I don’t have that many friends to begin with. Unless, of course, you count the 609 of them here on Facebook. Six hundred ten, if you count Zuckerberg.
At any rate, I don’t want any of you to think less of me when I tell you this. I really care what people think, and I wish I didn’t put so much weight on that part of my life. But I do.
But here is the whole of it. My big secret.
I am not a very good chicken farmer. At all.
Today, Bernice died. Not so very long ago, Imogene found her way to the Golden Egg in the Sky.
You know, I am only batting .500 at this point. I received four chickens for my birthday, back in April. New Hampshire Reds. Now I’m down two.
The remaining chickens are Flo and Dorothy. (Dorothy is a lot like Prince with the whole name thing. It started out as Dorothy. Then, Dorothy the Boy Chicken. And then, Dorothy the Boy Chicken who started laying eggs and is now just Dorothy the Chicken.
Anyway. This all makes me sad. Oh, c’mon. Quit laughing like you are in church and something strikes you funny, and you can’t quit laughing. This is serious business. No yolk.
And don’t get me wrong. It is NOT about the eggs. We have a perfectly good chicken farmer in the area who sells the best dang eggs in the county.
You see. I’ve been a City Girl on a transformational path with these chickens. Heck, just a few months ago, I was chasing them in the chicken yard, tackling them, putting them in a plastic tub, so that they could get in their dog cage in the coop at night. Oh, if you missed past “installments” of this column, you won’t understand at all. But it was a necessary integration process for them. Really. AND. If you are from PETA… honest to god… I had those chicken’s best interest in mind. I mean, we washed their butts when they were little.
But I digress. (Another sidebar: I am pretty sure if I was some sort of Roman Gladiator, or Greek Warrior, or something… my name would have been Polly the Digresser. I am sure of it. But I am digressing again.)
Back to the dag-nabbin’ chickens. I’m sad dang it. Albeit, it is a weird hypocritical sorrow… as I ate Garlic Chicken with Roast Vegetables for dinner tonight. It was delicious. Kind of a light sauce, and the veggies were done “just so”…. scrumptious. Oh, and for crying out loud… it was NOT Bernice. What kind of mad-woman do you think I am?
Oh. This has gone from bad to worse. And it is a little late for me to just say… “Never Mind.”
There has to be a lesson in all of this. There has to be.
…. …… ….. Okay…. I think I have it…..
“If you love something, let it go?”
Oh no. That’s not it at all.
“Easy come, easy go?”
Oh, oh, oh nooooo. That is worse.
“You win some, you lose some?”
Alright, I am reaching the “Epic Fail” Apex at an alarming rate of speed.
Okay, here it is. We try to do the best we can in life. At least, I think the most of us do. Some days it is easy to be inside my own skin. Other days, I feel like I am some kind of Foreign Alien Woman who landed on the wrong planet. But either way… I try to do my best a living this gift called life.
There are times when we are certain about our paths, and our intended outcomes. On other occasions, it can be quite unclear. But once again, I think we all try to head in the right direction.
So maybe I’m not cut out to be a Chicken Farmer. But I am pretty sure I will never lose my sincere love & appreciation, of the sacredness of life, in all beings.
And maybe that’s my own lesson for tonight. We should all just be the best “US” that we can be.
“Appreciation can make a day – even change a life. Your willingness to put it into words is all that is necessary.”
— Margaret Cousins
“The invariable mark of wisdom is to see the miraculous in the common.”
― Ralph Waldo Emerson
“Dwell on the beauty of life. Watch the stars, and see yourself running with them.”
― Marcus Aurelius, Meditations