A Bad Morning.
Dawn. I heard the chicken, and something was wrong. I jumped up out of bed and into the living room, and saw the coyote running to the other side of the eggmobile, by the tree where four of my big hens roost.
"Kevin, there's a coyote!"
"I know!" he said, as he ran down the stairs. He must've seen it from the upstairs window.
We reached the patio doors at the same time, and Kevin busted out, fully-clothed and shoed. Right before he did, I saw the coyote heading east, by the barn, the pasture, and freedom, a chicken's wing splayed out of its mouth.
Kevin ran out of the doors and looked south. The barn is east.
"It's by the BARN! The BARN! THE BARN!!!" I shrieked, standing there in my underwear and bare feet. The coyote could not have been more than 40 feet away from him and he's looking the wrong way! When he did turn his head, he saw the coyote, now over the fence and a good ways down the pasture. Instead of taking off after it, with some hope that 1. it would drop the chicken to go faster, 2. he could see where it was running to and, thus, where to coyote hunt later, or 3. he could at least start yelling and scare the crap out of it, he let it go. Let it go! "It's halfway down the pasture."
Meanwhile, I'm running to my room, tearing on a pair of pants, and tearing out after an invisible coyote that could have run in any one of 180 degrees. "Agggghhhhhhh!!!" I screamed at the morning air.
I stomped back inside, yelled at Kevin (I run after animals that have my animals in their mouths!), and stomped into the shower. If only I had an elegant way to express in writing just how PISSED AND FRUSTRATED I WAS. I am still frustrated. I'm pretty sure I could have made a bit of a difference if I had gotten there sooner. DAMN IT!
I just love my chickens. I could coop them up and they would be safer. Because now I'm confronted with a coyote who has successfully taken two of my big laying hens in the past 10 days. Would you give up freedom for more safety, even if that safety was not guaranteed? Would you ask your macho, gun-owning neighbor to kill those blasted devil dogs? The coyotes...we hear them almost every night, and they will come back and come back until my chickens are gone. Do I get a llama? Can I keep a llama in the fence?
After my edgy shower, I'm now facing my stressed-out kid. Stevie has been a mess for the past three days. First, on Wednesday, he had a melt-down when he learned that he had a dentist appointment after school on Thursday. Sitting at my desk in the Chamber office, he wailed and cried about why I would set up an appointment outside of school hours, how he wanted to be homeschooled, how math was hard (he gets A's in his advanced math class), how he was tired.
Teeth are a stressor for him--he doesn't do the best job on his teeth and Kevin and I aren't as vigilant as we should be.
Then, last night after a good appointment (no cavities, but brush better), he whined about having to stop reading to fill out his reading log, a piece of homework that requires a mere three sentence 'book report' on what he's been reading. He took ONE HOUR to sit there and stress about not finding the passage in the book that he wanted to write about. "Just write something, Stevie! Write that you can't find the passage you want to write about! Just write something, because you still have math to do."
Well...he didn't. And ended up stomping around, going upstairs where Mark was placidly watching "Cars" for the hundreth time and shouting, "MARK! WHY DO YOU ALWAYS HAVE TO WATCH 'CARS'?!"
And this morning, more of the same. His homework wasn't done ("Just take the 'zero', Stevie, and don't worry about it."), I was 'freaking him out' by asking him to put pencil to paper and get his work done, etc.
Just a shitty morning.
I'm trying to take care of myself a little better. I bought some organic, unfiltered apple cider vinegar the other day, and I'm drinking two teaspoons of it in a glass of warm water with 2 t. of local honey. It's quite good, actually, and it's supposed to help with immunity and allergies. I'm also using a saline solution to clear my allergy-clogged nasal passages. I walked to work this morning. I'm going to have a massage today (that I can't afford--but can I afford to never treat myself?). I fully intend to take the new yoga classes that are being offered.
But all that can't override the stress. Not even the fiery leaves that I could actually smell on my walk this morning, not even the clip-clop of the Amish horse pulling two young Amish guys down the street in their black carriage with a cooler on the back. Their friendly wave, the fact that I live in an area where the Amish come to town every Friday to do their shopping, the beautiful cool weather...it didn't quite get me back up to the surface. I'm worried about my kid, I'm worried about my chickens ("Take care of yourselves" I told them as my pretty gold girls pecked about on a carpet of pretty gold leaves), I'm worried about my presentation next Tuesday for the Hill, and that's just the start. I have got to break out of this, dear reader! Advice is welcome.
"Kevin, there's a coyote!"
"I know!" he said, as he ran down the stairs. He must've seen it from the upstairs window.
We reached the patio doors at the same time, and Kevin busted out, fully-clothed and shoed. Right before he did, I saw the coyote heading east, by the barn, the pasture, and freedom, a chicken's wing splayed out of its mouth.
Kevin ran out of the doors and looked south. The barn is east.
"It's by the BARN! The BARN! THE BARN!!!" I shrieked, standing there in my underwear and bare feet. The coyote could not have been more than 40 feet away from him and he's looking the wrong way! When he did turn his head, he saw the coyote, now over the fence and a good ways down the pasture. Instead of taking off after it, with some hope that 1. it would drop the chicken to go faster, 2. he could see where it was running to and, thus, where to coyote hunt later, or 3. he could at least start yelling and scare the crap out of it, he let it go. Let it go! "It's halfway down the pasture."
Meanwhile, I'm running to my room, tearing on a pair of pants, and tearing out after an invisible coyote that could have run in any one of 180 degrees. "Agggghhhhhhh!!!" I screamed at the morning air.
I stomped back inside, yelled at Kevin (I run after animals that have my animals in their mouths!), and stomped into the shower. If only I had an elegant way to express in writing just how PISSED AND FRUSTRATED I WAS. I am still frustrated. I'm pretty sure I could have made a bit of a difference if I had gotten there sooner. DAMN IT!
I just love my chickens. I could coop them up and they would be safer. Because now I'm confronted with a coyote who has successfully taken two of my big laying hens in the past 10 days. Would you give up freedom for more safety, even if that safety was not guaranteed? Would you ask your macho, gun-owning neighbor to kill those blasted devil dogs? The coyotes...we hear them almost every night, and they will come back and come back until my chickens are gone. Do I get a llama? Can I keep a llama in the fence?
After my edgy shower, I'm now facing my stressed-out kid. Stevie has been a mess for the past three days. First, on Wednesday, he had a melt-down when he learned that he had a dentist appointment after school on Thursday. Sitting at my desk in the Chamber office, he wailed and cried about why I would set up an appointment outside of school hours, how he wanted to be homeschooled, how math was hard (he gets A's in his advanced math class), how he was tired.
Teeth are a stressor for him--he doesn't do the best job on his teeth and Kevin and I aren't as vigilant as we should be.
Then, last night after a good appointment (no cavities, but brush better), he whined about having to stop reading to fill out his reading log, a piece of homework that requires a mere three sentence 'book report' on what he's been reading. He took ONE HOUR to sit there and stress about not finding the passage in the book that he wanted to write about. "Just write something, Stevie! Write that you can't find the passage you want to write about! Just write something, because you still have math to do."
Well...he didn't. And ended up stomping around, going upstairs where Mark was placidly watching "Cars" for the hundreth time and shouting, "MARK! WHY DO YOU ALWAYS HAVE TO WATCH 'CARS'?!"
And this morning, more of the same. His homework wasn't done ("Just take the 'zero', Stevie, and don't worry about it."), I was 'freaking him out' by asking him to put pencil to paper and get his work done, etc.
Just a shitty morning.
I'm trying to take care of myself a little better. I bought some organic, unfiltered apple cider vinegar the other day, and I'm drinking two teaspoons of it in a glass of warm water with 2 t. of local honey. It's quite good, actually, and it's supposed to help with immunity and allergies. I'm also using a saline solution to clear my allergy-clogged nasal passages. I walked to work this morning. I'm going to have a massage today (that I can't afford--but can I afford to never treat myself?). I fully intend to take the new yoga classes that are being offered.
But all that can't override the stress. Not even the fiery leaves that I could actually smell on my walk this morning, not even the clip-clop of the Amish horse pulling two young Amish guys down the street in their black carriage with a cooler on the back. Their friendly wave, the fact that I live in an area where the Amish come to town every Friday to do their shopping, the beautiful cool weather...it didn't quite get me back up to the surface. I'm worried about my kid, I'm worried about my chickens ("Take care of yourselves" I told them as my pretty gold girls pecked about on a carpet of pretty gold leaves), I'm worried about my presentation next Tuesday for the Hill, and that's just the start. I have got to break out of this, dear reader! Advice is welcome.
posted by lulu | 7:24 AM
2 Comments:
no advice, just commiseration
('he can't even run his own life, I'll be damned if he'll run mine' - Jonathan Edwards, 'Sunshine')
Thanks for your idea of adding honey to apple cider vinegar... Maybe that will get rid of the rotten aftertaste? I'll try it!
-Tyler
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