Saturday, January 26, 2008


Instead of writing letters to our pen pals at the Mexico orphanage (at church) today, we're at home. Courtesy of one snuffly, snotty, snuggly little mouth-breather who finds it impossible to remain in her own bed, and one puking in the wee hours ponytailed girl.

There was a racket in the night and the two chickens that had been missing are now: one dead, one presumed so. One was found in a tree, where the raccoon had hauled it. Gak. This brings us down to half of what the flock had been. E's favorite was the one in the tree. G doesn't want her to know because she'll be so upset.

Wish me luck.

1 comment:

~ V ~ said...

Oh, I am so sorry...about the kids and the chickens. I've told you about the possums, right? So far since we've moved, we haven't had any midnight raids since the chickens are locked up tight in wooden raised building at night. During the day, they are still trying to match wits with the hawks.

Unfortunately, it gets better. I say "unfortunately" because it means the kids have lost some of their innocence and it doesn't bother them as much.