HAPPY VALENTINE'S DAY, NEIGHBORS. We have contained the marauding small-animal-decapitating chickens in a nice roomy new coop and safely re-homed the noisiest and murdering-est of them. They got loose inside my truck in the process, though, and ripped down the lining from my sun visor.
Of course she did
But aside from some light vehicle damage, everything is under control again, and my life no longer smells like chicken crap and embarrassment. The nice little old lady next door can go back to being annoyed by the guy with ten roosters in the yard behind hers. Those cock-a-doodles are not my problem. My problem is the number of eggs we are suddenly having to eat. Related: I have started jogging (read: walking, but trotting past houses with dogs) again.
Plucky the Terrible Terror. She will chase you down and bite your feet
until you pick her up and rock her like a baby
super deluxe chicken condo which we forgot to build a back door into
I am ahead of schedule with the book illustrations so far, which is a sure sign that I will get overconfident and cause something terrible to happen two weeks before deadline.
Meanwhile, the comic is coming along, slowly, and I'm working on a web launch. If I can post it as I go, I can maintain momentum better than if I chip away at it for the next 2 years. The point is really just to make the thing.
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