It's a sad sad day :(

Rocky (big one) with Weeble (little one)

A few months ago, Louis came home with a teeny tiny white Bantam chick. He was ridiculous levels of cute, and I fell in love with the little fluff ball. We called him Rocky; actually we didn't know if it was a boy or a girl really, but we always referred to it as a boy. He wasn't like the other chickens that we have, those are for eggs and *whisper* (meat...)... Rocky was a pet. He slept in the house in a little box, and we tucked him in every night to keep him warm. As he got a bit bigger we built him a little nursery pen in the big chicken pen. Louis would drop him off at nursery each morning and I would visit him frequently in the day. When he saw me coming he would get all excited, peeping away like a goodun. When I reached down to him he would jump into my hands. A good little chicken that always ate his worms and veg. I loved Rocky. One day, I decided the time had come for him to run with the bigs boys. Our other chickens get let out of the pen every morning and they run off free range, putting themselves back in the coop when its dusk. Rocky was so little compared to the big chickens, but he wasn't afraid. He stood his ground even when the bigger chickens tried to intimidate him. After a few days he seemed to be doing so well that I let Rocky run with the bigguns full time, just bringing him in when it was dark. He would however make a bee-line for me each time I went in the garden. I'd be hanging out the washing and suddenly I could hear Rocky peeping excitedly and running in my direction from wherever he was. But one fateful day, tragedy struck. I had to go and fetch Louis from work. It was only 5pm, not near dark so I left Rocky playing with his new friends and jumped in the bakkie (pick up truck to you poms ;-)). Louis had a few places to stop on the way home and we endedup coming back after dark. As we pulled into the yard, I suddenly panicked, where was Rocky?? All the big chickens had gone to the coop, and we nestled on their perches, a place much to high for Rocky to reach. I called him, and I could hear his peeping, but I couldn't pin point where he was. Then, I noticed Lola playing with something in the bushes. She distracted me for a second, but then I went back to looking for Rocky. I was getting worried. I looked everywhere, then Louis called me over. Basjan (pr: Bas-y-an) our biggest dog dropped something at our feet. I was Rocky. He was in a bad state, Lola had tossed him around like a ball, and he was dying. I cried so hard when he passed away a little while after. We buried him in the yard, and planted a tree on top.
I missed Rocky loads, he was a funny little thing. A few weeks later, Louis brought me home Rocky 2. He looked exactly liked the 1st Rocky, and soon took on the same personality, excited to see me, running over to me etc. But this time, I played it safe. I would take Rocky to nursery, but then shut the big pen behind me to keep him safe from the dogs. Rocky 2 loved running around in the big pen, exploring the long grass in peace. This morning was a lovely day, so I took Rocky out like usual to let him play in the pen and enjoy the sun. Louis and I went to town. I checked the chicken pen gate before we left and all was well. That was until we came home again. The chicken pen door was open! I paniced, "where's Rocky?". I went to the pen and called him, but he didn't come running like usual. Then, Louis found him, all his feathers where off and he lay still in the grass. The dogs had killed my little Rocky 2, too. I'm so sad. I'm going to miss that chicken. RIP Rocky dude, enjoy the big farm in the sky. xxx

aarrgghh, so frustrated

My head is buzzing with ideas of things I want to create to take home and give to friends and family. Louis grandma and mum kindly donated all their scraps of fabric to me, and I had a great time sorting through them and deciding what to make with them. Unfortunately there is still alot I need before I can actually start. I have a habit of starting things that don't get finished, usually because there is something I need to be able to finish it but don't have. Today was a classic example; I found a wonderful tutorial at sewmamasew. com (http://sewmamasew.com/blog2/?p=4778) for making a valentines card from fabric. I was so excited about making it, today was my last opportunity before Valentines day as Louis is off work from tomorrow till the 15th. I cut all my fabric to size, was just about to start sewing when I realised I needed interfacing. So, I tried substituting it for other fabrics, but all that did was make it too chunky. I tried melting a plastic sack to the fabric, but all it did was shrink the plastic and make a horrible mess. So I had to admit defeat. Now I'm uber bored, and frustrated, and don't know what to do with myself. Living in the arse end of no-where means I can't just pop to the shops when I need something. I'm so used to living in a place where shops are just 5 mins down the road. Doing the grocery shopping once a month took some getting used to, and I don't mind that so much anymore. But, when it comes to being creative I like to act on impulse, when the mood takes me. I must make sure that when Louis and I go to town next that I stock up on sewing supplies.

On a lighter note, Margaret the chicken hatched 11 eggs! well, 10 actually....I hatched the last one in my cleavage! Most of Magarets eggs hatched on Sunday, and by Tuesday her little babies where running off all over the place so she left her nest to follow them. There we 3 eggs left unhatched. I thought the were probably never going to hatch so went to discard them. As I picked up one of the eggs I heard a very faint peeping coming from inside, I couldn't believe it! The chick inside was alive! The egg felt cold, and I was pretty sure it wouldn't make it without my help. Without really thinking about it, I shoved the egg in my cleavage to warm it up. My quick thinking worked, slowly but surely the egg started to hatch. It was quite humbling watching the little chick hatch. He was so tiy compared t his brothers and sisters that I kept him with me for a couple of days to let him get a bit stronger. He lived in my pocket, and if he seemed cold and shivery, I poppedhim back in my cleavage where he seemed very content. I named him Bubba. He's doing really well now, I'm so proud :) All 11 chicks are running around in the pen, and as crazy at it sounds, each of them has their own little personality.