Tuesday, September 25, 2012

Clucking, Clucking...Constant Clucking

Why is it that some people feel the need to say whatever pops into their head? They're not really engaging you in conversation, they're just talking and talking and talking. It's like sitting in a coop full of clucking chickens.

Have you ever notice that we are bombarded with noise everywhere these days? Stores blast music and constant messages over the loud speakers, machines whir and whistle and clank all around us. Traffic sounds, honking horns, thumping stereos. It's enough to make a girl want to go hide out in the chicken coop just for a little peace and quiet.

At least the hens don't expect you to stop what you're doing and look them in the eye while they cluckity-cluck-cluck-cluck.

On the bright side, I found this cute little chick at the thrift store today. Just 69 cents and she doesn't say a word!

PS - if you think this is about you...it's not.

Saturday, September 22, 2012

Fresh Eggs Daily

Just discovered and fell in love with a new blog - Fresh Eggs Daily. It's jam-packed with ideas fresh off the farm. Lots of chicken & egg pictures, recipes with step-by-step pictures and instructions, like this yummy Raspberry Jam Recipe.

I even found a great tutorial for how to make your own Feed Sack Tote Bag, and guess what...they have an Etsy Shop were you can buy those tote bags in case you don't want to make your own!

There's so much more to explore - I'm heading back there right now!

Pop over and check it out for yourself. Fresh Eggs Daily

Friday, September 21, 2012

Cheddar Bacon Ranch Pulls

Found this recipe at PlainChicken.com while blogging at home with my friend Joy. It looked so scrumptious and it was close to lunch time, so off we went to the grocery store and in no time at all (it only bakes for 15 minutes) we were pulling apart this cheesy, bacony delight! (We dipped it in ranch dressing.)

I would have shown the whole bread, but we were so anxious to taste it
 that I forgot to snap a picture before it was half gone!

Pop on over and get the recipe here.

Over Easy Chairs

If I ever make it to Nantes, France (fingers crossed) I'm going to visit Le Nid and sit in these awesome chairs!

Aren't they sp-egg-tacular?

Wednesday, September 19, 2012

Paying it Backward

I've been hearing about this Pay it Forward thing for a long time. It takes many shapes and forms, but basically, it's doing a good turn for someone else for no reason at all.

The most common form of this is to pay for the person's meal who is behind you in the drive-thru line at McDonalds. (At least that's the one I've heard the most about.) So, I'm in the drive-thru line today. Ordered off the Dollar Menu...or is it called the Value Menu? I'm not sure, but ordered a cheap meal.

When I got to the pay window the kid inside starts reading off someone else's order. I correct him, which totally flusters him because that person's order came up first on the computer. (Two lane drive through - I was just faster on the gas pedal.) The poor boy couldn't figure out how to pull my order up. That was when the idea to be a good-deed-doer and pay for the guy-behind-me's lunch hit me.

I should have gotten a clue when the kid says, "Are you sure?"

"Yeah," I says, feeling generous. "Just tell him that God loves him."

I have to give the kid credit...he didn't roll his eyes at me, but the confused look and gaping mouth said it all.

He rings me up.

My meal...$4.23
The guy behind me in the big black truck...$19.92!

Are you kidding me?

1 LRG COKE 1.00

SUBTOTAL 17.91 + TAX 2.01 = 19.92 (the kid gave me the receipt)
What a hog-face!

Ok, so maybe he was taking part of it to someone else and maybe this rant nullifies any kindness that I did, but I'll tell you what...from now on if I want to pay for someone's meal, I'm really gonna Pay it Forward - I'll pay for the person ahead of me, so I'll know how much it's gonna cost me.

No more Paying it Backward!

Have any of you ever had a weird Pay-it-Forward experience?

Oh...and is it cynical of me to wonder if the kid told the guy it was paid for or if he just charged him again and pocketed the $20 bucks. Sigh...I wish I trusted people more.


Sunday, September 16, 2012


photo credit: Bernard McManus
via photo pin cc
My first encounter with chickens was trying to gather eggs at my Grandma Mabel's house. If I remember correctly (it was a loooooong time ago), My Aunt Faye and I were sent to gather eggs. As soon as we stepped inside the gate, Mr. Rooster made it perfectly clear that he had no intention of letting us steal his future children.

He dived bombed us several times, flapping his wings in our faces. Nearly made me pee my pants! I ran screaming from the chicken coop and never went back.

My second encounter with chickens was when my Dad brought home a huge crate full of the feathered fowl fresh from the Hartivlle Auction.  He called in all the relatives for a chicken killin'. I guess the adults thought us kids couldn't handle the brutality of the slaughter, because they sent us all to bed at about 5:30.

My bedroom faced the back yard, so this 10 year old watched the whole thing through a slit in the curtains. First they got a long 2 X 4 and nailed sets of spikes down it. Then several of the men entered the crate (it was about 6 foot long and 4 foot square). They each emerged with a chicken in their arms, went to the killin' board and layed each chicken on the board with their necks between the nails, then Pop took an axe and chopped their heads off quick as a lick. 1-2-3-4-5-6 headless chickens commensed to runnin' around the yard splurtin' blood until they realized they were dead and flopped over.

You would think a garrish site like that would have terrified a little girl, but not me. I thought it was hillarious. Ever since then, chickens have cracked me up. I see one and I have to laugh. Maybe it's some kind of sick satisfaction because of the way Mr. Rooster scared me when I was little, but whatever...I love chickens.

When I lived in Ohio, I had a huge enclosed front porch with windows all the way around. I filled it with chickens. Not real ones, stuffed ones, glass ones, wooden ones, pottery ones. Chicken lamps, signs, salt & pepper shakers - you name it, I had it. I called the porch my chicken coop and enjoyed a smug satisfaction that I could enter the coop any time I wanted and none of the chickens could attack me. (but I kept an axe just inside the door...in case.)

When we decided to move to Arizona, I had to get rid of my chickens and really didn't give them much thought until recently when Mr. Lee bought me a birthday card that plays the chicken dance song...

I laughed and danced and laughed some more every time I opened that card. Then it dawned on me how much fun I wasn't having these days and Chicken Doodle Soup was born.
This will be my fun spot on the web. Expect it to be filled with whatever hits me at the time. I like to call it free range chicken scratch. You never know what I'll be throwing in the soup pot, because I don't know, so stop back often to see what's goin' on in this chick's life.