In the beginning

Woah! What a life it's been. At this stage of the game, I should be sitting back and resting after the whirlwind of a life I've had so far, but instead, at the age of 44, I am starting yet a new adventure.
I spent 23 years with a man that I barely trusted and had very little in common with. Mostly my fault, I believe, for not speaking my mind earlier in our marriage. Well, maybe for not really meaning it when I did; not standing firm to the ground I tried to set. So at this time of my life, after starting over and finding someone with whom I share a lot of common ground, things are very different.

Goin' Down to Country

Last year we decided to move into a house with a lot more yard space, in an area about 45 minutes from where he used to live. Not necessarily in the country, by my standards, but a lot more country than he's used to.
The little 1/2 acre of land that our rented house is on was a vast difference from what he was used to and when we first got there he was amazed at how big it was and how long it took to mow. But the results were breathtaking with the view from our back porch being nothing but nature.

Bacon Dreams

It wasn't long before we realized that the property was zoned agricultural and this meant he could, among other things, have the pig he had always wanted to raise. Oh, yes, it would be for meat; and to prove it we'll call him Kevin Bacon. And he'll walk him around the yard every day on a leash, but when it comes time to butcher he swears he will be able to send it on its merry way off to the butcher. Heck, he's even said he would like to learn to do it himself so save the money.

Here, chick, chick, chick!

I, myself, am interested in raising chickens. When I was young I had two baby chicks that my mother got from a distant relative to teach me about chickens or life cycles or something. I fed them and took care of them and they started to sprout feathers. One morning I went out there and one of them was gone; out of the cage, nothing left but a trail of feathers. I, of course, was mortified and intrigued; how could anything possibly want to eat my little chicken and how could something get my chicken that was at that time at least 10 inches tall, out of those little holes in the cage. The next day, the other chick was gone, leaving only more feathers. The mystery remains today. My mother said it was likely that a weasel got them.

So, years later I was at work and one of my coworkers was talking about her shipment of chickens that were coming that day.

Chickens? Shipment? Like ... UPS? The thought of a box full of little chicks riding around in a UPS truck just tickled me to death. No, actually, they are coming USPS. Even better. As it turns out they really do come as a box full of chicks delivered from McMurray Hatchery right to your door. Hmph. Who'da thunk it?