Bare Butt Buffy

Being a chicken whisperer's daughter has taught me a few things.

Such as, chickens are not bright.

Chickens are messy.

Chickens are scary at night.

And chicken terminology is a language all its own.

I believe it all goes back to what people have heard through generations.

For instance, my grandparents have 'leggern' chickens. If you try to look up a picture of a leggern you will not easily find a chicken. But if you put in 'leghorn', then you will find a lovable Looney Tunes character along with other pictures of lean white chickens. But on the same hand, if I ask Grandma about a 'leghorn' she would quite possibly give me the stink eye.

However, I did find a website that spelled the term 'leghorn' but also offered the pronunciation as 'leggern'.

So I know that it is commonly called such and it's not just a family quirk.
(i.e. wasps = 'whaustes')

Sorry, I'm rambling.

Another example of chicken terminology is if you have a hen that wants to 'set' (maybe it's supposed to be 'sit'--which is to mean that she wants to sit on eggs and hatch them) but you don't want her to, you have to 'break her up' or she needs to be 'broke up'.

Some say to 'break a hen up' you can dunk her in water.

Yeah, ya see, I don't think I would be doing that to Momma's chickens because I think the hen would win.
Ever gotten flogged by a chicken? Me either, but I'm scared I might one day.

Well, Momma has a chicken that would not 'break up'.
Now Momma didn't try to dunk her in a bucket of water (I think she was a little nervous about that), but she would run her out of the chicken house.
When she did, the hen would get so mad she would fluff out and pick fights with the other hens.

Poor hen, she didn't know that sitting on those eggs wouldn't do her any good.
Momma got rid of the rooster.
One of the reasons he had to go was that he made this particular hen a little crazy.
She was real skiddish and would run around like the sky was falling.
So Momma named her Henny Penny.
Well, she didn't think the sky was going to get her much after the rooster was..um..disposed of but she had lost most of her feathers off her back side.
So she got the name Bare Butt Buffy.
(She is a Buff Orpington chicken)

Now, she has almost all her feathers, so she is simply called Buffy.

Almost all the chickens have names such as Bertha, Momma Hen, Ethel, and even one is named Miranda Lambert  (A story for another time) Correction: Her name is Taylor Swift.

Still rambling, I promise this story is going some where.
Well, sort of.
Bless your heart for reading this far.

So, since Buffy was determined to sit and refused to be broke up, Momma called a few other chicken owners around here to see if they had any eggs they wanted to hatch.
She collected an assortment of 20 eggs.

Alright, so she had the eggs and the sitting hen but she couldn't just put them out in the hen house because then the fresh eggs might get mixed up with the others.

If you have ever tried to catch a brooding hen you know it can be a loosing battle.
There's a trick.
Chickens can't see at night.
Once they roost and it's dark, you can pretty much do anything you want with them because they can't see and don't put up a fight.

There are some things you just never picture yourself doing.
One is sneaking into a hen house full of hens in the middle of the night with a tiny flashlight to pick up hens and put vasoline and sulfur on their backs so they would quit pecking each other.
Momma and Daddy have done just that.

Well, we used the same technique to get Buffy out of the hen house and into the old rabbit pen so she could sit on the eggs.

 

Oh and by the way, the eggs are several different types so that should be interesting.

Momma had to suit up.
She was afraid of getting flogged.
I don't blame her and would never tease her for that.
Her fear is justified.

Now, for the scary part. Like I said, it was well past dark and we had to sneak into the hen house with a tiny flash light.
The chickens' eyes are so creepy. Then the flash on the camera spooked them.
And they make a deep gurgling sound and puff up.
It really makes you think twice about just reaching in and grabbing one.

Bare Butt Buffy was not in the mood to be messed with...

So she messed on Momma.
Like I said, chickens are messy.
And scary at night.

Oh and as you can see, she isn't bare butted any more...however, I will still call her that.

In the end, she was safely put in her temporary home as a soon to be surrogate mother.

So, if you are thinking of raising chickens but this doesn't sound like some thing you would want to do on a Tuesday night, then you should probably rethink your plans.

Birthday Tiramisu

For my birthday last weekend, Mr. Z polished up his talent for cooking great Mexican food.

He made barbacoa, salsa, cilantro-lime rice, and guacamole all to mix with the tortillas, homemade chips, black beans, cheese, and sour cream. We had sort of a Chipotle nacho bar.

That is exactly what I wanted.

I'm already suffering from withdrawal symptoms from some of the awesome food I grew accustomed to over the past 3 and 1/2 years. 

Great Mexican food is definately at the top of the list. 

But for desert, I wanted a tiramisu.

Mr. Z, being the wonderful man that he is, took it as a challenge and made an awesome one.

It warrented photos.

Several photos, in fact.

But apparently just holding it will rot your teeth out.

Even while taking 2 photos...no one noticed.

The second half of the journey to 50 is looking like it's going to be just grand...

My Biography

I have applied to get my bachelor's degree.

I have completed all the coursework, but I need to send them a check and my biography.

I have been putting this off because I didn't know what to write.

Finally I sat down and bit the bullet.

I am Rebecca Zeagler. I was born to a mechanic and a housewife home-maker (edited per request of said home-maker) in Louisiana. Together, they gave me a happy and stable home. My father gave me my sense of understanding of the mechanical inner workings of almost anything, including the human body’s biomechanics. He also gave me an ability to appreciate subtle humor and the courage to never give up. My mother has given me perspective, the desire to laugh, and the ability to not dwell on unimportant things in life. She has also guided me and shown me truth as well as making me capable of standing on that truth. My older brother gave me my name and the encouragement to live up to that name. My younger brother gave me responsibility and independence. My paternal great grandmother gave me some of her creativity with the encouragement to use it. She also gave me motivation to never stop learning and to never be afraid of new things. My paternal grandfather gave me the ability to be content with what I have and the desire to never lose my way home. My paternal grandmother gave me the ability to think unconventionally and to laugh at my own shortcomings. My maternal grandfather gave me the capability to command attention when need be and the strong will needed to enforce it. My maternal grandmother gave me the desire to always perform a task as if I were doing it for the glory of the Lord and to know the value of family. My husband gave me the will to put someone else’s needs above mine and the encouragement to see my goals through to completion. My aunts and uncles have given me the vision to see that something that may seem imperfect is actually all together perfect.

My plans are to become licensed in Louisiana to practice chiropractic. I plan to practice in my hometown so I can give back to those people who have guided me along the way.

The Rose Painting and Its Frame

I've talked about my Great Grandma before.

She was an amazing woman.

She painted.

She created.

She made pottery.

She made baskets from pine straw.

She drew sketches.

She loved flowers and birds.

She had a hunger for knowledge.

She was never afraid of new things.

She was a member of the Art Guild.

She contributed to the opening and maintaining of the parish museum.

She helped preserve history from the community.

She raised 3 children during the Great Depression.

She married the love of her life at age 14.

She loved bubble gum.

We called her Big Mawmaw.

She painted this for the local high school's home economics department.

It was mounted on the wall there for years.

A few years ago, they renovated the building and were going to throw out the painting.

Luckily, a worker knew Big Mawmaw and knew us, so she snatched it up and gave it to Momma.

What is even more interesting is that Momma already had one.

Big Mawmaw had painted a replica of the original for the school.

This one is Momma's

This is the one I have.

I thought the frame could use a touch up.

So, Mr. Z helped me get the painting out of the frame it has been in since 1973.

It wasn't as difficult as we thought it might be.

Then I primed it.

Painted it and distressed it.

Then I used some Behr glaze mixed with a tiny bit of Behr Espresso Bean.

I used it mostly in the corners and to 'dirty' the white a little.

I wiped most of it off on the smooth surfaces.

And this is what it looks like now.

I think Big Mawmaw would be pleased.

Coal-y, Woal-y, Guacamole

Coal. He was the best dog in the whole world.

I know, I know. What about Beaux? I love Beaux, but Coal was a great dog.

Truly a best friend.

We got him when he was 6 weeks old and just a ball of black fur. He grew up with us.

Oh the trouble he got in. If you have ever had a labrador puppy, you know. They eat everything. They dig everywhere. They drag up anything.

But they love you.

Many people argue that dogs can't love.  I dare to say that they love better than we do.

If you have ever seen a lab with their kids, you know exactly what I'm talking about.

They guard them, play with them, lick them, are gentle with them.

That was Coal.

Yeah, he tore up so much stuff. He chewed on all the furniture outside. He dug up Momma's flower beds. He stole from our neighbors. And he smelled like butt. Even right after a bath...

He also never left our side when were outside. Went with us to Mawmaw's. Ran beside the fourwheeler. Guarded our house at night from 'booggers' none of us could see. Sat with us when we were sad. Listened to us when we needed to talk. Made us feel safe.

To greet him, we would say "Coal-y, Woal-y, Guacamole".  No matter what, his tail would wag to greet us back. No matter how hot he was, how tired he was, how sick he was. He was always happy to see us. 

Well, before we got Coal, Big Mawmaw decided she would not get attached to another dog. Ever. She had too much heart-ache when something happened to them and she couldn't take it anymore.

So when we got Coal, she didn't pet him and would barely look at him. I don't even think she wanted to know his name.

Well, Coal, being Coal watched out for Big Mawmaw too. Since we lived so close to her, he made her house a part of his territory and would make his rounds everyday down to her house. She continued to ignore him. He would just sit and be patient.

I think it would have been easier on her if he had been obnoxious or would jump on her or tear her stuff up. But he didn't.

He just waited.

Every day he would stop by her house and wait. Then go back home.

One day she was working in her flower beds and lost her balance. She fell right on her butt. It didn't hurt her, but she couldn't get up. Coal went over and tucked his head under her arm and helped lift her up.

That was it. She couldn't bare it any more! From then on he got a full breakfast every morning from Big Mawmaw.

Painting a House

Big Mawmaw and Mawmaw were artists. They drew, sketched, painted, weaved, sewed, and created.

They also loved history. Not really dates of wars and political administration, but geneology and anthropology. They loved personal stories about families and the history of the community.

They started a project of drawing old town buildings and old houses.

They did sketches of the old banks, stores, and churches. Some of there weren't still there, but they found pictures of them and drew them from the photographs.

They also did drawings of some of the old houses in the area. Many of them were past their height of beauty, but they worked to capture the beauty that had been lost in time.

They would pack up their easels and supplies and set everything up but not before asking permission.

On one particular occasion, they went up to the door of one of the historical homes that had lost some of its luster and asked the old man that lived there is they could paint his house.

He excitedly agreed.

They were pleasantly surprised by his enthusiasm, so they went and sat at their easels and got to work.

A little while later, the man came back out and asked "When y'all gonna get started?"

It's good to be a granddaughter

Being a granddaughter is one of the greatest things to be.

I was very lucky to have and know both sets of my grandparents and one set of great-grandparents. 

As I've mentioned before, I grew up next door to Mawmaw & Pawpaw and Big Mawmaw & Big Pawpaw.
My other set of grandparents, Grandma and Grandpa, live about 20 minutes away from God's country. We won't hold that against them.

By the way, I love that different grandparents have different names! I think it's so interesting to find out what everyone called their grandparents.

So every Sunday after church we all (by 'we all' I mean about 20 people on average) would go to Grandma and Grandpa's for Sunday dinner. Every single Sunday Grandma cooks a meal to feed the multitudes. (And by 'meal' I mean feast) I asked her one time how she knew how much food to cook because some Sundays it can be unpredictable on how many might show up. She said "The Lord takes care of that".

Grandma and Grandpa had 8 children.

4 of those children live near-by.

 They have 19 grandchildren (give or take a couple, I may have miscounted).

These are just a few.

I'm not even going to attempt to count the Great-Grandchildren or Great-Great-Grandchildren.

  Any given Sunday there's any where between 13 and 25 people at Grandma and Grandpa's.
Everyone gathers in the house before dinner and Grandpa prays. (Sometimes it can be considered preaching) He gives thanks for the blessings God has given him and reminds us of God's love.
Then he begins the line through the kitchen, followed by the men, then the children, then the women, then Grandma. She will not fix her plate until everyone has gone through the line, unless it is her birthday or their anniversary. Even then she has to be forced to take her place at the front of the line.

That tradition has been carried on from many generations before me.

I have been told that my Great-Grandmother on that side of the family would put back some of the good pieces of fried chicken for the women. There's alot to be learned from some of these great women.

After everyone gets their full, the kids go outside and play and everyone else sits around and visits. Many times the last person doesn't leave until close to 4:00. 

It may be good that not the entire family is able to be there all at once because I think if all Grandma's children, grandchildren, great grandchildren, and great great grandchildren were in her house at the same time, her heart would surely burst. (not to mention the toll it would put on the house and we would probably need a permit)

Grandma has been the janitor at the elementary school since I was in elementary school. She decided last year that she would retire sometime this year. That wonderful woman has over 380 un-used sick days. Who does that? She decided a few weeks ago, it was time for her to quit work and stay home. You may be thinking, well, sure, at her age, she has to be tired. Nope. She came to the conclusion that her house was not being taken care of to her standard. I believe she has been working harder the past few weeks now that she's retired than she did when she was working.

She has Pawpaw working harder too.

They have demolished, rebuilt, and painted the porch, painted doors, painted outside, and scrubbed everything.

Grandma and Grandpa have been married for 55 years.  They have lived through many things. 2 houses burned. 2 houses rebuilt. A few deaths. Many births. Disappointments. Joyous occasions. Yet through it all they have trusted in God, loved each other, and been a fortress for their family.

I love them.

Saturday Mornings

Oh how things change when you have to grow up.
When we were little, Momma and Daddy liked to sleep late on Saturdays. My little brother and I would try to sneak into Momma and Daddy's room and scare them on Saturday mornings. We would creep the door open and crawl on the floor until we got to the foot of the bed, then jump up and yell! And of course they would act scared.  Daddy would squeeze Momma tight to 'protect' her, and she would cry "Oh, no! Save me, save me!"  And we would laugh and laugh. Then we would put on skits for them, squeeze in between them, and ruin their quiet time.
Sometimes Momma would even let us use the phone in their bedroom to call our phone number and leave a message on the answering machine. We thought that was so awesome!

But this was my favorite

Mr. and Mrs. Potato Head

Enjoy your Saturday morning!

Uncle B and Aunt N Visit

So, I have a great family. If you haven't picked up on that so far, I'm telling you now.

My aunt and uncle with 2/3 of the young'uns came out for a visit. I forgot to bring the camera to document our great adventures. Aunt N remembered hers but forgot that it was raided for the batteries recently.

So, I have no photos of Panera Bread during our 1st, 2nd, or 3rd meal there during their 48 hour stay. I do not have photos of the baby smiling or crawling 109 miles an hour. I do not have a picture of us eating great Mexican food. I do not have photos of us in Galveston seeing the sights. I do not have photos of them trying Greek food for the first time. I do not have photos documenting how much fun we had or how much I love them. Good thing I don't need photos to remember that.

Mr Z did remember to bring the camera on their last stop out of town.

Poor thing. We didn't think she could run out of fuel, but she slept the entire way home.

No Worse for the Wii

Momma. My dear sweet momma.

Truly an inspiration for overcoming fears and challenges of many types. For her, technology has been one of those hurdles to encounter with nothing less than stubborn determination and self-mockery.  If there are two things I have learned from this woman they are how to pray and how to laugh at myself. 

So, Momma got a wii. The same woman who when she used a computer for the first time, the mouse flew across the screen as if it were having a spasmotic seizure.  I had to set up the paint program so she could practice controlling the mouse by writing her name. She decided she wanted to get a wii fit.  That evening she took the instruction manual out and read it. Front to back. Well, front to mid-point. The rest was in Spanish. The next day, once she thought she was prepared enough, she wheeled the office chair to the exercise/sewing/storage room where she would set it all up. She successfully got everything to work and her first task was to create her mii.  She oh so carefully created a character in her likeness.  Hair color, hair cut, eye color, clothing type, body type, and body size. She decided she would be as accurate as she could and honestly picked shape and size. Being quite satisfied, she put in the wii fit disc. Her mii came bouncing out in her exercise outfit. Then it asked her to stand on the board to get her BMI (body mass index). Once she did, her mii began to expand before her eyes. Feeling a little deflated...or inflated, she continued with the instructions.  Being a woman of order, she had to do the first activity on the list. Hula-Hoop. 

The genetics in our family do not predispose us to be very coordinated people. Surprisingly she got the hang of it fairly quickly. Steadily the difficulty level got higher, but she was keeping up and really putting everything she had into it.  Perhaps a little too much into it.  She heard a pop and had a sharp pain in her hip. Thankfully she still had the office chair in the room because she had to use it for support to get back down the hall. Those pesky sacroiliac joints. So she was out of commission for a while and the chiropractor there was out of town and I'm a few hundred miles away. The next day she returned to the wii, but stayed away from the Hula-Hoop for a while.

 I am happy to report she never stopped using the wii and has regained full use of her hips...which have shrunk a little too.

Love you Momma.

Bubble Gum

Big Mawmaw was an incredible woman. There is no way I can begin to describe her in her entirety.  I think about her often and can't help but feel a little inspired.

Once, when we were kids, we were chewing bubble gum at her house.  Oh, did she get excited! She said it had been years since she had a piece and she loved bubble gum! Did I mention she always said she was still a child at heart?  The next day we brought her some bubble gum. She was SO happy! She carefully unwrapped it and popped it in her mouth. After a few chews, she remembered why she had not had bubble gum in years.

1 piece of bubble gum + 1 set of dentures = 1 BIG mess

Pawpaw

My Pawpaw

He never complained, he never griped

He just went on with his daily life.

And always rated the pain as a 5.

He served his family, his country, and he served his God.

Old friends, he never forgot.

He would tell of people he had seen and people he had known

Many of these have already passed on.

He had so many stories and comments to share,

But if you didn't listen closely, you wouldn't know they were there.

If Mawmaw was away and we came to see,

He's sit at the table and make us sandwiches of bologna.

A simple life is the one he led.

He checked out books from the library and put his initials in the ones he read.

The work he asked of us was not hard.

Our payment was water and juicy fruit when we mowed his yard.

His fight with sickness was too long.

His body was weak, but his heart was strong.

Now, thank God, that body is gone.

-Becky Zeagler, May 14, 2005

W Hill

A few things you might find around W Hill.