Skippy Chick versus Riley Dog

I need my friend and boxing announcer, Bruce Foster, to read this for me. Thanks Jenny! I stole the photo of your Dad from your blog...The Red Bulletin Board.

Let’s get ready to rumble!!!!

Bruce Foster

Boxing Announcer

In the right corner, we have Riley Dog. He is a nine year old happy-tailed, lab-mix pound puppy, weighing in at 60 pounds.

Riley Dog

In the left corner, we have Skippy Chick. He is a 3 ½ month old cocky-wannabe, coachin rooster, weighing in at 2 pounds.

Skippy Chick

The Three Old Ladies (Ruby, Cora Bell and Shakiria) sit on the hay bales waking up and anticipating a handful of cracked corn.

The gate to the chicken run opens, Skippy Chick runs out and wedges himself between the henhouse and a tree, throws his neck-feathers forward and stomps his feet at Riley Dog. Riley Dog is caught off guard. Skippy Chick rares his head back. Skippy Chick lunges. He pecks. He misses. He pecks again.

Riley Dog has had enough! He lets loose a growl from the throat. He stomps back with teeth bared. Skippy Chick is limited in running options. A tree to the left, the hen house to the right. Skippy Chick does a u-turn. He is off! Riley Dog is on his tail. Feathers are flying.

The fan is freaking out (that would be me)! Riley Dog responds to the screams of his Number-One Fan and freezes. Skippy Chick skulks off to the yard, avoiding eye contact with Riley Dog, the Three Old Ladies, and his Number-One Fan.

Riley Dog wins by total intimidation and obedience to his Number-One Fan!

Visit Jenny at http://theredbulletinboard.blogspot.com/2009_02_01_archive.html

Home Un-improvement

Oh, NO!! When the before picture is much, MUCH better than the after picture, you know you have made the wrong choice.

Let me tell you about the “before” picture. When we first moved in this house, my boys were just 3 and 5 years old. For their bathroom, I spent hours stenciling fish around the top of their wall. Each fish was different. The shower curtain had fish and was held to the bar by gold fish wearing shark fins. There were too many fish in the room! But most of all, the décor no longer seemed appropriate for a soon to be 13 and 15 year old. The natural progression from the fish seemed to be blue…like water…in a bathroom.

A few months ago, we purchased a blue paint that my son chose for his bedroom. Before it went on his wall, he decided it was too dark and wanted to choose another color. Initially, I wanted to make him stick with his bad decision. Now, I’m glad I didn’t! His second choice, a beautiful gold green, looks great in his room.

If you want to imagine the color, all you need to know is the name of the color…animation. Think of the bright blue Superman wears. Now, picture a small bathroom with lots of angles covered in this obnoxious blue. The one coat of poor coverage was enough for us to know we didn’t want to do a second coat.

We decided to stop. Tomorrow, we will visit Lowe’s with the second gallon of animation blue paint and beg them to lighten the shade. I’m think we’ll pour out half of the blue and fill it with white. I don’t think the blue will ever go away!

Willie Nelson

Tonight, Tony and I went to the new DPAC Auditorium in Durham to see Willie Nelson. I wanted to go, and Tony agreed to go with me but wasn't too excited about it. Waiting for the show to start was the perfect time to people watch! Grandfathers with ponytails were a common site. We saw a few mullets...on boys AND girls. Lots of red bandanas and felt cowboy hats dotted the audience. The guys in front of us guzzled Jack Daniels from mini bottles. Give me a crowd, and I am entertained. I just have to remember not to stare!

Asleep at the Wheel opened for Willie, then accompanied him. They were fabulous. Their music was a bluesy, boogie-woogie, and country mix. There were two fiddlers (one was a 14 years old girl with pigtails like Willie's), a steel guitar player, a bass player (the big upside-down kind), a piano player, a harmonica player, a trumpeter/trombonist, a saxaphonist, and 3 guitar players. The stage was packed, as was the theater!

Willie came on-stage with his customary pigtails, no longer red but gray, singing Whiskey River. Once he got going, he didn't want to stop! He sang lots of songs I hadn't heard before but loved. When he broke into Georgia and progressed on to Mamas Don't Let Your Babies Grow Up to be Cowboys, I was happy and new my money was well spent. He told a story about having carpal tunnel surgery last year and being told to "go home and shut up" by his doctor. He took this time to write some new songs. One was called You Don't Find Me Funny Anymore. My favorite line..."I used to fake a heart attack and fall out on the floor, but I don't think that's funny anymore." (I just googled Willie and found out he is 76 years old. I knew he had an old-man butt, but thought it was only 65 or so!)

Tony even had a good time! I owe him! I'll have to suck it up and go with him to an 80's band reunion.

Bless His Heart...Part Two

When I went out early, still dark, this morning to turn the chickens out, Skippy was still sitting on the perch in the same spot he was last night. This was a good thing. The girls must have been kind to him (more likely, they ignored him). I opened the gate at the end of the chicken run and let them continue to roost.

Later, I saw the girls in the front yard, but no Skippy. I figured he was having some alone time in the back yard or checking on Riley in the garage. When I still didn't see him after 9:30, I thought I should go check on him. No sign of him in the back yard. No Skippy in the chicken run. I opened the hen house and found my baby on the floor by himself. The flap to the run was open, but he was having none of that. Bless his heart, he is scared of the ramp. I picked him up and carried him outside and put him down. Like a two year old that wants to be held, he stood in front of me and wouldn't let me walk. Then, he started hmm-hmmming. I had no choice but to pick him up and carry him.

In the basement, I filled his dish with cracked corn and chicken food. He ate some but kept his eye on me. When done with my few chores down there, I carried him upstairs and took him out on the front porch where he could see the girls. Before I could get back inside, he had run around in front of me to the front door. As I type, he is sitting under my chair in the kitchen.

Whatever happened in the hen house last night must have been traumatic. Bless his heart! It must have scared the cock-a-doodle-doo out of him because he is only making whimpery chicken noises.

Is there such thing as a chicken whisperer?

Skippy's First Video

This is Skippy's first video! He is showing off his new talent. Notice how scratchy his voice sounds. Ignore the woman talking to the chicken. She really sounds like such a dork!

Skippy has another milestone tonight. For the first time in his life, he is sleeping in the henhouse with other chickens. He was looking a little terrified when I closed the door. This was a lot harder for me than I thought it would be.

Bless His Heart

You know us southerners, we can say anything bad about somebody else as long as we preface it with "bless his heart."



With that said, bless his heart, my Skippy Chick is so dingy, he didn't come in out of the rain. This morning, it is 40 degrees and pouring. I opened Skippy's cage, thinking he would hang out in the garage with Riley Dog. But NO! He went to the front yard, stood under the bird feeder and looked up at the sky. Which bird is it that drowns because it is looking up trying to figure out where the rain is coming from? I'm thinking ostrich! Poor Skippy must have ostrich blood in his chicken body.



I put on my raincoat and went on a rescue mission. I took him to the chicken house thinking he would hang out with the girls. But NO! Again, bless his heart, he is scared of my three old lady hens. He could stay inside the henhouse and be dry. Instead, he bolted, looking over his shoulder to make sure Ruby wasn't going to get him. Once outside, he returned to staring at the sky.



My Skippy Chick is about to turn into my Skippy Rooster. Monday morning, I heard a yodeling cock-a-doodle-doo coming from the garage. When I opened the door, Riley Dog glared at me with a "what the hell?" look on his face. This morning, my Skippy was so proud of his new noise, he did it twice on command. He's so smart! I think I'll have to try my hand at videoing Skippy tomorrow morning so you can see how funny he sounds while he is learning this new skill. Stay tuned.


Here's hoping I won't have to wring out my rooster at the end of the day!

Kickball...Meet the Team

The Carolina Kickers played our first game today. I managed to kick a grounder every time I was up to kick. I even scored a run! I discovered I can't run the bases without squealing. And, one lap around the bases is enough to make your quads quake! No balls were kicked my way, so I managed to avoid catching any. Our team won! Best of all...No one called me "Miss Anna"!