a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day

Where do I begin?

Where?

It was a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day.

Well, not everything was quite so bad...so let's start with the good stuff.
My dearest husband and blue-eyed baby boy came home today.

Oh happy day!

I am not cut out to be a single parent.
High-five to those of you who pull this stunt off because,
it ain't easy...or fun.

And as a quick side-note, I need to tell you that
K-man and I somehow got to talking about how I never
laugh at his jokes anymore.
And I said,
"Well, when was the last time I got a, Bahahaha, out of you
over one of my blog posts?"

To which he said,
"Well, honey...they just aren't that funny."

And he expects me to laugh at his jokes that I've been
hearing since 1984.

Fine.

And so the marital strife begins.

It's been a good run until now.



Anyway,
last night I noticed that my chicken herd seemed a bit thin.
Not thin, as in...skinny in stature.
Believe me, they are well-fed.
I mean thin, as in...someone was missing.
I counted.
Counted again.
Counted once more.

Then I couldn't remember how many I started out with in the first place.

I asked Macy....and according to her, we were indeed missing a couple.

I was upset.

Then...this afternoon...I got alarmed because I didn't see Chippy.
My most favorite rooster on the planet.

I came inside, made sure the kids were all accounted for.
*I do know that I have six of them*
Right?

...then headed back outside.

And counted.
Again.

And looked for Chippster.

Gone.

He was gone.

Then I noticed this....

Feathers.

In various parts of my yard.

Stunned.

And on the verge of tears, I realized that something had
gotten about 5 of my chickens.

Chippy, a beloved nameless Feather-footed hen,
and a few other hens who had no significance to me because
they-looked-just-like-all-the-others-but-I-loved-them-anyway.

Gone.

I was livid.

I went in and told Macy.
*(she's my go-to girl)*
She was upset too.
But only because I was.
She's very sympathetic that way.

So we both went out to try to get the rest of the chickens
to safety.

She chased them around the yard with a stick.
I laughed.
And we tried to lure them with bread.

Nothin' doin'.

Chickens are stupid.

I love them dearly...but they are stupid.

So anyway,
I told Brenden about my fiasco and he immediately
armed himself and went outside.
Testosterone runs thick around here and any chance
for a male in this house to use a weapon,
they will jump on the opportunity.


He sat posed to pick off that pesky predator.
Whatever it was.
(fox, coyote??)

Don't let this little smile fool you.
He wasn't like,
"Cheese!"

No, it was more like,
"You take my picture and you will die."

I took his picture.
I didn't die.

He came up empty handed.

I was disappointed.

I wanted revenge so badly.


So then I went outside to do whatever I could do.
I was so mad.

Nobody messes with my children or my chickens and gets away with it.
Especially my chickens.
Just kidding.

Just ask my kids, my husband, or any of my four sisters,
you don't want to cross my path when I look like this.

But nothing crossed my path.
I was ready to take down an African lion, single-handedly.
But nary a kitten made an appearance.


So I wish I had some sort of epic-heroic ending to this story.
But I don't.

That's it.

The remaining chickens are in the safety zone now.
And Zeke is strategically placed to guard them.


The end.

I will be looking for your sympathy cards in the mail.

Love,
Lori