Spring 2015 finds us with room in the coop, and so last week I did something crazy. {Crazy for me.} I drove out to Elizabeth & Kiowa--just myself and the kids--and purchased five new baby chicks.

It was a long drive home, and chicks need to be kept warm, so I cranked up the seat warmer for them. Our chickens live the life of luxury compared to other chickens, they don't even know it.

This impertinent little thing hopped out of the box, I was quick to grab her before she fell between the seats, but I was driving and couldn't fuss with the box. So, naturally, I plopped her on the dash and took a quick photo. {I am a bad person.}{I promise I don't usually photograph chickens while driving.}{I mean, I have a perfect driving record.}

She is a Blue Andalusian. She will be blue/gray and sleek as an adult, and she is the sweetest, friendliest chick I've encountered to date. I named her Grey Lady.

This cutie is a White Australorp. The girls wanted to name her Big Betty II. So Big Betty II it is.

{What happened to Big Betty the First? Long story I've yet to blog. Simply put, she met her early demise last October, after our dog--who is perfectly fine with the chickens 98% of the time--played too rough with her and scared the poor thing to death. It was pretty much the first and the last time we ever left home with the dog and chickens out together. We failed and had let our guard down. Needless to say, the dog and chickens are never allowed to play unattended together anymore. It was foolish of us to take the risk in the first place. Dogs will be dogs. Even good dogs can easily kill chickens. I cried, the kids cried, we almost disowned the dog, but we've made amends since.}

Aaaand this is Dorothy II. Sigh...Dorothy the First passed away for an unknown reason a couple months back, but I will say she never laid an egg, so we suspect some sort of defect. Dorothy II, like her predecessor, is a Barred Rock or Plymouth Rock, one of America's oldest chickens.

This chick is quite unique! He/she is a White Frizzle Cochin {seriously, click the link, you want to see what these chickens grow up to look like}. I took a risk on this chick, because it's straight run--that means he/she could be a rooster or a hen--but you never see Frizzles and I wanted one. So fingers crossed it turns out to be a SHE. If not, we'll be posting an ad on Craigslist titled, 'Rooster free to good home'. I named it Henrietta. If it turns out to be a rooster, Henry. If it turns out to be a hen, Etta.

Lastly, this is Amelia. She is going to grow up to be a gorgeous Silver Laced Wyandotte. She is also extremely skittish and FLIGHTY already, so we named her after Amelia Earhart.

I'm not sure if I'll ever again be able to allow a springtime to come and go without buying some baby chicks. They're addictive little things.




The big girl hens survived their first winter like pros, their laying didn't even slow down. We get 4-6 eggs a day right now. Unfortunately, they've also kept our lawn trimmed...a little too trimmed.

So we barbecued them.

Just teasing. No, we simply started Operation Lawn Rehab 2015, during which the chickens will spend their next few weeks locked up in their coop and pen while we wait for some grass seed to take. To be fair, our kids also took a toll on our lawn. An entire backyard and they chose the patch of dirt to play in every time. Above is Justin's spatchcocked barbecue chicken {storebought, not named}. Oh yes! We've already grilled THREE times this spring. It's glorious.


Justin turned 31 this month and we celebrated like people in their 30s would: we did next to nothing. I had planned to make corned beef and cabbage that evening {his favorite} but when he got home from work he decided to take us out for his birthday. So we went to India Oven.

Showing up at 6 p.m. to an entirely empty Indian food hole-in-the-wall restaurant that was obviously previously an elaborately decorated Chinese food restaurant totally reminded me of something my family would have done. When my sister turned 20 or something, we went down to Mataam Fez on Colfax and ate Moroccan style Cornish game hens on the floor while a belly dancer sweated all over us--particularly my dad. I couldn't help but smile at the situation. We awkwardly hemmed and hawed over whether to do the buffet or menu, while two middle eastern men patiently waited in the corner...watching us...We finally decided on the buffet, and I'm really glad because I got to sample lots of cuisine that I'd usually decline. I'm one of those people who always orders the same thing, and at Indian food joints that is Chicken Tikka Masala. So I got to branch out while also eating my favorite. Also? Violet and Pax ate free, even though we loaded their plates up almost as much as ours, and I'm proud to say my kids love Indian food. {Also, they serve a hefty glass of wine at India Oven!} By the time we paid and made our way to the door, the restaurant had about 10 other tables filled. I'd go back.

Props to Sander, too, for finally tackling that garage. We've been avoiding this for almost a YEAR now. That's right, since moving in, we only just now parked our car in the garage for the very first time. It still needs work, but we're getting there.

To our credit, we have a very narrow, one-car 1950s sized garage. Plus, we have all this kid stuff to store. Like the bike trailer...

The girls attended their final ballet class of the semester. Already?! I'm sad that we couldn't work the spring recital into the budget {it was another $300 after costumes and tickets! ballet is for rich people, it seems} but they do a Nutcracker thing in the winter so we have that to look forward to. Pax is going to miss flirting with those ballerinas the ballerinas' moms every week.

We had the yard aerated. The kids now think it's covered in poop and can't understand why we paid for such a service.

But after raking up twigs, hay, and misplaced mulch, then aerating and reseeding, Operation Lawn Rehab 2015 is underway.

We might get the stink eye from the chickens as they are confined to their run most days, but I dream of a lush lawn this summer.