purple egg and little girl

I do so enjoy being able to go home for lunch every day.

eh?

And, for all of you haters, here are some photos of the purple egg. 

I suspect that the bloom actually has a purple tint. I don't know why, and I haven't gotten any good answers on the chicken forums yet. In conclusion, I think that the egg shell itself is not purple, but only the bloom. Don't know what an egg bloom is? You need to read more chicken books.

lisää kanat

 Well, I drove to Mt. Airy yesterday and picked up some more chickens. Mt. Airy is notable as the fictional town of Mayberry. There is a ton of Andy Griffith stuff there. Anyways, these are Brahma hens, which means they are gigantic and they have feathered feet. They are super docile too. I had been looking for these for a while, and I ended up getting these for free. The guy who was selling them is moving to Russia and was liquidating his flock. One of these hens is five years old and was his pet. Since I was willing to take his old pet (Annie) he also threw in a free young hen. So, looky here... two free hens! The others cost 10 dollars each. I found a purple egg in the nest box today, which makes me think that these Brahmas lay purple eggs.

They are not nice to other hens, but are very nice to little girls. Evangeline can actually approach and pet these new girls. They also will eat out of her hand.

I got up early this morning to make sure the chickens didn't kill each other. It turns out that when you get up early, you  have a ton of extra time, and you also get to watch the moon go down over the scenic Greensboro skyline. Thats it to the left of the big building. As usual, you can't take good pictures of the moon.

These two gigantic chickens that don't really fit into the nest box on their own somehow think it is a good idea to get in there together.

The Dominique is really taking the backseat these days. She sleeps up next to the rain barrel.

Doh dee

I have read/watched some things on toilet training. I've noticed that one common thread in all these programs is the part where when they finally do it, how you're supposed to be super excited and act like it's the best thing that has ever happened. I have always thought when that time comes, I'd have to pretend to be super excited. No big deal, I can handle pretending with my kid. Well, I'm SUPER EXCITED for real.
We had to leave The Girl's pants and diaper off today to try to get rid of a terrible diaper rash, and I was prepared for a long and sad day of cleaning up after her since I have been far too impatient and tired to try to actually potty train her. Instead, she simply told me when she had to pee and did that in the toilet and then told me when she had to poop and did that in the toilet. I think we're all super excited about this (even Irene, but she's excited about lots of stuff).So, now I feel like we've got to stick with it, so I suppose we've accidentally gotten on the toilet train.
We'll see how exciting tomorrow is.
Did I mention that I'm super excited about this?
Way to go, Girl.

U.R.

Uncle Rick came for a short visit as he makes his way around the Chicago, Washington, Raleigh, Greensboro area (Aunt Alene also came for a little visit). He brought some great books for the girls and even a puzzle that will guarantee that Evangeline and Irene know all the provinces of Costa Rica. We watched the Super Bowl and Evangeline cried when he left.

Showing Uncle Rick how to ipad.

Wait, no, he's almost got it!

Showing Uncle Rick how to run a farm (though he probably has one on her there).

Irene catching the Super Bowl with U.R.

And this:

i wear my sunglasses at night

I wear my sunglasses at night, and my apron, and my mardi gras beads and my frog boots on the wrong feet and chase chickens.

Whats worse, my crooked beak or this kid rampaging around my habitat?

She read on Wikipedia that chickens love beach balls.

Three Months!

Here's Irene today, at three months:

Here's Evangeline at three months:

Here they are together today:

Hm.

Assistant to the Secretary

Poor Louise. (photo by Louise)

I hate Mondays