Making Merry For Chickens and Myself

The past couple of days I have been on a giddy high.  It's very much like being drunk, but I've only had one beer over the past 48 hours.  Sometimes I worry that when I get like this, I'm showing some latent tendencies toward bipolarism (if I'm making up a word, so be it).  I recognize it as a sort of mania--I'm squeeing happy, and forget half of what happened during these times of smiles and giggles.  I know that it probably is not the healthiest to swing between days like this, and all the other days when I am apathetic and making love to the couch.  However, dammit if I don't like these excessively joyful times.

Not that all this is pure brain chemistry over-firing--really good stuff has been happening. Like Chicken Day!  Presents were exchanged, games were played.  I really couldn't have had a better day.  I even snuck in a nap.  Sure, I spent quite some time on my hands and knees scrubbing down the bathroom, but I made sure to reward myself by playing Words With Friends and Angry Birds every few minutes--scrub three tiles, play a game!  The evening was a raging success, and I thank all of you who came and made merry with me.  R (or is it B?) played a beautiful Chicken Day offering on The Boy's wonky piano.  She has such a beautiful voice, and even though her brain was drowning in tequila, she still did an amazing job.  D&T made a surprise late showing, which finished out the night nicely.  My friends are such amazing people--they even seem to accept me as I am when I pull out my Chariots of Fire soundtrack and proceed to fake conduct it with glee. 

For everyone who wished me a Happy Chicken Day, thank you for making this bittersweet time after Whoopis' death so meaningful to me.  I love all of you.

Then today.  Oh man.  I don't even know how today ended up as it did.  I woke up feeling completely hungover (thanks allergies), and all wracked with nerves regarding the award reception I had to attend for my mosaic winning first place.  I had no idea what to expect, and the best I could do was don my party dress (after brushing some pool-hall chalk off of it), take a Klonopin, and try not to make an utter fool of myself.

I cannot promise that I didn't totally make a fool of myself, but something entirely surprising happened.  A very nice gentleman who just happened to be doing some business on the property of the museum, had wandered in to just to check out what was happening, asked if I would be willing to sell my mosaic (I had indicated that it wasn't for sale--more because I didn't really consider anyone would want it versus me wanting to keep it for myself).  I didn't exactly handle all of it gracefully, but I am sincerely flattered.  I've spent years giving my mosaics away, and not really taking people seriously who called me an artist, a good artist.  My natural inclinations are to think less of myself, and my abilities.  I'm completely self-taught, and therefore distrust that I am truly good.  It's something I fuck around with, a hobby, because really, what else could it be? 

The Boy is an amazing artist, who has made a career for himself doing everything he loves.  Perhaps I never imagined the same could happen for me.  Not that I think I can quit my job and become this full-time glass mosaicer.  Yet, I feel it means I should take myself more seriously, and make myself get out in that garage and do more than one major mosaic a year.  Perhaps I should set some goals.  Stop being such a slacker, a mope-about who thinks she has a bad lot in life.  I don't really.  It's just so rarely that I am up here on top to see how I am when I am down below. 

I sold a mosaic to a stranger today.  It was magnificent.  I then took a very long nap. 

The Loveliest Chicken Story Ever Told

Hayti, Missouri
I received this picture today as a belated Happy Chicken Day. I have such great friends. They totally think of me when they find themselves confronted with extremely large chicken sculptures.

Then there is this truly beautiful story from The Boy's mom:

"I was brought up on a large working farm in Maine, as (The Boy) may or may not have
told you. As a little girl I raised and showed special Bantam chickens, both for show and for the eggs, and especially for my pets. They were the best loved and cared for chickens that ever live. I started having my first ones at age three and showing them at summer fairs at age four when they were grown. They all had names and knew them and came to me when I called to them. I always had a rooster so could raise more chickens from the hens eggs. I started out with Andy the 1st and the last Banty rooster I had was Andy the 8th. I was then 19 and gave him to a nice man, one that played the organ at a Congregational Church, and had chickens of his own and his old rooster had passed away. My last hen had died at a good old age and my rooster was (or at least seemed) very happy at his new home with the Rhode
Island Red regular hens. (I am sure that he missed me though.) He truly was my dear pet and I would take a walk all over the farm fields with my little dog, Peppy, my rooster, Andy the 8th, and my two cats, Mickey Mouse and Topsy Twinkle Toes, who were old boys following me, and with my white bunny in a harness and leash hopping along beside me. Andy would sometimes fly up and land on my shoulder and crow to show off to the other critters. I was a blessed gal to grow up with all my many pets over my childhood years until I was ready to leave home and go off on my own.

When I was young and went off for a month with my Mama to visit my Grandmother in Massachusetts. I would get homesick and cry as I missed my pets. On arrival back home in Maine and to our farm one time at night at age eight, my Dad kindly got
out the flashlight and took me back outside to the chicken house so I could
go inside and see and love all of my chickens."

Lastly, my last Chicken Day present of the night was from BunBun's parents--a thank-you gift for taking care of their small menagerie. A little soft red BunBun of my own. Here is a picture of him hanging out at the festive little Thai restaurant we went to last night. Take special note of the "Yes Hot" and the patch that Wikus gave me yesterday.



Then there is "Redson" hanging out in the pocket of my jean jacket (check out my duck dress for Chicken Day! Also, if you look closely, you'll see I have another jean jacket on my legs; thanks to Wikus who doesn't get as cold as me--I need warmth for my legs):

Whence A.C.H.

(2008)

In ancient times, super-intelligent chickens came from outer space and landed in Japan (Nippon). Due to the primitive nature of the human inhabitants at that time in history, it was easy for these highly intelligent chickens to befriend the natives. For many years they lived in peace together until the humans grew jealous of the chickens and their superior technology. The humans rose up and enslaved the chickens. Many of the chickens escaped in their starships; and the few who were left behind refused to speak or display their intelligence in protest against their cruel enslavement. Over time, the chickens forgot their extraterrestrial origins, and lost their powers of speech. One day, their brethren may return from beyond the stars to liberate their unfortunate comrades, and wreak a terrible vengeance.

This day, December 17th, commemorates the chickens' first arrival on Earth, and looks forward to their triumphant reappearance. As humans, we decry the oppression of our feathered comrades, and humbly celebrate and submit to their loftiness and their eventual return.

(2009)

The Annual Making of Chicken Day Cards

Did I mention yesterday was hella cold? Well, it was. Last night Wikus and I had planned to put together our Chicken Day cards. We do this every year, but it isn't usually so damn cold when we set out on our project. Wikus has a terrible apartment. It is one of those that looks pretty nice, but is really a hideous craphole. I have a lot of guilt over this, because I pretty much got him this apartment--I am obviously a fool who falls for pretty things. Anyway, to prove how crappy this apartment is, last night Wikus was deep-frying tasty tasty tasty french fries and defrosting some Boca Chik'n patties, which made the power got out. I am not shitting you. He yelled, "WHAT IS THIS? BOSTON!" That's the kind of shit we put up with in Boston, but not here. The even more fucked-up bit was it was obvious that there was still some kind of ghost power happening. The light on the digital-converter box was on, and the faintest of glows emitted from the overhead light, yet nothing would turn on for us, no matter how many breaker switches Wikus popped on and off in the box. I told him to get a flashlight and go outside to see if he could find the main breaker box for his apartment. I sat in the dark and ate some french fries while he was out in the cold. See what a good friend I am? He managed to find the box, where there were two switches: one on and one off. Flipping the switch made the lights come back on, which was awesome. Except, EXCEPT, to keep the power on, we had to turn off the heat. That's right. TURN OFF THE HEAT. Mind you, his apartment could not have possibly been over 50 degrees in there with the heat set on maximum. Yet, this was too much for the apartment to handle.

At that point, considering my hands were numb, and I was fearful that my nose was going to fall off due to frostbite, we gave up on the idea of the Chicken Day cards for the night, and just watched a few episodes of The IT Crowd. If you have not watched this show, you must do it NOW. You can watch it on Netflix. Yeah!

However, that meant we had to get to work today. His apartment was marginally warmer. He already had the design made, and we had purchased cardstock this past Monday, so it was just a matter of me choosing the colors for the design and him doing all the cutting and folding. I messed around in Illustrator while he did the grunt work.

After a lunch of tasty tasty Tex-Mex (with The Boy in tow), we came back to my house (where it is warmer!) to assemble the cards. We managed to sit at the kitchen table for a couple of hours without breaking a window. Yeah us. Part of our annual tradition with the cards is to have a haiku. We make it up on the spot together, every single year. This year I did one-third and he did the rest, with me making a minor change resulting in a gerund.

This is a limited edition, and if you want your Chicken Day card, you better make sure I have your current address. We'll make more as needed, but it may end up being after Chicken Day (12/17), because we tend to get a bit lazy when it is cold outside.

Tomorrow: Tales of pet-sitting good times. Including: the children of one of Wikus' cats, and a bunny. Oh my god! Have you ever just sat and watched a bunny eat lettuce? It is almost as awesome as watching my tortoise eat lettuce. A damn amazing good time.

How to Tell If You Had a Successful Day

Did you break your kitchen window today in a completely mundane way? I sure did. Now tomorrow will not only include a mammogram, but also calling people to come replace our crappy window pane. I also plan on taking Wikus to our local hobby store for paper stock for our Annual Chicken Holiday cards, and for me to pick out glass for my new project. For this project, I will chronicle it AFTER the fact, since it is a surprise for some people we know.

And...

The seahorse is officially finished. The grouting went very well, and I just finished polishing it. Since it is dark, it is kind of pointless to post a picture. Will take some during the day tomorrow when it is all grey and rainy. Stupid weather.

I'm very proud to have at least accomplished 2/3rds of my goals in November. Bring on December!

Chicken Day is Less Than One Month Away

That's right, my version of a winter holiday is coming up on December 17th. It should be a fairly good event this year since The Boy's big choir performance is actually before the 17th (usually it is right around it, so he's all stressed out and can't even think about Chicken Day). Even better, I was able to use my two personal holidays at work for 12/17 and 12/18--thus giving me a 4-day weekend. Our next Family Urban Gathering is on 12/20, so I probably won't have a Chicken Day party. Maybe I will have a small private dinner. Maybe a Quelf night! We'll see.

Today I spent many hours on the couch working on a special Chicken Day project for three important women in my life. I am not going to detail it anymore than that, but it was time-consuming work, and I hope it comes out well. I'm really excited for it, since it is something I made but not a mosaic. That would make one more thing I accomplished in November.

My Chicken Day shopping goals are always to try and have everything ordered by 11/30. I have instituted a no-buying-anything rule in effect this Friday for The Boy. He is terrible about getting a wandering eye right before his birthday, our anniversary and Chicken Day. Always giving me panic attacks that he is going to buy what I already bought him. He's such a jackass like that. I said it twice, so I hope it sticks.

I have finally made it to the halfway point in NaNoWriMo, but that means I am still a week behind. Ugh. But that's what work is for, right? To catch up on my writing in a very distracting, negative atmosphere. Should I file a complaint of toxicity in the work place? I can't get my writing done, there's a Twit in the office! Her belly is totally insulting me but being there. Grrrr.

The weather seems to be clearing up for the rest of the week. So back to the mosaic. Time to grout it, buy a frame and hope that the thing is sturdy enough to hang without any bracing along the back side of it. Thankfully the 3-day work week will give me some time to work out these details.


I'm watching a commercial for the movie "Elf." And this reminds me of the time when a friend of mine (one of the ones I went to see Precious with yesterday), who called me and asked if I wanted to go out with her and some other people to see Elf. And I totally thought she said, "A.L.F." My laughing was out of control. I was flabbergasted that they made a movie out of A.L.F. My friend was totally flummoxed over why I was choking on my tongue and practically having a seizure on the other side of the phone--you could hear my feet pounding the floor. Anyway, she cleared up the miscommunication, and then we didn't talk for awhile after that. Not because of that I think, we just run in slightly overlapping circles. Anyway, I think of her every time there is a reference to that movie. Maybe I will watch it one day. It has to at least be more uplifting than Precious!