Tag Archives: chickens

I love my town….

 

And their slightly off balance Facebook page.

 

 

 

Not off hand, no.

But I hope he finds one. Pigless is a terrible thing to be.

 

 

 

This picture of our local sheriff’s truck was posted by a resident.

Because really, who needs blue lights when you have a chicken?

 

 

 

 

This post was met with the incredulity and the scathing derision it deserved . Reveal your fiddlehead location? To a stranger!!

Mainers have been killed for less.

Fiddleheads are a precious ($15-$20 per pound) and extremely fleeting commodity in the spring. Locals protect their secret gathering spots like they do their virgin daughters. Personally I can’t stand the slimy things…

 

 

 

But Mainers go berserk for them.

And speaking of barely edible food, some well meaning townie posted this:

 

 

 

Now really, if I’m not going to eat the delicate unfurled leaves of a fern?

You can damn sure bet I’m not baking helicopter seed pods that look like bugs.

Damn.

Pandemic humor.

 

Because we all still need a laugh.

 

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Now that’s just rude.

 

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This looks like a great idea since I always whup the husband at gin rummy and he won’t play with me anymore.

*Note to self – borrow neighbor’s rooster*

 

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I really do miss traveling.

Even if it’s just to the next town.

 

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Indeed.

 

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Yeah.

Gwyneth  (correct spelling)  can bite me.

( Did I already post this one? Maybe… but the sentiment holds true. )

 

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Cats.

They think they know everything. It happens to be tequila.

Stuff it Mittens.

 

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Jesus… neither do I!

We’re doomed.

 

 

A little pandemic humor.

 

(Because we all need to laugh or we’ll kill the spouses we’re locked in the house with.)

This person found an interesting, albeit slightly creepy…. way to re-purpose Amazon boxes.

 

 

Imagine putting a leash on that and taking it out for a walk?

Here…. our niece’s son used his spare time to jump on a trampoline with his chicken.

 

                                 The chicken was unavailable for comment.

 

I admit I didn’t know about the latest ribbon trend…

 

 

But I sure do wish I lived in this fellow’s neighborhood.

 

Margarita home delivery?

Long live the quarantine!

Because even turkeys get cold.

 

Our local feed store is a delightfully quirky place.

Owned and operated by a wonderful man who shares our love of critters, I always look forward to shopping there.

Case in point….

When a turkey chick failed to sell last year because it had a deformity of it’s wing? He adopted it.

The bird is now large, spoiled silly and something of a feed store mascot.

When the temperature drops to near freezing?

 

 

She comes inside and stays by the wood stove…

Because even turkey birds get cold.

 

 

 

Please note there are two chickens under the table as well.

I love my town!!

Day 15… Small bathrooms and antique store Hell, where River reexamines how much she really loves her husband.

 

I woke up on our last full day of vacation in Williamsburg, Virginia  (Yes, we’re finally there!)  cursing our second resort’s small bathrooms.

 

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I mean… come on.

For a girl with big hair this is a very small space to make the magic happen.

And the shower?

 

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One teeny tiny shelf!

I had to put the rest of my things on the floor.

 

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We started the day at the husband’s favorite breakfast spot where he was now greeted with ”The guy who wants two plates of chipped beef on toast is here”.

 

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And seeing that we’d had 2 full weeks of doing everything I wanted to do, I thought it prudent to throw the husband a bone and let him pick our last day’s activities.

 

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As expected, that bit me in the ass.

 

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He chose the Williamsburg Antique Mall… and let me tell you, that’s a whole lotta mall.

I have never in my life seen so much  useless crap  stuff  in one place. It went on forever, aisle after aisle after aisle. The husband was in heaven.

 

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Oh, there were some interesting things.

 

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And some seriously hideous things.

 

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It was hard, but I managed to pass on this quartz rooster head.

 

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And the Christmas tree in a shoe.

 

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But damn, at the one hour mark we’d only managed to cover a little corner of the place.

 

 

The building was so huge it had push button call stations for help because it was too damned long a walk back to the front to find a sales clerk.

 

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Two hours in there was a drunken Santa….

 

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And some of the money the husband used during the Vietnam War.

 

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Three hours in there was a pair of wolves on skis…

 

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The ice cube trays I cursed with every breath as a child….

 

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And some questionable artwork complete with psychedelic chickens.

 

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Four hours in there were Civil War era hats and a saleslady who gave me a piece of paper to write down the aisle number, the booth number, the case number and a description of each article we had questions about because no one ever remembers what was where. If you look in the upper left hand corner of the picture you’ll see my hand clutching it.

And no, I wasn’t going to give it to the husband …. I’m not stupid.

The husband?

Happier than the proverbial pig in shit.

 

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Rusty tools….

Rusty tools everywhere!

 

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I passed on more vintage chickens.

 

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And wondered who this wide eyed Santa was going to poke with that…. that….

Whatever the heck that was.

At the four and a half hour mark I had to use the rest room.

 

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Where I did indeed flush my hopes and dreams of ever leaving this place down the toilet.

 

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There was definitely something for everyone.

 

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Even if some of the price tags made you gasp.

Five hours in I told the husband I was too hungry to continue and we needed to go get some lunch.

 

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Yeah.

My worst nightmare came true….

They had a cafe.

 

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Where we had tiny overpriced sandwiches and frozen solid fruit to fortify us for more hours of antique shopping.

 

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It was at this point I knew we’d never leave.

I was doomed.

 

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Too late for that warning…. the husband has had it for years.

 

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He was bound and determined to see every last item in this store or die trying.

And by this time I was happily planning his demise.

 

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Yikes.

Paging Morticia Addams….

 

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And holy crap.

Who in their right mind wants that hanging on their wall?

 

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Six hours in I found a bug collection….

 

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Some chicken humor…

 

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And part of the line to check out.

These people took a number…. and have probably been waiting since June 13, 1976.

 

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But the husband was still going strong.

 

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And if I told you how many rusty old pesticide sprayers we have in the barn already? You’d fear for my safety.

 

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Here’s proof positive there’s a magazine for everything.

 

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And a painting that contains fish bones.

You’re welcome.

 

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SEVEN HOURS  in and we weren’t even 2/3’s of the way through.

 

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I knew he wasn’t going to leave without buying something, but by then I’d reached my limit of  utterly useless crap  antique shopping.

I was on board with the old phone. It could have been fun in the barn…. when he builds that bar he keeps talking about.

You know, the bar he can’t build because he has too much utterly useless crap  stuff in the way.

 

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Eight hours in?

I was silently screaming FFS….just pick something and let’s go!

Or maybe I said it out loud, I can’t remember.

 

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So there it is, the result of 8 hours of antique mall shopping.

A giant glass water bottle to add to the other 20 or so giant glass water bottles he currently has collecting cobwebs.

 

 

I love him.

I do.

And as long as I keep telling myself that I’ll be fine.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Jamestown Re-creation…. the settlement, some rusty tools and a cocktail tease.

 

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The first settlement in America looked something like this.

 

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And I have to admit the buildings were larger than I thought they’d be.

 

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This was the church.

 

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And I swear it’s bigger than the one in my town today.

 

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I loved the thatched roofs on the cottages.

 

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And we enjoyed poking around inside them.

 

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Some of them were simple.

 

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Some a little more grand.

 

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Check out the armor on top of the cupboard.

 

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Nothing like some weaponry over the dining room table to get the gastric juices flowing.

 

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Speaking of that…. there was an armory.

 

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And it doesn’t matter how many times I see these, I still can’t imagine having to wear them into battle. I mean damn, they make my underwire bra look positively comfortable in comparison.

 

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Needless to say the husband was loving all the old tools and farm implements.

 

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Yes dear….

 

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Rusty metal…. I see it.

 

 

The last building we checked out was a communal kitchen.

 

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And you know what I found… right?

 

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Wandering at will….

 

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Hoping something would fall off the table.

 

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There were also fake cocktails, which is a rude tease to those of us who happened to be thirsty.

Hell, if these fell off the table they’d bounce.

And that’s not my type of cocktail at all.

 

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Okay.

Now we’re talkin’….

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Day 14…. The Jamestown Settlement Re-creation. A photography ban, some chickens, and a salty character.

 

This was the day we explored the Jamestown Settlement which is part museum and part living history re-creation.

 

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The museum section was large….

 

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But immediately pissed me off with the no photography allowed rule. (I took this one just because I’m ornery.)

We’d spent the last 2 weeks visiting museums filled with amazing artifacts and fine art, but this…. fake trees and cheesy dioramas…. was off limits? Go figure.

Okay….

Fast forward to the full immersion cinema we were learning were common in these parts.

 

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Admittedly, when you’re there?

It’s pretty cool.

 

 

Especially when the smoke starts rolling along the floor.

 

 

Finished with the film, we headed outside.

 

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Past whatever this was.

 

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And into a Native American village.

 

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It was basically the same thing we’d seen at Plymouth Plantation earlier this year.

 

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Except there were no bare chested young Indian men to chat with.

Boo to that.

 

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There were more huts.

 

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And a couple of people making baskets.

 

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And of course, because I find them everywhere…

 

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Chickens.

 

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Aggravated roosters…

 

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And fluffy butted hens.

 

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Next up was the harbor…

 

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And the reconstructed vessels that brought the first settlers from England.

 

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We toured the deck.

 

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The husband chatted up a crew member.

 

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We toured down below.

 

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Where accommodations were small….

 

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And pretty basic.

 

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Unless you were the cook.

 

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Who got his own room.

Of course it was also the kitchen, so there is that.

 

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The husband chatted up another crew member.

 

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And we enjoyed the views.

 

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While marveling at how more than a hundred people could travel together for months on end in these small spaces.

 

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And mind you, we were on the large ship.

 

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The whole time were touring?

There was a soundtrack….

 

 

 

He was quite a character.

 

 

 

 

Abby Aldrich Rockefeller Folk Art Museum.

 

This was what I’d come to see.

 

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And with a nod to Abe, we entered.

 

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By definition:

Colonial Williamsburg museums…. Folk Art tree, vintage weapons, furniture and an 18th Century catwalk.

 

There are two distinct collections in what used to be the lunatic asylum building… The Abby Aldrich Rockefeller Folk Art Museum and the DeWitt Wallace Decorative Arts Museum.

It’s a bit fluid when you enter…

 

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And since it was the Christmas season I wasn’t surprised to see one of these.

Please note there’s a chicken instead of an angel on the top. I’m not sure what that means, other than there might be a secret cult of barnyard fowl practicing nearby. Which lead me to Google image search ‘religious chicken’ and then I was off….

 

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Yes….

 

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I’m easily distracted… but you have to admit,

 

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This architect had a sense of humor.

And now back to your regularly scheduled program:

 

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The story behind it was interesting.

 

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Me like.

 

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Though I doubt I’ll be making my own or buying the book.

 

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And opposite the festive tree?

 

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Implements of death….

 

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Because nothing says holiday cheer like various ways to kill each another.

 

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But even I have to admit they were beautiful specimens.

 

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And if you look closely, you can see the scowling face on the bottom of the grip.

I read the DeWitt has the largest collection of southern furniture in the world…

 

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And I believe it.

 

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There were rows and rows of unique examples.

 

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There were also some fabulous fashions of the day.

 

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And yes…

 

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Shoes!

 

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And if that wasn’t wonderful enough… there was 300 year old fabric.

 

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And a vintage runway.

 

 

 

Those little harlots.

Did you see how much ankle she was showing?

Shameless!