Freak Flag Friday - What's the deal with chickens?

So can we just PRETEND this was done on Friday? (insert Sarah Palin-esque wink here) You betcha'!
I'm baaaaack! Never really went anywhere, per se, but a LOT has happened during the second half of September. Let's recap quickly, shall we?

Left job to be a stay-at-home-mom 9/19.
Continued to finish up work (although pay ended) through 9/26.
Immediately began watching another child that is close to my daughter's age.
Immediately acknowledged that this was, in fact, NOT necessarily a good idea for the sake of my sanity.
Acknowledged that my daughter might possibly be the easiest baby ever.
Made list of 10,000 projects that can now be accomplished since I'm at home.
Recognized the futility of this list while watching another child.
Was thrilled to see the progress that Hania has made since I've been able to focus on teaching her new skills.
Lost 5 lbs AND my mind from chasing around after small children for two weeks.
Recognized that we need in-home training from the Humane Society if Keira-the-no-no-bad-dog and I are going to coexist peacefully in the same home.
Continue to work on learning how to be still. And patient. Neither is a virtue that I currently possess, but I'll keep you updated on the progress!
Lather, rinse, repeat.
Has it only been two weeks? Really???

I owe you a Freak Flag Friday funny, don't I? These are 2 quick little stories, both chicken-related, that still crack me up. I can't quite muster the energy for one of my doozies tonight!

My first job in Georgia was as a school-based emergency services counselor, who responded to crisis calls from the public schools. On occasion I was asked to go to a home and follow up to ensure the family was using the mental health resources available. Weird job, grant funded, not well organized and very slow paced, which drove me nuts. On this particular visit I can't even recall why I'd gone to the home, but the exit is what truly stands out in my mind. As I'm walking out of the small rural home a chicken streaks out the door past me. I can't say exactly where this chicken came from, but apparently he'd been inside the home the entire time. He ran up onto the hood of my car, which made for a pretty funny sight. Yes, funny funny stuff, up until the point that I try to enter my vehicle and it flies straight into my face! I managed to stay upright and threw my hands up in time to avoid being mauled by a bird, but apparently this was no ordinary bird. Oh, no. He continued to strut around on the hood of car, pooping no less, and gave me a look at that said "Oh yeah, lady? You wanna piece of this? Bring it, fool!" To which I replied "Oh it's already been BROUGHTEN!" (Did anyone else see that dumb cheerleader movie "Bring It On" to find that quote funny? Or am I the only one laughing?) Swatting at him with my planner didn't do a thing, aside from provide him with some agility training. Then he did speed drills from the trunk, over the body of the car to the hood, and back again. Each time I attempt to enter the car he flies at me, flapping his wings, screeching, and I can't help but scream like a girl. Little did I know that every time he screeched, he was calling his little friends. Chickens are literally coming out of nowhere. From under the car, around the corner of the house, across the gravel road... as if they were lurking around, like the bad guys in a movie, ready to gang up and take down this citified female human that invaded their property. Apparently he was a chicken mob boss. The Godfeather, if you will.
I then realize that maybe the family who lives there could help me, and I turn around to see them gathered on the porch watching the spectacle. As in, studying the scene, chin on hands, watching like it is reality tv. I yell back and ask if they have any suggestions, and the father informs me that yes, this has indeed been a problem in the past, and no, he only does it with strangers so they don't know what to do about it. Thanks, buddy.
Finally I noticed a window of opportunity when Mob Boss Chicken was on the hood, and I made a break for it - dove for the rear door and leaped into the back seat of the car before climbing into the front and peeling off.
My conclusion: I am chicken s$#t when it comes to aggressive fowl. And apparently that chicken needs anger management, for which I can provide some excellent referrals.

The second story also occurs in Georgia, when I'm working in foster care. My job required me to visit each of the foster homes each quarter to ensure that they met safety requirements and were following agency policies. You tend to grow close quickly to the families because in completing the home study required to foster there are many personal questions that they are required to disclose, including their beliefs on a number of hot topics, details of their background, and parenting philosophies. I loved visiting most of my families, but one couple in particular had been my favorites since I'd met them - a Jamaican couple in their late 50's who were raising their grandchildren, and were ready to open their home to foster children. Their home always seemed quite warm and inviting, and the mother consistently had a Jamaican dish bubbling on the stove and always asked if I'd like to stay for dinner. I usually had just a little taste, and although it was delightful I had other appointments waiting and never stayed to eat.
Well this time she called me in advance to ask me to stay and eat to celebrate her husband's birthday. She had made his absolute favorite meal, a Jamaican delicacy that they only made on special occasions and she was so proud to share it. I have to admit, I was psyched. I loooove Jamaican food... jerk...curry...plantains...you name it. What could it be? Seriously, my mouth was watering all day. I even picked up a little red velvet cake from Publix for the birthday celebration.
When I arrived the house smelled incredible, the kids were running around having fun, it was a nice scene and a much needed break after a horrid day. They were so happy I could attend and the mother called me over to the stove, pulled the lid off the pot with a flourish, and there I saw... (this is coming across like a Halloween after school special)... CURRIED CHICKEN FEET. Bwahaaahaaahaa! I'm not kidding. Actual little chicken feet (claws intact, mind you!) filling up the pot, simmering in a yellow curry broth. Oh. My. Goodness. I vaguely hear the mother exclaiming about what a delicacy it is, and how much her husband adores them, and how difficult it is to find them in that part of Atlanta, etc etc. But I'm busy thinking about how I plan to choke them down, and instead hear Charlie Brown's teacher's voice: Wah wah wah, wahwah wah wah.
At dinner the mother served up the pot, ya know, so each of us could have equal amounts of the hearty chicken foot goodness. Naturally. You know, they really didn't taste bad but the texture was just awful. It certainly conjured up images of Fear Factor while I was gnawing on the talons. Don't you know that I thought back to that dang chicken that held me hostage at my car? Not that it made them taste better, but it was mildly amusing to pass the time while I chewed vigorously. I just continued to chew-swallow-repeat, all the while eyeing the Publix red velvet cake on the counter!

Apparently chickens were the only ones flying the freak flag in this installment!

Um, that was interesting

The winds from Hurricane Ike affected us all the way up in Kentucky. On Sunday we had strong wind gusts for about 3 hours. They weren't THAT strong - I was still able to play frisbee with K-dog and take Hania outside in the wagon, but apparently strong enough to knock out power for over half of the state's population. Not even a drop of rain.

Our power was only off from 1pm Sunday to 7pm Monday, which isn't too bad considering that the official statement was that it would take "between 2 and 14 days" for full power to be restored in the metro area.

So the worst we fared was a little maneuvering with candles, and some lost dairy products. Not too bad considering what situations so many others are dealing with. It is interesting how quickly your thoughts turn to "emergency mode", when you think that you might not have power for two weeks. Thankfully we didn't have to put any of the plans to use. In case you are wondering, we took a family vote and we chose NOT to eat Keira. (:

This evening we had an impromptu neighborhood picnic after one of our dear neighbors (who is a chef at a large hotel) dropped by a ton of food to grill. It was a thoughtful little food drop, after only 24 hours without electricity! Everyone pitched in any food that was going to go bad overnight and we had a feast.

Tonight, I am thankful for good neighbors, a patient baby, prompt utility crews...and the impending use of my flat iron tomorrow morning. Amen.

What's Cookin'?

I need structure. Would any of you have guessed that? I don't loooove structure, but it is truly necessary for me to function. I would prefer to fly by the seat of my pants more often, but the responsibilities that I currently juggle simply don't allow for it.

This need for structure also includes my blogging. Sure, there are some days that I just post pics of Hania, or talk about what we've been up to, and you can count on Freak Flag Fridays (which at one sick story per week, I can keep that segment up for at LEAST 3 years...), but generally I would like to count on a few set topics that might interest a number of the folks that visit.

So Sunday will officially be the day I post about the menu that I have planned for the week. I enjoy cooking, love trying new recipes, and try to balance healthy foods with a few splurges . Hopefully this may give someone another idea for dinner one night, with the added bonus of being able to answer my mother's eternal question that she always asked every day after school: "Who did you sit with? What did you eat? What did you learn?"

If the recipe is online I will link to it, or if it is particularly good I will write it out.
A little caveat: I try to make healthier choices when possible (light butter, low-fat cheese, low sodium versions of products, some organics, and attempt to use fewer processed foods).

What's Cookin' This Week?

Lemon, Rosemary, & Balsamic Grilled Chicken Thighs
Corn on the cob
Green salad

Chili-Roasted Cod
Carrot Coins with Maple-Balsamic Butter (go light on the butter)
Garlic cheese grits

Shrimp and Wild Rice Casserole
Green salad

Blackened Chicken Fettuccine Alfredo (yep, a splurge)
Oven roasted green beans w/ olive oil, salt & pepper

Grilled Tuna with Rain Forest Glaze
Sweet potato
Sugar snap peas

Freak Flag Friday - Mr. Naked Butt in Austin

First of all, I absolutely cannot believe it is Friday already.
T minus 6 days of work and counting. Reality is setting in, and I'm not sure how I will feel about it until I wake up Monday the 22nd and don't have to go in.

Who is flying the Freak Flag in this week's story?

Mr. Naked Butt in Austin

We have to go all the way back to 2001 for this scenario. Looking back at how wild my life was at that point, I'm not sure why this story would surprise me. I was doing a full-time unpaid internship for my masters program at a large Austin, TX hospital. The internship accounted for at least 35 hrs of my week. I was also working at the SAME hospital as the night/oncall social worker for the ER. Also, to make some extra money on the side, I did bedside registration in the ER. (totally not social work related, but good money nonetheless)
Needless to say, I was pretty tired ALL. THE. TIME. The internship hours basically ran straight into the registration job's evening hours, and I'm pretty sure at some point I was doing the ER oncall gig with a psychotic lady and went ahead and registered her just because I knew how. Helpful, aren't I? I think the staff at the hospital thought I was homeless, because they offered to let me keep some toiletries and a change of clothes there so I could use one of the physicians' sleep rooms, which came in handy.

Exactly how does this pertain to Mr. Naked Butt? I'm getting there...

Every day I saw about 10-15 ER patients that were there in the hopes of obtaining prescription drugs. Most of these folks were addicted, so you would try to encourage them to get into a voluntary treatment program, but most of the time they left when they figured out that our seasoned ER docs would not budge.

On this particular day I've been called down to the ER during my internship hours to help out with the large number of psych cases and/or drug seekers. Out of the corner of my eye I noticed a man walking close to the med station. Very close. Wearing just a hospital gown. It is the same guy that I just arranged a slot at a methadone clinic for. He was a "regular" that came in weekly when his supply ran out, and consistently refused treatment, but this time he'd agreed to give it a try and I was pretty pleased with my little 22 year old self. And the last nurse just left out a bunch of vials and syringes in preparation for a patient. Ooh, this might not be good. I'm not a suspicious person, but something told me to keep an eye on this guy.

I turn my head for just a second and when I look back I'm greeted by his pink, scrawny butt. I do a double take (obviously!) and realize that upon closer inspection he has his hospital gown gathered up in the front in one hand. My mantra? "Please don't turn around, mister Naked Butt, please don't turn around!" It is all slow motion from this point on. He is raking large quantities of meds, vials, syringes off into his nightgown "basket" that he's made! And yes, he does turn around to look directly at me, with his little friend dangling in plain view. Um....security? I'm desparately looking around for someone, oh, I dunno...someone OLDER, someone BIG, someone who is NOT an INTERN!

He realizes that I see him and takes off running toward the front door. So I do the only (non) logical thing that I can think of and take out running after him, hollering for someone to get security, someone has stolen some meds.
And you know what I was thinking? Not about the meds, nope, but that I had just spent the last 2 hrs trying to find him a spot at the clinic, begging and pleading with the clinic staff that "Yes, this time Mr. Naked Butt is really coming!", and I really don't want to see him again next week to repeat this scenario like Groundhog Day. Dammit, he's GOING to the clinic! The plan for what I'd do when I caught Mr. Naked Butt wasn't quite so clear.

He gave chase for about 4 blocks, and a security officer was hot on my heels. Mr. Naked Butt wasn't even looking back, still holding his makeshift basket of goodies while his...ahem...goodies were flapping in the wind.
Did I mention that that hospital is right on a major US highway that goes through Austin? I-35. He was running down the exit ramp and ONTO the highway. I'm worried because a) he has on no shoes, b) he is going to get hit in his frantic state, and c) I'm going to puke my guts out from sprinting and don't want to do it on the side of I-35 with cars whizzing past. I bet you're wondering what I'm hollering at him? "Stop dude, it's okay! It's all gonna be okaaaaaay!"
They didn't cover this chapter in my social work classes.

The security officer caught him safely (if tackling someone on the entry ramp to a major highway could be called safe) and he didn't return to the ER that day. Walking back into the ER was the worst Walk of Shame EVER. Lots of jokes about "did you really expect him to give you back the meds?", lots of jokes about how I could get a 4th job in the hospital if I had all that energy, lots of jokes about the look on my face when I saw his goodies. Ah, the experiences that made me the cynical, cold hard slap of reality that I am today! (cue Streisand's The Way We Were)

So here's to you, Mr. Naked Butt, for showing us the true meaning of persistence. And for having the balls to show up to the same ER and look me in the eye with a smile later that month, asking sweetly for a spot at the clinic.

Almost Wordless Wednesday - Bernheim Forest with the Kelty

You know I couldn't post something without ANY words, right?
By the way, did you notice the blog touch up? Thanks to those fabulous Blogalicious girls, Staci & Stephanie, who offered to give me a little bloggy nip/tuck. Can't have the blog looking saggy, can we? If anyone is looking for a new blog design, these are your girls!

We went to Bernheim Forest again last weekend and tried out the Kelty kiddie backpack for the first time. It was INCREDIBLE! It felt like she might completely tip out of it while getting it on, but once you have the straps in place she was very secure.
Only one of these red heads is natural...
I know, don't be intimidated, I AM a fashion icon. If you'd like a closer look at any of these pictures, just click to enlarge. You know, if you want to see my "Gettin' Lucky in Kentucky" shirt. Tim Gunn would not be pleased.
Hania loved riding along, nibbling on organic graham crackers. Yes, I'm one of those dorky mamas that doesn't let the child have sugar until the 1st birthday. She's rollin' with her homies.
It was BugFest at Bernheim, so there were exhibits, craft tables, touch tables, etc for all of the older kids. Hania was more interested in the drummers. They were singing African songs and she really got into it, beating on the drums, attempting to climb on the huge xylophone.
This is her looking up when she heard that they incorporated her name into one of the songs. "Who? Me?"
That wasn't very "wordless", was it?