This is a funny poem I wrote years ago for a friend who just loves chickens!! I just found it on a portable harddrive and thought I needed to share it.
This one is for you JHO
Crazy Chicken
Crazy chicken… whatcha pickin?
You have no nose
Only three toes
We fry you up
Cluck Cluck Cluck
Crazy chicken…finger lickin’!
Crazy chicken… are you pickin?
Always going to poop
In your little chicken coup
Sitting on your bed of hay
Here is where you eggs will lay
Crazy chicken… are you kickin?
Crazy chicken… are you wishin?
That you can be a cow
They’re no good anyhow
We all know you can’t be beat
You have tastey whiter meat
Crazy chicken… finger lickin’!
Crazy chicken… you be chillin’!
Walking and strutting around
Making your little chicken sound
We all know who’s the boss
All is not a total loss
Crazy chicken… are you sittin?
Crazy chicken… whatcha pickin?
I’m not sure where you’re goin
But here we have a hunger growin
Now I see you in a rut
You’ve been pickin your butt
Crazy chicken… you’re livin!
Last week Dave and I went out to a new local Indian restaurant. We both love Indian food and we wanted to go to this place again because the first time it was the second day of opening and it was crazy. The only server/host was one little guy. He also apparently owns the place. It wouldn’t surprise me if he was also the cook and dishwasher too! I think he was a bit overwhelmed by the amount of people at his restaurant on only the second night. But I think he forgot where he lives… Huntsville, AL. This town is ‘eat out’ haven! The restaurants here are always hard to get in to. But I digress.
In the summer of 2006 I embarked on a European tour with a friend. Our destinations…Italy, Paris and London. We visited many cities in Italy some which were Sorrento, Capri, Rome, Florence. We did a lot of walking and I mean A LOT of walking. A lot of late nights and waking up early to do that walking. We visited catholic churches galore!! We felt like this was the Catholic conversion tour before too long. But little did we know that we would soon be giving this tour a name other than what the tour agency called it.
I have eggs pretty often I would say. At least a couple days a week. When you have a hot skillet on the stove, a little olive oil or butter (whichever your heart desires) sliding around the teflon bottom, you crack open that egg to reveal itself.
This castle was the inspiration for Walt Disney’s Cinderella’s Castle at DisneyLand.
Wish I could have take photos inside the castle as well as the outside.
This is not a book I had heard of before until there was a story on NPR about the author, Mark Kurzem.
He wrote a book telling the story of his father and his father’s past as a child in the Nazi army. The Nazis found him in the woods after he had escaped from being executed along with the rest of his family by the Nazis. They were unaware of him being a Jewish boy until one day when one soldier discovered that the boy was circumcised. They swore to keep it their secret as the boy continued to live his life as an SS “mascot”.
I thought the book was a little slow at the beginning but once the story picked up with the boy in the Nazi uniform it became interesting. I kept thinking the whole time while reading it “this should be made in to a movie.” All of the info in the book is based on actual events and facts which makes it all the more interesting.
Well, it has been a while since I have posted anything regarding reading material. I noticed that I posted about Angels & Demons and that was it. As I mentioned in that post my next book to read was The Kite Runner.
What a great book! In the middle of reading the book I saw the movie. The movie held true to the book. I think there a few things that were left out of the movie that was in the book but they were not detrimental to the story line.
You begin to really feel for the young boys Amir and Hassan. It’s almost a love/hate relationship. They flew kites together and participated in kite fighting. Amir would fly the kite and Hassan would chase them down.
Brief Synopsis:
Amir, a well-to-do Pashtun boy, and Hassan, a Hazara and the son of Amir’s father’s servant, Ali, spend their days in a peaceful Kabul, kite fighting, roaming through the streets and being boys. Amir’s father (who is generally referred to as Baba, “daddy”, throughout the book) loves both the boys, but seems critical of Amir for not being manly enough. Amir secretly fears his father blaming him for his mother’s death during childbirth. However, he has a kind father figure in the form of Rahim Khan, Baba’s friend, who understands Amir better, and is supportive of his interest in writing stories. Amir tells us that his first word was ‘Baba’ and Hassan’s “Amir,’ suggesting that Amir looked up most to Baba, while Hassan looked up to Amir.
Striving to be the son his father always wanted, Amir takes on the weight of living up to unrealistic expectations and places the fate of his relationship with his father on the outcome of a kite running tournament, a popular challenge in which participants must cut down the kites of others with their own kite. Amir wins the tournament. Yet just as he begins to feel that all will be right in the world, a tragedy occurs with his friend Hassan in a back alley on the very streets where the boys once played. This moment marks a turning point in Amir’s life?one whose memory he seeks to bury by moving to America. There he realizes his dream of becoming a writer and marries for love but the memory of that fateful day will prove too strong to forget. Eventually it draws Amir back to Afghanistan to right the wrongs that began that day in the alley and continued in the days, months, and years that followed.
