“What do you want to do?”
“I dunno… what do you want to do?”
It was our monthly “Date Day” but we were completely clueless as to how to spend the time. All the articles and books on keeping a marriage healthy seem to give the same advice: date your spouse. Most go further and recommend a schedule: an evening once a week, a day once a month, and a weekend once a season. That’s all very well and good, but what does one do on those dates?
I’ve been pretty serious lately, so I think it’s time for some silliness. I was just out in the chicken coop collecting the day’s eggs, and it hit me that hens are the epitome of brainless inanity. Therefore, today’s posting is about chickens. More precisely, it is a somewhat (but not very) fictionalized story about how we got our very first chicken, Bawky. The year was 1986….
I was scraping cereal off the last of the morning’s dishes to the accompaniment of Bert and Ernie, when the doorbell rang. Dropping the bowl back into the soapy water, I grabbed a tattered dishrag to dry my hands. The sound of running feet heralded the breathless arrival of two little girls, curious to see who was at the door. Chubby hands gripped my knees. We opened the door together. Continue reading
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