Well we are currently cowless (unless you count what's in our freezer), so Wynden decided we needed chickens. We bought 12 little baby chicks. What for you might ask...Well I'm really not sure why Wynden thought this would be a good idea. The eggs will be nice, but I don't see us eating the actual chicken - I mean I am not going to cut its head off and then pluck all the feathers not really my thing. I am not really all that excited about this new venture. The chicks home is right where you walk into my house in our garage, making that area even more congested with all the shoes the kids kick off and just leave there. They entertained the kids the first weekend when it was all so new, but now they are starting to get bigger and uglier (losing their fluff for feathers) and nobody cares about them anymore. Bad attitude I know, but I am the one who has been cleaning up the mess made from all the bedding that gets tracked into my kitchen from the garage. I guess give me some eggs and I will have an attitude adjustment.
The title of the blog comes from an old favorite song of my brother-in-laws Trevor. When he was younger he threw a fit when nobody would let him pick a song to sing for family night and when they finally did he forgot his song so he came up with those lyrics somehow. Nobody ever could figure out the song. We make fun of him every once in while about it.
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