We are back from our little vacation to Santa Barbara and I must say, this is an overlooked enclave of our world. I often whine like a baby and bang my fists and feet on the floor, while face down on the ground, that I "need" to go to Hawaii. I am "in love" with Hawaii and would move there in a New York Minute if given some form of income and a surf board. However, I am now thinking twice. Santa Barbara is along an area of the California coast which is as Hawaii-esque as one can find. The weather is insane... ranging from 65-78. Coffee is served piping hot to your bedside by little Santa Barbara Leprechauns (actually, that would be creepy - well trained Golden Retreivers then) who sprinkle pixie-dust in your face making you believe life floats by like cotton candy clouds of sweetness where no matter the problem, it is easy to deal with. They call Santa Barbara the American Riviera... and well it should be...it is. I will say it again. Go visit Santa Barbara! I am not being paid for this endorsement. Although SB should kick down a Channel Island Surfboard or similar.
Anyway, we are home and my nephew has decided NOT to get chickens when he is older. I think he is too squeamish over doodie - hmmmm? You know some people see the droppings and nearly pass out from them, while others are just fine with it. My nephew is not one of them. Although he did a great job. He did call me as we were driving home last night telling me my Aussie escaped like The Bird Man from Alcatraz, however, and serendipitously so, happened to be driving by our street when our Aussie was trying to make a break for it. Thank goodness, Fudge (his name and I am not going to explain his name, it only brings up thoughts I can't control) did not meet any people, because they would surely be missing a limb. Fudge is a mercenary and should be sent to Iraq to clean the place up. He is safely back in the yard and happy we are home.
So, I go out to the coop to check the chickens and notice they are now the size of Condors, but notice something far more disconcerting. Kapalua - a hen, was trying to make like a down pillow with Millie - a hen!!!! OK, is this possible at this age? OK, OK.. that is the second question... The first question is; Is Kapalua a hen? My "GUT" tells me "No"!!! Which then begs the next question, at what age does this happen with Chickens? And, third - What am I going to do? I cannot have a rooster in my town. It is against ordinances and I like to play by the rules for the most part. So, where do I take Kapalua? Argh!!!! Fourth, why do grocery stores sell fertilized eggs? Are they better eating? Also, chicks are "sexed". Meaning checked whether they are male or female and then sold "as such". Someone made a boo-boo! Also, I loathe this term "sexed" it is like some potty mouth rapper got a hold of this activity and ruined it.
So, As The Coop Turns is getting interesting. So interesting I think I could move the coop to Santa Barbara and begin a Chicken Soap Opera. Did you know Soap Opera got its name because soap advertisers were known for their advertising on these programs? I would be a multi-millionaire in short order and be a huge star, then I would get coo-koo and end up thinking I was the leader of all chickens on earth, begin a cult and die in a high speed Ferrari wreck.
I will be back with answer to these interesting questions tomorrow. In the meantime, I am looking into which Ferrari I want.