I went to bed one night without ducks.  The next morning I woke up and there were ducks.

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Why do we have ducks?  I have no idea why we have ducks.

The boy seems to like them so that’s a plus I guess.

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I seem to recall asking The Husband to hold off on any more lifestock for a little while.

Yet somehow . . .

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. . . we now have ducks.

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My reasoning for not wanting ducks is three fold.

One.  It’s something else to take care of.  Our friends down the way bought a hobby farm, bought a bunch of animals, sold off all the animals, and then sold the hobby farm.  Why?  It took too much time to take care of all the animals.  They have two small kids too so I can relate to the feeling.

Two.  It’s something else to take Mike’s attention away.  I know this sounds suspiciously like number one, but it’s a little different.  Mike is now going to build the ducks a house.  I’d really like him to take the evening fussy shift with the baby instead.  He says he can do both, but I don’t know.  There are six baby ducks and only one baby human so the odds are in the ducks favor.  This brings me to point three.

Three.  Ducks cost money.  Money I’d rather spend on a completely frivolous, just for fun circular fisheye camera lens.  Sure, Mike wrangled a deal and got the ducks themselves for free, but there’s that whole house issue.  How much does a duck house cost?  We’re not planning on adding central air or anything but still.  Mike originally said it would be $65.  After hitting up the lumber yard he said $120.  The final receipt said $165.  And in a separate trip to Lowe’s he snuck in some metal brackets.  Plus we need stain.  The ducks’ house has to match the chickens’ house which in turn matches our house.

Much like Princess Vespa’s luggage, it’s all gotta match!

In any case, we now have ducks.

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At least they’re cute.

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And the boy really likes them so they still have that going for them.

Also, I must confess I have picked a favorite.

DSC_0716 RW Favorite Yellow Arrow

I think he or she has nice eyes.  I’ve named her One of Six.

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Soooo, yup.  We now have ducks.

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I still don’t have a circular fisheye camera lens though.

– Joanna

Question of the Day:  Who thinks I should have a new fun circular fisheye camera lens??

For today’s Throwback Thursday post, please enjoy a snapshot of The Husband’s college softball team.

Baseball Team PM RW

Mike was the pitcher.  And he still has that shirt . . . although it has seen better days.  It seems weird to me to see him without facial hair.  This is how he looked when we first met although with a few subtle hints from me he quickly grew a goatee.  And I do mean quickly.  My husband is a mountain man when it comes to facial hair.  He can have a five o’clock shadow by noon at the latest.

My role at these games was “wallet and key holder.”  Yup.  I sat in the stands, cheered and held a few of the guys wallets and keys.  I’d like to think any success they had was partly due to my support.  Although success is possibly not the right word here since it happened on more than one occasion that Mike had to explain the rules of the game to a team mate . . . as they were driving to the game.  Quite a few of these guys only knew how to play Cricket.

– Joanna

Question of the Day: Did you play any sports in school?  If so, what?

Who wants to meet the girls?!?!

That’s right.  Girls.  Hens.  Five of them.  No roosters.  No dudes.  That makes me their dominant male influence.  Hence the totally appropriate – single entendre – title of this post.

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If you’ve been following along in our fledgling livestock adventure, this is the moment for which you’ve been waiting.  You’ve had a few days to settle down after the euphoric grand tour of the coop I built.

Time to introduce the ladies.

Please meet:

Curly

3Curly

 

Curly is a Blue Copper Maran and is about 18 weeks old.  She’s still a pullet (meaning a female less than one year old), but will hopefully start laying soon.  Pullets can begin dropping the good stuff generally anywhere from 18-26 weeks on average, so let’s hope she’s advanced for her age.

When Curly does start laying, her breed is supposed to lay very dark, almost chocolate colored eggs.

By the way, I’m sparing you a lot of history, breeding, genetic disposition, and other information I’ve devoured about various poultry breeds.  I do so because The Wife promptly gets that eye-glazed 1000 yard stare whenever I share it with her.  So I figure you also don’t care.

For instance, when I finished giving Joanna a twenty minute dissertation about this copper necked lovely, she shook the haze out of her head and said, “Wait, what is it called?  A Maran? I shall call him [sic] Curly.  Curly Moran [sic].  From Veronica Mars.”

So there you go.  Curly.

Next, meet Curly’s best friend:

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In thinking about my blog header the other day I tried to narrow down the theme of my blog.  I know I’m not a mommy blogger or a food blogger or a healthy living blogger.  What I came up with was satire.  Food satire, when I’m being true to my roots, and photography with a little life, DIY and house stuff thrown in.  If you toss in The Husband’s regular contributions I’d also have to include “gentleman farmer” (his words, not mine.)  Clearly that makes for a complicated mess.  I’m no gentleman after all.

Articles I’ve read say consistency is key to blogging.  ‘Sota is Sexy brings the funny no matter what she blogs about.  Abby Has Issues brings the wit.  Aly brings food and LOTS of it.  Ann brings danger.  Oooooooooh.  I could go on.

So when I sat down to write a satirical post about squash, it occurred to me that squash isn’t funny.  Squash isn’t funny at all.

It certainly wasn’t funny to our Friend Patrick and his family months ago when we had them over for dinner and their acorn squash sat, for the most part, completely untouched on their plates.  Since our guests willingly ate the bizarre Sour Cream Raisin Pie I had made for dessert I can only surmise it was the squash’s fault for being just that unappealing (seriously, those things are hard to peel.)  Apparently even more unappealing than Sour Cream Raisin Pie.

We had another group of friends over last week (hi Julie, do you read this blog? I have no idea) and I had seven squash sitting on the counter.  Julie remarked that other than tasting purees with the kids she had never really eaten squash before.

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My mom confessed she never ate the stuff growing up so it’s not really on her radar.  Mom’s never met a vegetable she didn’t like so in her defense I feel confident she would eat squash every day if I cooked it and served it to her.  Hell, I’d eat pretty much anything if somebody else cooked it for me.  Anybody else get tired of cooking every dang day?  Sorry, I’ve segued there.

My in-laws?  We shouldn’t even talk about them.  They do not eat anything they’ve never had before and there is absolutely no changing them.

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Lately it seems like creatures are taking over.  Although to be fair The Husband seems to invite them in.  Take his worms for instance. In case you missed it Mike wrote an entire post about our 2000 new pets.  I’ve started writing my own post about the wriggly guys (my perspective is MUCH different), but as life gets in the way sometimes I’m still working on it.  I’m going to have to write two now apparently because Mike recently emailed me the following picture.

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Nothing like waking up from a nice nap to a picture of a mealworm happily chomping away on the carrots you bought because you thought your husband wanted to eat more veggies.  Nope, all for the worms.

For the record mealworms are creepy.  REALLY CREEPY.

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This Week’s Snap To It lesson and assignment are all about exposure.

As if there was any doubt that The Husband and I belong together, this assignment further proved we’re two peas in a pod.

Like I stated last week, I title my Snap To It pictures before I take them.

There was only one thing on my mind when I considered what picture to take.  Only one thing that really made sense when it came to “exposure.”

Midwestern Bite Joanna Snap To It Week 4 Exposure

That’s right folks, my husband’s butt.

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This post has nothing to do with salad.  Many thanks to The Husband by the way because his recent Larry Dinolfo Tribute Garlic Salad Dressing post was by far the most popular post on this blog.  And by far I mean way far.  Like outer space far.  Like changed the entire scale of the vertical axis on the line chart in my Google Analytics account far.

Blog hits

I’m not at all jaded that he’s clearly more popular than me.

Harumpf.

So, this post is not about salad.  It’s also not about food satire which is my normal modus operandi.  Unless you consider making fun of The Husband for drinking Dinolfo salad dressing straight from the bowl and feeling a little (okay a lot) sick afterwards food satire.  Then it kinda is my M.O.

Oh hey, don’t drink salad dressing.  Even if it’s awesome Larry Dinolfo salad dressing.  FYI.

So what is this post about then?  It’s about birds.  I promised you baby birds and I’m bringing you baby birds.  Besides, if I have any shot in hell of redeeming myself and getting my blog hits up to The Husband’s standards, baby birds seem like the way to go.  I mean, who doesn’t love baby animals??

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I’m still rocking this Snaptacular Weekend thing but I promise I have some more substantive posts planned for this week as well.  About half of these pics are from my camera phone edited with a fun little high contrast filter.

The weather around here has been awesomepossum so we took a walk down the lane to visit with Joey and Moon.  That’s Joey on the left and Moon on the right.  Moon was taking a cat nap.  Maybe it’s a colt nap.  In any case, he was snoozing.

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The walk was great, but I’m not 100% sure who was walking who.  I think I was walking The Pete and The Pete was walking The Snoops.

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Picked up some raw buckwheat to make this flat bread recipe from Ashley at Edible Perspective.  Hoping to get to that in the next few days, but I also have a brownie idea to implement as well as some Coconut Flour Lemon Muffins (spruced up with my maple macerated blueberries) from Faith at Gracefulfitness to make.

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It turns out it is finally spring around here.

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Last weekend we spent some time out of town with the in-laws.  Out of town as in we had to drive there.  And back.  It was the fateful drive back that resulted in the following tweets.  I apologize if you follow me on Twitter and have to live through this twice.  Ugh.  I know the feeling.  Just typing the tweets out again has me rolling my eyes.  

FYI, some spelling errors have been corrected.

Basically The Husband spent an hour recreating the scenes from the movie Pee Wee Herman’s Big Adventure with his own off color commentary added in as well. 

Here we go:

The Husband is detailing the plot of the Pee Wee Herman movie.  And I mean in excruciating detail.  My life.  Ladies and gentlemen.  My life.

In case you were wondering, it was the traffic accident we drove past that started the Pee Wee Herman monologue.  Yeah.  It was.

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OMG.  Quick.  Somebody call me with an emergency to get me out of the Pee Wee Herman recitation.  Please.  Anybody.  Anybody.

If your name is Marge don’t nickname yourself Large.  It’s not cool.  Not cool.

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I say Part One in case I decide to do this again next Monday. Not sure. We’ll see how she plays out.

Please enjoy some snaps from the weekend.

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