Here are Sally and Lucy, happy I’m sure that they are pet chickens with names. When I got them, I wasn’t much invested in the idea of pet livestock. I didn’t envision harvesting them for meat, as that is a messy job and harder than it seems. ( I learnt this watching hunters clean game birds.) Now, I realize that if they were sick or hurt, I would find a chicken vet. If there is a chicken vet, that is, but I imagine there must be.
We are having Thanksgiving tomorrow, on Friday. This is what comes of high self esteem. Instead of working today, in the hospital, and running home to eat a lukewarm held over bird that had been solely prepared by Mr Woolly, while dealing with packs of children. (I know, there are only two, but you have never seen them on school holidays.), instead of this stressful tableau, we have opted for a Friday Thanksgiving. It’s not a matter of the cards you get, it’s how you play them.
Next week, my darling husband has final exams, and then he has a an entire month to relax and do home repairs. I for one am looking forward to it. He is looking forward to half of it.