I have two stuffed chickens, that once belonged to my mother, sitting on my ledge in my kitchen and they are often conversation pieces. Stephen makes fun of them and others think they are pretty gross but the grandkids are always asking why I have them and non stops "why, why, and why."
Todays conversation with Chandler went like this. Were they really real? How did they die? Why do you have them? How did they get stuffed? Gretchen answered most of the questions the best she could and than Cooper came up with the best answer of all on how they were stuffed. He said, "they just tape up the bootie' so the stuff won't fall out."
Yes, I know they are dusty. They usually get vacuumed a couple of times a year and I am obviously long overdue with that task. I wonder myself why I have them and than I remind myself that it is part of my up-bringing. When I was very young, maybe eight or so, I went with my family to a barn dance at a feed store in Chandler and I won in a drawing
50 baby chicks. My brother Tug actually wanted these chickens so he gave me money (I think $25.00) to increase his already started egg delivery business. Of course it took a while for them to start laying eggs but in the end he had a pretty good egg business that I helped him with. So, nothing wrong with having gross things around that remind you of good times. Right?
