Goodbye to Elle

Our dear eight year old rooster passed on and we've been feeling sad. I notice the hens don't know which table scraps are good to eat without him standing there and clucking about the food. He was a fine chicken, and old man to a backyard dynasty.


Every night I carried him to the garage so his crows wouldn't bother the neighbors in the morning.



Unlike some roosters he didn't sneak up behind you and kick you.







Here's the video I made of him:


R.I.P. sweet rooster.

hostess dilemna

I saw this cute lady at Santa Anita the day after Christmas. Her hat was covered with sequins but I don't know how to get a sequin effect. Hope she was luckier than I was in her horse picks. We got to see Zenyatta one more time, and Brian and Dinah came too.

For Christmas we had invited nine guests. We had cooked about 20 dishes to accomodate various diets. Three of the guests were traveling together and they were picking up a fourth guest in Hollywood who can't drive. This had been arranged over a week's worth of emails.

When the carload of four arrived, guess what? There were only three. They had forgotten to pick up the fourth guest, and they were late. The food was all cooked. They'd totally forgotten.

Dinah got an A+ for volunteering to drive over to Hollywood and retrieve our guest who was patiently waiting. (But couldn't she have called to ask what's up?) Our cooked food also patiently waited for more than an hour. By the time we ate the food had patiently waited for more than two hours. We managed not to get mad and had a jolly time but it was a dilemna (that's the old fashioned spelling).



Here we are with Dinah's chickens. Remind me to wear makeup next time I get my picture taken with spring chickens.

Merry Christmas!

Dinah got home this morning, with her friend Brian,



her three chickens, and two guinea pigs.



A good friend who grew up in Puerto Rico brought us these incredible Cuban pastries. He said the line went around the block.

Hope you all have a great day whatever you celebrate, whatever you're doing.

Heading Out

I'm going to visit my mother Monday-Friday. She's been failing ever since her hip surgery. Although physically she's recovering, her mind got jammed I guess from the anesthesia. She's living in an alternate world- I can't imagine what this visit will be like. Or rather, I think I can...

Rooster Elle has been improving after a week on his meds. With birds you never know what the health outcome will be because they hide symptoms, but I had him back with the girls today in the sunshine and all were getting along and hanging together. Chickens can really turn on a sick bird, so I guess they were putting a vote in for the guy. I certainly am.

I was told Ira Glass did a radio show on chickens this weekend. Anyone hear it? And the New Yorker ran an article on raising them a month or so ago. Odd.

My new phone has all kinds of features so who knows, maybe I'll post next week.

Hope you have a happy and safe holiday, and whoever is cooking doesn't decide to experiment too much on Thanksgiving.

on to the garage

Poor Elle, my 8 year old rooster. The house sitter gets an F. Just got back from the vet, a $250 bill and he may or may not make it. I declined the x rays. Diagnosis was lack of food, general neglect. EEK!

He was looking poorly yesterday so we moved his overnight hutch back in the garage and put a heat lamp on it. But first we gave the unexpected resident, seen above, a ride in a box to wilder country. I was looking closely and nervously at the head shape- diamond or not diamond? till I saw the little legs emerge in the straw. A very large lizard. I thought it was unlikely there would be a rattlesn. in the garage but in L.A. anything's possible.

Our neighborhood is going downhill, and it's not because we live here. Honest! During the "you've got the green light"free finance era houses were bought by unknown neighbors who then rented individual rooms to families.

The house catty corner to us seemed especially suspect for several years. We thought it might be a drug drop off house. The people didn't live there, they just came there for short periods every couple of days. They would never speak to anyone in the neighborhood. They built up the fences so they were as high as you can go. Now that house is in foreclosure, and we went to the open house yesterday.

Creepy extraordinaire, especially the closet right by the sliding doors to the pool. It was only big enough for a person to stand in, and it was sound proofed, all four walls, ceiling and floor, with foam shaped like an egg carton. Okay, so what was that for?

Camo the Chicken

Dinah sent me this picture today of her little chick named Camo, short for Camouflage, though I don't get the reference. This silky chick has an amazing head puff and is show quality. She has two other chicks. Who doesn't keep chickens at college? (and a horse, two goats and two guinea pigs.) I never had a pet when I was in college. deprived.

Yesterday we took a long hike up a mountain to around 12,000 feet. We passed through snow and pine forests, but it was a warm, pretty day. I finally saw a big horned sheep but unfortunately it was dead by the side of the trail.

When we got to the top we wandered around looking for that perfect lunch spot. We weren't at the top of the mountain, but at the end of the trail, and it was pretty level. There was supposed to be a great view which we never quite found. But we did find two nice stumps to sit on, enjoyed our lunch, and then discovered we'd gotten all turned around and really didn't know where we were. Our footprints in the snow were melting and losing direction.

It was scary, briefly. Have you ever been lost in the woods? It's not a good feeling. I had a compass but I'm still figuring out how it can be my friend. Anyway, we found our way back before too long. I checked in my hiking book back in the car to see what I'd done wrong. The author wrote, "when you reach the top, go around the corner." GO AROUND THE CORNER? That's no direction. Anyway, back in the house again. Heard a rifle go off a little while ago, but not too close.

Chicken Lady

I didn't think this was a self portrait when I drew it but it has been a while since I've gotten a haircut.

Keyed In

I lost my keys Friday.

I drove home from the track by myself, so my search area extended from the car into the house. I didn't discover they were missing until late Saturday because I stayed home waiting for Dinah. I went through every bag of trash by hand... euw! On hands and knees I saw what a poor housekeeper I am.

It really worried me that someone might have found them and could just come in the house any time, or drive off in my car, though it's not very desirable.

Yesterday we had creepy hen wars. The one eyed chicken, Pirate, was attacked by her sister Stormy who wanted to lay an egg where Pirate was brooding. I was lucky I caught it in time. Once chickens get going on each other, cannibalism isn't far behind. I isolated Pirate and have cleaned up the ookiest part. I think she'll survive it.

Jon went to Boys Night Out last night, where they run old movies and eat Thai food with cheese on it. I cooked a cheese souffle which turned out strangely. I was still thinking about the keys, and the chickens. I got tired.

I turned off the lights in the main part of the house. About a minute later there was a phone call. "Hello, hello?" No answer. Was it the key thief?

I almost never get scared being alone, but I felt uneasy last night, after that call. The timing was too precise. I got in bed and read two boring pieces in the New Yorker, first by David Sedaris and then by Woody Allen. I was glad I didn't live in New York. I fell asleep.

When Jon got in he said I sat up and said, "Who won the race?" He answered "Seabiscuit," and I fell right asleep again.

In the morning it was cold when I went to walk Molly before dawn, so I grabbed a jacket I don't usually wear. You guessed it, the keys were in the jacket. Glorious keys.

you talkin to me?

This card sort of matches my state of mind. I see it's signed by Sarah, which is my legal first name. Sally is the nickname for Sarah.

aah, dirt baths.

Many animals like to take dirt baths, especially birds and horses. Horses especially like to take dirt baths right after they've had human style shampoos.

Chickens like it best when the dirt is warm. These two had just finished an extensive dirt bath, and were just sitting around like yard ornaments. When they actually are in the throes of a dirt bath they look really strange and half dead. They lie all flattened out and still, with just one wing wildly throwing dirt on their backs.

I'm cooking chicken tonight. (Not my own) But it's hard to reconcile my love for these birds with my taste for the entree.

Hypnotized Again?

I feel strangely like a chicken today. I have very good balance .

Ode to Old Chickens

It's hard to get a picture of Elle the rooster and Star the black hen, together, because the contrasts of black and white couldn't be any greater. They are 8 years old! Don't they look gorgeous, in classic hen and rooster pose? He's pointing out the goodies for her to eat. It's what roosters do-- well one of the things they do!


Here's the group, 4 girls and a guy. Everyone's related to everyone else. They were having a worm party right after the rain.