Free Range

One of my coworkers owns a house that had a chicken coup on the property when she purchased it. She thought, what the hell, and got her some chickens. Now she has about thirty chickens and she will sell a dozen eggs for $2. Not bad for some free range chicken eggs. These must be some happy chickens because we get some pretty large eggs. Nothing compares to the one that we got last week though. Check out this sucker!

I do have some questions about eggs though. Why is it that all eggs in the grocery store are white and these are always various colors? If I was a good blogger I would research this question and tell you, but I never claimed to be a serious blogger.

Back from retirement

I've enjoyed biking for as long as I can remember riding. One of my early memories is of my dad letting go of the back of my seat as I rode toward home and my first real taste of adolescent independence. On a nice summer evening, I'll often reminisce about riding my bike to downtown Deerfield, then building up the courage to ride down a flight of stairs on the way home.
Laine has similar memories from childhood, but when she arrived in the states her riding came to a skidding halt. Of course she was in eighth grade and helmets weren't cool but parents were still enforcing rules, so the choice was simple. She went nearly a decade without setting hind end back on a bike. The next time that she rode a bike was when we were traveling in New Zealand. She liked the idea of renting a couple bikes and riding along the coast. But she hadn't realized how long it had been. Each time we approached someone traveling in the opposite direction Laine wobbled to a halt and stood off to the side. Needless to say, we didn't make it very far that day.
Slowly but surely Laine regained a desire to re-learn the thing you never forget how to do. Last year, she signed up for a triathlon taking a "scare yourself into action" approach (one that I fully support). She knew that she would have to ride thirteen miles during the triathlon, so she went to work. We rode about once a week outside and a couple times per week indoors. The baby steps included riding my mountain bike – Laine liked the sturdiness beneath her. Everything went splendidly and she had a nice time on her first triathlon but still did not enjoy biking much.
I tried to convince her that I suspected that a she would enjoy road biking more if she weren't riding a mountain bike but she was a little nervous about the small tires and narrow handlebars. We each signed up for three triathlons this summer, so the biking suddenly became more important and Laine began to see real value in having to spend less time on a bike, even if it meant spending that time on a road bike. There happened to be a bike sale at our favorite local bike shop, so we took a look around and found an entry level road bike that will do the trick. Check out the new addition!
Laine likes that it's not flashy. There was another one there that I was recommending because it was shiny black with bold white lettering and red accents. She's very pleased with this one though.
She rode it for only the third time ever at our first triathlon of the season. She cut off a significant amount of time from last year, which is even more impressive when considering that she came to a complete stop before taking a drink from her water bottle (she's still getting comfortable with that maneuver while in motion).

Cavity Control

I was browsing the toothpaste section in the local Walgreen's and I was struck by one in particular: "Crest Cavity Control" toothpaste. I suddenly realized that I had been under the assumption my entire life that all toothpaste had the ability to control cavities. It just looked ridiculous sitting there next to other toothpastes that boasted the ability to whiten teeth, cure sensitivity, cure bad breath. But maybe that's exactly why this type of back-to-basics marketing might just work. Maybe Crest has realized that some of these other toothpaste companies have taken their eye off the prize. Maybe the new whitening, nerve dulling, breath neutralizing toothpastes have turned their back on actually controlling cavities. I have noticed that the new toothpastes seem a bit sweeter than before.

even less time

Well, in my last post, I had complained about having too many hobbies that I wasn't sure exactly how to spend my time on my day off. Alison posted a comment that gave me some nice structure (something I have found that I need) and I was prepared to put her suggestions into practice. I made it as far as about mid-morning, when I caught a glimpse of something out of the corner of my eye. It looked like a rolled up sock but turned out to be a dead bat.

I'll just let that sink in a bit.

So, yes, a dead bat...laying on its back in our dining room. Now, I wish that I could say that this was my first encounter with a dead bat. Unfortunately, I found a dead bat in an empty cardboard box in the basement about 14 months ago. At the time, I chalked that up to having just moved into this house. "It very well could have come from our previous house during the move" I had told myself. I couldn't find any immediate explanation for where this fella came from though. Since I didn't know what proper protocol is for a dead bat, I played it safe and covered it with a large ceramic bowl and carried on with my day.

I called American Pest Control and they informed me that bats are a protected species, at least in McLean County. I couldn't kill it they said. Well, no trouble there - he's already on the other side. They gave me the number of Vernon - the bat specialist. Vernon's guess was that the bat was a male who sneaked in our home through an open door ("They'll hide in the top corner of storm doors and fly in when you enter - you'll never know they were there"). I guess that's comforting. It appears as though we don't have a family of bats living in our house - just a rogue bat who trespassed and couldn't survive in our home.

The memorial service was quite brief. If anyone wants to visit the bat, I can point you toward the hosta plants that he's buried between.