I’ve heard that the best way to introduce a new chicken to an established flock is to simply place said chicken with the flock in the middle of the night. When the other chickens wake up to greet a new day, they stretch their feathers and think the newbie has been there the whole time.
Taking my cue from chicken behavior and knowing that humans are addle-brained while they’re sleeping, I’m re-entering the WordPress flock like a chicken ninja, under the cover of darkness. (You people in Europe and other time zones haven’t had your coffee yet or maybe you’re exhausted with your work/kids/lifestuff, so I feel confident in taking advantage of your addled brains, too.)
Act like you’ve been here: I’m not sure if the newbie chicken thinks it’s been part of the flock the entire time, but since my brain is sorta on the soft side, yes, I’ve always been here. I can’t help it if you haven’t noticed me huddled on a branch, waaay inside the bushes.
So, there you have it, I’m back to lovingly insulting you wonderful people and comparing you to chickens. It’s like I never left (because I didn’t).
Somewhere in one of my past posts I called myself a country mouse who liked to rock ‘n roll once in a while. If you glance at me for about, umm…0.2 seconds, I’m pretty sure you’re not saying this to yourself: she sure as heck looks like she knows her way around a farm!!
Instead, I bet you think I can’t function without multiple cups of caffeine in the morning. You doubt I can lift a 5lb bag of gummy worms. You believe, given the option, that I would push over and use a small child as a stepping stone before placing my foot in sheep poo.
I would call you Judgey McJudgerson, but I haven’t done any of those things, so who am I to say? You might be right.
I have a dream. And that dream is to have a small farm. Small being the operative word. Like maybe a few goats and a dozen chickens to start. See if I can handle it.
When you have a dream, you tend to overlook the reality of the situation. At least I do. Oh, but please let my dream stay beautifully misted over with romantic idealism…
Marry me, FarmLife!! (Sorry, I held back as long as I could. Some day, one of my proposals will be accepted wholeheartedly.)
Reality can settle in later, like with a real marriage, right?