Oh Golden Lanes oh!

Life isn't all about chickens, so we celebrated this past rainy Sunday evening as all rainy Sunday evenings should be celebrated: we went BOWLING. And we dressed up. Because if you can't bowl well, at least you can look good. And drink beer.

Tell us what your gonna do Debbie...

Freja selects a ball.

Riley "Stetson" Merline and Chris "Five-O" Lowen.

Changing bowling names is sometimes more fun than actually bowling.

We were just glad Marie made it out from the black hole of James E. Rodgers Law School.

It's hard to look this good.

Megan "I am sporty" Bartel.

Riley demonstrates his style and skills.

Rock star bowling.

Dear Golden Lanes, we'll see you again soon.

Chickens in the News! #2

For this week's barely mid-week installment of Chickens in the News! we are going on a quick four-stop tour around the world to see the different lives (and death) that chickens have. It is a sobering life that chickens have throughout the world. One day my chickens will thank me for the life of luxury they lead. One day.

First stop: Jammu, where there is evidently a housing shortage for chickens.

Here we have some recently dead chickens in Kolkata, India.

Naked bathing chickens in Jakarta, and a nearby voyeur.

And finally, amorous roosters in Allahabad, India.

"The sweet sounds of New Zealand sheep," by Chris Lowen.

My brother is a man of many talents, some seen, and some hidden below layers of skin and bones. Here, while on a recent trip down under, he unmasks his innate talent of impersonations, by mimicking the confused sheep of New Zealand. For those long time readers of Chicken Diction, you will remember his partner in crime and life, Megan and her natural abilities in the area of animal sounds as well. This time it was the lonesome cry of the North American buffalo. If you haven't witnessed her great display of animal mimicry, you should really see both the video of Chris below, and Megan's together, so here is the link. May you all enjoy the wonderful sounds of nature!

Chickens in the News! #1

Welcome to a new mid-week Chicken Diction series, called "Chickens in the News!" This will be a weekly post of a picture, story, news item, or other interesting happening, all involving chickens in some way or another. As our chickens get older, and therefore wiser it has become apparent that they are that much more world-savvy and I believe it is important to more fully represent their worldliness by including news about chickens around the world, in your backyard and mine.

For the inaugural installment of "Chickens in the News!" we we go to Shainghai, China where chickens are not only very skinny it would seem, but naked, dead, and hanging from a wire. Not all chickens enjoy the luxury of a Tucson backyard paradise, remember that young whippersnapper Chicken Diction aficionados. One of this blog's goals is to expose the harsh realities of the varied and complex lives that chickens have throughout this sometimes cruel world.

(This picture courtesy Reuters.com.
Okay not really - they don't know I have it, I didn't pay for it or ask permission, but I bet they didn't ask permission of that little girl either.)

Thanksgiving and the Desert Museum

I have been meaning to put up some pictures from when my parents were here in Tucson over Thanksgiving and somehow leaving the country for three weeks keeps one pretty occupied, and since I know that everyone is pretty tired of that Mary Oliver poem staring them in the face I thought a short trip to the not-so-distant-past would be a welcome change. My dad and I spent the weekend laying down flagstone underneath the ramada and then we all ate a huge thanksgiving dinner outside followed by an evening by the chimenea. The next day we went to the nearby Desert Museum to check out the cacti and other desert life. If you haven't ever gone, you should definitely make a trip out there and see what the desert holds...

Me, Mari, and my way hip parents. Seriously, they're awesome.

Mom and me.

"Yes Dad, you look a little funny with that camera case right there."

Aloe.

Sunlight.

Agave shadows.

Mari says hello.

Second Annual Tacky Holiday Sweater Party

I hope that you are prepared for the best blog entry EVER. Albeit belated, I can assure you that you have never seen anything quite like this (there might be a reason for that). This is the documentation for the Second Annual Tacky Holiday Sweater Party and it is something never before seen in the world of blogging - until next year of course. So feast your eyes on the brilliance of tacky holiday sweaters...

Welcome to our fiesta!

People were very excited to be in attendance.

Behold, the tackiness!

JT and his girlfriend campaigned all night long to be voted the "Best PTA Mom and Dad" and then left before the awards were handed out, so we all booed, gave their present of a stuffed chihuahua that sings "Feliz Navidad" in a bad Mexican accent to someone else, and promptly forgot all the begging and pleading they did in order to get voted for in the first place. Then JT had the tenacity to email me and ask where their prize was. Whatever JT.

Kristin and Debbie. Debbie came in second for "Most Flair".

Uppy and Dave - how cute.

My brother would have won the prize for "most prominent sweater" if there had been a category for that. He sewed the Santa head onto his sweater and it stuck out a good six inches.

Meet Juan...

Juan "Moose Cock" Castro, that is.

Mari and Jonathan.

Wreath-on-a-sweater and Smiles-a-lot.

Lindsey and Kristin.

Claudine won a well deserved "Most Flair" for her home-made xmas tree hat.

Pam was the write in winner of the non-existent category of "Most Drool".

Joe placed a strong third in the category of "Hardest to look at".

Riley and I went head to head for first place in the coveted "Hardest to look at" category. In the end I pulled out the victory.

Guess why.

Happy tacky holidays!

A summer poem in December.

"The Summer Day," by Mary Oliver

Who made the world?
Who made the swan, and the black bear?
Who made the grasshopper?
This grasshopper, I mean –
the one who has flung herself out of the grass,
the one who is eating sugar out of my hand,
who is moving her jaws back and forth instead of up and down –
who is gazing around with her enormous and complicated eyes.
Now she lifts her pale forearms and thoroughly washes her face.
Now she snaps her wings open, and floats away.
I don’t know exactly what a prayer is.
I do know how to pay attention, how to all down
into the grass, how to kneel down in the grass,
how to be idle and blessed, how to stroll through the fields,
which is what I have been doing all day.
Tell me, what else should I have done?
Doesn’t everything die at last, and too soon?
Tell me, what is it you plan to do
with your one wild and precious life?

Sunday's bounty.