My husband? He was raised on a farm.
Me? I was raised in the city. As in, I walked a few blocks to school when I was younger.
My husband? He did chores. Multiple times a day. Without reminders.
Me? I complained so much about doing the dishes that my mom and dad gave me the job of mowing the lawn and vacuuming only my allergies are horrific and I'd sneeze and complain about mowing and soon found my only job to be vacuuming and before long that was a monthly job. At best. And with multiple "reminders" (aka "threats").
My husband? He grew up wanting to own a farm.
Me? I grew up wanting a fancy house on a city lot.
Now? We have a mediocre house on a small parcel of land (8 acres) and while I dream of a fancy house, he dreams of crops and outbuildings and tractors and animals.
So...what do we do to meld our dreams? Well, sometime between tomorrow and Thursday, we will be welcoming 25 layer chicks (the kind of chickens that lay eggs...not the "raise to eat them" kind) into our lives.
We have been converting an old wood shed into a chicken coop...I use "we" very, VERY loosely. As in, today I helped cut some chicken wire...I think I made 10 snips. GO MAMA!! I think I deserve all the credit...
The chickens are technically Belle's. She wanted to start an egg business and my handsome husband saw an opportunity to have animals and JUMPED all over it. I'm talking ALL OVER it.
But suddenly...I find myself dreaming up ways we could raise a cow or two. Or maybe that pig Hambone wants (he thinks it would be great to have an "Eggs and Bacon" business). I'd love to raise my own broiler chickens.
Gah. It's like I don't even know who I am anymore.
Before long I'll be wearing long skirts, braiding my hair in one long, stringy braid down my back, and heading out to the pasture to milk the cows for milk for our morning cereal.
Stay tuned for some (what are sure to be) adorable photos of our baby chicks!