Bad Bird

Bad, rotten, mean, sneaky...whatever term you choose, Stanley the rooster is the bane of my life.  Yesterday while I was giving the chickens fresh water, Stanley made two attacks which, fortunately, I was able to thwart by giving him a good kick.  That undoubtedly justifies the attacks in his little chicken brain, but when my hands are full, a kick is my only defense.  Our time together may be coming to an end.  No, not pot pie.  Camille was telling me about a friend of hers who was looking to buy some chickens.  "Oh, tell him I have three!"  My hens are useless to me as I can't get down on the ground to reach in for their eggs because of Rotten Stanley, so these chickens are simply an expense and a danger.

Missy has been waiting in the barn for me the last few days.  It's always so nice to see her.  She greets me with her tiny squeaky voice and leads the way to her bowl.  It's obvious when I've put down her food that she expects to be petted, and I'm happy to comply.  (I'm trainable.)

I certainly didn't list all of the great movies made in 1939.  The Hunchback Of Notre Dame, Another Thin Man, Intermezzo, The Private Lives Of Elizabeth And Essex (in which Bette Davis earned Errol Flynn's enmity by slapping him so hard in one scene), additions to the Andy Hardy series, Young Mr. Lincoln, Love Affair (which can still make me cry), ditto for Goodbye, Mr. Chips.  Since 365 movies were made that year, the list goes on and on, and I've seen most of them.  I don't know whether to say I'm an old movie buff, or I'm a fan of old movies...both are true.

I'm also a fan of NASCAR and spent most of yesterday watching the race at Daytona.  Unfortunately, Clint Bowyer was involved in a huge wreck just at the end, and he'd been doing so well.  Sigh.