Publishment! December 15, 2009
Posted by millyonair in Books and Writing.Tags: America, Culture, Life, prize, success, This I Belive, Thoughts, writing
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Check it out! The essay I submitted to This I Believe has been published on their website! I found out last night, which was only a few hours after I submitted my portfolio to grad school (to get my MFA in Creative Writing). Before I posted the much-agonized over writing sample in the mail, I prayed and asked for a sign of my success. The This I Believe email announcing the selection of my essay for their website was sign number two! (I’m not telling you about the first one because it’s between me and the Universe).
Look out world, here I come! (Better shine that Pulitzer, y’all!)
A Walk in the Park December 14, 2009
Posted by millyonair in Life, Things Environmental.Tags: Life, park, sunshine, Texas, Thoughts, winter
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One great thing about Texas is that sometimes, in the middle of a foggy, dreary, wet December, you get a beautiful sunny, 70-degree day. Which is what happened yesterday. I was feeling a little vitamin-D deprived, so Jim and I loaded up on sunshine in City Park along the San Marcos River, where we met…
and a big, handsome cypress tree that I couldn’t resist hugging.
And Then There Were Five December 12, 2009
Posted by millyonair in Life, chickens.Tags: chickens, Death, Life, Pets, sadness, Thoughts
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Lost one of my hens day-before-yesterday: Eugenia, a beautiful, perky Red. I still don’t know what happened. In the morning, I noticed her crouching beneath a tree in a weak, frosty sunbeam instead of merrily pecking and scratching about the yard, like her sisters. I thought maybe she was cold, and noticed that one of her nostrils seemed a little runny. We brought her inside and nestled her into a box beside the wood stove to keep her separate from the others and to make her more comfortable. She wouldn’t eat and would only drink a few sips of water. I spent most of the day alternately petting her and conducting internet research to find out what was wrong and how to help. But, in spite of all the forums and blogs and websites about chickens, I couldn’t find anything truly helpful. This is why I need a really good book–a compendium, if you will– about chickens. Doing internet research is like going into a room with five hundred people in it all shouting their (possibly unqualified) opinions at you. That, of course, can also be a positive thing; it’s all very egalitarian. But when you’re having an emergency, a nice, quiet, organized, edited book is probably more helpful.
Anyway, I had eliminated the possibility that she was egg-bound by performing a very invasive examination on the poor bird. She was so ill, she didn’t complain. But I still felt like I was in some way violating her. I smelled her breath and decided she didn’t have “sour crop,” but I thought her crop might be impacted- it was full in the morning ,despite her lack of appetite and lethargy. I was about to dose her with some olive oil and massage her crop, but when I went to the box, she had flopped onto her side and was already stiff. I never got to do anything truly helpful for her, except to bring her inside where she could be warm, and pet her a lot. I’m still very sad about it.
We had a small service for her yesterday morning, attended by Jim and myself, and four of the five remaining hens. When I carried the box containing her body out of our house, the other chickens began simultaneously doing their cluck-squawk, which they often do when they have been separated from the rest of the flock. Call me crazy, but it was like they knew Eugenia had been separated from them, and were singing the song on her behalf, or in her honor. Until yesterday, I had never heard them all sing at the same time. It was mournful and touching and eerie. Just goes to show that animals know what’s going on.
So now there are only five- half of the little feathered fuzzballs I started out with. The flock looks conspicuously small; Eugenia’s absence seems larger than her presence was.
The Soundtrack of My Life November 23, 2009
Posted by millyonair in chickens.Tags: chickensong
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All day long, folks. A poultry serenade. I never knew hens made this much noise. Sometimes they do this after laying an egg, as though to announce to the yard that they have performed a minor miracle in the dusty pine shavings of their coop. Sometimes they just do it for no apparent reason at all. Sometimes two or three of them do it at the same time, like a song-in-the-round. I like to imagine that they’re singing Frère Jacques.
Neat-o Neti November 6, 2009
Posted by millyonair in health.Tags: allergies, health, Life, neti, TMI
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For the first time in years, I am suffering TERRIBLE hay-fever allergies. Since the onset, my waking hours have been largely defined by a battle between my sinuses, which have been on strike, and the rest of my body, which needs oxygen. You know that horrible thing that happens when you have a cold, where your sinuses declare a lock-down, and you can neither sniff, blow, or breathe? And yet your nose is still, somehow, running? So all you can do is dab? Yeah. That’s been my life for the past few weeks.
I’ve known about the neti pot for years, and always thought it was kind of a cool idea–like a facial douche–even though putting water inside your breathing parts seems counter-intuitive for a land mammal. I never actually tried it because I’m the kind of person that, if I have to go and buy some special equipment, then count me out. I’m too lazy and too cheap. I wanted to try it, but I was never going to actually go and buy a neti-pot. The magic of the neti was destined to be a sinus fantasy. (more…)
Deep Thoughts November 2, 2009
Posted by millyonair in Musings, chickens.Tags: chickens, deep thoughts, pecking order, poultry
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Have you ever Neosporin-ed a chicken’s comb? I have, for the second time in as many days.
There are myriad things to love about chickens, but this is not (for once) going to be a post about those things. Instead, this will be about the one (the only) thing I hate about my chickens, and that is the Pecking Order. For those who are dubiously familiar with this concept, it refers to a ranking system within a group of chickens (or other birds) whereby competition for dominance and position within the social group are expressed by viciously pecking and biting other members of that group. It was actually discovered (according to Wikipedia) by observing the behavior of poultry. If you’ve ever been bitten or pecked by a chicken, then you know what I know: it hurts. Especially when it’s your face.
Several days ago I noticed that Fat Eunice’s once-enviable comb was scabby and gouged. I doctored it up and wrote it off as a hazard of free-ranging. But this morning, the mystery was solved: Petunia, my long-time underdog and lowest-ranking hen, is jockeying for Fat Eunice’s spot; right before my eyes, she jumped on top of Eunice and gave her earlobe a ferocious chomp! I know they’re just animals doing animal things. I know that, to whatever extent chickens have been allowed to evolve, this behavior exists for a purpose. Still, I absolutely hate to see them being mean to each other! When I saw it happen, I screamed and waved my arms around, flapping and squawking just like they were doing. It really, really bothered me (I’m the kid that cried during nature programs– and then begged my mom not to change the channel).
No matter how many times I try to explain to the chickens that they really can all get along, that there’s plenty to eat, that I will always love and care for them equally, they don’t get it. They don’t see that they can abandon their silly system and live in fat, feathered, egalitarian bliss atop my compost pile for all of their days. They don’t see that perpetuating oppression puts them all at risk for becoming oppressed.
And then I thought: That must be how God feels about us.















A Letter to Santa November 25, 2009
Posted by millyonair in Polictics, Social Commentary, Things Environmental.Tags: America, Culture, Holidays, Life, Politics, Santa, Sarah Palin, Thoughts
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Dear Santa,
For Christmas, can I please have my own planet? I promise to take care of it and all the animals that live there. You wouldn’t need to make me the queen or anything, as long as the other people who lived there were enlightened, devoted to intelligent discourse and compassion, and regularly exercised their capacity for free thought. Oh, I’d want there to be wine, too. You see, as much as I like Earth, it makes me all pannicky when I’m reminded that I am stuck on the same planet as these multitudes of unthinking, propaganda-bewitched people and their ilk. I’ve been very, very good this year (and by “good” you know I mean that I have made up my own mind about stuff and never once let a pundit tell me what to think or how to feel).
Santa, if you can’t swing the whole-other-planet thing, then can I at least have my own vineyard, and a lifetime supply of paper bags for breathing into when people like this cause me to hyperventilate? I promise I’ll recycle them.
Love,
Milly