Heartbeats, Butt Splinters and Banty Hens

It's a rainy day here in NW Indiana, and that affords me a little time here on the computer, and time to cook and clean.

God gives gardeners rainy days for that very purpose I'm sure.

I apologize in advance for the randomness of this post.

Please bear with me.

Seems I'm fated to post infrequently now, due to the lovely weather we've been having and no chance of frost until October.

I have fabulous days, make lovely meals, see beautiful garden vignettes that I'd like to share, have deep insights on life's most pressing questions - and yet - if not blogged within 24 hours they become as unappetizing to me as last night's leftovers.

I had the loveliest post written (in my head) about this picture.

I loved the contrast of my old hand on the newness of the baby.

Another great post was written in my head about this photo.

I just love the simplicity of it all.

This is just down the road from my house, and in the fall she has honey sitting out for sale on the honor system.

Sigh.

I planned on telling you all about my chicken purse.

I carried it proudly until it was recently featured on an episode of

Hoarders - Buried Alive

Now I just feel old and dysfunctional.

I've been wanting to talk about my weight loss journey for some time. Key word being 'journey' here, and since I've not been moving on that journey - au contrare - I've not said much. Big surprise. I've had volumes of thoughts on the matter, but decided to spare you the drivel. After getting a LARGE splinter in my butt at a greenhouse as I was trying to get through the aisle (please laugh) I decided I'd had enough, yet once again. I've been eating clean for a week and I'm down 6.5#'s. I want to talk about this, but I can't just yet.

I'll tell you this. My heart isn't right. I've been having irregular heart beats for a week - bad ones. It's making me tired and anxious. I so thought I was going to meet my Maker the other night. I got up and started to the ER, but decided against going. I've had this in the past, to the point of being hospitalized, and as danged annoying as it is, it's benign, and perhaps due to hormones. I've had the EKG's, echo's, etc. I just hate FEELING my heart beat like this. I may go to the Dr. yet.

If your a blogger, you'll understand that it's hard to talk about past things.

Blogging is about now.

So I'm going to tell you about the Poultry Auction I went to yesterday.

I had no intention of going, let alone getting anything since just this past Saturday, whilst getting grass seed at the feed store, I happened upon these little Black Sexlink chickens and somehow brought four home!

All they do is sleep it seems.

The Poultry Auction is smelly, loud and a visual hurricane.

I don't do well in crowds, and I felt pressed on all sides.

Boxes upon boxes of day old baby chicks.

I felt sorry for them.

Born to die.

And yet there is nothing tastier to me than a well prepared chicken salad.

Sad?

True.

This little old man was just the cutest thing. He reminded me of the man from 'Up'.

We slyly took his photo.

Then I saw her.

A banty hen with six babies.

My heart was beating out of control.

Must.

Have.

This.

Box.

I stood guard by the box, nonchalantly looking around at the roosters nearby like I was interested in them. I didn't want the portly hispanic man at my side to know just how serious I was about gettin' that bird.

I had cash baby, and I'm not afraid to spend it.

The closer the auctioneer got, the more irregular my heartbeat got. I don't do well at auctions. I get confused. I get excited. I bid on things I don't really want. I overbid.

The bidding started at $20. Knowing I only had $46 in my chicken purse, I threw up a little in my mouth. I panicked thinking the chubby senor was going to take her home and eat her.

I won her and the babies at $30.

(cute chicken necklace, no? Thanks Debbie!)

I'll have some better pics of this psycho hen later. I'm just trying to let her calm down. That thing bites me like crazy. Is it just that she has the babies? I'm not familiar with bantams, nor broody hen behavior. So much for my banty fantasies of this little bird being my buddy.

Any advice would be appreciated!

All the chickens at the auctions went home with new owners.

What their fate was, it's anyone's guess.

So many of the birds just looked half dead.

Featherless, sad-looks on their beaks, neurotic.

This was one feisty box of boys.

One was pinkish - at first I thought it was blood - but it was the color of the feathers.

What Fifi would do for that box of testosterone.

Her behavior is shameful.

After the auction, we went out and I promptly ordered a Grilled Chicken Salad.

I have no shame.