It’s the most wonderful time of the year…

…and it’s started early.  Yesterday on NPR they mentioned that because of where Thanksgiving fell this year there is maximum number of days between Thanksgiving and Xmas…which means max days for catching “I Want a Hippopotamus for Christmas” on the radio.

Speaking of Christmas music, at 5am yesterday morning I was subjected to an hour and a half of it while on deck coaching.  I love holiday music as much as the next person, but it’s not December yet.   I’m not sure how many times I can take George Strait’s “Christmas Cookies”.   And this morning I found myself covered in ice after scraping a very thick layer of frost off the car (my cotton gloves were frozen).  It’s feeling official.

Good news is the chicken coop is holding up.  Temperatures in the past few weeks have dropped into the mid-20s (feeling like high teens) and so far their water has yet to freeze inside the coop.  Good sign.  And they’re still laying.

Another good thing: the Smokies Half Marathon in less than two weeks!  After two months of smooth sailing on the running front, last week I hit a bump.  I did an 11+ mile run on Thanksgiving day, 5 days after my 10.5 miler (the weather Thanksgiving day was gorgeous, and that weekend they were predicting freezing rain, so decided to squeeze it in early), and my body hasn’t felt good since.  I’ve taken a few days off of running, but still sticking with some cross training (mostly swimming and yoga.)  So we’ll see.

A Most Winningest Week

This has been a week full of wins.

Win #1: my parents came to visit Kentucky for the first time.  In addition to paying for all of our food during their trip, my father broke the shower head in the guest bathroom.  So we went out and got a $20 replacement at Home Depot.  And when he hooked it up and turned on the shower…

Zing!  Blinking color-changing disco shower in the guest room.  I did not know these existed or this would have happened much sooner.  The color correlates with the water temperature.  Double win.

Also:

Two eggs in the penthouse.  MAJOR victorious win.

Also: I went for a 10 (turned 10.5) mile run, 4 miles of which were in new territory (I ran there with Alison once last year, but just followed her lead).  I didn’t write the new route on my hand, like I normally do…and I only got lost ONCE.  And it was a minor kind of lost, not the holy-crap-Paul’s-going-to-call-the-cops-because-I’ve-been-gone-for-3-hours kind of lost.  Add on to that a little bit of a change in scenery:

Serious personal win.

AND THANKSGIVING IS TOMORROW!  On the docket: a 12ish mile run, a little work, a lot of family, and a 10K+ calories in mashed potatoes alone.

Bring.  It.

Penthouse

Just when you thought (hoped) that the chicken posts were done for the season…here comes a doozy.

Last Friday when I opened the garage door to get the chicken feed to bring out to the girls, I didn’t hear the usual “bockbockbockbock” greeting I usually get from behind the garage (the sound of the garage door opening cues them to the fact that food is headed their way.)

I walked back there prepared, as I have been every morning since we got them, to find two chicken carcasses, victim of the UGLY AS SIN possum that has been hanging out in our yard.

Pretty sure it’s this guy.

Instead I found the two of them, still alive, happily sitting in their coop…MUNCHING ON THEIR OWN EGG AGAIN.

GOD. DAMMIT.

So, there are a few reasons why chickens might actively eat their eggs, including protein or calcium deficiencies, not enough water in the coop, and boredom (seriously).  In our case, it’s most likely none of the above, but rather an issue of not providing enough cushioning for the eggs early on, so they’d break upon landing.

When you google “chickens eating their own eggs”, the A#1 most common suggestion is: prevent it from starting altogether, because “if this (habit) goes on too long, it will be nearly impossible to break”.   Wonderful.  Obviously too late for that.

Next most common suggestion, after asserting that chickens don’t naturally eat their eggs and blaming the problem on “poor husbandry or management practices” (pfft), most poultry forums state that it’s generally only one or two chickens in the flock that are the culprits, and highly encourage you cull the problem chicken(s) (I had to look up what that meant.)

Well.  We only have 2 chickens.  No culling happening here.

A little more poking around the interwebs led me to Ten Steps for How To Keep Chickens from Eating Their Own Eggs…which was actually only 3 steps when you took into account the fact that our chickens are a.) already eating their eggs, and b.) should be getting plenty of protein and calcium in their diet (we feed them spinach and other leafy greens regularly, as well as protein-fortified feed…though maybe we will start throwing in some oyster eggshell supplements to help).

Suggestions:

  1. Collect the eggs more often than once a day, so they’re not laying around for your bored chickens to peck at
  2. Put used golf balls in the nest.  Not only will this show them where they are supposed to lay, they will also try to peck through the golf ball and, when they can’t do it, will stop trying
  3. Take an egg that they’ve already started to eat and replace the yolk with English mustard (had to look that up too)

I really wanted to go for the last one, but it required pretty precise timing.  And I didn’t know if French’s mustard would work (English mustard?  Wtf?)

We already do #1, but that schedule is dictated by working hours.  So not a lot of flexibility there.

So #2 it was!  We went out and found ourselves some golf balls.

We also decided to add some additional protected nesting space outside of the coop, since many sites recommend you provide plenty of nesting boxes “at least two feet off the ground and at least four feet from the roosts”.  Our “flock” is so small that generally speaking, so long as we keep providing clean straw, nesting space has not been an issue for us.  But all of the nests we provided were on the ground (which may be why they started laying from their perches in the coop where they sleep?)  Plus the eggs laid in the coop seem to be the only eggs they go after.  So, more encouragement to lay outside.

And so, Paul built this:

That’s from the chicken’s perspective.  In reality:

A sky high penthouse.  The really hilarious thing is that Michelle (the one you can see inside the box) literally ran up the ladder and got to work making a nest as soon as Paul finished it.

PLEASE GOD LET THIS WORK.

In for the Long Run

Now that I’m actually signed up for a race (that is 4 weeks away…) it’s time to start throwing some longer runs into the weekly routine.

Saturday was a non-running day, aside from a 1.5m jog around downtown Lexington as part of a relay for Big Blue Crossfit, of which my friend Mary is a member (she asked me last second if I could fill an empty leg of the relay, I said sure).

It was a COMPLETELY GORGEOUS day in Lexington, and after a nice bike ride downtown, a yoga class, and the relay, I was ready to go be productive.

But before that, Mary suggested that we stop for a beer at a local pub with the rest of the relay team, where there were a bunch of Irish dudes watching the Ireland-Russia rugby game (Mary’s a big time rugby player/coach.)  And because I have no social life, I said sure why not.

Enter: accidental day drinking.

Before I knew it it was 10pm and I was heading home still wearing my running clothes and not having showered from my 9am hot yoga class or the run…which was probably pretty awesome for everyone else in the bar.

Sunday:  9 mile run on the docket.  Yeah, right.  Most of the day was spent on the couch like this:

Finally, at 4:30, after nap #2, I dragged myself off the couch, pulled my running shoes on, and headed out the door.

The first 3 miles felt absolutely horrific.  My stomach was sloshing, legs were heavy, I was verping every 2 minutes…it was gross.  But I just kept reminding myself it didn’t have to be fast, I just had to finish it.  I turned on a podcast and did the best I could to just zone out.

As the sun dropped the winds picked up and clouds started rolling in, making for some pretty spectacular skies.

Before I knew it I was actually moving along at a solid clip feeling a million times better than I had all day long.  About an hour and 20 minutes later I walked back through the front door feeling like a new person.  The difference in how you feel before and after those runs is really amazing.

Almost always worth getting off the couch.

Waiting for Husband

I guess we all know who the most popular member of this household is.

…speaking of people coming home, and because I’m a terrible sibling, I didn’t even report that after 7 months of serving and almost a month of flying all over Afghanistan with no real sense of when/if she would ever get the heck out of there…

Molly’s back!

…and loving her some pitbulls at BARCS, where she volunteers in her free time (I know, nurses soldiers back to health, volunteers to assist homeless, unloved animals…wtf.)  She got back last week and, though you can’t tell in this picture, she is TOTALLY JACKED.  So no mean comments on this post, she will mess you up.

Excited to hang out with her and Joe over the holidays.

Cooped Up

Morning walk with the Dud.  Enjoying what’s left of the fall leaves as the morning frost becomes a daily occurrence…

As I mentioned, a few weeks ago we were hit with the cold part of Frankenstorm.  No snow, but forecasts of temperatures in the low 30s with high winds prompted Paul to further winterize our chicken coop.

Ha, right.  I wish.  Coops like these make me feel a little (or lot) inadequate.

As you might remember, a few weeks ago we took our coop from “summer” coop:

…to “winterized” coop:

Then we had the egg problem, prompting us to further insulate:

Then 2 weekends ago, the storms arrived.  With what we had, we did what we could to protect the girls from the icy winds predicted over that weekend.

Yes, there it is.  Our winter chicken palace.

As you can see, we (read: Paul) pretty much just boarded the whole thing up…in a very stylistic manner.  The only part not completely boarded up is at the end where the feeding trough is, making it really dark inside.  Doesn’t seem to bother the ladies, though.  They’ve both been laying earlier in the morning and NOT EATING THEIR EGGS!  Score.

This turned out to be good timing, seeing as how on Sunday, after a cold, cloudy morning that seemed to be bordering on snow flurries, it started to thunder and lightning.  Then this happened:

Big, fat hail.  Wtf.  Fortunately the girls were safe in their fortress.  Here’s to hoping that’s the last of the coop updates till spring.

Big Decisions

It was a cold but beautiful morning to vote.  Headed to the polls straight from the pool after morning practice.  The last presidential election we were living in San Francisco.  We got up early and walked around the corner in our jammies to vote as soon as the polls opened so we wouldn’t be late for work.  Different crowd, different election, same vibe at the polls.  There is something to be said for being part of the process.

It’s been a long time, but it’s happened again.  After a tenuous year, I have fallen back in love with running.  I don’t know if it’s the colder weather (which, by the way, has gotten much colder…first frost of the year was yesterday), or the fact that I haven’t done anything too long yet, but this weekend I did 5 miles on Saturday afternoon followed by 7 miles on Sunday morning…with no pain.  I am hoping that I’ve finally shaken whatever it was that was plaguing me this whole past year (knock on wood).

While riding that high I compulsively signed up for the Smokies Half Marathon in December…because it’s always easiest to make these commitments when you’re sitting on the couch in your sweats.

The race is in Seiverville, TN, which is right next to Gatlinburg.  I’ve never been to Gatlinburg, but Paul’s has been talking about going since we moved to Kentucky.

I didn’t realize until after I signed up that it is a Santa Hustle.  Pictures of the starting line last year look something like this:

My mother’s personal hell (she has this inexplicable, aggressive aversion to those Santa hats.)  The race packet comes with race uniform: Santa shirt, hat, and beard.

Also, in most pictures, it’s snowing.

I have yet to find anyone to run it with me…invitation is still out there.