Farm livin' is the life for me

Green acres is the place to be. Farm livin' is the life for me. Land spreadin' out so far and wide... 

I've been debating how to paint the picture of my newest "farm experience." The best example I can come up with is how many hours our children log in front of the tv. Studies show that by the time a child is 5 years old they have seen gory murder, nudity, betrayal, infidelity, profanity, incompetent fathers, worthless mothers, and children who know everything. Crazy?!? Sadly, it's true and uncensored. So how does this have ANYTHING to do with farming you ask?!  

I'm GETTING there. Please be patient.

I tried something new and out of my league this past weekend. I even had Tim snap a picture with his handy-dandy cell phone camera. I was excited and ready to post it online to share with my few avid readers. Suddenly I was flooded with doubts. How would people react? Would they shake their heads in disgust or chuckle and roll their eyes.  Then, I had my epiphany! It can't be worse than what we expose our kids (intentionally or unintentionally) to on television on a daily basis.  So here's my over-analyzed farming experience:

I am a slayer of roosters. Neck wringer, feather-plucker, ax swinger, and giblet extractor. Wayne, my father-in-law(pictured behind me) taught me a seemingly lost form of bringing the meat home. 

I, the dainty city gal who LOVES her heels and spa treatments, got a lesson in taking the chicken from the roost to the kitchen table. Timidly observing Wayne, I had no idea if I would have the guts to participate in this endeavor. Surprisingly those guts did appear...and not just from the feathery fowl hanging next to me. 

I managed to take the challenge and plunged head first into the process.  Ax in hand, I knocked off 3 rooster heads and not so expertly skinned and gutted one lucky rooster. I am first to admit that it was messy. I kept my nose wrinkled and a close watch on the expert as he patiently demonstrated. It's not exactly charming to reach up in the rooster's business and take out his innards or wrestle with firmly attached armory of feathers. We did, however, play guess this organ to keep the mood light. 

Now tucked away is this valued skill and of course a tiny notch in my farming belt. So folks, next time you see me swinging through with my coordinating purse, earrings, bracelet, and shoes, no ruffle out of place... WATCH OUT. This gal has blood on her hands.  ;) 

Fried chicken anyone??

... I get allergic smelling hay. I just adore a penthouse view. Dah-ling I love you but give me Park Avenue... Good bye, city life. Green Acres we are there.        -Green Acres TV Theme