Y is for…

‘y’ is for yelling… which is what I did for a good 7 minutes before I was rescued from the chicken coop last week.  I am prone to Incidents of Random-ness.  Most, fortunately, are humorous.  Last Saturday, my husband woke up sad and cranky from a restless night’s sleep.  I offered to make him some farm-fresh scrambled eggs.  I got myself up, I got Rylie up, I fed the two year-old, I made the eggs… all with love.  Personally, I wanted dippy eggs (which mean sunny-side-up here?), and only had 1 egg left.  I announce, “Family,  I am going to the coop to get an egg.”  I receive affirmative nods and grunts of understanding. 

Usually when I grab eggs, I prop the door open.  This time I just ran in, grabbed an egg, and ran… into a closed door.  The red bar had slammed down behind me.  So… I thought for a moment.  And, then I laughed.  And, then I started yelling.  But, nothing.  I mean, the coop is 50 feet away from our back door.  Hello.  The girls inside were clucking at me… grumbling about me ruining their morning.  I kept yelling and yelling… but nothing.  I took a break.  I sat down on a feed barrel.  I swept the floor.  I considered popping out the wire window screen.  I started yelling again.  FINALLY, a head peeked out of the door.  “What?”  it yelled back.  Are you freaking kidding me?  “Come let me out!  I’m stuck in the coop!”  “Oh,” he said.  Oh.  That’s all I got.  Oh.  I noticed as I re-entered the house that everyone’s plate was scraped clean and my family was sufficiently full.  Go ahead.  Take your time.  Enjoy yourself.  I’M JUST STUCK IN CHICKEN POO, is all.  *sigh*

‘y’ is for yellow… which is the color Cousin Ellie was in charge of on the Day of Painting.  The plan here is to paint a large piece of plywood and then cut out flowers and a chicken to decorate the side of the coop.  Unfortunately, it’s been raining for 15 days straight, so there has been little progress save the painting and the fencing.  I have high hopes for this week. The girls like their fencing, though.  They feel fancy. I can tell.

‘y’ is for more yelling… which I what I did for a good 1/2 hour last Sunday.  The Boy was gone (of course), and Ry and I were headed to church.  I went to lock the back door and noticed that Skeeter, Joey, and Scout were munching on the leftovers from the garden.  “So cute,” I thought.  And then I yelled.  I yelled like Doc did in Back to the Future when the car rolled off the model and caught the pile of rags on fire.  The cows had broken out of their fence.  The cows were not contained.  I was alone with a two year-old in a white church coat.  Awesome.  I may have cussed.  Knowing everyone else on my street had headed to early-church like the good country folk that they are, I realized I would have zero help.  Awesome. 

I tricked the youngest with some feed, but the two bigger boys knew they were up to something good and gave me a good fight.  At one point, I thought the Subaru was going to need a new windshield as Skeeter went full-blast at the car.  He veered, thank goodness.  He’s tricky. Ry did her best to keep up, running back and forth… generally making things worse, but what can you do?  I can’t explain how it happened, but I chased/waved/yelled/walked all three boys back into their pasture.  I locked the gates and double checked them. I gave them a stern warning. 

Then I grabbed Rylie and we went to the bakery for donuts.  You just never know what’s going to happen out here, Folks.  I’m just as surprised as you are half the time 🙂

Talk to you Thursday.

PS: You have until Wednesday night to order a sweatshirt… I’ll be calling in the numbers first thing Thursday morning.  Designs will be on the front only, and our price is $25.  Pick heads or tails.  If you’ve already contacted me, thank you!  I’ll be emailing you as soon as I have our final price.  I demand that all of you take pictures in your hoodies… we’ll make a flickr photo gallery.  AND, we’ll be awesome.