Wednesday, October 10, 2012


Sometimes I can't help but gasp at my life. Sure I try to laugh about my life, and sometimes I cry. But there are other times, that instead of any laughter or tears, a giant gasp escapes my mouth.

Like the other day when I went outside to feed the chickens some scraps... I found myself endearingly and kindly talking to the chickens as they scampered on top of each other to get to the edge of the fence to see what I had for them. Not only was I telling the chickens to be nice to each other, I realized I was talking in a voice that up until that moment I have only ever used FOR HUMANS. 

Oh good heavens.

I think the chickens are disgusting. I refuse to eat any of the eggs they lay. I'm scared they'll peck my feet when I stand next to the coop, and I jump a mile (and let out a little scream) if one of them jumps up to try to reach what I have before it releases my hand.

But I love to go out and feed them everyday. I even spoke lovingly to the chicken laying an egg today, even though I inwardly swore I would never eat another egg for as long as I live. I also became mildly concerned, and let out a slight gasp this evening at dinner when after one bite of my chicken (from the store thank you), I pushed aside my plate.

One of my biggest gasps as of late, occurred this evening when I glanced out my kitchen window and saw Luke burying an elk head in my back yard.
Apparently, after it has been buried in the garden for 6 months, it will be reduced to pure bones, and the skull and horns will be ready to adorn his bedroom wall.

Whhaattt?? you say?

I said the same thing.

Luke is thrilled that his dear friend Paul, saw fit to gift such a trophy to Luke. I am no animal lover (chickens aside), and I feel blindsided by this poor elk who met its fate on a mountainside three days ago and now gets MY garden as its final resting place?!

It doesn't quite make sense to me that my son Luke who always asks permission before he has a glass of milk, or asks me whether he should wear a sweatshirt or not to school, or wants my opinion on which chapter book he should read next, would not think to ask me whether an elk head CAN BE BURIED IN MY VEGETABLE GARDEN?!?!
Sometimes I laugh. Sometimes I cry. Sometimes I gasp.

I think the elk head has made me do all three.


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