Confused or Considerate?

Here it is, Christmas Eve Day. In Ohio, we are enjoying a balmy 55 degree day with not a snowflake in sight. The wood burner is dark, I'm sitting here sweating, and thinking about opening the windows. (However, I'm sure that within the next few minutes I will be feeling a little chilly, so the windows will stay closed. At least for now.) Yes, it will be a Green Christmas this year. No complaints here.

My opening paragraph is completely off-topic, because I'm really going to write about chickens and cats.  We have two cats. They are supposed to be outside cats, but one, Rascal, is working her way to becoming an inside cat.  OK, she's practically an inside cat. Our other cat, Lutrell, is an outside cat. Hubby made them some very nice boxes, stacked one upon the other, which sit on our deck. Lutrell, our yellow cat, makes the most use out of them. Rascal is usually inside, or finding herself locked in the garage (which was the case last night.)

We also have about a dozen chickens.  They were fenced in,  but after we got some hogs, and after the hogs rooted all around the fence line, they made a way for the chickens to escape.  When the chickens get up in the morning, usually around 7:00 or so, they make a bee-line to my flower patch where there just happens to be a bird feeder, and scratch and dig for all the fallen sunflower seeds. They eventually make their way to the deck and find the cat food dish, and peck away at any remaining food that has been left there by Lutrell.  (Chickens LOVE cat food!)  When I get up in the morning, usually around 6:00, I feed Lutrell, so he can eat, unmolested, before the chickens arrive.

The other morning, as I opened the door to the deck to feed Lutrell, I couldn't believe it.  There was a chicken.  I call her "Little Red", short for Little Red Hen. I asked her what she was doing up so early, but she just clucked at me.  I told Hubby, "The chickens are up already.  It's still dark outside."  He was amazed, too.  So, I let Lutrell come inside, just to eat. Otherwise, the chickens scare him away and eat his food.

Yesterday morning, while going through the same routine, I heard a rustling noise as I started to feed Lutrell.  I looked in the direction of the noise, and saw Little Red emerging from the cat box! (You have got to be kidding me!)  So again, Lutrell got to eat his breakfast inside.  Later on, as I was getting ready for work, I glanced outside, and this sight caught me eye:

Wait. What? Oh my goodness! Crazy chicken!  Then my eyes were directed to the lower box.  At a quick glance, I thought it was Lutrell, sleeping.  But, upon closer inspection I saw this:

What in the world is going on??  And, for how long?? (This explains our recent low egg count.) Apparently, for a week!  And, Lutrell has been doing his part being a surrogate father, by keeping the eggs warm...if only we had a rooster!

Ever since the time change, the chickens have been going into their coop to roost, usually around 4::00, as soon as it starts getting a little dark outside. Last night, before going to bed, I decided to check the box to see if Little Red was spending the night on the deck. Nope, both boxes were clear. I felt around for an egg just to be sure.  Nothing.  Good. Maybe she was done with venturing down to the cat boxes.  Au contrair.  This morning, as I went to feed Lutrell, who popped out, but Little Red! And yes, she left another egg!

While I appreciate her thoughtfulness and consideration on making egg gathering easier, all the chickens will have to pay for Little Red's crazy adventure. They will have to stay locked up in the chicken coop for a few days until she remembers the proper place to lay her eggs.

Wishing you a Very Merry Christmas!

Darlene

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A Pity Party

I  know we're in the Christmas season and thoughts are to be centered on the reason for Christmas, which in fact is the birth of Christ the Savior, and not gifts, but I need a few moments, only a few, to give myself a little pity party.

Why I feel the need to put this on my blog, I'm not entirely sure.  But, sometimes, ya just need to write something down, and my blog posting has been so random this past year, I'm fairly certain it won't be read by too many.

So, here's my sorry story...I was passed up, again, for a full time position at my place of employment. I've been there for just over three years working part-time.  I will say that I work in a great department, and the competition is fierce.  But, I do have seniority by at least six months over everyone else, which obviously has no merit. I tried very hard to assume I would not get the position, which is pretty much what I am already doing now.  But, naturally, I kept thinking how nice it would be to be making twice my current income, and have the benefits of insurance.  Then I would shake it out of my head, saying, "You won't get the job".  But the sneaky little "Yes you will" kept creeping in. Sigh.

When my manager called me in to tell me, she said it was a very difficult decision, but no, it wasn't me. She said I interviewed well, she could tell I was being honest in my answers...blah blah blah. It wasn't anything I did or didn't do blah blah blah.  So sorry.  I went back to what I was doing, then about 10 minutes later she called me back into her office. Curious. (Did she change her mind? No, that's ridiculous.) She decided to give me some helpful hints for next time.  I'm just paraphrasing, but apparently I'm not assertive or confident enough when dealing with confrontational patrons.  Which is somewhat true because I've never been told exactly how far we are permitted to go to appease grumpy patrons before we get the manager involved. But, I guess I'll work on that, and see if I get in trouble on the other side. We had a very nice little chat, which lasted for a good 15-20 minutes. It was something that she didn't have to do, and I appreciated it.

However, this is what Hubby and I think it is...I turned 60 (eek I hate to see that on paper!) last month.  I would be willing to bet that that is 90-99% of the reason why I was passed over.  Who wants to work full-time after 60, for Pete's sake?  Who wants to hire someone 60 years old full-time? Even though I'm probably healthier than most who are working there. That's just a guess on my part. I am on zero medications, do yoga, and do other various physical jobs working around our little farm. But of course, my age could never be an official reason for not getting the job. It's funny how, at a certain point, age is no longer considered for experience, but instead, seen as a detriment.

At this point, I don't know who got the job, but I have narrowed it down, in my own mind, to two. One is in her 30's, the other in her 20's.  I'm OK with the previous one, but I will be so annoyed (nervous giggle) if it's the latter one. Simply because she is such a know-it-all.  Which is probably the exact qualifications they are looking for, come to think of it!

OH WELL. Que sera sera, whatever will be, will be.  So, tomorrow when I go in to work, I will give her sincere congratulations, (alright, it might be through gritted teeth and a forced smile),  but I will say it, none-the-less. I will not be consumed by resentment and disappointment.

And, I know that when I get home from work, my granddaughter, Sweetie Pie, will possibly have arrived to spend Christmas with us.  I still have my wonderful Hubby, my awesome kids, and my precious Sweetie Pie, and they are my world.

But, for right now, for the next 10 seconds, I'm going to give myself a pitiful little pity party. If you are still with me, and care to join in, feel free.

Ready? One, two, three, all together now!  Awwwwwwwwwww.

Thank you. I feel so much better now. On with life!

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