coop attack, paintball, and tea cups

I have become the unwilling custodian of the rescued infant-massacre chicks. "I am not the chicken dumping ground!" I said. Except I am, because I have the chicken coop. One of my mother's co-workers with a yard backing the jungle will take them in a few weeks, when they're big enough not to be eaten by the wild pigs. So I have a chicken orphanage in my yard right now, which technically speaking we are not allowed to have. But they are temporary rehab birds, OKAY?

I don't feel like it's okay. They are nice little chickens, though.  

During the week, there was a smash and a frenzy of peeping, and the man ran outside in time to see the neighbor's dog dash out of the yard with a chick in its mouth and retreat back into its own yard through the open gate, then into the house through the dog door. Mr. Across the Road came trotting outside to close the gate while Mike was rounding up a terrorized chick that had escaped the attack, and then he hid. An hour later, when he thought the coast was clear, Mr. Across the Road came outside to finish putting away his tools, saw Mike heading across the road calling his name, pretended not to notice him, and hid around the side of the house. Mike waited for him at the gate. When he crept back out, Mr. Across the Road pretended to be surprised. "Hey, neighbor, didn't see you there! Oh man, did the dog get out? Naw, I didn't see any chicks. That's so weird." As if he didn't notice the dead bird chewed up in the living room.

Next time Mr. Across the Road misses the garbage truck on his side of the road and runs outside in his pajamas to roll his garbage bin next to ours, I will helpfully roll it straight back into his driveway. 

- - - 

Planning a pandemic graduation party is a checklist leading to misadventure: What can we do for fun with a group of teenagers that is outdoors, has lots of space, and includes face protection? We narrowed it down to snorkeling, ax-throwing, paintballs, and tiny race cars. Since teaming up to try to survive in a Hunger Games scenario is more sociable that paddling in circles with your face in the water, the teenagers opted for paintball. 

I opted for staying home with Zenny and making tea cups. 

As it happens, paintball is also the recreational activity of choice for off-duty marines. The kids were solid canvases of yellow paint and welts by the end of the day, and Leif has decided that being hunted for sport isn't his hobby of choice. I made fresh kaiser rolls and bbq pulled pork for dinner and we watched MASH. 

Knowing what you don't want is important.