Before I say anything else, I just want to say how sad I am for what happened in Orlando over the weekend. My thoughts and prayers are with the families, friends and loved ones of all those we lost.
Caroline and I got home from Nashville late on Wednesday night. I need to tell you that the Sunday morning before we left, the picture below popped up on my Facebook feed because occasionally Facebook plays dirty.
What on earth? Six years ago to that day, Caroline and I had flown to Alabama to go to the beach with Sophie and her son, Alex.
We slept in on Thursday morning because we were exhausted and I spent most of the day unpacking and catching up on laundry and then made a gigantic trip to the grocery store on Friday because we were out of exactly everything. We also had soccer practices, late nights watching Parks and Recreation, catching up with Mimi and Bops and having friends over for dinner on Friday night.
But let’s talk about something that happened while we were in Nashville.
I had a meeting with my publisher on Tuesday morning and my friend, Kelly, offered to pick Caroline up so that she wouldn’t have to tag along for what was sure to be a bunch of talk that wouldn’t interest her in the least. I was so appreciative and Caroline was excited because she and Kelly had big plans to get donuts and the go visit Kelly’s friend, Bethany’s, new baby chickens.
The latter part of that sentence is what I really didn’t think through.
Caroline spent the morning with baby chicks and fell more than a little bit in love with them. In all fairness, this is understandable. I mean who doesn’t love baby chicks?
Come closer and I’ll tell you who.
Me.
I met up with Kelly and Caroline in time for lunch and all Caroline could talk about were the baby chicks. We finished our lunch and then ran in a few stores in the 12 South area, including Reese Witherspoon’s Draper James store which was so cute even though most of the clothes were a little too precious for me. And then Caroline said, “Hey, why don’t we go visit the chickens again so my mom can see them?”
This seemed reasonable and I didn’t yet know that I don’t care for baby chicks. We arrived at Bethany’s house and she immediately had me sit down, handed me a towel to put over my lap and, next thing I knew, I was holding four baby chicks. Immediately thereafter I was covered in baby chicken poop. I guess they felt comfortable with me and relaxed. All I know is I prefer to exist in a space where getting pooped on by anything isn’t really a thing.
However, I had to admit they were pretty cute with their little fluffy baby chick feathers and soft little cluck cluck sounds as they tried to fly and scurry around.
But then Caroline introduced me to Beverly Clucky in the backyard.
NOPE.
A grown chicken is more than I am emotionally prepared to deal with. Being in close proximity to adult chicken feet is second only to a possum’s tail on my list of things I prefer not to happen ever.
Caroline didn’t share my chicken sentiments and has launched a full scale chicken campaign. She even called P from Nashville and sold him on the idea. By the time we got home on Thursday night she had filled four full sheets of notebook paper with chicken research. Meanwhile I kept repeating my philosophy on her potential chicken ownership which is, “I am not interested in being responsible for another living thing nor am I interested in watching a living thing starve. The first day those chickens don’t get fed by you is the day they get sent to a farm. Or the barbecue pit.”
I’ve also tried to warn her that Mabel and Piper will not view the chickens as friends so much as tasty, tasty food. In fact, Mabel got wind of the chicken news and immediately wrote some new poetry in her excitement.
Get in my belly
Hard to catch, but so worth it
Delicious chicken
Crunchy, delightful
Feathered friends in my backyard
Want to bite their heads
And even Piper got in on it.
Chickens are good, chickens are nice.
I’d like to eat them on a bed of rice
With a glass of Asti Spumante on ice.
(Piper likes for her poetry to rhyme. She also enjoys a sparkling wine.)