I'm Ba-a-ack!

Hello again to all my friends and Happy New Year! Christmas and the old year are behind us at last, so now we can move forward, hopefully to a better future filled with many good things. I’ve been quite busy these last few months, though not with writing—as you are aware, since I’ve scarcely written anything on my blog for ages. No, I’ve been knitting or crocheting baby blankets for several co-workers’ new arrivals, not to mention Christmas presents I made for friends. Whew! Now I can finally turn my attention to something else.

It feels good to be writing again. There were a number of times I almost sat down and blogged, but then something would interrupt, or I just didn’t have the time, or the time was past regarding what I wanted to write. Well, no more!

For example, I was in my kitchen cleaning the other day and discovered something fantastic. I felt so smug; I wanted to share my discovery with you. You know that nasty layer of grease and dust that settles over everything in the kitchen? I found out how to get rid of it! Honestly, I’ve bought all kinds of super-duper grease-and-dirt-fighting products through the years, but most household cleaners just smeared it around—that is, if they touched it at all. Plain old soap and water, which is good for most cleaning, won’t cut it, but the amazing wonder cleaner I discovered right in my bathroom medicine cabinet will: Rubbing Alcohol. Imagine that! No kidding! It’s fabulous!

I had thought of writing a blog on Holiday movies in the same vein as my Halloween movie review, but I got involved watching them, and before I knew it, the Holiday season was marching along rather fast. I had loads of other things I needed to get done, so the blog on Holiday movies will have to wait until NEXT season. In the meantime I shall continue my research.

It went like that with a number of ideas. Believe me, nobody cares about Halloween movies on November 1st, unless they’re dyed-in-the-wool horror movie fans. I came up with a few new recipes, which I may share eventually, but I need to get them properly written down first. There were some Thanksgiving reflections among other things, and even a few thoughts regarding the professional sports scene up here. What I wrote has been saved for future reference.

The real killer where my writing is concerned, however, is that this year I became a serious knitter. I’m not joking! Most people’s stereotype of a knitter is some little granny sitting in her rocking chair by the fireplace knitting socks. Man, that is so yesterday! Today’s knitter may still knit socks (it’s all the rage now), but there is so much more going on in the knitting scene. There are shelves of books on knitting and knitting patterns at the library, not to mention more than a dozen magazines that I know of devoted to the subject. Some of them target teenage knitters and several carry high fashion designs, in addition to homier projects such as afghans, shawls, dishrags, or socks. The patterns, stitches, and process are fascinating. I subscribe to six magazines now myself.

Then there’s the yarn. That’s IF you decide to buy it, rather than spin your own (that’s the rage too). You can literally buy any kind of yarn you can dream of, in any color, from any part of the world, at any price you wish to pay. There is that much variety out there; and if you can’t go to the store, then the store can come to you via catalogs or the Internet. All that demand has a huge impact. I’ve been told that the Chinese government is farming so many of the goats that produce cashmere fiber that you can see the denuded pastureland from outer space.

New fibers are “in” too. There’s yarn made from bamboo fiber, even from corn, and some very rare animal fibers (e.g. qiviut from the arctic musk ox) are on stage now. In addition, there’s llama, alpaca, and bison—or if you’re really adventurous (tsk, tsk), you can save fur combed from your pets, send it off, and it will be made into yarn for you. If you’re like me and grew up knitting Red Heart acrylic (there was something else?), the new yarns will knock your socks off. They are wonderfully soft and beautiful, especially the hand-painted ones, but holy moly are they ever expensive. You get ruined though, and it’s so hard to go back to scratchy old acrylic (no matter how cheap) after knitting a lacy scarf in a wonderful teal color from Rowan’s “Kidsilk Haze” and Debbie Bliss’ “Cashmerino!” Once you’ve gone there, there’s no going back.

No, I won’t stop knitting. But I’ve got to write too, so discipline will have to prevail. You know, “moderation in all things.” Besides, I’ve got bundles of yarn I’ve bought for projects pending just waiting for me.

Another Halloween Has Come and Gone

I know I haven’t written much of late, but I have my reasons. I shall probably be writing more now, since I’ve cleared up some major issues—in case anyone missed hearing from me.

Ever since I bought my Dell laptop a year ago last January, I’ve had on-going problems with the operating system, and I know some of you have had the pleasure of hearing me whine about it. Yes, “good old Vista.” I never could get Service Pack 1 to install, even though I’d never had trouble with any of the other updates, and more things seemed to go wrong every day. It got so that I no longer looked forward to my keyboard time at all. It was a continuing episode of frustration and problems that were snowballing out of control, so one day I finally just quit—especially after signing onto Facebook (what a name) at the urging of several friends. Between a computer operating system that was giving me fits, my Office program deciding to go on the fritz as well, and the incredible time-suck that is Facebook, I just could not take any more. I went for an entire week without logging on at all, let alone reading e-mail, and it was wonderful. When I did finally log on, it was with very mixed feelings, but the laptop was still up to its old tricks, and I decided that enough was definitely all I could stand already.

So, I set about organizing and backing up all my files. I didn’t want to lose all the stuff on my computer—just the crappy OS, so this took some time to accomplish. Thank God I have a jump drive where I can store all my Word documents, an iPod to back up all my iTunes stuff, and CDs for downloading all the photos. Today I re-installed Office 2007 so I could get e-mail on Outlook again—and after going through about 250 e-mails, I got a wild hare to try installing Vista Service Pack 1 again. What the heck, my time has no value. Well, it hung there forever, so I did what it expressly tells you NOT to do—I turned off the computer. Then I got out the Vista installation disc and plugged it into the CD/DVD drive. I was going to re-install Vista itself if I had to, but then the computer actually started working! It even installed Service Pack 1, according to Windows Update. Golly gee whiz, I could have danced a jig, I was so thrilled! Windows Update is still prompting me to install Service Pack 1—why, I do not know, but I’m not letting that bring me down.

I abruptly realized last week that I had not written my annual “Best Halloween Movies” update—but then, you now know why. For some unknown reason, I couldn’t “get into” Halloween this year. My heart wasn’t in it at all, which is quite unlike me, kid that I am at heart. I even signed on to work a few hours this evening, rather than hand out candy to the little urchins. The candy went to work too, because there was no way I was going to be alone in the house with it! I’ve already eaten my yearly quota of fun-size Snickers bars! I did consider applying my Egyptian eye make-up for work, but then I thought better of that idea.

My Top 25 List from last year is pretty definitive, though from time to time there will be a new movie worth putting down. I have to confess that, all else aside, I am not a big horror movie buff. I generally prefer action movies or sci-fi thrillers, as long as they’re not too stupid, gruesome, or revolting. You will probably note that I tend to favor the older classics, when realistic special effects were beyond the capability of movie producers. This made the movies far scarier in my opinion, because the audience had to use imagination to fill in the gaps. Let’s face it. I don’t want to watch movies that are going to gross me out, nor do I care to inflict the antics of psychotic killers on my brain (thank you Saw 1, 2, 3, and 4 now—or Halloween however many there are of those). Some things are just sick—there’s no other name for it, and I won’t watch that stuff!

One thing I could share with you is my list of Halloween Hits: songs that for one reason or another are appropriate for the Halloween season. We listen to Christmas carols for weeks on end, so why not some nice, creepy Halloween tunes? Here’s what’s on my iPod playlist (there is no order of preference):

1.“Monster Mash” with Bobby (Boris) Pickett
2.“Ghostbusters Theme,” Ray Parker Jr.
3.“The Purple People Eater,” Sheb Wooley
4.“Love Potion Number 9,” The Searchers
5.“Halloween,” Cosmicity
6.“This is Halloween,” Danny Elfman (The Nightmare before Christmas)
7.“Thriller,” Michael Jackson
8.“Time Warp,” Richard O’Brien and the SAS Band
9.“Werewolves of London,” Warren Zevon
10.“The Addams Family Theme,” Various Artists (sorry, that’s all I have)
11.“Somebody’s Watching Me,” Rockwell
12.“Jump in the Line,” Harry Belafonte (re: Beetlejuice)
13.“Witch Doctor,” Sha Na Na
14.“Before You Die You See the Ring,” Fiachra Trench, Hans Zimmer, Henning Lohner, and Martin Tillman (The Ring, The Ring 2)
15.“The Cellar,” Antonio Cora (The Blair Witch Project)
16.“Prelude” and “Outer Space,” Bernard Hermann (The Day the Earth Stood Still—original movie)
17.“Gort,” Bernard Hermann (ditto)
18.“Boris the Spider,” The Who
19.“Destroy Tina” from the episode “Living Doll,” Bernard Hermann, The Twilight Zone series
20.“Main Title A Nightmare on Elm Street,” Charles Bernstein
21.“The Creation of the Female Monster,” Charles Gerhardt National Philharmonic Orchestra (The Bride of Frankenstein)
22.“I Put a Spell on You,” Creedence Clearwater Revival
23.“Main title Ed Wood,” City of Prague Orchestra
24.“The Twilight Zone Theme,” City of Prague Orchestra
25.“Night on Bald Mountain,” Mannheim Steamroller
26.“Main Theme The Shining,” City of Prague Orchestra
27.“Main Title Dark Shadows,” Dark Shadows soundtrack
28.“Eptesicus,” Hans Zimmer and James Newton Howard
29.“De Profundis,” James Newton Howard (The Sixth Sense)
30.“Main Theme Buffy the Vampire Slayer,” Knightsbridge
31.“The Shed Not to Be Used,” James Newton Howard (The Village)
32.“Ave Satani,” Jerry Goldsmith (The Omen)
33.“Theme from Halloween,” John Carpenter
34.“Sidney’s Lament,” Marco Beltrami, (Scream)
35.“Nothing Stays Buried Forever,” Mark Isham (The Black Dahlia)
36.“Suite from Hush,” Orchestra (Buffy the Vampire Slayer)
37.“Overture,” Original London Cast (Phantom of the Opera)
38.“Official Clown Business,” Tyler Bates (The Devil’s Rejects)
39.“Toccata and Fugue in D Minor,” BWV 565, The Royal Philharmonic Orchestra
40.“Danse Macabre, Poeme Symphonique,” Op. 40, Luben Yordanov, Orchestre de Paris
41.“Night on Disco Mountain,” David Shire (Saturday Night Fever)
42.“Scary Monsters (and Super Creeps)”, David Bowie

So, that’s all I have to offer this Halloween (and you can download each and every one of these songs from iTunes). Next year (!) I’ll do better I promise. Now I have to get busy with those Christmas cards—and now that my computer is working again, I should be writing much more often.

Point of View

I had a revelation tonight while watching The Wild One, starring Marlon Brando. I had never actually seen this movie before, which is a classic and which set the tone for all the rebel biker movies that followed. I don’t think I’m alone in saying that no one—and I mean no one, with the possible exception of James Dean—ever portrayed the teenage rebel hero more poignantly than Brando, and generations of teens have knowingly (or unknowingly) modeled themselves after the character of Johnny Strabler that Brando portrays so well, right down to the rolled-up jeans.

My revelation was the realization of how much a viewer’s current circumstances affect the impact of a film. While I’ll admit I've spent some years of my life as a loner and a blonde in black leather, I’ve never been quite so far out on the fringe of society as Johnny and the members of the Black Racer Motorcycle Gang. Nowadays I’m pretty normal, though I do have an awesome black Miata MX-5 that I love to drive fast. I don’t think I’ve become an old fogey, but let’s just own up to the fact that my perspective has changed since I was 20 years old, and the spare tire that most concerns me now is not the one in my car!

While I might have identified more with Johnny in years past, I was horrified by the antics of the motorcycle gang while it terrorized the town. Even in my loner years I could never stomach punks such as the movie portrays, and I found myself becoming angrier as the movie progressed. I was angry at the townspeople, too. First, for being so weak and naïve, and then for the mob mentality that possessed them, ending in the death of an innocent bystander and Johnny being wrongfully accused of the murder. This script was so powerfully written and portrayed by the film’s cast that you could find yourself in just about any character’s skin at one point or another: Johnny, the jilted girlfriend, Kathie Bleeker (the girl he hopes to impress and the daughter of the local policeman), or any of the townspeople who were victimized by the gang, though I must say that I couldn’t identify with any of the other gang members. That, I’m certain, was the intent of the producer, director, and those who wrote the script (Stanley Kramer, Lazlo Benedek, and John Paxton and Ben Maddow).

It’s very nearly a storybook ending: law and order prevails, and the right things happen. Johnny even returns for a hopeful cup of coffee and leaves Kathie the trophy he’s carried throughout the movie—the significance of which is known only to them and the viewer, but he sees he’s lost the girl, so he rides away alone to seek the horizon, the perfect anti-hero. In times past, my sympathies might have gone with him, but now I share the sense of relief he leaves behind, knowing that Kathie’s dreams of a lover to rescue her have been dashed and replaced by the knowledge of just how unrealistic her dreams were. She’s a fortunate girl, really, because now she knows her life will be what she’s chosen, not what she’s settled for.

R.I.P. Michael Jackson (1958-2009)

I felt compelled to write, following the death of Pop Music icon Michael Jackson nearly two weeks ago. Those who know me, know that I’m not a “fan” of any particular artist, even though I love and appreciate all genres of music. I have over 20 GB of it on my iPod that almost never leaves my side. With that said, I must say that in all those GBs there was only one Michael Jackson song in residence: “Thriller.” I downloaded it a couple of years ago for my Halloween music playlist.

Like many others, I was vaguely aware of Michael Jackson and his career. I remember watching The Jackson Five perform on the Ed Sullivan show many years ago, just as I watched The Beatles and The Dave Clark Five when they came to America. Everybody who saw him knew that Michael was special, and I doubt anyone was surprised when he developed into a most gifted entertainer. I did not follow his career, but you couldn’t avoid hearing the news headlines that cropped up from time to time. I felt personally sorry for him in having to deal constantly with the Media, and I always believed that he was the victim of greed in the child abuse cases brought against him. I don’t think he knew how to deal with that, especially emotionally, because they were attacks on his character. He settled out of court in the first case and was acquitted in the second, but I believe that, if he was guilty of anything at all, it was his naiveté—but then, he had been insulated and isolated from most of the world since he was a teenager. He most assuredly did not live anything resembling a “normal life.” Like many people, I also had no idea what a philanthropist Michael was, and I learned that Michael Jackson was at the top of the list of entertainers for number and amount of his charitable contributions.

Like most people, I was shocked to hear the news that he was dead. It didn’t seem real, and though I knew it was indeed possible, it didn’t hit home until today, watching his memorial service on TV at the Staples Center in Los Angeles, California. When I first heard he’d died, I realized that I didn’t know Michael at all—and I suddenly wanted to know him. It was important.

I went to iTunes and downloaded a few more songs: “Man in the Mirror,” “Bad,” and “They Don’t Really Care About Us”—the song he was performing in the last rehearsal clip shown over and over on TV. I wasn’t ready to commit to the entire iTunes Essential playlist, but those were the songs that reached out to me. During the past week I watched a couple of specials devoted to his life and career on CNN and NBC, and I went to On Demand and watched a number of his music videos. I must say that I was completely blown away, watching Michael perform and listening to his music. I was touched by what a very caring person he was; and I realized that, if nothing else, his passing reminded me of my own obligations to be a better person—to be the best “me” I possibly could. “The Man in the Mirror” video was perhaps the most moving of them all. If you have not seen it, you should.

So, I watched the memorial service today with my husband Sam (who hadn’t planned on watching but realized that he should). Today I knew who Michael Jackson was, that I mourned losing him and would personally miss his presence, and I cried along with everybody else. Like his daughter Paris, I know what it’s like to lose your Dad at a tender age, when you most need him, because I’ve been there, too. My heart goes out to all of his family and friends who will miss him even more, but I know they will be comforted by the fact that Michael DID care about others and did a great deal to show it. He became the best he could be. At the least, he certainly deserves to be remembered for the good that he did in the world. Listening to the lyrics of “The Man in the Mirror,” I have to say I got the message:



I’ve been a victim of
A selfish kind of love.
It’s time that I realize
That there are some with no home,
Not a nickel to loan—
Could it be really me,
Pretending that they’re not alone?

I’m starting with the man in the mirror.
I’m asking him to change his ways.
And, no message could have been any clearer:
If you want to make the world a better place,
Take a look at yourself, and then make a change! *



I had to take what he said to heart. One thing I sincerely believe, as the Bible promises, is that “all things work together for good,” and even though I’m sorry Michael Jackson left us far too soon, his death will affect as many people as his life did. If only a few of us “make a change,” I’m certain he will be happy knowing that his career counted for even more in his passing.

I will miss you Michael. I’m sorry I didn’t get acquainted sooner—if more of us had, maybe things might have turned out differently for you. Maybe you can rest easier knowing that you DID make a positive difference in the world you left behind. Rest in peace, my friend, and God bless you.



*(--excerpted from “The Man in the Mirror” by Sieday Garrett and Glen Ballard as performed by Michael Jackson on his seventh career album Bad, released in 1988. It was the number one song on Billboard Hot 100 for two weeks, and was nominated for the Grammy Record of the Year)

Following in Grandma's Footsteps

I had to laugh while preparing dinner tonight, because I realized that I’ve begun to cook just like my grandmother. Now let me tell you, that is not a bad thing! My Grandma Rose had to be one of the best cooks who ever lived. What I found amusing is that I now just cook, instead of slavishly following recipes. Yes, I still refer to them, but they are guides, not rules.

My Grandma Rose was the one who taught me to cook when I was a little kid. I spent most of my childhood at her house, while my parents were working, and so I learned to make cookies and all sorts of things while she looked on, and best of all, I was allowed to make mistakes and learn from them. I was also allowed to have fun doing it. I learned to make homemade noodles, jello salads, pies, cakes, and candies. I eventually even learned to make Grandma’s wonderful meat loaf, which was a staple in our family’s diet—we had it at least once a month as long as she was alive.

I will never forget trying to translate Grandma’s favorites into recipes so that I could reproduce them myself. One afternoon Grandma Rose was in the middle of making the meat loaf we all loved, so I began writing down all the ingredients. How much onion, celery, or cornflakes? How much ground beef? What do you do when? How long does it bake in the oven? It took some doing to get it all down, but I finally did it, and “some” onion and celery and cornflakes began to make sense.

It wasn’t until after I got married, and had to turn out meals on a regular basis, however, that I really learned how to cook. I learned the processes involved and how to substitute ingredients (“Oops, I didn’t get any of that at the store;” or “Oops, I’m out of that and don’t want to GO to the store.”). No doubt you’ve been there too. That’s when cooking became a great creative and entertaining endeavor, instead of a chore, and I began to appreciate the freedom cooks have in the kitchen.

Here is what I made for dinner tonight:

Chicken Goulash (8-10 servings)

¼ C. extra virgin olive oil
½ large onion, chopped
3 cloves fresh garlic, crushed and minced
½ C. chopped celery
½ green pepper, seeded and chopped
½ red pepper, seeded and chopped
2 large chicken breasts cut into 1-inch cubes
Salt and pepper to taste
1 jar prepared spaghetti sauce
1/3 16-oz. pkg. rotini (or any other macaroni-type pasta), cooked and drained
1 14.25 oz. can French-style green beans, drained
½ tsp. crushed dried cayenne pepper (optional)
1 Tbsp. dried oregano (optional)
Freshly grated parmesan cheese (optional)

Heat olive oil over medium heat in a 10-inch skillet, then add the onion, celery, and peppers, sautéing them until the onion appears done. Add the diced chicken breast meat, the salt and pepper, and cook until the chicken is done on all sides. Add the spaghetti sauce, cooked pasta, canned green beans, cayenne pepper, and oregano. Mix ingredients together well and simmer over low heat for at least 15 minutes, then serve. Add a topping of grated parmesan cheese if desired.

I used veggie rotini and Classico Fire Roasted Tomato & Garlic spaghetti sauce when I made this. I like highly seasoned food, so if you don’t, ease off on the garlic, cayenne pepper, and the oregano.

Enjoy! You’d probably want to enjoy this with a glass of red wine, and I’m sure the leftovers will be divine.

Love the Earth!

Yes, it’s Earth Day, and the airwaves are chock full of celebration stories and suggestions of things to do today and every day to save the planet. I must say that I am shocked at how many people don’t seem to think the planet needs saving—or at least, they aren’t doing much about it. I see things every day that ought not to happen, from throwing recyclable aluminum cans in the trash to dumping 30-gallon containers, or even truckloads, of recyclable paper in the garbage—this in a State that leads the Nation in recycling. How much effort does it take? In reality it takes very little to recycle that can or piece of paper. It takes only an extra moment of thought and changing or re-thinking habits we take for granted.

Not to toot our horn, but this Earth Day Sam and I did absolutely nothing out of the ordinary to observe it. We already recycle most of the waste our household generates, and much of the rest is composted. We already use fluorescent light bulbs and re-use plastic food containers several times before they go into the recycle bin. Plastic bags have been replaced with cloth tote bags. Most of the clothes we buy come from stores such as Value Village, rather than Target, Nordstrom’s, or Macy’s, so they are recycled too. We try to grow at least some of our food, but that is more a personal preference, a pleasure, and an attempt to stay in control of quality and supply. Our decision to have our own chickens came primarily from the fact that I personally LIKE chickens as creatures, not to save money. Believe me when I say we will not break even on the poultry project until well after we buy the next set of chicks in another year or maybe two! It would be far cheaper and easier to continue buying organic eggs and meat at the grocery store from antibiotic-free, cage-free, free-roaming chickens raised by somebody else. Are we sorry? No, but staying in control of production and quality comes at a price, and we would not have made the investment in the first place if we had not believed in the outcome. I’m just glad we live where we have the freedom to do these things. Owning your own home allows you to do much more than you can do living in an apartment.

Still, that’s no excuse for not gardening, for example. There are garden plots available in many of our communities for apartment dwellers, and the owners of our last apartment home actually encouraged residents to garden. It not only made living there much more enjoyable, but it also made people more likely to stay because they had made an investment of their own in living there.

My own Earth Day challenge is this: Take a few moments and consider the impact of changing just one habit. As Americans, we say we believe that one person can make a difference. Think of how much it would mean if all of us made the quality decision to change one thing we do every day. Maybe it would be to recycle all your aluminum cans from now on—or perhaps not to need them anymore. Maybe it would be to recycle all the paper you use—or to find ways not to need it anymore. Maybe it would be to make or buy your own bags to use when shopping, rather than continuing to use plastic ones from stores. It is possible. Start drinking water you have filtered yourself at home and carrying it in your own container. Start reading digital versions of magazines on-line that you currently subscribe to in paper. Stop receiving all those unsolicited catalogs that come in the mail. Maybe start making some of your own clothes, instead of buying anomalous, cheap mega-manufactured items made in sweat shops in Third World countries. Make your own statement! Stand out from the crowd! Be your own person, not what TV commercials say you should be!

YOU can make a difference. It only takes making a decision and carrying through with it—and it is worth doing.

Spring Rains in Mudville

Pardon me while I state the obvious: Spring is finally here. Robins have been hopping around my yard for a month now (even in the snow), and the grass is growing again. It will need to be mowed soon, but not for a week or so yet. Besides, it’s pouring rain today, was yesterday, and looks to be the same tomorrow.

I’m not letting anything dampen my spirits, though. My last chemo treatment is scheduled for Friday morning (Yay!), so I’m looking forward to my next haircut. Yes, yes, I know it won’t be for a while, but I’m anticipating it anyway.

Spring always blindsides me, and I never seem ready for it. The back yard’s raised beds still need to be built for this year’s garden, plus I haven’t yet decided what I want to plant. There are trips that must be made to the local thrift store and transfer station to get rid of excess stuff, too. I always seem to have too much of that. No matter. It will get done a load at a time, somewhere down the road, and the garden will somehow happen.

This year is a banner year for the Miller household in one respect: chickens! The City of Kent revised its municipal codes in 2007 thereby allowing people to have small animals formerly relegated to farms, such as pygmy goats and potbellied pigs, in their back yards. A homeowner is now allowed to have 3 small animals on a 4,000 square foot lot, plus another one for each additional 1,000 square feet. You can have chickens or rabbits too—though roosters are verboten (they crow). The city farmer thing is taking off in a big way around here, as evidenced by the Seattle Tilth program and classes on growing vegetables, composting, and raising chickens at nearby Renton Technical College. With the economy tanking and the price of food going sky-high, raising as much of your own food as possible seems to be one realistic method of coping—not to mention the many satisfactions that come from such a project. I can remember eating the first tomato I grew myself, as well as the first egg laid by my own hens (many years ago when I still lived in Oregon), and there isn’t much that can beat that feeling.

Sam and I are fortunate that we grew up in families that grew big gardens every year and then canned and froze the produce. We always had chickens, cows, and oftentimes a few pigs after my parents bought their 160 acre farm (most of which was in timber). Yes, it was very hard work, but there were compensations. I was allowed to have a horse of my own and there were miles of trails I could ride whenever I wanted, as long as my chores were done. Our grandparents grew up in the Great Depression and our families were good at producing food, because they had to be—that was what we had to eat, and even though we went to the grocery store regularly, we still grew most of our food.

We’ve gotten spoiled through the years, but Sam and I wanted to get back to producing more of our own food since buying our home not quite two years ago. Gardening is something I love, and I have always loved chickens. Mind you, I mean the home-grown variety hand-raised from day-old chicks. Since I handle and pet my chickens, they like people, so they don’t scatter and run for cover whenever you come near them. They aren’t exactly pets but somewhere in between. They are very cute and picturesque too. My favorite breeds are Barred Plymouth Rocks and Rhode Island Reds (or New Hampshires, which are very hard to find these days). I also adore roosters, though sadly I cannot have any here. I love to watch their antics! They are so “cocky,” excuse the pun—the very essence of maleness with feathers. The hens are fun too, but they aren’t nearly as interesting, nor do they have as much personality.

Now begins the hard work of converting our storage shed to a chicken house and putting up a predator-proof wire run. We bought a baker’s dozen of Barred Rock pullet chicks this morning (the total number will be reduced to that allowed once they mature a bit), and they are happily scratching around in a large cardboard box lined with wood shavings under a warm lamp in the extra bedroom. They will be there for a few days and move into their own house next week, while I look forward to once again having chickens in my back yard. Too bad Chanticleer can’t be there. I will miss him.