To answer your question …

Gingerzingi commented yesterday:

Are there really weekend crowds at Tractor Supply? :-)


Well, YES. I wish I'd taken a picture, I really wanted to but didn't have the nerve after all. There were crowds of …

get ready …

CHICKENS!

When you walk in the store, right behind the checkout area, there were three huge metal troughs with warmers set up in the middle of each and dozens of baby chicks all milling about and cheeping and looking adorable.

I cannot talk my husband into keeping chickens. Cannot, cannot, cannot. I've tried. We have tons of space, a shed that could be converted to a coop and I'm willing to do all the work (which, as I understand, isn't much). He won't hear of it. Especially when we can buy eggs from the Amish just a couple miles down the road.

There were crowds of a few people there, too, but way more chicks than folks.

I found the fencing tape I needed, but had to search a while to find the step-in posts I was looking for. Finally flagged down a helpful sales associate, who walked me to the bin, instead of just pointing the way.

I guess she thought I looked like a newbie to Tractor Supply. Which I am, I don't go there often, but I do feel like the proverbial kid-in-a-candy-store when I do. So. Much. Fun. Farm. Stuff.

Cue Wilford Brimley as Pop Fisher in The Natural: "Since the day I was born, I shoulda been a farmer. I love chickens, pigs, ducks – I'm kind of fond of nanny goats, I am."

Anyway, I finished my mission there, I went on to a couple other stores to get everything else on my list. Got home about 3:30, put perishables away and went for a walk. I'd hoped to get home earlier, but hey, shopping happens. (Rarely, 'tis true, but it does occasionally take over my best-laid plans.)

Finished the walk (which was lovely, by the way – warm temperatures and a gentle breeze), came home, fixed dinner and watched basketball until bedtime.

Oh, and I also played with this. Some. Merry Christmas (finally!) to me.

Venturing forth

I finally, finally got outdoors for a walk yesterday. Finished three miles in exactly an hour, thanks to a big of jogging in the third mile. Yes, I am slow. And old. And slow. (The first mile is ALL uphill, and I can rarely complete it in less than 22 minutes. Since it's an out-and-back route, that makes the third mile all DOWNHILL, which is – at times – a blast!)

Looking back up the driveway from the road.

My husband walked with me, but added two more miles to his route. I needed to get back home to take care of a batch of English muffin dough which was rising. I made him stop once we got off our property so I could take a picture: Proof that I did, indeed, leave the premises.

Got home, "baked" the muffins (which is done stovetop in a skillet), showered and went to the bank, grocery and gas station. Running errands is not usually something to which I look forward. It really did feel good to get out, though, amazingly good.

To top off my day of freedom, I … um … went to the prison. While some might not look at that as a dream destination, it was exactly what I needed to add some perspective to my week of confinement.

Seriously. Being confined is a relative state, and I'm not sure a week of being snowed in really counts after all. So in the end, I'm just a whiny, ungrateful bitch.

AND I WORK HARD AT IT, she said, smiling.