So you wanna get some chickens???

Raising and keeping chickens in backyards recently received a revitalizing boost, becoming a way of life for people who are concerned about where their food comes from before they eat it. Once the norm, keeping chickens went out of fashion in the 1950s with the increase of commercially produced food and the increase of personal income which allowed middle and lower income families to afford refrigerators.

In recent years concerns about how food is produced, mass recalls of contaminated food products, and a general push to support local farmers over big agri-business has Americans in all walks of life searching for practical and fun ways to be involved with the growing and processing of their food. Hence, the dramatic increase of backyard flocks all over the country. And not just in rural farm settings, places like New York, Chicago, Miami and other major metropolitan areas as well as suburbs, small cities and towns find chicken keepers around every corner.

So popular has the fancy become, chickens are popping up on TV shows like Tori and Dean: Home Sweet Hollywood on the Oxygen network and Kate Plus 8 on TLC. These shows may or may not have tapped into a “fad” for ratings, but chicken keeping does have die hard fans in Hollywood. Big stars like Julia Roberts, Chuck Norris, Barbara Streisand and Chevy Chase all have backyard flocks.

And let’s not forget, folks like Martha Stewart, Paula Deen and Sally Jesse Rafael have been keeping chickens since before keeping chickens was cool! Now, before you rush out and buy one of these because it matches your favorite outfit and fits in your carry on hand bag (Yes. I’m talking to you Miss Hilton!), there are a few things you should consider about keeping chickens.

The biggest and most important is the big Z. No, not Jay Z. The BIG Z – Zoning. Are you zoned for chickens? Not all places allow livestock. Yes, Poultry, including chickens, ducks and geese, are livestock. The very first place you must start on your quest for feathery, fluffy egg laying goodness is your local branch of government. I can’t tell you the many heart wrenching stories I have been told of folks who acquired chickens, got attached only to be ordered by their local town to remove the animals immediately. It’s a tale all too often told. It is very important to make sure you are allowed, legally to house poultry. Some cities will allow only limited numbers of birds or, they allow hens and not roosters. The key here: KNOW YOUR CODE! Get a copy and keep it in your house. Even if you are zoned to have poultry, not all neighbors will be open and supportive.

Further, not all law enforcement or public officials such as Health Department Inspectors or Animal Control Officers have full and accurate knowledge of the codes for the areas they serve. It is the chicken owner’s responsibility to be operating with in the constraints of their local ordinances. Another point of contention is local Home Owner’s Associations. If you live in a development with a HOA, even if you are zoned to have poultry, it may go against your contract. So check with you HOA as well before moving forward to acquire chickens.


Ok, so you’re clear with the city and ordinance is in hand? Great! So lets move on to step two. HEY! I know you’re not hanging out at the feed store eye balling chicks. Oh no my friend, not yet! Before you purchase that little fuzzy ball of cuteness and five of her little friends, we must discuss space. Specifically, how much do you have? If you live in town, your ordinance may have restriction on how close to residential dwellings you can build your coop and run. You may think you have a huge back yard, but after measuring out the distance, it may be much smaller than first thought. Secondly, full grown birds will need much more space than those little chicks you keep eyeing. And, depending on if you want bantam sized or large fowl size also will change the amount of space you will need.

There are plenty of opinions on how much space a chicken requires. Some people will say 2 square feet per bird is enough while others will say it must be at least 5 square feet per bird. That measurement is an inside the coop measurement and then is duplicated outside the coop in the run.

Another point to consider is your location. If you are in a place that gets a lot of snow and has prolonged winters, your birds will spend more time indoors. Therefore, you may want to provide more space than 2 square feet. Also remember, chickens are very adept at turning a beautiful green space into a desert waste land. The more chickens you have on a plot of grass, the quicker the grass will cease to exist. And, there is time and money to consider. If you put too many birds in a space, you will be cleaning more often. More cleaning means more time and more bedding are used. If your run is too small for the amount of birds you have, you will be feeding more processed feed to make up for the lack of forage available. Sometimes, less is more. Take a moment and map out your space and then decide what you believe is a reasonable amount of grown birds for the space you have available.

We know you can keep them. We know you have the room to house them. So, what kind should you get? There are literally 100s of breeds of chickens available. So before you impulse buy those feed store chicks, let’s discuss why you want to keep chickens. What are your needs and expectations for the birds? Do you want just eggs? What about meat? Both? Maybe just some feathery lawn art? No matter what your purpose or desire, there is a breed to fit the need.

Let’s start with egg layers. Some chickens lay brown eggs. Some lay white eggs. Some even lay pink, blue or green eggs. Some are good layers. Take for example the Jersey Giant, a good solid above average brown egg layer. Another good layer is the Delaware. However, it’s not necessary to have a pure bred bird for good consistent laying. There are a myriad of hybrid birds that are amazing egg layers. Some of these cross breeds are very prolific and will lay year round when other birds quit.If your looking for a white egg layer, the Leghorn is the “go to bird” for above average laying. Leghorns are a popular breed for commercial laying houses due to their laying abilities. As for colored eggs, the most popular and easily found is the Easter Egger. So named for the colorful Easter egg colored eggs they lay. Shades ranging from pink to blue to green and without the fuss of vinegar and dye tablets! Not to mention, the birds are as colorful as their eggs!

If you are wanting meat more than eggs, the most common breed is a Cornish or a Cornish X. These birds are commonly used in commercial poultry houses. They grow quickly and are ready to be butchered in relatively short time frame. They are butchered in 6 to 8 weeks of growth verses an average of 20 weeks for a dual purpose bird. That kind of quick growth means lots of food and lots of waste. Meaties, though short lived are more time and resource intensive than layers or a dual purpose bird.

Dual purpose birds are generally good layers as well as a bird that provides a decent amount of meat when butchered. Breeds like Orpingtons, Brahmas, New Hampshires, Rhode Island Reds and Plymouth Rocks are all examples of good dual purpose birds.

Don’t care about getting eggs regularly or the size of your roast? Maybe you just want a funky, little flock that’s pretty looking. Well, you won’t be disappointed. From feathered legs and five toes to poofy top knots and crazy feather patterns, there are chickens for any fancy. And fancy they are!






Ordinance? Check! Space? Check! Breed? Check! Now for the most important check of all – the money check!

Start up costs is, by far, the biggest cost to keeping chickens. Do you buy a pre-made coop or tractor? Do you build on from the ground up? Do you recycle an old building? Any of these are good options with tons of possibilities. The key is to do research and shop around. There is a coop for every budget! Remember, if you are only housing a couple of birds, a chicken tractor may be a more economical way to go. If you have an old out building and some power tools (or friends with power tools) recycling a building may be the best option. It doesn’t matter what it looks like, what matters is how safe and roomy it is for the amount of birds you are housing.

Safety from predators should always be a top priority. People aren’t the only animals that eat chickens. Dogs, cats, raccoons, snakes, other birds are just a few of the predators who are a danger to chickens. It’s hard out there for a chick!

Weather is another big issue to consider. Where you live, your year round weather conditions should be considered when you are purchasing or constructing a coop. Birds can suffer frost bite and heat stroke like any other animal. Shade, good ventilation and insulation are all points to consider for the health and happiness of your flock.

Coops need to have roosts for the chickens to sleep at night. Chickens like to be up above ground. However, not all roosts are created equal. The roost needs to be sturdy enough to support the weight of the bird as well as height appropriate for the breed you chose. Heavier birds can injure themselves jumping down from too high a roost.

Coops need laying boxes.These too need to be appropriate sized for the breed you are housing.A full grown Jersey Giant needs more space than a bantam Polish.Another must, a pop door that shuts. Many a bird has been lost due to midnight snack raids through an open pop door! Pop doors are the small entrances that the chickens use to go in and out of their coop. Pop doors need to be large enough for a bird to comfortably walk through. At night, this door needs to be able to be closed to keep out predators. If a chicken can fit through the door, so can a raccoon or weasel. At night chickens are most vulnerable to predators because they don’t see well and panic easily. They may not have the ability to get back out the pop door to escape an attack. A whole flock can be wiped out in one night!

Something else to consider, practicality of use by YOU! Yes you. Coops need to be adequate for the number and breed of bird, but they also need to be user friendly. You are the one who will need to have access to feeders and waterers daily. You need to be able to collect eggs easily. And, you will need to be able to clean the coop. Nothing worse than building the coop, spending all winter using “deep litter” only to have spring roll around and realize you can’t fit the wheel barrow through the door of the coop to clean it out! Yes, it happens, even to those of us with years of experience. Keep in mind the easy of use for yourself as you look at coop options.

Lastly, the biggest decision before you take the plunge, chick or adult? Chicks are super cute but like with any baby animal, they require more attention and special heating and feeding that grown birds do not. If you start with chicks, you get the advantage of watching them grow and learning their personalities. Biggest disadvantage – it can take 5 to 7 months to get that first egg. Chicks are also less expensive to buy than grown birds. If you buy a pullet at the beginning of her laying – also known as Point of Lay pullet or POL – you are going to pay, depending on breed, anywhere from $6 to upwards of $40 per bird.

Most chicks can be bought for around $1.50 to $10 – again, depending on breed. Depending on where you chose to purchase your chicks, there may be a minimum number that has to be purchased that would be above the amount allotted by your local city or town. If you order chicks online, they may also include “packing peanuts” for added warmth. Packing Peanuts are more often than not boys and lots of them! Because the demand for female chicks is much higher than the demand for males hatcheries usually have an abundance of males. So, they include them “free” in your order to keep the ordered chicks warm. It is up to the buyer to find homes or dispose of these “extras”. There are some web sites that cater to smaller orders. Sites like www.mypetchicken.com have smaller purchase minimums and will send the chicks with warmer pack instead of packing peanuts. It may cost a little more, but you avoid the peanut problem.

Are you still drooling over those little babies? Don’t jump off the deep end just yet. You will need to have on hand feed appropriate for the age of your birds, containers for feed and water, bedding for the coop and nest boxes, a heat lamp for chicks and grit for larger birds. And a good resource for answering questions. Storey’s Guide to Raising Chickens and Keeping Poultry by Victoria Roberts are good resources. There are also online communities like www.backyardchickens.com that lend support and advice from a large community of chicken keepers and enthusiasts. Got it? Great! Now go pick out your fuzzy butts and enjoy!

Pictures in order of appearance:
Chicken Broiler House - http://www.all-creatures.org/anex/chicken.html
Silkie dyed pink w/ animal safe natural dye - wannabchick
Crochet Welcome Chicken - http://www.craftown.com/crochet/pat55.htm
Small mixed flock of pullets - scbatz
Sex link hen - scbatz
Barred Plymouth Rock Rooster - scbatz
Frizzle Serama Rooster - Lady Hawk Smith
Snow Coop - Buff Hooligans
Tolbunt Polish Rooster - scbatz
Bin O' chicks - scbatz

No need for the butcher after all - an update.

My birds FINALLY got the memo......I heard that glorious, glorious song this morning and when I went out to set the girls free for the day, there it was! The first, and long anticipated, egg of the year!

It looks kind of lonely in the basket............

But, that lonely little egg is FERTILE!!!!!

Can you see the lighter yellow "dot" to the left of the shiny spot? That dear reader is the very begining of a baby chicken. And, if I hadn't cracked this egg open, I could have put it in the incubator. Then, a short 21 days later and a baby chick would have pecked it's way out of the shell.  Here is another view..................

Do you see it? In this photo it looks more like a "bullseye" with a slightly lighter outer ring than center. That's how you know your rooster is "doing his job". Now, I'll collect some eggs and fill the incubator. Hatching season has arrived!

Waiting for Spring

It's March. It's actually the middle of March, but my chickens don't know it. Every morning I get up wondering if today will be the day that they realize it's Spring, but they haven't. Day after day, nothing. The Geese have figured it out. Flocks and flocks of Canadian Geese by the dozens fly over head. They have been migrating north for two weeks now. They know it's Spring. Not my chickens.

My chickens have been on vaccation from laying eggs since our first big snow fall in December. They eat, drink, cluck around, but no eggs. I figured it's winter no big deal. There's tons of snow on the ground, I wouldn't lay either. So I haven't complained. I haven't threatened or begged or bribed them to make my breakfast not once for the last three months. But now, now it's warmer. Now, the snow has all melted away. Now, the clocks have been moved forward an hour.  Yet nary an egg to be found.
 
Last week I decided they needed a little encouragement. I made a large outdoor run for them. I figured if they could go outside and dig around in the wet earth, eat bugs and grass shoots that would remind them it's Spring. Nothing. Then I figured, it must be the ducks disturbing them. So, I built a small pen for the ducks and moved them out of the chicken coop. Nothing. Oyster shell! That had to be it. If the chickens had a fresh supply of oyster shell THEN they would realize it's spring and start laying. Nope.
 
So here I am, typing on the keyboard. As I glance outside at my chickens scratching in the dirt, lounging away under the trees, fully enjoying the day outside in their big chicken run, I wonder, where did I put the number for the butcher?

The World's Most Horrible Blogger.

I am the World's Most Horrible Blogger. I am so bad at this whole "blog" thing, I actually had to have someone remind me I even had a blog. That, my friends, is the pathetic truth. How can I ever possibly plan on leaving my mark in this world when not only can't I remember to write it down, I can't remember where I was writing it down!?!

It's not just the computer though, I was horrible at diaries and journals as a child. I have four incomplete books in my "hope chest" from my youth. I think I am just bad at taking the time daily to write. I think it's because I don't feel I have anything exciting worth remembering in life, much less to imortilize it in print. Who would want to read my boring life's story? It's not like my life couldn't be fit into a Cliff's Notes version anyway. Who needs the long drawn out boring stuff? It's a waste of trees and ink.

Aha!, you say. But the computer cuts down no trees. It drains no pen's life. So why not write it all down now? Well, I'm going to try. I promise, I will make a better effort to bore those of you who have nothing better to do than open these pages. I will put a note on the computer - Write It Down! Then, when you kind readers have run out of Ambien and there are no more sheep to count, you can visit me and I will lull you to sleep with tales of my life.

Mongo - year 1

Last year I gave my husband a puppy for his birthday. Mongo is a Neopolitan Mastiff x Cane Corso. Here is his first 9 months in photos.......................

FYI: as of his last vet visit in Feb 2010. Mongo is well over 135 lbs!

I Got This!

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.

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.