The great writers favored booze as a lubricant. Hemingway had mojitos, Faulkner loved mint juleps and Fitzgerald favored gin. For me, a lowly chicken blogger (chlogger?) it’s Keurig. As in coffee.
Second to chickens, Keurig is my greatest recent discovery. Called “revolutionary” by some reviewers, the Keurig brewing system and its attendant “K-cups” make a single cup of coffee, tea or hot chocolate at a time, leaving no grounds, no mess and no cold leftovers. Just this morning, I had a cup of Kona blend, an Italian Roast, and a Gloria Jean’s chocolate-flavored “Mudslide”. Three cups is unusual for me, but given that it’s not only foggy and cold (again. still.) but actually slightly precipitating, an extra cup of coffee seems to be a worthy indulgence. Sold at Costco and Wal-Mart as well as through www.keurig.com the brewing system comes in various sizes for home and office. Tina just sent me the mini travel-size after hearing me grouse about missing my Keurig while we were back East, so now I can have a cup of Keurig coffee anywhere I go. I wonder if there are travel-size chickens?
The icing on the Keurig cake is a nifty little accessory they make that produces frothed milk at the touch of a button. You pour in the milk, press the button and in under a minute you’ve got the makings for a cappucino, which is what I drink every morning as I clean out the coop. It’s a little bit of heaven on this fog-sodden earth. Unfortunately, my milk frother gave up the ghost yesterday morning. It consents to heating the milk, but refuses to froth.
I called up the folks at Keurig, who agreed to send me a new frother, which has already shipped, but I fear writer’s block or worse while I await its arrival. To fill the time, I thought I’d share the inside info on fashionable coop wear. This thought came to me when the Chicken Emperor reached over to give me a hug the other day and then hesitated, saying “Are you wearing your chicken sweater?” I answered truthfully, “Every sweater is now a chicken sweater”. To his credit, the CE did not deny the hug, but he did go on to gently suggest that there might be certain occasions where sweaters dripping with pine shavings might not be appropriate.
The upshot of this is a piece of advice: cashmere is not the best option for the chicken coop, since it is a great attractor of pine shavings. (Of course, if I lived someplace that actually had summer weather, I might not have this dilemma.) I’ve also learned that the coop is not kind to shoes, and have already taken steps, so to speak, to address that issue. For $13, I found a great pair of garden clogs that miraculously do not aggravate my back problems.
Finally, there is the challenge of maintaining a manicure while keeping chickens. Mine, not theirs, although it is not unheard of for chicken keepers to paint their hens’ toes. (I’m not saying it couldn’t happen, but I would probably have to be drinking something other than coffee.) The CE, ever to the rescue, brought me some gloves to use for coop cleaning, which may not be the most attractive accessory but are a necessary part of the uniform.
For the rest of you, he thoughtfully purchased “coop boots” in a variety of sizes, so there will be no excuse not to take a coop tour when you visit us.
One of the great things about chickens is that they’re happy to see you, regardless of what you wear, as long as you come bearing gifts. We decided to bestow a new treat upon the girls and bought some live crickets at the pet store the other day. Their first reaction was a fleeting moment of fear, followed almost instantly by a predatory feeding frenzy. Forty crickets lasted less than ninety seconds. If you have any pesty six-legged creatures in your house, you know where to bring them.