Do Chickens Wear Bras?

As I was baking some banana bread for my Chup this morning (how awesome is that first part of my post?) it dawned on me that there are some quirky things about Retro House.

For one, we keep finding a wild chicken in our backyard. Our yard is surrounded by a large brick fence leaving me to wonder how is it possible for this chicken to make her sporadic visits? Wasn't the whole premise of Chicken Run based on the scientific discovery that chickens CANNOT FLY? Is she getting dropped in by helicopter? Why does she come-and-go all willy nilly? And couldn't she at least drop a few eggs on our back door step? Or do I want her eggs? Gross.

But it only gets more bizarre.

Ever since we moved in (April) I hear--and sometimes see--fireworks being let off somewhere around the block. Sometimes I think they are south of me, sometimes east, but they are blasted off always around the same time. But get this, Chup has never seen or heard them. Not once. And just last night I heard four or five of them (LOUD ONES TOO) and Chup defends that he didn't hear a peep.

But he has seen the chicken.

Nextly, as I lie me down to sleep at night I am oft awakened by a mighty flash outside my bedroom window. Now, please don't make fun of me using the word "mighty" because, nay, there is no better word. The burst of light makes for a serious arousal from slumber. Dare I say I've felt the beam in my bones. The first time I experienced this phenom it proceeded an explosive storm which blew our lilac tree horizontally. Just lightening thought I, but I've been flashed many times since on still, cricket-chirping, hot summer nights. Could it be . . . am I that famous . . . am I being stalked by . . .

Paparazzi?

Speaking of my bed, in another post about my personal mysteries, I blogged about a blue stain that keeps appearing on my sheets. The curse followed us to Retro House, but 'cept now the stain is more green in color and it only appears on my husband's lumpy pillow. I've tried to get him to heave the lumpy pillow in the trash receptacle, but he says he "no deal." And now it's turning blotchy green on my new 500 thread count sheets that I bought with Popeye and Honey's Target gift card. I also bought my pear wreath with that gift card and Popeye was astounded because he thought I swiped it from a desperate garage sale.

No, I don't use green liquid detergent.

Then, I looked out my front window today and thought I saw a red lacy bra on my front lawn. I even attempted to take a photo of it in my pink pajamas balancing The Chief and my SLR. I mean, I don't own a red lacy bra and so where did it come from? Also, on my front porch were two mis-matched men's white athletic socks. Are you thinking what I am thinking?

Dirty.

When I got closer to the bra it turned out to be a large piece of frayed rope. But isn't that equally as weird?

Also, disappointingly our favorite house-ghost Fiona did not make the move to Retro House. In fact, we had to tell our renters about Fiona as a part of our Full-Disclosure Owner/Renter Agreement. We said, There is a ghost who smokes in this house and gets ornery when there is a draft. Now please sign here.

No ghost.

But an occasional chicken?

Check.



And as I type Chup is slicing the soft loaf of banana bread.

We Looked Out Our Chimney And What Did We See?

I don't make a billion dollars blogging like Dooce does, but I do have a raccoon in my chimney. That should count for something.

Guess what I named the raccoon?

You'll never guess.

The Parakeet's Name is Bella

Tonight's almost-full moon called for a nice bath. A gentile soak in warm waters. And so it was that I climbed my heavy body upstairs in The Retro House to disrobe in my bedroom (if you will). With the moonlight filtering in the back windows I decided to leave the lights off, making the top story dark except for a dim green night light emanating from the hallway. After undressing I set my clothes in the hamper and prepared to make the short journey from my bedroom to my bathroom. As I did so I encountered an unknown trespasser at the top of my stairs.

I screamed!

I jumped!

I hid my lady parts with my arms!

I screamed again!

I realized I was in shock!

I tried to hide my lady parts better by repositioning my arms!

I locked eyes with my trespasser!

It was my fourteen-year-old niece Lindsay!

I could see in the light of the hall that her dark eyes were horrified. Like really appalled. Like seeing the violence that is alligators feasting on water buffalo on the Planet Earth Series.

"We . . . knocked . . ." she stuttered.

"Hold on!" I screamed and ran the rest of the way to the bathroom where I managed to find a towel. Only, a towel at this point in my life doesn't cover up nearly enough (you know) so I dashed back down the hall ("Wait again!") to my XXXL terry-cloth robe.

After the adrenalin settled in my mix-o-hormones I calmly walked down the stairs to see Lindsay and Emily (the other fourteen-year-old niece) awkwardly standing in my kitchen. Lindsay was petting the tropical-colored parakeet she got for her recent birthday and Emily was holding the camera bag (the Nikon D-40, another birthday surprise Lindsay wanted to show-and-tell to me).

There was nothing to do but laugh. And laugh we did. I held the parakeet on my fingers and we laughed. I tried the shutter speed on the new camera . . . and we laughed. Then Lindsay said seeing me nude in my pregnant glory was kinda like Jim Carey's naked Grinch which made me laugh then, but now I am not so sure.

To tell the truth though, I felt bad. It was only yesterday that I was fourteen. Having been asked to serve at our neighbor's daughter's wedding party (oh the 80's!) I arrived a little early to help out. As the story goes, I needed to use the restroom and in doing so walked in on my neighbor shaving in front of a large mirror (surround-sight) as he straddled a metal stool. Yes, I saw it (all). Yes, it was the first time I had seen a grown man naked. And yes, he was our home teacher at the time.

I pretended not to see. I told no one. I prayed he didn't see who it was that barged in as he made his beard disappear. Even so, I am left with the mental scar of which I shall never-even-in-eternity forget. It my disturbing cross to bare (pun intiendo!)

So I think I did the right thing tonight by laughing. Lindsay even made some surprisingly funny jokes about the whole matter making me believe that she didn't go home and purge. Besides, my body really is beautiful. I'd write more on that subject, but how do I know you aren't some lurking pervert?

I mean really.

Photos of The Retro House Part 1

Let it be known that the first meal in our Retro House consisted of Uncle Chup's waffles with nutella, strawberries and syrup served to our delightful unpackers (actually sang while they worked) Emma, Winnie, Emily and Olivia. They labored with such energy into the late night hours that they fell to the spell of exhaustion while cuddling up in our kingly-sized guest bed.

Does anyone have a link to some great ideas for organizing dishes in my fantastic built-in hutches? (As seen in the background of this dining room photo.)