slaughter
The changeover of chooks project has begun. On Sunday Favourite Handyman killed one chook. He didn't enjoy it at all and there was another hitch in that he thought the chooks had worse distance eyesight than they do. They saw alright and they weren't going anywhere near him.
In the past, we have been gifted roosters to kill and eat, but this is the first time we've done our own. We haven't given them names and we always planned they would be eaten once they were past their best laying days, but it was harder to do our own all the same. FH had to go into work straight after the killing and I decided it was far too hard to skin and gut a chook safely (sharp knives and nasty bacteria) with two smallish children wnating to be part of the process. So I cut off the feet (excellent for stock apparently), washed them very thoroughly and put them in the freezer. Then I buried the chook in a deep hole with a bucket of bokashi on top and then soil on top of that. Not the optimum way to get the most out of our chook but it will enrich the soil for some great summer vegetables I hope. Brighid and Fionn were very matter of fact about the process.
This Huffington Post piece on how to talk to little girls is very good. I've thought about it quite a bit and I think I'm fine with still talking a bit of clothes talk with some of the hugely stylish (that's strong sense of personal style, not fashion stuff) four year olds I hang out with. I'm also fine with engaging with boy style choices too, knowing that this interests my own son at least. But as to the talking books stuff and the talking to the brain stuff, bring it on and more. I loved Bloom's story.
That's it. I haven't been sewing. I've hardly read beyond the newspaper. It's the tail end of the school term, unnecessarily long due to some silly sports games, and we're all feeling it here at the messy house.
But not SO messy. I cleaned the oven yesterday. I didn't bother with a medal. I went straight to the wine.
And we had kale for dinner. In the pasta sauce with smoked chicken and garlic and cream cheese and broccoli. 'Twas great.
In the past, we have been gifted roosters to kill and eat, but this is the first time we've done our own. We haven't given them names and we always planned they would be eaten once they were past their best laying days, but it was harder to do our own all the same. FH had to go into work straight after the killing and I decided it was far too hard to skin and gut a chook safely (sharp knives and nasty bacteria) with two smallish children wnating to be part of the process. So I cut off the feet (excellent for stock apparently), washed them very thoroughly and put them in the freezer. Then I buried the chook in a deep hole with a bucket of bokashi on top and then soil on top of that. Not the optimum way to get the most out of our chook but it will enrich the soil for some great summer vegetables I hope. Brighid and Fionn were very matter of fact about the process.
This Huffington Post piece on how to talk to little girls is very good. I've thought about it quite a bit and I think I'm fine with still talking a bit of clothes talk with some of the hugely stylish (that's strong sense of personal style, not fashion stuff) four year olds I hang out with. I'm also fine with engaging with boy style choices too, knowing that this interests my own son at least. But as to the talking books stuff and the talking to the brain stuff, bring it on and more. I loved Bloom's story.
That's it. I haven't been sewing. I've hardly read beyond the newspaper. It's the tail end of the school term, unnecessarily long due to some silly sports games, and we're all feeling it here at the messy house.
But not SO messy. I cleaned the oven yesterday. I didn't bother with a medal. I went straight to the wine.
And we had kale for dinner. In the pasta sauce with smoked chicken and garlic and cream cheese and broccoli. 'Twas great.
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~Rachael