Instant Karma:What Happens When You Leave Your BFFL Behind/Chicken Drama

I left my best friend behind when I traded her and everything else in my life to be with my husband.

I thought there was nothing left in America for me, there is. When people ask when I'm going back I usually say, "Never, there's nothing there for me anymore." But there is, and she's more important to me than any family I've ever had. There are alot of things I wish I'd said and done and alot of things I wish I hadn't. Having no car really brings a strain when you're trying to move to a new country and I really stressed our friendship to the limits in the last month I was there. I'm really trying to drive now, Jarrad and I bought an automatic last week and I'm trying my best to get over my stupid fear. Whenever I call her she seems really distant, maybe she grew out of using the phone, maybe she grew out of me, I don't really know because I haven't spoken to her in months now. I have alot of nightmares about calling her or showing up back in Ohio and trying to track her down and it's hard. It's hard to make real friends in a new country. I'll always be different here, a little bit alienated from everyone else, need just a little bit more zest to socialize with people.

So my karma for leaving her behind is me working at the packing shed, where I make easy friends with back packers who leave in 2-3 months time. Lisa, the German girl who was staying here moved out last week and it's been a bit rough adjusting to her sudden loss. No longer can I 'Google der Vogel' or 'Fick die Pflaume.' I can however, share this wonderful recipe she taught me, called 'drunk ass cupcakes.'

And Harry totally made me Kimchee and I love her.

My methods of coping have been extreme and have driven my husband to the limits of his sanity. Every weekend is now spent shoveling gratuitous amounts of bird shit and recording the latest escapades of Crossie, Straighty, Blackie, Whitey, Big Red, Frizzle the frizzle, Star, Spangled, Penny, Oscar the Oosker, Raggedy Anne, Things 1 and 2, Baldy, Little Boy, Bearded Lady, Bitch and Runty. Jarrad has had enough of the birdy shenanigans. He is up to his neck in chickens. It all came to a head when he caught me trying to glue feathers to his ass at 3 AM this morning. No matter how loudly they crow, humans are not roosters.

My new favorite couple, Little Boy and Lady, sharing a meal.

This is what True Love looks like.

Star and Spangled, also known as Dumb and Dumber. Sure looking like cockerals :/

Penny, who has to deal with their shit, poor thing.

Big Red, looking extremely magnificent. Them feet feathers.

 Sometimes things are not always right in Chickendom. I also have a flock of Araucanas but they are extremely raggedy looking at the moment so I'll post their pictures after they feather up a little bit more and I get rid of their scaly leg mites. Chickens are not always easy. The avian respiratory infection swept through our little flock and even though we went to the vet the very next day it still killed little Patches, who we buried under the lime tree that she used to dust bathe under.

We missed Patches for a night and found her the next day, as Red went looking for her and got stuck behind a gate but made a whole lot of racket. Jarrad found her by nearly tripping over her, as her eyes were completely swollen shut by the infection, she'd been so blinded that she couldn't find her way to food or water. When we picked her up she was light as anything. We settled her back into her cage where Blackie found her and they started to desperately communicate with chirps and whirs. Blackie showed Patches where to get food and water as we looked on and they slept together in a corner over night. In the morning I made the vet appointment and packed Patches into the carrier before noticing that Blackie had been quickly and heavily infected over night. Together they went to the vet. Together they lived in the carrier another day before Patches passed away. Blackie is the happiest and friendliest little chicken you've ever seen now. Her and Crossie run together with the main goal of stealing all the grapes and driving the naked necks out of their god damned minds.

Baldy is our other survivor, who at four or five weeks old stuck her head through the cage and scalped herself from head to neck so badly that you could count the vertebrae.  We weren't sure if she'd survive but with love, betadine and Hydralite, has come through to make the most mischievous bird you've ever seen. Baldy belongs to none of our 4 flocks and prefers to roost in the tree outside our kitchen window at night, about 6 meters off the ground, the little shit. Baldy has even coerced Frizzle into roosting with her, though Frizzle only gets 3 meters before getting caught by the human giants and rammed back into the silkie cage, thought the lady doth protest very loudly.

Blackie, our little fighter. Survived an upper respiratory infection. Would like to know what that camera is please.

RIP Patches.

Treating the chickens for scaly leg. Ew, Vaseline. 

Frizzle and Baldy. 

 But chickens are not always sad, where there is death and pain there will also be found life and joy. See below for references.

Crossie dust bathing with Whitey and Straighty.

Little Boy, waiting at the door for expected treats. Knock-knock.

Fuck Cirque du Soleil.

 Last but not least I'd like to give a congratulations to Emily who made 40$ on this beautiful splash cockeral at the Brunswick poultry auction. Totally jealous but I'm up to my neck in chickens now. Anyways I got Frizzle, Penny, Star, Spangled and Lady from the auction. That's enough birdys!

Bring moar bridys.

Also go see Janine's blog because Henrietta had babies! That would be Wyandotte, Orpington, Silkie crosses o.-

Alsoly alsoed; if anyone cares, Lady is a bearded splash araucana crossed with silkie, as you can see by her circus freak 5 toes :)

Coming out of the closet (bathroom) with my beard

So recently, if you are one of the 7 people who follow and actually read my blog, you may know that Jarrad and I purchased a house together. What you may not know is that we've invited backpackers to stay in our spare rooms. We have Lisa, a really sweet blonde German girl, and the two recent additions of Connie and Fiona, who I'm pretty sorta sure are Tai girls. They are also awesome because they love Crayon Shin Chan and recognized the figure I have in my room of him.

So I've been sprouting hair in the oddest places since I was about 11 but no place has been odder and more horrific than a manly little beard I've got going on, for reals. I was totally addicted to shaving when I was in my teens, and while you'd think this would help, it only serves to make the problem more obvious since industrious shaving habits create awful red razor burns and hair that grows back much thicker and much faster. If you check out the pictures of myself that I've posted on my blog you can sort of see the irritated areas around my neck from shaving but if I don't shave I would never ever leave the house. When there was no one else staying here I would plan my week around shaving my face, since leaving it for a day or two lessens the irritation caused by shaving religiously every single day. At the height of my obsession I would shave twice a day and still not go outside more than I had to.

It is really embarrassing to notice people looking. I was always called names like 'wolf girl' and 'ape girl' in school, before I learned to bleach, wax, or shave. The new backpacker lady staying, Fiona, seems to be quite curious, as I can totally see her checking me out out the corner of my eye. You sort of have to build up an immunity to people looking and sometimes I will just tell people outright like, "Hey, I have PCOS and I have tons of hair in shitty places because of a hormonal imbalance -insert awkward and comforting smile-"

When I was in Armadale there was a woman there that I chased down because she didn't shave and was around my age. I thought she was super super brave because of it, but she turned out to be a really ugly personality on the inside and I really felt sorry for her and tried to become friends only to be shut out in the cold by her. I understand that though. Sometimes I just wanna lock myself inside and never come out again. When I catch people looking while I'm waiting in line a McDonalds or someplace it is really hard to know what to do. Do I wave at them? Do I fucking smile or scowl or shrug? That is alot of the reason while I wear sunglasses in public places, I don't want them to know that I know they're looking.

So get rid of it, you say? It's expensive, I hear, and doesn't always work. Two weeks before I got married I let it grow out, hiding inside the house the entire time, and then took a train into Perth city to try and get it waxed. That was probably one of the hardest things I've ever done, going out with it very obvious looking like that. I remember huddling up in my hoodie and avoiding eye contact with everyone on the train. The waxing people were super friendly but no matter how hard they tried the hair just would not come out of my face and they finally stopped when it started taking skin. So then I had to march my ass through town and get back on the train with a super red neck and chin with awful, thick hairs sprouting out of it. Really wanted to pass out or something. So if you check my wedding photos the skin damage is there, though Michelle, Jarrad's bestie, did photo shop some for us :P

Anyways! There is no way to really wrap up this post, except to give the awkward smile I give when explaining the furrball issue :)

Also I'm super tired of explaining my anosmia to everyone, I can't smell!

The End.

P.S: Plucking doesn't do it for me, try plucking a hair from your husband's beard and see how he reacts to it.

P.P.S: Crunchie has also found something he really really likes about the new girls.

Six Soft Sexy Unsesexed Silkies

MOAR CHICKENS!

The two partridge girls (hopefully, am I right?) have come to us from Wendy at Mirasole Chickens, the same place Janine's silkies and wyandotte/buff orpington cross came from! The other 4 girls came from a real nice lady named Jaq Dhalstrom on Walkabout Farm in Donnybrook. One of the white silkies, fondly named Crossie, has a crossbeak and we got him/her for free so hopefully it doesn't die on us. Been reading up that you can shave their beaks back a bit with a fingernail file so hopefully that will do the trick. The cross beak isn't so bad that it can't eat or anything, a perky, happy chook.

Arriving home for the first time!

Such a hot day that Jarrad brought them to the AC.

Baby's first yogurt.

nomnomnomnom (Crossie top right white)

The children posing, aged 9 weeks old, HUGE!

Totally not spoiled.

Our backyard! Lookit the dam >:o

Matt and Kim dropped in for Xmas hello!

Skittles like "letmeinletmeinletmein"

Everyone chowing some yogurt, 11 weeks.

Runty being runty.

Bitch posing for the camera

So overall things are doing pretty well.
It seems like we'll never be finished doing anything in the house or on the property since we are not exactly break neck pace sort of people. Speaking of breaking necks I'm going for an MRI on Wednesday to see if there's anything causing my headaches and neck pain! It's probably all muscle related but wish me luck anyways, and pity me for having to take my tongue ring out and rejoin the ranks of the normals! Feeling quite exhausted of being in pain all the time, putting on a great big happy face at work, when I can work. I wish I could do a bit of writing but I'm feeling a bit sapped. Depressed! DON'TEATALLTHECAKEDON'TEATALLTHECAKE!