Chickens and Eggs

Happy Monday, Everyone!

My mom gave me eggs over the weekend, something she does on a regular basis. The eggs come from a friend of hers who has chickens. My dad and I were in the friend's neighborhood last summer, and we stopped by. Happy chickens running around a big grassy yard (with some big friendly dogs keeping them company). The eggs are so yummy, and they've got to be so good for you, and I love that the chickens have a good life (I'm a total softie for animals. I really should be a vegetarian.)

I grew up on a farm with chickens...they got shipped overnight as day-old chicks in a big cardboard box, and the post office would call my mom and say, "Can you please come pick up your package? The peeping is driving us CRAZY!" The babies would live in the kitchen, fenced in by walls of cardboard, with orange-red glowing heat lamps to keep them warm, until they were big enough to go to the chicken coop. Nothing's cuter than a fluffy pale yellow chick.

Anyway, I'm really cranky today/woke up on the wrong side of the bed (not sure why...probably has something to do with working a lot over the weekend), and trying to focus on the good things in my life. Eggs from these chickens--and remembering baby chicks--make me happy. 

XO