys are going to turn into these beasts?



What the??????????????????? Oh, I'm SO SURE I'm gutting that thing. Uh huh.

The Terrible Stress I Am Under

Does anyone read The Amazing Trips?

Could she be under more stress? She has to decide in only a matter of weeks whether to move, not move, keep working, or quit her job. I actually get anxiety reading her blog lately.

On the complete opposite side of the spectrum would be my life right now. The only stess I have going on is trying figure out whether to rent a house or a condo when we go to Traverse City, Michigan in July. Greg's mom is leaving in May and won't be back until October.

While I know she loves us dearly and would do anything for us, she cannot let us all stay with her in her 2 bedroom condo because she would go insane and then she would die prematurely. We are too loud for her and she can't handle loud noises. She can only stand to be around us for short periods of time, which I completely understand, because I can only barely stand us. Not to mention she is too nice and the kids milk this to their advantage and work her constantly.

Greg is driving her car out to Traverse City in a couple weeks, which he informed me is going to take him TWO WEEKS. He has a detour at his alumni golf outing in Southern Michigan to attend. I yelled at him for seriously thinking he could get away with a two week trip.

"Isn't this when you take the kids to Disneyland by yourself with your friends?"

UGH. Yes, IT IS. But two of my friends' husbands have cancer this year, so I really don't think that joining me on a Disneyland trip is high up on their agenda.

But I will be going somewhere, you can bet your last dollar on that one.

Does anyone else in the universe let their husband hobnob around with old football buddies several weeks a year, OR IS GREG THE LUCKIEST MAN THAT EVER LIVED?

So back to summer, we have been on a quest to find a vacation rental within a short distance of Grammy's condo and we have narrowed it down to these two choices.

The first would be a 2 bedroom/loft, 2200 square foot house on a half acre. It is located one mile from downtown.





It is only $700 per week. The cons are that it doesn't have a/c and it's a mile from the beach. The pros are that it's on a 1/2 acre and has that giant driveway and we could cut the kids loose and have a real vacation where we just sit around on the front porch. Because it's so inexpensive, we could spend two weeks, instead of one.

OR

We could rent another condo right across the street from the beach.




This is $1300 a week. The cons are that it's a condo, with people living close to our loud family. The kids have to play inside or we have to plan every minute of every day to make sure we get them out and about. The pro is that it has a/c and is right across from the beach. If you recall, last year when the kids were holed up in Grammy's condo, they jumped off the bed and swung on the ceiling fan, tore the towel racks off the wall, put crayons in her heat register, and Austin jumped from the bed to the window and fell out, plummeting to the earth 1 1/2 stories below him.

They really need to be able to go run in the streets where it is safe.

Do you see the enormous amount of stress I'm under? What to do? What to do? Flip a coin?

Or just ask you guys and you can tell me what to do, because that's what I do to Jen at Amazing Trips. I try to solve her life problems from my little ranch house in the desert.

So the question of the day is condo or house?

The Drama Never Ends!

Have you ever in your life seen an uglier chicken? Honestly. I thought all chickens were ugly, but this one isn't going to win any beauty contests.

Greg killed my babies. I had them in an egg carton on the counter and when I got up yesterday morning, he had put them in the refrigerator.

"How COULD YOU? You KILLED MY CHICKENS!!!!"

"How would I know? I thought you left eggs out on the counter. I thought I was doing you a FAVOR!"

GAH! GAH! GAH!

I went and put them under the old girl just the same.

Then Bob went out and gathered them and then he ate them.

GAH! GAH! GAH!

We are having a serious lack of communication here. Is it me? Or is it THE MEN?

I was ready to throw the towel in yesterday, but then Greg said we could drop all the kids off at school and go out to lunch. A lunch date to make up for the murder.

I wanted to go get some gluten free food at P F Changs and then walk around Williams Sonoma and look at overpriced cookware.

Instead, Greg drove me to right where the ghetto turns into the barrio, and we ate at Pepe's Tacos. Gluten free. This is my favorite review online.

Okay lets get the facts out of the way;
1. The place is a dump.
2. It is a quik service place.
3. Prices are very reasonable.

If you are in the mood for fast mexican food that tastes muy bueno - this is the place! Cheap eats and authentic taqueria type food

I had carne asada and it was truly muy bueno and they just won Best Of Las Vegas from the Review Journal for tacos. Just bring your gun for safety when you go there.

Then we went and walked around the African-American Beauty Supply Warehouse and I almost bought some Kate Gosselin hair extensions.

To top off the date, we drove to the other side of the parking lot and perused the aisles of the Habitat For Humanity store, and I got seed packets for 10 cents each.

We definitely travel in different circles. I wouldn't even begin to know how he knew about Pepe's.

To change the subject completely, we have had major tooth envy going on over here. The kids have been devastated that they haven't lost any teeth, when all their friends have. We have discussed at length the injustice of being the last person ON EARTH to lose a tooth.



But, yesterday, Amanda was the first to get a wiggle. You have never seen such hysteria.



Greogry and Sarah CRIED AND CRIED because their teeth aren't loose. Amanda was the first one to get a tooth, so it only stands to reason that she would be the first to lose one.

Ten bucks says Gregory is in the garage with pliers tomorrow.

Do you know what this means? This means their adult teeth are on their way and then we are going to go bankrupt with braces.

The drama never ends.

I'm Having Triplets Again

The kids and I swung by the Strip on our way home from the feed store yesterday.

I bet nobody else can say that in Las Vegas.

We stopped by the conservatory at the Bellagio to check out their spring display. It was absolutely beautiful and we could smell the flowers, instead of cigarette smoke, as soon as we walked in the door.

If you've never been there, I highly recommend it.

I like to walk around and pretend I'm a tourist. I had a young couple come up and ask me to take their picture. The boy told me that they had come to Vegas to get married in a chapel.

I told them I got married in a chapel on the Strip too, and I'm still here and have four kids now.

Watch your drinks, people.

I had to go to the feed store again because my chickens are eating 50 pounds of feed a week. I am only getting three or four eggs a day, because my young chickens haven't started laying yet, and the bare-backed ones aren't laying every day.

In fact, I've got more chicken drama.

I have a hen that has gone broody and is trying to incubate eggs that aren't fertilized because we don't have a mature rooster. She was sitting on three eggs the other day and wouldn't get off to save her life. I thought about reaching under her and taking them, but she was giving me the stink eye and I was afraid she'd take a chunk out of my arm.

So I got the rake and booted her off and she started clucking her head off, like I was murdering her babies.

Of course, I was murdering her babies, because I wanted to make egg salad and she wasn't getting off my darn eggs.

Then after I got home and ate, I started feeling bad for her. Even if I had left the eggs in there, she would have sat on them for two weeks and they wouldn't have hatched. So I started scanning Craigslist to buy some fertilized eggs to switch out with the infertile ones she keeps sitting on.

Cuz I'm becoming a chicken hoarder and I need therapy.

But get this, I told this story to my neighbor, Jen, and she said, "The lady that lives behind me has chickens. She has a rooster too. Why don't you go knock on her door and ask her for some fertilized eggs."

And this is how I came to have three fertilized eggs today. I have no idea what I'm doing or if the broody chicken will get back on the nest. These eggs are from smuggled rare Asian chickens and I think I should have some of those.

The lady told me that a woman brought them over in her bra.

While we were walking the Strip, a smut peddler said to me, "What ...... is this a kindergarten class?"

"Yes. Yes it is actually."

"Wow. I never had a kindergarten teacher that looked like you.", he leered at me.

"That's because I'm their mother."

HUH?

Then we swung by Target so I could return my translucent white spaghetti strap birthday shirt.


Then I bought a pack of gum and kept the change.

I definitely can't carry my new triplet babies around in my bra wearing THAT!

The Haul

It was quite a haul yesterday.


The kids were more excited than me to open my presents. I got three coffee mugs! This one says Little Miss Chatterbox on it.

Austin got me a cowboy hat for gardening. Amanda got me a birthstone bear.

Sarah got me a ceramic chicken.

Greg got me some NEW comfort waist green pants.

"Do I look that big to you?", I asked him as I held the gargantuan sized pants up.

"I thought comfort waist meant you could adjust the waist.", he said.

Yes. You can adjust the waist just like in 4T pants. WHAT?

Greg's 71 year old mother said, "Those are lovely."

But wait, there's more.

He got me a white spaghetti strap shirt that can't be worn with a bra.

I'm wearing this to the next PTA meeting and I'm going to sit by all my Mormon friends!

OR NOT!

For the record, the kids drove us both absolutely insane yesterday, to the point Greg said, "Our anniversary would be so much more enjoyable if we didn't have all these damn kids. Now get that white shirt on and get over here."

The End.

Happy Birthiversary!

On Friday, I found Greg looking in my wallet. He had my driver's license.

"What are you doing?", I asked. "Are you looking at my birth date?"



Today is my birthday and my wedding anniversary. Yes, it's that time again! Sheez.

Another birthiversary!!! Number eleven.

Greg and the kids went out roaming yesterday when my phone rang. It was Greg.

"What size pants do you wear?", he asked.

"WHY? You are buying me PANTS? Where are you guys?"

"Garage sale."

On that note, I am running my wedding day post again in honor of our special day. If you have yet to marry or haven't found Mr. Right yet, you too may get as lucky as me someday.

*******************************************************************

All my life I envisioned having a big wedding. A wedding I could remember until I died. What little girl doesn't dream of her perfect day? I just knew that someday I'd be just like Cinderella.

Come along and see how my perfect day turned out.

Greg and I met in 1989, when I was 20 and he was 26. Ten long, long, long, long years later, I told him if he didn't marry me by my 30th birthday, we were selling the house and the business and parting ways. So he married me. He married me ON my 30th birthday.

It was a beautiful April morning. The grass was damp and the birds were chirping, as we drove through the crisp spring air to the gorgeous and elaborate Drive Thru wedding chapel.

I'll never forget A Special Memory Drive Thru Wedding Chapel. We did pay $20 extra to go inside and that made it even more memorable. It's the kind of place dreams are made of. We had actually tried to get married two days before our actual wedding day on the way home from work, and no one came to the window. Lucky for me, because it was much better getting married inside, than in my car.



You should have seen the turn-out. All four of us barely fit inside the little room set aside for the private nuptials. You've never seen a man as happy as Greg was to be getting married. He kept muttering something about "marriage penalty tax", but it sounded more like, "marriage finally at last" to me. I was certain that I was worth the extra 15 grand in taxes we had to pay that year because our combined income put us in the highest tax bracket. I knew he was happy to be paying that and probably didn't think about it once during the ceremony.

The lady who checked us in asked if we wanted the "regular" wedding or the "Christian" one?

Greg's mom said, "We'd like the Christian one please."

So they sent Minister Jesus, aka Chong, from Cheech and Chong. He had the tattoos, LOVE and HATE, on his knuckles, so I knew he was a man of God. What a relief. He told us how he had turned over a new leaf as an ordained minister since being released from prison, and I believed him.

It was a beautiful and long service, lasting almost 3 entire minutes. There wasn't a dry eye in the place. Even Minister Jesus had to touch up his eyeliner, before going on to the other 42 happy couples awaiting him right after us.

After a quick wardrobe change into our reception attire, we journeyed over to our wedding feast.



Here we are standing in line for the All-You-Can-Eat Seafood Buffet at the Rio, where we held our reception with 500 other people I'd never met before. It was an unbelievable wedding dinner, featuring all the lobster, peel-and-eat shrimp, and crab legs you could stuff in your mouth. I like to think the other diners knew they had a bride in their midst, even if I was elbowed in the line for prime rib. What a wonderful and satisfying meal.



We had 52 different kinds of wedding cake too. You've never seen such a variety.

It was really something. I am so incredibly happy to share this special anniversary with my OWN birthday every single year for the rest of my life.

This wedding was really expensive too. It cost almost $200, including the food, so I can assure my girls that we will give them at least half of that when they get married themselves someday. Your father will spare no expense for your happiness, girls.

I can't imagine how I can possibly do better than that in 2009, when I celebrate my 40th birthday AND my 10 year anniversary on the same day. If I could renew my wedding vows with Elvis, I could die a happy woman.

**********************************************************************

So here's to another year of wedded bliss. It just keeps getting better and better.

Now I must go make my own gluten-free birthday cake, lest I get sick for a week. Man, who knew life would be this exciting in my forties?

One Day In Our Life Of Leisure

My girlfriend Laurie has a daughter starting kindergarten next year. So she is exactly where I was a year ago, freaking out about schools, and agonizing over where to send Ava. Private or public? Charter or Christian?

To add to her indecision is the fact that schools in Arizona were offering full day kindergarten at no cost, but due to budget costs, they have pulled the plug on that program going back to half day kindergarten.

Can you believe my kids are almost done with kindergarten?

I thought about it today when we were off on our daily morning adventure. I don't even blog anymore about all the stuff the kids and I do every morning, but with the year coming to a close, I thought I would highlight one day in our lives.

Austin went to preschool from 8am to 10am. Greg drove him, so while he was there, the kids and I ate a leisurely breakfast, fed the chickens, then they crafted while I got ready, and we did homework.

Then we went and picked Austin up, played in the Tot Lot, and went to Winchell's so they each could pick out a donut. Winchell's was my compromise when they begged me to go to the Day Old Bread store, where they told me Dad gets them pies for 25 cents.

From the donut shop, we headed over to the plant nursery, where we pondered the difference between fig and persimmon trees and said hello to the desert tortoises that live there. We bought vegetables - squash, cucumbers, and carrots - and talked to the manager about why they moved the toucans, what the toucans eat, and if the toucans are happy. He gave each of the kids their own jasmine plant and Sarah and Gregory took theirs to Show and Tell.

Then we scooted over to the library where we checked out 29 books, chatted with the librarians at length about the ridiculous push to make babies read, and saw an art exhibit called The Rubber Chicken Celebrates The Arts.



Greg asked later, "Was that a tax-payer funded exhibit?"

Hey! Chickens can be art, gosh darn it! What a timely exhibit for the chicken phase of my life that I am in right now.

Austin picked out two books about plants because he wants to learn about every plant in the whole world.

We came home, ate lunch, then I read chapter One in The Box Car Children, which was one of my all-time favorite books as a child.



Imagine how appropriate this book is for my gang. The Box Car Children were two boys and two girls!!! So Gregory is Henry, and Sarah is Jessie, Amanda is Violet, and Austin is Benny. We were mortified at the thought of the baker taking Benny to a Children's Home and Sarah, aka Jessie, hugged Austin aka Benny and wouldn't let him go.

I think I'm more excited than the kids to read this book again.

Then the kids went to school.

I am SO GLAD the kids were in half day kindergarten this year. I had people give me a hard time about it.

But it went by SO FAST. They are going to be in full time school for the next 15 years.

I will never regret this year. They've learned so much being home with me and we have had so much fun.

I get to do it all over again next year with Austin. Then, inevitably, I will have to get a job and give up my life of leisure with four kids and I will only have my memories of this magical time in our lives, when every day was a fun learning experience.

SOB!!!!!!!!!!!!!

So my advice to my friend? Quit your job and send Ava to half day kindergarten in public school. They grow up too fast and you can't ever get it back.

Calling Dr. Dolittle

When I went over to the chickens today, I found an egg on the ground that didn't look right.



Upon further inspection, I noticed that I could see the yolk and it was missing the shell. Yet the membrane was intact. It was like an egg inside a water balloon. This is not my hand, nor is it my egg. It's some random picture I stole off the internet.

I was too busy running across the street with vomit in mouth to take pictures. One of these days, I'm going to get an email saying, "You stole my HAND and I want it off your blog right now!"



I mean, seriously, HOW DISGUSTING. I was HORRIFIED.

I turned to Greg for support and he said, "It sounds like your chicken had a miscarriage. Why don't you call Dr. Dolittle and see if he makes housecalls. I'm sure that will only cost a thousand dollars."



So I called my neighbor Jo and she told me to go get it out of there because the chickens would eat it. I didn't want to touch it, so I got the broom and the dustpan and went back over, but it was too late. THEY ATE IT.

Again, chickens are cannibals. They will eat each other, their chicks, and their own eggs.

I told Bob about it later, and he said it was perfectly edible and I should have just picked it up and scrambled it.

BLERCH.

So I Googled the heck out of it, and it can happen because of stress, random fluke, or lack of calcium.

I know they aren't stressed. They have nearly a 1/4 of an acre they are freeranging on now. They are running all over the place and like to hang out in the pomegranate bush or under the trampoline, when they aren't eating 50 POUNDS OF FEED IN ONE WEEK, AND OH MY GOD WHO WANTS TO BUY SOME EGGS?

I would say they are spoiled. They are so friendly, the kids carry them around all over the place.

So it has to be a random fluke or they need more calcium, which is hard to believe because I bought layer feed with oyster shells. But I guess I could go ALL THE WAY TO THE FEED STORE, and buy more stuff.

Or call Dr. Dolittle and see if he makes housecalls.

I'm Pulling The Plug

Austin was still sick yesterday. He vomited and had diarrhea most of the day.

Greg got home on Tuesday at noon. He stopped at Burger King by the airport and ate, before dropping his friend off to fly home.

Twelve hours later, he was puking his guts out.

I couldn't believe he would get sick from Austin that quickly. Plus, he never saw his nephew, who I thought was Patient Zero and got Austin sick. Cole was at Greg's mom's house. Then when Greg's friend called and said he was violently ill also, I assumed food poisoning.

Then I saw this article in the paper that said there is a massive ground beef recall due to E coli contamination in the Western states. That's when the light bulb went on, because we ate at InNOut Burger on Monday and Austin started vomiting on Tuesday. Cole had a hamburger on Saturday and started vomiting on Sunday. He couldn't even eat dinner when we were there because he was so ill. I'm surprised the sewer didn't back up at Grammy's.

I spent some time yesterday trying to figure out which fast food restaurants use which beef suppliers to no avail. Our food chain is a mystery.

InNOut Burger called me right back from their headquarters in California and assured me that they de-bone and grind up their own beef from their own suppliers. Burger King never returned my call at all. I am stumped. Everyone either has E coli, or they have E Cole i from Greg's nephew.

If you hear of a massive food poisoning epidemic in Las Vegas, I called it. I went to Trader's yesterday afternoon and it was a ghost town. I have never seen that store empty before. Had the rapture happened and I was left behind?

Anyway, Austin did eat dinner and kept it down last night, so I expect a full recovery by today for him. I was really worried about him. He couldn't keep anything down and even vomited all over my couch and it dripped all down the sides, through the bottom, and soaked the entire rug. Greg came upon that and immediately ran into the bathroom and started heaving out his bile.

I seriously considered just hauling the couch out to the road and buying a new one.

So Austin is better, but Greg, on the other hand, asked me to euthanize him yesterday. He told me he would never want to be kept alive under any conditions.

I took his temperature and it was 99.7, so I offered to pull the plug so he wouldn't continue to suffer.

I was able to sneak out and meet with the principal in between all that drama and he has agreed to keep the kids together for first grade!!!! YEAH! He was actually very gracious and supportive and I think we are going to get along great. He told me he was initially taken off-guard by my request and then he thought about it - four parent/teacher conferences, four sets of homework, volunteering in four classrooms - and he said he realized it would be a huge inconvenience.

I told him that it would also give me more time to volunteer at school.

Today is Pasta Night at school. It's also Candidate Night and we get to listen to politicians vying for our vote. My neighbor Scott put that one together and then he got hit by a car. I volunteered to bring 10 pounds of pasta, two dozen cookies, and a large bottle of Ranch dressing.

Would you eat anything from our house?

Then to throw salt in the wound, I'm getting these pictures from my Lucy friends, Jodie and Erika.



I was SUPPOSED to be flying to Portland this week to go with them to The Pioneer Woman's book signing. I don't even read her blog that often, but it was a really good excuse to LEAVE, right?



Look at us! We are having SO MUCH FUN! Check out the woman behind them on the right.



When I first saw the picture, I thought it was of the nasty twin moms from my multiple's club. Shudder. That's how they look at every meeting.



Look at us! We met PW and you didn't!!!!

I am just going to stay here and clean puke. I'm still waiting for the other three to come down with it. SCARY!

I'm In It To Win It!

I want to share a couple emails I got yesterday.

The first one was from either a student or a professor at a university. It's unclear, but it was sent on the post I wrote entitled "I Could Have Been The Octomom", where I talked about how Greg and I ended up with triplets and how it could have been octoplets, and then I would be dead. Here's what the email said:

"This post is assigned reading in my Bioethics class for early May. I appreciate you sharing your experience. It is very helpful to my students as they consider the abstract arguments."

How awesome is that? There ARE a lot of abstract arguments when it comes to the ethics involved with fertility treatments. It's something that needs to be talked about. All the comments I got from triplet moms on that post, who shared their own experiences, will now be discussed by the next generation of bioethicists.

So a shout out to all you guys who HAVE to read my blog. Try not to fall asleep people. This is IMPORTANT.

The next email was from my local chicken support group, CLUCK. The acronym is for Clark County Las Vegas Urban Chicken Keepers. Get it? Who stayed up all night and came up with that one, cuz that is just AWESOME.

"You can enter your chicken(s) in the Chicken Beauty Contest - winner by popular vote (clapping and cheering) - entry fee $1 per chicken and winner take all."

A chicken beauty pageant contest?

I'm all over that one, people.



These Clucksters aren't going to know what hit them.

I'm heading out to get some hair pieces for my bare backed chickens. Then I'm going over to Walgreen's to get some Bump-its.



I'm going to have my sister send me some spray-on tan to get my girls looking HOT.



I always wanted to be a stage mom. Do they still sell Aquanet in the pink and white can? I've got to get my girls' hair BIG. I'm thinking breast enlargements are in order too.



There was this paragraph in our newsletter too.

"Respect and Consideration for Others. Well supervised and well behaved children are invited. No pets allowed. Please don't ask to touch the chickens."

These sound like people who LOVE CHILDREN. I bet we are going to get along famously. My idea of "well-supervised" is still having four when I get in the car to leave.

Too bad for them that I'm going to win like TEN DOLLARS from all my fellow contestants. A fool and their money will soon be parted.

I'm in it to win it!!!!! Who is going to sew me a chicken swimsuit for that portion of the contest?