I have been married for over 12 years now to the most interesting man I have ever met. My husband is funny, smart, crazy, sexy and just the coolest person to be around. Our life has been, to say the least, interesting. I would never use the word boring to describe it, either!
Jeff is a recovering alcoholic/addict. When I met him he was drunk. In fact he doesn't recall the first three times we met - at all. Jeff had an emotionally rough childhood. Although his father and step-mother may disagree, the events of his childhood combined with his genetic predisposition to addictions led to some very rocky times. Most people I know say they wouldn't have put up with the years of drama, police, arrests, court, poverty and all the struggles. I have been told how I'm a "saint". People have said they "admire" me for my courage. I don't see it that way. I just love my husband. I remembered the first 7 months of our relationship when he was sober. I stayed and prayed to one day get back to that time. It wasn't easy and at times I wanted to run far, far away. 2005 through October of 2006 were really bad. But, Jeff did get sober, he is sober. And for that I am tremendously proud of him. It has been the hardest, most trying thing I have ever been through, but I wouldn't change a minute of it.
Now, of course, it's easy to look back and laugh at some of the craziest moments. I love some of the Hi jinx we got up to over the years. My husband is the kind of guy who rushes in head first and then when things go badly, kicks himself for not thinking things through. I tell people if they ever hear him say "I got this" then they had better have 911 on speed dial because there will be sirens and uniforms involved!
One of my most favorite "I got this"stories is from the ice storm of 2003. We were still living in Kentucky, out in the country. We went to bed on a Saturday night and woke up to no power Sunday morning. Trees down every where and the ice! Well, our little rental house had a fireplace and we had a stock of wood in the car port. However, when you are burning it 24/7 it doesn't take long to go through it. We were out of dry wood by Tuesday. Jeff started burning the wet limbs that had fallen from the weight of the ice. It would burn, but it took for ever to catch.
Real early Wednesday morning the fire went out. He couldn't get it to light for anything! So, he goes out and gets a very small butter dish full of gas....can you see where this one is going? I said, "Baby, I really don't think that's a good idea." He says, "I got this". 30 seconds later the house is shaking, the kids are awaken from the sonic boom and Jeff is thrown clear across the living room floor.
He had burned the skin off the top of his right hand. He had no hair on his neck and no right eyebrow. His bear was singed and he was in pain. It was the only time in our life, before or since, that he has told me to take him to the doctor. We spent the night in the emergency room. It took weeks for the hand to heal and he still has nerve damage and scarring on his had. He wouldn't go near ANYTHING flammable for literally years. If the pilot light on the water heater went out, I'd have to light it! We didn't grill or light candles. He wouldn't even use a lighter that had a flame!
Then there was the time he was hitting golf balls off our front deck. Back in 2004 Jeff discovered Golf. He worked on a course as a grounds keeper and fell in love with the "challenge". I still don't get the point or the fascination, but whatever. He would put in the house, chip balls in the drive way and hit them off the deck. We lived at the top of a modest hill and so the balls would get some real distance! He would go to the local pawn shop and for $5 get a whole bucket of used golf balls. He would then hit the balls off the deck and pay the kids to go retrieve them. Fun for the whole family, right? So, this particular day, he was driving balls off the deck and the kids were retrieving them. I was on the road somewhere in Illinois or Iowa or some other Midwest corn waste land when I get a call, it went something like this:
Me,"Hey baby."
Him,out of breath,"Which card is for stitches?"
Me,"What? Who needs ...what?"
Him, "Don't have time to talk, which card is for stitches?"
Me, slightly panicked, "you only need the one card...go to the hospital!"
Now, I am totally stressed. All I could think was one of my kids had been mauled by the creepy looking, very untrustworthy rottweiler my landlords owned and let roam around. I called information, got the phone number for the only hospital in town and called the E.R.
Me," Yes, my name is Sarah Batz and my husband called me and so he should be there with one of my children needing medical attention."
Nurse," Oh yeah, he;s right here. Hold on."
Him," Hey baby, sorry bout that."
Me,"What the hell is going on!"
Him,"Well, I was golfing off the porch. And it was the last ball of the day and I sliced the ball - really hard - into Liz's face."
Me, "You did what??????"
Him, "Well, I couldn't stop it. It was like watching slow-mo. But Liz was really great. She didn't cry or anything. She just bent over cause she said she didn't want to bleed on her shoes. God, there was a lot of blood."
Me, "So how bad is it?"
Him, "The doctor is putting in stitches in her lip. He said it was lucky it only knocked the tooth loose a little bit."
Me, "Uhhh, Ok. Did you get the insurance taken care of?"
Him, "Yeah, I just didn't know which one to use for stitches."
See, the hilarity never stops!. Liz recovered just fine. She has a small scar on her upper lip. She went home after the ER visit and found the golf ball. She has it in her jewelry box. She also never goes outside when Jeff is golfing. If he grabs the clubs, she heads for the bedroom!
There was another time when I was on the road. This was in mid 2006 and we were not doing well. His drug and alcohol use had skyrocketed and I had decided to leave. The relationship was a mess. I sen the kids to stay with my mother and I was driving OTR for weeks at a time. I was never home because home was not a fun place.
This particular time, I was in Omaha, at the main terminal of the company I was driving for at the time. I was having work done on my truck and was hanging out in the driver's lounge when I get a call.
Me, irritation creeping in already,"Yeah baby."
Him, "Hey baby. Me and Drew were at the pub crawl in Charlotte and I need your help."
Me, "Why? what's wrong?"
Him, very drunk and giggling ridiculously, "I don't want you to get mad or nothing, but can't remember where I parked the car."
Me, very irritated, "And what do you want me to do about it. I don't know where you parked the damn thing."
Him, "I know where I parked it. It's over by the Bank building. I just don't know how to get over there."
Me, beyond irritated now, "And how the Hell am I supposed to know where that is? I'm in Omaha..Nebraska!! I don't know where you parked the car in Charlotte...North Carolina!!"
Him, "You don't have to get mad. I just figured you'd know the streets and you have a map and stuff."
Me, "I don't go down town Charlotte. I don't have a map of Charlotte. It's in the Car!!!"
Him, "Fine we'll figure it out."
I was yelling at him so loudly that I got ushered out of the lounge while I was still yelling! Oh sure, it's funny now. But then, it was the farthest thing from funny. And, it wasn't the first time he had called me to help him get un-lost. He has no sense of direction, drunk or sober. Just 2 months ago he called me because he got lost trying to get home from two towns over! I had to talk him all the way home. He never reads signs. Even the big green ones on the interstate. Every singel time we are on I40 going to I77 south I have to tell him which way to go. If I'm not with him, he always goes north and has to turn around - ALWAYS!!!
Like I said, it is never boring at our house. Our life together has been one crazy roller coaster ride. Fortunately, things have mellowed some. Partly because of the sobriety, partly because we've gotten older. But, he still, on occasion, pulls out the "I got this" card and I am always ready to call for help. I guess some things will never change - and that isn't such a terrible thing.
Sunday, March 29, 2009
Monday, March 23, 2009
Life on the road
I have been driving a tractor trailer on and off for several years. I enjoy driving. I like going places I've not been before. I love the independence of being gone. The freedom of no boss, no office politics. I like being by myself, the quiet, the peace. But it's a lonely job. Especially for a married woman who really loves and adores her husband. I can stay gone for about 3 weeks before it really sets in and I'm tired, frustrated and lonely.
When I started driving in 2003, I was desperate to have enough money to pay my bills. Driving more than provided for me and my family. I was so excited to learn how to drive a truck. The very first time you get in that seat and look in the mirror, it's intimidating. The back of the truck and trailer seem to be a very, very long way away! But before you know it, you are part of the vehicle. Ironically, when I drive my car, I look like I'm drunk. I swing too wide in my turns, I take forever to change lanes, I put my turn signal on way to early and I can't back up that little car for anything! It's actually amazing I haven't been pulled over yet!
I also was having issues with my husband. Not to get too in depth here, but my darling husband has had a very rough past. His childhood was less than stellar and he fell into using drugs and alcohol to make his life easier to bear. When I started driving, I was unaware how severe his problems were. He was very good at covering and I was very good at ignoring.
I wanted to be gone - away from the pain and drama of my home life. Driving a truck was perfect to keep me from having to deal with what was happening at home. When you drive a truck over the road, you have to separate yourself. It's a different life style and you can't be wholly yourself. To be a successful truck driver you have to be gone. You only get paid if your wheels are rolling. Therefore, you can't be home every night or even every weekend. I was regularly gone 4 weeks at a time. Being gone like that wreaks havoc on the strongest relationship. If that relationship is rocky, you are going to destroy it.
It starts out simply enough, innocuously enough. You don't mean for your mind to wander. You call home regularly. You make your vows of love and faithfulness. But there's many a slip betwixt the cup and the lip. Life is not as simple as that when you are a woman driving solo on the road hundreds of miles from what is normal and safe.
See, when you drive alone and are a female, it is imperative that you always think of your safety. You always park under lights, as close to the building as possible. You must pay attention to your surroundings at all times. You have to find the very fine line between being polite and being flirty. You must be aware of what you wear, how you walk, how you talk, what you say and to whom you say it. You must always be aware of who is listening - in the truck stop , at the warehouse, on the CB.
My very first week solo, I was parked for the night at a rest area in VA off I-95. I had no sooner gotten ready for bed and climbed under the covers when my faithful trucking puppy, Precious went absolutely nuts. Barking and jumping around the cab. I jumped out of bed and checked all my windows. Someone had tried to pry open my triangle window on the driver's side. If not for having a 100 pound rottweiler barking her fool head off, I may not be here to type this!
That is one of many stories I have personally had that made me nervous to be on the road. And my stories are not too different from other women who drive for a living. It is hard to be a man driving and away from the family. But as a woman, it is not only hard, but dangerous. I have been told many stories of women being assaulted, raped, and even killed just trying to do their job. Even if a woman manages to never have to face a dangerous situation, we all have to deal with the unwanted attention and ridiculous come-ons by men day in and out.
I was in Washington state, laid over waiting to cross the border into Canada, back in the fall. I was at a truck stop cleaning out my cab when a man twice my age approached my truck. He said, "I want to apologize. I heard a loud noise and when I looked over here, I saw the top half of your tattoo. I am embarrassed for staring and I wanted to say I am sorry." Now, this seemed genuine, so I accepted his apology. No big deal right? It would have been, except the next words out of his mouth were, "Well since I saw the top if it, I guess you'll have to show me the rest now." Mind you, the tattoo he "saw" was what is commonly referred to as a "tramp stamp". So, you can guess where he was "looking". I of course was totally irritated at his comment. I replied that only my husband is allowed to see the rest of that tattoo, promptly rolled up my window and turned up the radio!
Honestly! The balls on these men. As if I, or any other woman is screaming for that kind of attention. The worst part of course, is If you are sitting anywhere for a period of time, it can be hard to avoid these people. I was very uncomfortable after that exchange. We were both in the same truck stop for over a day. I had to avoid him, make sure he was not out when I needed to go to the bathroom or get something to eat.
There was another time a few years ago where I had a man literally stalking me at a terminal. I had two other male drivers who accompanied me where ever I went to keep the man away. I know I was not "just making it up" because both of the other drivers witnessed the man's unwanted, unencouraged advances. I am not bragging - after all who would be proud of such attention? I am nothing to write home about - IMO - and I have never gone out of my way to encourage these responses. I have been told I can be "flirty" or "overly friendly" but I am just being me.
The point here is, when a woman is out alone driving, she has to put up with this sort of ridiculous, unwanted attention. And, if you don't harden yourself to it very early, you can get sucked into a dangerous place - emotionally, physically and even spiritually. If you have a rocky relationship, finding the positive, ego-boosting attention on the road is not hard to do. As a female, there are men lining up to be "Mr. Right Now". It's empowering to have people compliment you, hit on you, adore you. I, like many drivers, fell into this trap. It wasn't very far to fall either.
I was a different person on the road. I was the worst me I could be at times. I was selfish and self-centered. I got sucked into the idea that since I paid all the bills I could do what ever I wanted. I justified my behavior based on my income level. I wanted more than I was deserving of. I made bad decisions and I regret many of them. I have others that well, as awful as it sounds, don't regret at all. If not for the experiences I had, I would not be the person I am now.
But in the end, I was still me. Simply put. I wanted to be with my true soul mate. The man who put up with me and loved me no matter what so I stopped driving for a while. My husband and I found each other again. We realized our lives were much better together than they would ever be apart. He gave up the alcohol and drugs and I gave up my "trucker life". We have been much stronger for the experience. We forgave each other our weaknesses.
It's hard to be married, it's even harder to be married and always be apart. Some people make it work, some try and fail and others - like my husband and I - walk through the fire and are tempered even stronger than before. Driving is my passion. I love driving a truck more than just about anything - but I love my husband more.
When I started driving in 2003, I was desperate to have enough money to pay my bills. Driving more than provided for me and my family. I was so excited to learn how to drive a truck. The very first time you get in that seat and look in the mirror, it's intimidating. The back of the truck and trailer seem to be a very, very long way away! But before you know it, you are part of the vehicle. Ironically, when I drive my car, I look like I'm drunk. I swing too wide in my turns, I take forever to change lanes, I put my turn signal on way to early and I can't back up that little car for anything! It's actually amazing I haven't been pulled over yet!
I also was having issues with my husband. Not to get too in depth here, but my darling husband has had a very rough past. His childhood was less than stellar and he fell into using drugs and alcohol to make his life easier to bear. When I started driving, I was unaware how severe his problems were. He was very good at covering and I was very good at ignoring.
I wanted to be gone - away from the pain and drama of my home life. Driving a truck was perfect to keep me from having to deal with what was happening at home. When you drive a truck over the road, you have to separate yourself. It's a different life style and you can't be wholly yourself. To be a successful truck driver you have to be gone. You only get paid if your wheels are rolling. Therefore, you can't be home every night or even every weekend. I was regularly gone 4 weeks at a time. Being gone like that wreaks havoc on the strongest relationship. If that relationship is rocky, you are going to destroy it.
It starts out simply enough, innocuously enough. You don't mean for your mind to wander. You call home regularly. You make your vows of love and faithfulness. But there's many a slip betwixt the cup and the lip. Life is not as simple as that when you are a woman driving solo on the road hundreds of miles from what is normal and safe.
See, when you drive alone and are a female, it is imperative that you always think of your safety. You always park under lights, as close to the building as possible. You must pay attention to your surroundings at all times. You have to find the very fine line between being polite and being flirty. You must be aware of what you wear, how you walk, how you talk, what you say and to whom you say it. You must always be aware of who is listening - in the truck stop , at the warehouse, on the CB.
My very first week solo, I was parked for the night at a rest area in VA off I-95. I had no sooner gotten ready for bed and climbed under the covers when my faithful trucking puppy, Precious went absolutely nuts. Barking and jumping around the cab. I jumped out of bed and checked all my windows. Someone had tried to pry open my triangle window on the driver's side. If not for having a 100 pound rottweiler barking her fool head off, I may not be here to type this!
That is one of many stories I have personally had that made me nervous to be on the road. And my stories are not too different from other women who drive for a living. It is hard to be a man driving and away from the family. But as a woman, it is not only hard, but dangerous. I have been told many stories of women being assaulted, raped, and even killed just trying to do their job. Even if a woman manages to never have to face a dangerous situation, we all have to deal with the unwanted attention and ridiculous come-ons by men day in and out.
I was in Washington state, laid over waiting to cross the border into Canada, back in the fall. I was at a truck stop cleaning out my cab when a man twice my age approached my truck. He said, "I want to apologize. I heard a loud noise and when I looked over here, I saw the top half of your tattoo. I am embarrassed for staring and I wanted to say I am sorry." Now, this seemed genuine, so I accepted his apology. No big deal right? It would have been, except the next words out of his mouth were, "Well since I saw the top if it, I guess you'll have to show me the rest now." Mind you, the tattoo he "saw" was what is commonly referred to as a "tramp stamp". So, you can guess where he was "looking". I of course was totally irritated at his comment. I replied that only my husband is allowed to see the rest of that tattoo, promptly rolled up my window and turned up the radio!
Honestly! The balls on these men. As if I, or any other woman is screaming for that kind of attention. The worst part of course, is If you are sitting anywhere for a period of time, it can be hard to avoid these people. I was very uncomfortable after that exchange. We were both in the same truck stop for over a day. I had to avoid him, make sure he was not out when I needed to go to the bathroom or get something to eat.
There was another time a few years ago where I had a man literally stalking me at a terminal. I had two other male drivers who accompanied me where ever I went to keep the man away. I know I was not "just making it up" because both of the other drivers witnessed the man's unwanted, unencouraged advances. I am not bragging - after all who would be proud of such attention? I am nothing to write home about - IMO - and I have never gone out of my way to encourage these responses. I have been told I can be "flirty" or "overly friendly" but I am just being me.
The point here is, when a woman is out alone driving, she has to put up with this sort of ridiculous, unwanted attention. And, if you don't harden yourself to it very early, you can get sucked into a dangerous place - emotionally, physically and even spiritually. If you have a rocky relationship, finding the positive, ego-boosting attention on the road is not hard to do. As a female, there are men lining up to be "Mr. Right Now". It's empowering to have people compliment you, hit on you, adore you. I, like many drivers, fell into this trap. It wasn't very far to fall either.
I was a different person on the road. I was the worst me I could be at times. I was selfish and self-centered. I got sucked into the idea that since I paid all the bills I could do what ever I wanted. I justified my behavior based on my income level. I wanted more than I was deserving of. I made bad decisions and I regret many of them. I have others that well, as awful as it sounds, don't regret at all. If not for the experiences I had, I would not be the person I am now.
But in the end, I was still me. Simply put. I wanted to be with my true soul mate. The man who put up with me and loved me no matter what so I stopped driving for a while. My husband and I found each other again. We realized our lives were much better together than they would ever be apart. He gave up the alcohol and drugs and I gave up my "trucker life". We have been much stronger for the experience. We forgave each other our weaknesses.
It's hard to be married, it's even harder to be married and always be apart. Some people make it work, some try and fail and others - like my husband and I - walk through the fire and are tempered even stronger than before. Driving is my passion. I love driving a truck more than just about anything - but I love my husband more.
Wednesday, March 18, 2009
Test blog
I am not sure my posts are being emailed. If you get his would you please email me and let me know. Thanks.
Oh where, oh where has my little blog gone?
Sadly I have not been a very good blogger.
Apparently, one is expected to post on these things daily, or at least more than once a month! The trouble is I haven't figured out how to come up with enough stuff to talk about. I'm rather boring I think. Who wants to read a bazillion posts about chickens? God knows I have bored my family to pieces already with my chicken addiction. I don't have any real hobbies. I'm not a member of any groups. So really it is just me and the chickens.
I guess I could always go on about my kids. However, they're now teenagers and they don't tend to do anything "cute" anymore. In fact, at this stage they are just down right annoying. Sometimes bordering on rude and obnoxious. Who wants to read about that? That brings us back to the chickens.....see the dilema?
So, although I haven't been an active writer, I have been very busy. In fact, I have been at my sister's house in PA for 2 weeks now. We are moving to PA from NC and have found the most brilliant little "mini" farm to rent. I am currently job hunting. I've sent out a ton of resumes and gone on a couple interviews, but so far no bites.
I have to have something to pay the bills before I move the clan up here. Hubby is getting quite nervous. We have had a couple marital disputes about the only thing we ever fight over - money. It's amazing how you can go without and it's no big deal until you need just a little more than usual and then all hell breaks loose. He's stressed, I'm stressed - Man, I need a job!
So, that's it. Job hunting, trying not to fight with husband, and hatching chickens. Super exciting stuff! Someone alert the media!!!
Apparently, one is expected to post on these things daily, or at least more than once a month! The trouble is I haven't figured out how to come up with enough stuff to talk about. I'm rather boring I think. Who wants to read a bazillion posts about chickens? God knows I have bored my family to pieces already with my chicken addiction. I don't have any real hobbies. I'm not a member of any groups. So really it is just me and the chickens.
I guess I could always go on about my kids. However, they're now teenagers and they don't tend to do anything "cute" anymore. In fact, at this stage they are just down right annoying. Sometimes bordering on rude and obnoxious. Who wants to read about that? That brings us back to the chickens.....see the dilema?
So, although I haven't been an active writer, I have been very busy. In fact, I have been at my sister's house in PA for 2 weeks now. We are moving to PA from NC and have found the most brilliant little "mini" farm to rent. I am currently job hunting. I've sent out a ton of resumes and gone on a couple interviews, but so far no bites.
I have to have something to pay the bills before I move the clan up here. Hubby is getting quite nervous. We have had a couple marital disputes about the only thing we ever fight over - money. It's amazing how you can go without and it's no big deal until you need just a little more than usual and then all hell breaks loose. He's stressed, I'm stressed - Man, I need a job!
So, that's it. Job hunting, trying not to fight with husband, and hatching chickens. Super exciting stuff! Someone alert the media!!!
Sunday, February 15, 2009
I may open a cryogenics lab.
I have a dead goldfish and a very dead hamster in my freezer. I am not joking. The fish has been dead for 2 years and the hamster bit the big one back in the fall. Why, you ask? well, when you have children and they have pets, sometimes you do ridiculous things to comfort them.
Elizabeth spent the summer with my folks about 5 years ago, just after we moved to North Carolina. My mother took her and her brother to the county fair where Liz won a gold fish by tossing a ping pong ball into a bowl. She was very proud of herself. She named the fish Pippin.
Pippin was a nice little fish. Liz took care of him religiously. She kept his bowl very clean, so clean in fact she killed the algae eater we bought to keep Pippin company. The algae eater was named Merry, of course. Merry died after a few weeks, but Pippin carried on for another two years.
Then, Liz decided Pippin was lonely. I don't know how she knew, maybe the fish waved his fin in a Morse code style. Any who, we bought some fish from a pet store. Unfortunately the fish had Ick. It died and so did Pippin. So Pippin was wrapped in a paper towel and put in a Ziploc bag. My mother had him in her freezer for about a year. We found him when we were cleaning out her freezer after she sold her house.
Thus, Pippin made the trip home to our freezer. Where he has been ever since. As for the hamster, she was my son's. Apparently she died and it took him a few days to notice. Although I don't know how he didn't figure it out from the smell!!
I came home and found a note written by my daughter. It went something like this:" Hamsters dead. Boys upset. Gone to school." I opened his door and just about fell over from the dead rodent smell! We wrapped her in a plastic bag and put her in a small box. She sits next to Pippin on the bottom shelf of the freezer.
The other day I opened the freezer and it hit me, if any more of my pets die, I will not have room for my food!
Elizabeth spent the summer with my folks about 5 years ago, just after we moved to North Carolina. My mother took her and her brother to the county fair where Liz won a gold fish by tossing a ping pong ball into a bowl. She was very proud of herself. She named the fish Pippin.
Pippin was a nice little fish. Liz took care of him religiously. She kept his bowl very clean, so clean in fact she killed the algae eater we bought to keep Pippin company. The algae eater was named Merry, of course. Merry died after a few weeks, but Pippin carried on for another two years.
Then, Liz decided Pippin was lonely. I don't know how she knew, maybe the fish waved his fin in a Morse code style. Any who, we bought some fish from a pet store. Unfortunately the fish had Ick. It died and so did Pippin. So Pippin was wrapped in a paper towel and put in a Ziploc bag. My mother had him in her freezer for about a year. We found him when we were cleaning out her freezer after she sold her house.
Thus, Pippin made the trip home to our freezer. Where he has been ever since. As for the hamster, she was my son's. Apparently she died and it took him a few days to notice. Although I don't know how he didn't figure it out from the smell!!
I came home and found a note written by my daughter. It went something like this:" Hamsters dead. Boys upset. Gone to school." I opened his door and just about fell over from the dead rodent smell! We wrapped her in a plastic bag and put her in a small box. She sits next to Pippin on the bottom shelf of the freezer.
The other day I opened the freezer and it hit me, if any more of my pets die, I will not have room for my food!
Wednesday, February 11, 2009
Chicken Crazy
This maybe hard to believe, but I am totally obsessed with chickens. Why? How could anyone have this issue? you ask. Well, not only is it possible, It has happened to me and hundreds of thousands of people around this great country.
Oh, it starts out innocuously enough. You get a couple birds. Maybe even are given some birds. That's how it began for me. I was given 6 hens and a rooster through a friend of a friend. Full grown laying hens. They were very nice - 3 Rhode Island Reds, 2 Buff Orpington and a Sex link hen (this is a bird whose father was a Rhode Island Red and mother was a Barred Rock) along with a Barred Rock rooster.
We built a pen with inside and outside space. They have a perch to sleep on at night and 3 boxes to lay their eggs in the day. And they do only lay during the day. They actually only ovulate in the sunlight hours. And, It takes about 26 hours for the next egg to come along.
At first it was just really cool to go out and watch them. They like going out to scratch in the dirt for bugs and grass and rocks. Yes, they eat rocks. Chickens don't have teeth. They eat their food whole and then they eat small rocks from the yard and the "grit" (ground limestone and oyster shell) that we provide. It all goes down into their gizzard to be ground up into digestible size bits.
I have learned the meaning of certain phrases like "hen pecked", "pecking order" and "mad as a wet hen". Believe you me, they do not like getting wet! In fact when they "bathe" they do it in the dust. They scratch out a place in the dirt and kick it up and over themselves to get it in their feathers.
Chickens are just generally interesting to watch. We sit out in the yard an just relax with a coke and watch their interaction. They dogs and cats have mixed reactions to them though. Bo and Mooch could care less. Precious can't decide if she wants to eat them or mother them. Oliver loves to "surprise" them but has enough sense to stay out of pecking range. But Daisy, well Daisy likes to chase them. It's a game for her. Fortunately for the birds, they are totally fenced in. Unfortunately for one of our hens, the door proved too much a temptation and she and Daisy had a problem. Daisy won. Thus Daisy and the chickens are now completely separated by 40' of fencing. That was a lesson learned the hard way.
So, how does a few free chickens turn into obsession? Well through the internet of course. We started reading articles, researching breeds (of which there are over 963!) and we joined chicken chat groups (yup there are chicken chat groups!). We found several kinds of birds that we think are really cool. Then we found people who breed them. Then we started to dream about expanding the flock.
We decided to stick to one breed and with in that breed 4 varieties. We like the breed called Orpington which originated in Orpington England:
Thank You Wikipedia!
See I told you they were cool. We really like the Black, Blue, Splash, Chocolate and Lavender varieties. However, we have learned these colors are fairly rare in the US, especially the Lavender and Chocolate. So that is where we have begun our program.
It started out simple enough. We bought a rooster who is Black and carries the lavender gene. Then we bought some chicks that are also black and carry the gene. Then we bought some more chicks, and some more chicks. We are waiting on our last batch of black/lavender chicks to arrive this week. In total we have 6 Black Orpington chicks.
But wait, there is more. In my quest to find good Blue and Splash birds I hit the internet. I found a gal who sells her eggs on ebay. So I bid and I won. So I am expecting 24 BBS(Blue, Black and Splash) eggs to arrive very shortly. Yes, I do have an incubator. Currently there are 5 eggs in it. Hopefully they will be hatching by the end of February.
Speaking of hatching, that is another fascinating thing about chickens. They go from egg to baby in 21 days! It is amazing to witness the development of these creatures. This video is incredible..... http://www.metacafe.com/watch/1446848/chicken_egg_defies_evolution/
Watching our first little chick hatch was totally cool. I couldn't believe how impatient I was for it to pop out. By day 19 we could hear him in there peeping away. I was so stressed waiting for it to hatch out. So many things can go wrong in those last few days. But it did hatch and now it is now of the bigger babies we have. Baby count: 1 RIR/Barred Rock, 6 Black Orpingtons, and 6 Turkens.
What's a Turken? Well it is my husband's little "want" of the month. Let us consult Wikipedia again.....
A Naked Neck flock (rooster in foreground) in Hungary
A buff laced Polish
Oh, it starts out innocuously enough. You get a couple birds. Maybe even are given some birds. That's how it began for me. I was given 6 hens and a rooster through a friend of a friend. Full grown laying hens. They were very nice - 3 Rhode Island Reds, 2 Buff Orpington and a Sex link hen (this is a bird whose father was a Rhode Island Red and mother was a Barred Rock) along with a Barred Rock rooster.
We built a pen with inside and outside space. They have a perch to sleep on at night and 3 boxes to lay their eggs in the day. And they do only lay during the day. They actually only ovulate in the sunlight hours. And, It takes about 26 hours for the next egg to come along.
At first it was just really cool to go out and watch them. They like going out to scratch in the dirt for bugs and grass and rocks. Yes, they eat rocks. Chickens don't have teeth. They eat their food whole and then they eat small rocks from the yard and the "grit" (ground limestone and oyster shell) that we provide. It all goes down into their gizzard to be ground up into digestible size bits.
I have learned the meaning of certain phrases like "hen pecked", "pecking order" and "mad as a wet hen". Believe you me, they do not like getting wet! In fact when they "bathe" they do it in the dust. They scratch out a place in the dirt and kick it up and over themselves to get it in their feathers.
Chickens are just generally interesting to watch. We sit out in the yard an just relax with a coke and watch their interaction. They dogs and cats have mixed reactions to them though. Bo and Mooch could care less. Precious can't decide if she wants to eat them or mother them. Oliver loves to "surprise" them but has enough sense to stay out of pecking range. But Daisy, well Daisy likes to chase them. It's a game for her. Fortunately for the birds, they are totally fenced in. Unfortunately for one of our hens, the door proved too much a temptation and she and Daisy had a problem. Daisy won. Thus Daisy and the chickens are now completely separated by 40' of fencing. That was a lesson learned the hard way.
So, how does a few free chickens turn into obsession? Well through the internet of course. We started reading articles, researching breeds (of which there are over 963!) and we joined chicken chat groups (yup there are chicken chat groups!). We found several kinds of birds that we think are really cool. Then we found people who breed them. Then we started to dream about expanding the flock.
We decided to stick to one breed and with in that breed 4 varieties. We like the breed called Orpington which originated in Orpington England:
Orpington (chicken)
From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia
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The Orpington is a large bird from the English class of chickens. It is a bold, upright breed with a wide chest, broad back, and small head and tail. The Orpington was bred as a dual-purpose breed (meat production and eggs), but its popularity grew as a show bird rather than a utility breed. Their large size and soft appearance together with their rich color and gentle contours make them very attractive.
Contents[hide] |
[edit] History
The original Orpington (the Black) was developed in 1886 by William Cook. He crossed Minorcas, Langshans and Plymouth Rocks to create the new hybrid bird. Cook named the breed after his home town in Kent. The first Orpingtons looked very much like the Langshan and were black. Between 1889 and 1905, Cook also created white, buff and blue colored Orpingtons. The breed was famous for its great egg-capacity.
[edit] Appearance
Some characteristics of an Orpington are:
- Heavy (7 to 10 pounds),
- Soft, profuse feathering, which almost hides the legs of the bird,
- Curvy shape with a short back and U-shaped underline,
- A small head with a small comb.
- Large and usually tame
- Its fluffy feathers that makes it look distinctively large.
[edit] Colours
Besides the original colours (black, white, buff, blue), lots of other varieties exist today, e.g. porcelain ( = Jubilee, speckled), red, mottled and birchen. The original colors are still the most widely bred varieties. Many colors are still being thought of and bred today.
Thank You Wikipedia!
See I told you they were cool. We really like the Black, Blue, Splash, Chocolate and Lavender varieties. However, we have learned these colors are fairly rare in the US, especially the Lavender and Chocolate. So that is where we have begun our program.
It started out simple enough. We bought a rooster who is Black and carries the lavender gene. Then we bought some chicks that are also black and carry the gene. Then we bought some more chicks, and some more chicks. We are waiting on our last batch of black/lavender chicks to arrive this week. In total we have 6 Black Orpington chicks.
But wait, there is more. In my quest to find good Blue and Splash birds I hit the internet. I found a gal who sells her eggs on ebay. So I bid and I won. So I am expecting 24 BBS(Blue, Black and Splash) eggs to arrive very shortly. Yes, I do have an incubator. Currently there are 5 eggs in it. Hopefully they will be hatching by the end of February.
Speaking of hatching, that is another fascinating thing about chickens. They go from egg to baby in 21 days! It is amazing to witness the development of these creatures. This video is incredible..... http://www.metacafe.com/watch/1446848/chicken_egg_defies_evolution/
Watching our first little chick hatch was totally cool. I couldn't believe how impatient I was for it to pop out. By day 19 we could hear him in there peeping away. I was so stressed waiting for it to hatch out. So many things can go wrong in those last few days. But it did hatch and now it is now of the bigger babies we have. Baby count: 1 RIR/Barred Rock, 6 Black Orpingtons, and 6 Turkens.
What's a Turken? Well it is my husband's little "want" of the month. Let us consult Wikipedia again.....
Naked Neck
From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia
(Redirected from Turken)
The Naked Neck is the only breed of chicken that is naturally devoid of feathers on its neck. Originating in Central Europe, the breed is also called the Transylvanian Naked Neck, as well as the Turken. This latter name arose from the mistaken idea that the bird was a hybrid of a chicken and the domestic turkey. Naked Necks are fairly common in Europe today, but are rare in North America.
Contents[hide] |
[edit] Characteristics
Despite its highly unusual appearance, the breed is not particularly known as an exhibition bird, and is a dual-purpose utility chicken. They lay a respectable number of light brown eggs, and are considered desirable for meat production because they need less plucking. The breed is also reasonably cold hardy despite its featherlessness. Naked Neck roosters carry a single comb, and the neck and head often become very bright red from increased sun exposure. it is not to be confused with the churky or chicken turkey
Lovely ain't it? So I have 6 of these little chickies in my hatchery too. They are way cuter as babies but still U-G-L-Y!
So that brings the baby count up to 13. I am still waiting to hear about my 5 last Black Orpingtons. And next week we are picking up some Polish chicks (another husband thing) - Wikipedia take it away....
Polish (chicken)
From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia
For other uses, see Polish.
The Polish is an European breed of chicken known for its crest of feathers. The English language name of these birds is a misnomer, as they do not originate in the country of Poland. Instead, the oldest accounts of crested chickens comes from the Netherlands[citation needed]. In addition to combs, their heads are adorned with large crests due to a cone (called a protuberance) on the top of their skull. The crests cover almost their entire heads.
Polish chickens are bred primarily as a show bird, but were originally egg layers. Accordingly, Polish do not go broody and are noted for their white eggs. They may be bearded or non-bearded. The different colors of Polish are listed below in bearded and non-bearded varieties. Hens weigh around 4.5 pounds, and roosters 6 pounds. Polish are very skittish due to their feathered heads, and may be easily spooked.
So that adds 3 more babies. Don't forget I have 5 eggs in the incubator and 24 on the way. Oh and did I mention I was ebay-ing another 1/2 dozen from a different breeder? Oh yeah, I am winning that one as of this morning. That's a total of 35 eggs! I'm hoping for at least a 75% hatch rate. Do the math!
Lastly, I will be buying 2 more roosters - Blue Orpingtons this time. I'm driving down to Georgia Sunday to pick them up.
Now, I have sold some birds. Fear not good reader, I know I can't keep them all. I have to make room for my breeding birds so I sold most of the hens and the Barred Rock rooster. I only kept my good laying hens - the three RIRs. We will eat those eggs. And of course I have Boykin - the Black Orpington rooster.
So, chicken count - 4 adult birds with 2 more on the way, 13 chicks with 5 more on the way, and 5 eggs with 30 more on the way. See, I am crazy!! This is worse than SARS...there is no cure for this disease!
Sunday, February 8, 2009
Welcome to the Cyber World, Baby Girl!
Or something like that.
I'm a mid-thirties, married mom of two who up until a few weeks ago only managed to check her email without calling a support line. My technological transformation came by way of my 15 year old daughter and a little site I like to call CrackBook. Oh yes, I am well on my way to needing a twelve step program with that one!
I have no idea what it is about this site that causes me to NEED to check it nine million times a day. I have "friends", most of whom I don't remember from my school days, listed down the left side of my page. I show them off like war medals. My sister actually referred to me as a "FaceBook Slut"! Honestly, I think she's just jealous cause I have way more "Friends" than she does! Who cares if most of them wouldn't have pissed on me if I was on fire 15 years ago. We are living in the "Inter-now", right? I'm sure these folks like me for me - you know the me they don't know and don't seem anymore interested in learning about than they did when I was wearing friendship bracelets and pegging my pants. But they like me or else they wouldn't have "accepted" me. Unless they too are whores, selling out their little photos to be listed on as many people's pages as possible. I think I am proof that high school never ends.
But I digress.......
So I have this page and I have yet to figure out how it works. The layout to me is messy and redundant. It reminds me of my teenagers' bedrooms. But then, that's the point isn't it? To make teens feel at home? Why else would you have all the nonsense of "tagging" each other, writing "notes", and "poking" or even "super poking" your "friends"?
And what is with all the requests? I keep getting sent all these messages asking me to join and then send things to other people. To date I have a fake farm, a fake candy store, buttons on my bulletin board, Red neck "bling", and a host of other links that I have not idea what to do with at any given time. I even have a "Happy Horse" that almost died from my lack of daily care. I've never killed so much as a gold fish yet I can't keep my fake horse avatar alive!
Is this really the world our children are living in? It's like Alice in Wonderland. Nothing is real. Up is down. In is out. Beware of the Jaberwoki children! And yet it's so very contagious. I have been sucked into the "unreality" of it all. I even was insulted when my dear husband pointed out the childishness of it all to me earlier.
Yes, he's right. It's silly and a waste of time. It's counter productive and a bit depressing to sit here for hours and get not one single acknowledgement from my "friends" that I posted new photos or a witty quip. It's, it's....well, it's like high school all over again.
And that, is the root of my failure. I am unable to walk away because I am still that nappy headed, chubby, be speckled, geek who couldn't get an invite to a party, much less a date for four painfully, miserable years of my teenage life. I am that girl - deep down - who still wants the nod from the popular kids.
I am still haunted by the insecurities of my youth. I am emotionally unable to let go of the constant rejection of the "high school" me from those who were my peers in the late 80s. I am still bitter....It's unhealthy, I know. But i can't seem to let go of those few years. They have framed my very view of my self - what I see when I look in the mirror 15 years later. It is still a reflection of who I was told I was and always would be through the rejection, labels and general disdain of those around me during the most trying years of my life.
Am I insecure? Yes. Was it because of my high school experience? I think more yes than not. Will high school ever end? God I hope so. Until then, there's always FaceBook.....
I'm a mid-thirties, married mom of two who up until a few weeks ago only managed to check her email without calling a support line. My technological transformation came by way of my 15 year old daughter and a little site I like to call CrackBook. Oh yes, I am well on my way to needing a twelve step program with that one!
I have no idea what it is about this site that causes me to NEED to check it nine million times a day. I have "friends", most of whom I don't remember from my school days, listed down the left side of my page. I show them off like war medals. My sister actually referred to me as a "FaceBook Slut"! Honestly, I think she's just jealous cause I have way more "Friends" than she does! Who cares if most of them wouldn't have pissed on me if I was on fire 15 years ago. We are living in the "Inter-now", right? I'm sure these folks like me for me - you know the me they don't know and don't seem anymore interested in learning about than they did when I was wearing friendship bracelets and pegging my pants. But they like me or else they wouldn't have "accepted" me. Unless they too are whores, selling out their little photos to be listed on as many people's pages as possible. I think I am proof that high school never ends.
But I digress.......
So I have this page and I have yet to figure out how it works. The layout to me is messy and redundant. It reminds me of my teenagers' bedrooms. But then, that's the point isn't it? To make teens feel at home? Why else would you have all the nonsense of "tagging" each other, writing "notes", and "poking" or even "super poking" your "friends"?
And what is with all the requests? I keep getting sent all these messages asking me to join and then send things to other people. To date I have a fake farm, a fake candy store, buttons on my bulletin board, Red neck "bling", and a host of other links that I have not idea what to do with at any given time. I even have a "Happy Horse" that almost died from my lack of daily care. I've never killed so much as a gold fish yet I can't keep my fake horse avatar alive!
Is this really the world our children are living in? It's like Alice in Wonderland. Nothing is real. Up is down. In is out. Beware of the Jaberwoki children! And yet it's so very contagious. I have been sucked into the "unreality" of it all. I even was insulted when my dear husband pointed out the childishness of it all to me earlier.
Yes, he's right. It's silly and a waste of time. It's counter productive and a bit depressing to sit here for hours and get not one single acknowledgement from my "friends" that I posted new photos or a witty quip. It's, it's....well, it's like high school all over again.
And that, is the root of my failure. I am unable to walk away because I am still that nappy headed, chubby, be speckled, geek who couldn't get an invite to a party, much less a date for four painfully, miserable years of my teenage life. I am that girl - deep down - who still wants the nod from the popular kids.
I am still haunted by the insecurities of my youth. I am emotionally unable to let go of the constant rejection of the "high school" me from those who were my peers in the late 80s. I am still bitter....It's unhealthy, I know. But i can't seem to let go of those few years. They have framed my very view of my self - what I see when I look in the mirror 15 years later. It is still a reflection of who I was told I was and always would be through the rejection, labels and general disdain of those around me during the most trying years of my life.
Am I insecure? Yes. Was it because of my high school experience? I think more yes than not. Will high school ever end? God I hope so. Until then, there's always FaceBook.....
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