Big Wing Dreams

One of our sweet chickens has a problem.  A wing problem.  While Fuzzy's body is about the same size as the other chickens, her wings are about half the size of her peeps (see what I just did there?).  When we hold our other chickens and let them fly out of our hands, their wings spread beautifully and they do that "almost fly" thing that chickens do.  When we hold Fuzzy and let her fly out of our hands, her teeny, tiny wings flap furiously making a whirring sound, and she falls to the ground twisting and turning Woodstock style. 

But I'm quite sure that when she gets in the coop each night, closes her eyes, tucks her head into her teeny, tiny wing, that she has the most amazing big wing dreams a chicken could have.

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Losing my Street Cred...Dr. Who Style

So I lost all my street cred yesterday.  My Dr. Who street cred, that is.

Yesterday my little guy and I had the opportunity to come upon a number of Dr. Who elements.  And here's why I lost my street cred...apparently being close, but not exact, is very much uncool.


What I said:  "Oh, cool, there's a crying angel."
What I should have said:  "Oh, cool, there's a Weeping Angel."

What I said:  "Look!  The 3-D printer is making a phone booth."
What I should have said:  "Look!  The 3-D printer is making a TARDIS."

What I said:  "Stand by the Oobleck so I can take a picture of you."
What I should have said:  "Stand by the Dalek so I can take a picture of you."


P.S. I was also told that by using the words "street cred" I'd already lost my credibility just by saying that.

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Turns Out I DO Take Work Home with Me

So what happens when my kid knocks a new jar of pesto out of the cupboard?  Well, aside from a huge CRASH!!!, I find out that I do take work home with me.  It's not as bad as it sounds.  I'm actually quite disciplined about not taking my work home with me.  But as we're cleaning up the shardy, basily, olive oily, pine nutty, parmesan cheesy mess, my kid says, "You missed a piece of glass over here...oh, wait, it's just glitter.  Must be from your work."

Yup, sure 'nuf.  While I don't bring paperwork home from my job, I absolutely, positively do bring sparkly bits into the house now and then.

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I Officially Dread Paybacks

I've always thought I had a tough scalp.  I rather prided myself on it.  But for some reason the other day my kid grabbed my brush and started brushing my hair.  Super sweet, right?  Well, I found out that I'm not that tough after all.

It freakin' hurt!

Now, a little about my hair.  It's naturally curly.  A little about me.  I brush my hair pretty much never.  One more thing about my hair.  It forms lovely little dreadlocks whilst I'm neglecting it.

And...I am, post brushing, currently dreadlocks free.  Technically I still own them as they were brushed out intact.


My hair brushing little guy:  "Remember how much I hated it when you used to brush out my long hair?  It felt just like this."  His hair was curly just like mine, formed dreadlocks just like mine, and he never brushed it either.  Though I would on the rarest of occasion, sometimes brush dreadlocks out intact.


Oy, paybacks are a wee bit hellish.

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