Did I Say Rooster?

I’m feeling super chill/quasi-post coital after a major crapcuttinghousepurgesesh yesterday. It was a long time coming.

The winter break was extended due to cold weather and heavy snow and despite what BVSD (Boulder Valley School District) may say, two days doth not a week make.

But I had sooo many projects that got put on hold because I was doing the supermom thing. I’m not going to say I’ve been busy, though, because saying your busy is tantamount to saying you are fine. It’s meaningless.


All that parenting really put a dent in my personal project time.

Not to mention the major time sink that cleaning up Great Dane vomit is.


Yesterday Blue threw up three times. I was literally standing there holding his ears back and trying to aim the firehose of puke towards uncarpeted areas, of which there are very few because SOMEBODY doesn’t like walking on wood floors.


Who me?

I don’t know what’s bothering him but he’s been having accidents and it sucks because he’s the same, sweet dog; only now he’s not getting outside fast enough and I’m cleaning up dog shit with a giant scoop.

I was hoping he’d get decrepit or looked like he was obviously suffering but he’s not, he’s just the same old sweet guy who is having accidents in the house.

Micah loving on Blue. If he didn't like kids before, he does now. At least he likes my kids.

A sweet picture of him and Scratchy years ago

I’m not going to get all maudlin about it because I don’t feel like going there but let’s just say that last night – on our way to Weld County to pick up a rooster – I was feeling generous and let Loony stop off at the thrift store.

It turned out to be a good call because I score this bad boy, NIB, for thirty-five dollah!


Bissell Readyclean carpet cleaner

AND it came with two unopened full-sized containers of carpet cleaning detergent, a $40 value! Bon chance!

While suiting up the Scheissehund for his pre-dawn constitutional, I noticed a suspicious lump on the carpet in the living room. I feared an inaugural wetvac run might be nigh.

I sniffed the air with trepidation for that oh-so-unmistakable scent of dog shit. Nothing. I decided to delay my misery and walk the dogs first and was rewarded by discovering that it was just a crumpled sock. Whew.


I need these poop socks

Anyway, that put me in a good mood for the gym which left me feeling dangerous (AKA going to Trader Joe’s on a post-spinning empty stomach … frozen wontons with miso broth? SOLD!) Now I’m here, blogging which is SO TIME CONSUMING for no other reason than to let my dad (HI DAD!) know why I haven’t called in a few days.


Apparently we aren’t supposed to say we’re too busy to blog

I’ve got some things going on, but I like it that way. This is my flowchart for life. Never stop moving. Change it up if it doesn’t work for ya.


Do something!

In the midst of my eight-hour cleaning session with Bina, Boobzilla floated in and out of the house and a friend of a friend who is staying in my guest room for two weeks was doing laundry and putzing around and she was all, “Would it be okay if I added YET ANOTHER woman to this mix?” and I was like, “Bring it! Usually I am way outnumbered by dudes so I’m digging the female energy right now.” It was good, all that female cleaning, organizing goodness.

But did I say rooster? Yes I did.

Meet Radish.jpg

As you know, Radish the First passed away about a week ago. I was in no hurry to get another rooster, nor was I certain that I would. After all, they are pretty much a nuisance and don’t lay eggs so what’s the point?

I also thought that his passing would be a good opportunity to get an honest read on how my neighbors actually felt about him. I was astounded that the ones most impacted by his crowing (i.e. their bedrooms were in direct line/sound sight of the Poulet Rouge) actually missed him.

I was expecting something a little more coded like, “Good riddance!” or “Finally we can get some sleep,” or “I guess you won’t be getting another rooster now that Radish is gone,” but instead they lobbied for another rooster.

Fortunately roosters are super easy to find on Craigslist because no one wants them and it’s a fact that 90% of all chicks are male.

So last night I got Loony to drive me to Weld Fucking County to get a rooster from the cutest elderly couple ever.

The old dude was like, “You gonna put him in the pot?” Har.


His topknot is a little thin but I’m hoping it will grow in once he’s not around other roosters.

Naw, I’m going to give him his own flock of gals. Oh yes, he’s RED! His crow is a little anemic but what he lacks in quality he makes up for in quantity.

HEY! I never said that getting another rooster was my idea!

Tabby just informed me that she’s heading over to my house to walk so I gotta bounce but I’ll leave you with this.

Screen Shot 2017-01-10 at 11.06.04 AM.png

I love 2 Dope Queens and today while impulse buying at Trader Joe’s I was listening to the Boo-boo Ass Milk bonus episode which featured a very funny bit about breakfast choices on first-class flights but ended with a cocoa Khalisi feminist preach/rant that brought me to my knees. So good. Listen here.

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