Chickens + Corn = Yoga: A Recipe for Joy (and Netflix)

It should be my day off. But having had far too many teenagers in my house this week and having had wind-related power and internet outages all day yesterday and having indulged in my two-hour-procrastination-spree, I still have work to finish today. Loads of it.

When I went to bed last night I committed to rising up early, feeding the animules, and getting right down to business. But when I woke up to the sound of my cat ripping my bedroom curtains, I decided on indolence. “Eff-it. I’m keeping my fancy arse in bed this morning. So there.

If it’s good enough for Norma Jean . . .

I grabbed my Droid, answered some emails and overnight TMs, looked at my t’do list, and opened the WordPress app. Glancing at my reading list, I saw a post at Lucid Dreams and Saturn Skies by fellow-blogger, Andrew, on Supernatural, a TV show on Netflix which I have gotten sucked into while I grade (and sew and cook and fold socks). And a little ditty: “Ridiculous Moments” by my fellow blogger, Cin, at Witchy Rambles.

In this post, Cin revels in the simple pleasures that surround us each day and encouraged her readers to do the same – and to share. Rather than hijack her comments area, I thought I’d let y’all know what I ended up doing – here.

After spending a little extra time in bed, I grabbed an ear of corn from the basket my neighbor brought me yesterday afternoon. I shucked it as I walked out into my, now sweltering, backyard. Typically, the morning is light and clear in my yard; when the irrigation system kicks in it seems to cool everything off for about an hour. This gives me time to feed all of my yard critters, make sure all of the plants are happy, and meditate/yoga for about a half-hour before heading in to feed the indoor critters (some of these being my own offspring) and do some grading. Having missed that lovely window between 6:00-7:00 AM, the yard was downright hot by 8:30 AM (yes, this is TBW’s version of sleeping in). “Eff it,” I said again, “No way I’m meditating out here today. This RA thing is getting real-old real-fast.”

The Bad Husband had already opened the coop for my little ladies at around 5:00, so they were happily clucking-around in the big run and were happy to see that I had something in my hand.

Chickens are so funny when you give them something new. A squash provides hours of entertainment, spaghetti equals hilarity, and a moth caught in the coop creates a girl-fight unlike anything outside a Lindsey Lohan movie.

Today it was corn. I put the ear – whole – on the ground. They looked at it, suspiciously cocking their heads the way prey-birds do. “It’s OK, Ladies,” I cooed at them. Then one got brave enough to peck at a kernel. It popped a little and corn-juice splattered just enough to make her squawk. She backed up momentarily before re-approaching the ear, one of her sisters in tow. Both girls pecked and squawked and scratched and wiped their beaks on the ground until a third hen, then a fourth, and finally all of my girls were pecking and chirping and flapping their wings and before I knew it, I had been watching my birds for twenty minutes. First in Mountain, then in Tree (how I typically stand if standing for a while): I realized what was happening when I opened my arms to clean out an egg box and found myself in a pseudo-Warrior pose. So I said, “Eff it,” again and went ahead and stretched out with a few postures that wouldn’t leave me rolling in chicken poop.

I had committed to doing yoga this morning. I tried to run to Tarshish again ya’ll and ended up fulfilling that commitment with yet another “Ridiculous Moment” that left me giggling at myself all morning.

I still have work to do – and episodes of Supernatural to watch, Andrew promises they stay good for a few seasons. But I think I just might approach all my lingering tasks from a slightly more joyful perspective. I may turn into a fluffy-witch yet.

Thanks, Cin. You often make my day.

B, Q, 93,