The Lament for Little Gray

I was over having supper at my parents' house, and somehow the topic of chickens came up.

     "I'll miss the chickens," Dad said, a note of regret in his voice.
     "Chickens? What do you mean?" I asked. My parents have put a lot of work into taking care of their flock, with frequent updates in the family email about their status. I was confused.
     "It's too bad about Little Gray," Dad continued to muse. "She was the only one with any personality." His voice grew soft as his mind wandered over his past memories with the chickens.
     "Sometimes when I was working on the coop, she would wander over and peck around by me, just to see what I was doing."
     "Dad, dad!" I broke in on his reverie. "What happened to Little Gray?"
     "Let's just say she's in a better place now."

Apparently "personality" does not qualify a chicken for "alive" status. Somehow my father neglected to mention in the last family email that he and Mom have gotten rid of all their chickens this past week. Events such as this are usually a big happening in my parents' lives. However, the omission does make sense when you consider that advertising the fact that you just massacred 4 chickens, (the last dregs of the flock, excluding Little Gray) is generally not something you bring up in a cheery family update. In any case, I think I've come to terms with it now. My parents are simply trying to simplify their lives...with a little help from Mr. Ax.

I can only hope that some day far in the future, when my father steps out under the endless stars to listen to the quiet sounds of a soft summer night, he will pause a moment, and shed a tear for Little Gray, the Hen That Wouldn't Lay.

The Problem of Audience

I haven't been writing too much on the blog recently. I've been doing lots of interesting things. I took a month long emergency prep class and heard lots of crazy things. I took an 8 week behind-the-scenes look at the city I live in, hosted by the mayor's office. I took a family trip to Southern Utah filled with throw up and hiking and fun stories. I've had personal drama, I've had family drama. I have plenty to write about, and I have been writing, just not on the blog. The problem is, I don't know who's reading it.

It's fun to take a peek into people's lives through their blogs and Facebook. However, the most pressing topics on my mind have to do with religion, culture, family, and basically just conflict in general. Those are the things I think deeply about, and want to write about to try and figure them out. But the people closest to me are uncomfortable discussing those things, and I'd like to preserve my relationships with them, since they are very important to me. In addition, the older I get the more I don't want to share my deepest personal thoughts with people I don't know very well, who are also reading my blog.

Every once in a while, I'll pick up this hilariously cynical book I own called "The 48 Laws of Power," and suffice it to say, giving personal information to people is definitely discouraged by this book. Yeah, I'll save it for the journal.

About the only thing that isn't potentially offensive is trip recaps and cute pictures of kids. And I even worry about that. Some of my beloved family members want kids so badly and can't have them. I'm not one for gushing and displays of emotion, (thanks, parents) but some days I just want to post picture after picture of my precious angel baby who I love more than anything in the world, who melts me with her beautiful smiles and loves to talk to her bottle with little coos and caws and explore each little crumb on the floor, and crawl onto my feet when I'm busy so I absolutely cannot ignore her and her precious precious face.

Okay, sounding a little too Gollum-like in my obsession here. 

What I'm saying, is that I just want to write things of general interest on my blog, but I start questioning what is of general interest and start posting nothing at all. Does anyone really care that I'm potty training Charlotte this week while Austin is in Hawaii with the older girls? Or do I just have an obsession with myself and want the Internet to validate me? (Facebook, anyone?)

Here are my little fairy girls. It was hilarious watching them ring the doorbell then swarm whoever was passing out candy. 

Fairy Invasion!

See, you felt good after reading that. And I felt good, because I made you feel good.