So tis the season to gripe about the materialism of Christmas. The one time of year when it's perfectly ok for everyone to live in a quasi-socialist La-La land and pretend that our American economy would not collapse without materialism.
Well my gripe is more specific. I'm not going to complain about the consumeristic pyramid scheme that is our economy. No, not this time. My gripe is that we have lost the magic of materialism.
What? Magical materialism. That's right.
I remember my own childhood--when a few days before Christmas, packages would arrive at the front door. Now and then an exotic wooden box full of tropical oranges--individually wrapped in purple paper! Or how about the carefully prepared box from auntie, snuggled in brown craft paper? Lying within, one would find a lovely assortment of packages, each wrapped in different colored gift wrap, labeled with a pretty tag and a fancy department store box!
The truth is--I can no longer remember the gifts inside the boxes. But I do remember the excitement of receiving these pretty packages!! How fun it was to sort and open them all!
As an adult--I can't stand gifts. (Gift: a four letter word for more clutter). But something about a mysterious package with pretty paper around it, still peaks even a curmudgeons curiosity!
But here we are, Christmas 2014, and I am surrounded by the conspiracy that is non-magical online shopping. Personally, I never partake. No sir. I fight the hoards, go to stores, wrap and box it up, then stand in the crazy US postal service line --(and if you have ever seen these lines in Alaska, you know this is no laughing matter!!) And why? Because I care-- damn it! I might be out of my mind --but at least I sweat, ran out of tape, got paper cuts, slipped on the ice, caught germs, shopped local, and stood around endlessly--all to send out these ridiculous gifts!!!
And what do we get in exchange?? Online shopping. Big brown anonymous boxes dropped on our doorstep. No pretty paper, ribbons, gift tags or magic. Just ubiquitous big box store items, that I totally could have purchased myself---- half drunk in a bathrobe, thank you very much.
But I will rejoice--as although my own snail shopping by foot, sweat, tears and car has left me exhausted and crazed, I have been lovingly spared the hassle of injuring my index finger while "clicking here"--now that's Holly Jolly!
Tuesday, December 23, 2014
Wednesday, December 3, 2014
Don't Mind the Loud Music, but the Hens....
Somehow I just can't get away from red-neck tendencies. I try and try...and there I go again, doing something utterly tacky like housing livestock in the basement.
But let me explain. My two little chickens decided to protest the Alaskan winter. Now, it's been a mild Alaskan winter (thank you Lower 48!!) but nevertheless, not one for tropical birds (true factoid about chicken evolution).
The hens had a happy home in a horse stall with a heat lamp-- which was good enough most of the summer. However, once November rolled around, the chooks just gave up on laying and started looking a tad sad.
Well then we thought-- Why are we making the chickens miserable ?And not even getting any eggs to boot??
The only "logical place" I had available for them--(and no, we don't have the expertise to build an insulated chicken coop, nor happen to have $600 dollars for one!) was our basement.
Luckily, I can keep it a tiny bit classy, because we happen to have two separate basements. One that is nicely finished for humans, and another section that is heated--but nothing but a slab of cement and a window (kind of creepy, no?)
Yet, pretty good for chickens. I built them a fenced in area, put down sand (like a giant litter box) some roosts and their nesting box--voila! They are content.
Two days after defrosting their little chicken butts, I heard the tell tale "egg song". Yes, they were happy enough to begin laying again!
But alas, it didn't go as expected. As anyone who has ever heard the "egg song" knows-- it is freakishly loud! And both my chickens seem to enjoy the racket for a good 5 minutes or so. But in their new "chicken digs" they also happen to be directly under a forced air heating vent.
Thus the incessant squawking sound travels upstairs, right up the vent that smacks up against a sleeping dog.
The dog awakes with an indignant barking frenzy--proclaiming: "holy shit, who let the poultry into the house!?"
This angry barking, resonates right back down the heating vent, forcing the chickens into a mad panic: "oh my, oh my, there is a dog in here!!" So instead of finishing their egg laying, they run around "like chickens with their heads cut off".
I was worried there was going to be an impacted egg (how long can they hold it in after all??) Even gave my husband instructions on how to give the chicken a warm bath and lubricate the vent 'as needed' to remove said egg (ha!)
Not necessary.
As the next morning, the chickens gave it another shot.
Once again, loud egg song. But this time my 9 year old son was on the case. He screamed--"Blast the radio! Blast the music!" Running to the stereo and turning up a classical symphony...confusing the dogs, who could no longer process the chicken sounds. We ran to the basement, and yes-- success! An egg.
Problem solved, or is it? Because now the whole neighborhood not only hears the "Hallelujah chorus" blasting from our home at all hours, it is interjected with strange chicken squawks. And we actually wonder why our neighbors won't talk to us.....
But let me explain. My two little chickens decided to protest the Alaskan winter. Now, it's been a mild Alaskan winter (thank you Lower 48!!) but nevertheless, not one for tropical birds (true factoid about chicken evolution).
The hens had a happy home in a horse stall with a heat lamp-- which was good enough most of the summer. However, once November rolled around, the chooks just gave up on laying and started looking a tad sad.
Well then we thought-- Why are we making the chickens miserable ?And not even getting any eggs to boot??
The only "logical place" I had available for them--(and no, we don't have the expertise to build an insulated chicken coop, nor happen to have $600 dollars for one!) was our basement.
Luckily, I can keep it a tiny bit classy, because we happen to have two separate basements. One that is nicely finished for humans, and another section that is heated--but nothing but a slab of cement and a window (kind of creepy, no?)
Yet, pretty good for chickens. I built them a fenced in area, put down sand (like a giant litter box) some roosts and their nesting box--voila! They are content.
Two days after defrosting their little chicken butts, I heard the tell tale "egg song". Yes, they were happy enough to begin laying again!
But alas, it didn't go as expected. As anyone who has ever heard the "egg song" knows-- it is freakishly loud! And both my chickens seem to enjoy the racket for a good 5 minutes or so. But in their new "chicken digs" they also happen to be directly under a forced air heating vent.
Thus the incessant squawking sound travels upstairs, right up the vent that smacks up against a sleeping dog.
The dog awakes with an indignant barking frenzy--proclaiming: "holy shit, who let the poultry into the house!?"
This angry barking, resonates right back down the heating vent, forcing the chickens into a mad panic: "oh my, oh my, there is a dog in here!!" So instead of finishing their egg laying, they run around "like chickens with their heads cut off".
I was worried there was going to be an impacted egg (how long can they hold it in after all??) Even gave my husband instructions on how to give the chicken a warm bath and lubricate the vent 'as needed' to remove said egg (ha!)
Not necessary.
As the next morning, the chickens gave it another shot.
Once again, loud egg song. But this time my 9 year old son was on the case. He screamed--"Blast the radio! Blast the music!" Running to the stereo and turning up a classical symphony...confusing the dogs, who could no longer process the chicken sounds. We ran to the basement, and yes-- success! An egg.
Problem solved, or is it? Because now the whole neighborhood not only hears the "Hallelujah chorus" blasting from our home at all hours, it is interjected with strange chicken squawks. And we actually wonder why our neighbors won't talk to us.....
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