Duncan's Blog

It's been ages since I've been out with the girls. In fact, it's been so long that I don't really think about it as a noteworthy event but rather as a peculiar turn or twist of events. A friend of mine does a public television access show at Time Warner in Santa Monica. She called upon her friends to be her live audience. Afterwards we took off for dinner at an old diner in West Los Angeles. http://www.yelp.com/biz/Hw6iPiKiUAZqOzl8g6Sy5w
Not exactly the kind of place you'd want to take mama for Mother's Day, but the food is clean. I had a chili size (something I never order because, well, I'm no big fan of chili). It's now some eight hours hence and I still smell the chili spice on my breath with every expulsion of burped gas.
I suppose we should count our blessings that it is only this and neither flatulence nor flatus that follows us around.
Yesterday I worked in a nursing home and suffered from the above-mentioned malaise. It's probably the only time that you count your blessings for being there. If someone comments on the smell of expelled gas, you simply say, "Yeah, I don't know what these residents eat, but some of them could peel the paper off the wall!"
There is none so guilty as he who will not admit to having farted in public.

Two of my 25 chicks have died on the same night. I suspect they were suffering from constipation. If I were more vigilant I might have made sure from the early moments that they were getting mineral oil or some other lubricant. While I handle death of baby chicks in a rather matter-of-fact manner, I still feel a little saddened that their life was cut so short.
It reminds me of survival of the fittest and it puts my mammal existence into another perspective. Some lives are just a bit more fragile than others and we need to accommodate things accordingly. Chicks--while viewed as cute and sweet and pretty and adorable--can be downright vicious. If they want a space they will squeeze others out of the way... or they will peck... or they will simple trample upon them. The only reason they huddle together and give the appearance of having a warm and bonding love for each other is to conserve body heat.
However, I do like watchig them stretch and drink water and fight over food.

Most people dream of or think of having a maid. Wouldn't it be great to live in a clean home that someone has cleaned? Having someone transfer those Chinese leftovers from the white containers into Tupperware? Well, I have opted to give that up and live with an Italian cook instead. The meals are good; he prepares most everything the way *I* like it. If he has a favorite style or flavor that's not to my liking, he portions out some for himself and then seasons it to taste. In over six years I'd say there were fewer than ten meals that were not worthy of saying, "Thank you," for.
Don't forget to thank the cook !

http://www.meyerhatchery.com/get_item_dobkp_buckeye-females.htm

Some might call it shameless advertising. Be that as it may, I was quite thrilled when the San Marino Post Office phoned me with the news that my newly hatched chicks had just come in and were ready for pick-up.

I started raising hens about two years ago; began with Auracana bantams. I've since worked my way up to the larger stock and have four silkies in my aviary. My local bird and feed store guy is a bit slow with my orders so I opted to take matters in my own hand (so to speak). The shipment is 25 birds which is a bit more than I would have wanted, but what the heck?

So now I have Buckeyes, Cuckoos, Auracanas, Golden Comets and a single Silkie. Hopefully they will all be hens. That's I paid for, but who knows what happens when they start developing!

Anyway, I'm adding the site of the Myer Hatchery. There are hundreds of hatcheries all over the place; I simply chose one that had Buckeyes as a featured breed.

Enjoy !

Things always seem to sound a tad bit better in translation. Today's entry is a simple translation of the colloquial phrase "Eating for Two!" It happens from time-to-time in my field. What's my field again? Human being on the planet Earth!
The problem with this situation would not be so grave if it occured during but a single meal within a seven day period. Let's see -- for those of you who are into algebra --
Three meals a day
times
Seven days a week
equals
Twenty-one meals per week
That means that each meal, assuming each meal were EXACTLY the same value, would have a percentage value of 4.75% of the week's pie.
4.75 x 21 = 99.75 (we'll cut a little slack for those glasses of water that have sweetened lemon juice or that extra saltine that you didn't think I saw you eat in the parking lot).
I do the Weight Watchers thing these days and I take my commitment pretty seriously. From time-to-time I just get tired of being good 24/7. This week was one of those times. A friend took me out to the CLAIM JUMPER

http://www.claimjumper.com/menu_dinein.htm

(Here's a copy of the menu without the prices). The portions are gargantuous. Think I bothered to share? Nope! There goes a week of Weight Watchers weight watching right down the hole. It doesn't matter at this point because I did enjoy the company... AND THE FOOD. As Scarlet O'Hara would say, "Fiddle dee dee! Tomorrow IS another day!"