I had read about the incompatibility of chickens and gardens, but thought we could get away with letting the two mingle this year as the birds are smallish, the plants biggish. Mais non. Those crazy fowl have been uprooting and pecking at and trampling and eating their way through the potager. I went out yesterday and screamed when I saw what they were up to, then chased them into the lower yard. Husband built a simple but effective blockade with a piece of chicken wire, a few nails, and an upended chair. It could be easily surmounted if they were craftier. I love that chickens are stupid.
We are still waiting for our children to come home from New England. It's very interesting, what happens to a rudderless couple like us without our children. We've been eating Stouffer's French bread pizzas, watching 5 hours of Damages at a stretch, going out for beers, staying in for beers. Is this what our empty nest is going to look like? It's not how I pictured the empty nest. It's hard to imagine we could sustain this level of wastrelism year after year, but then again, before Isabel was born we watched Roseanne reruns every night while we ate dinner, topped off with an hour or so of Law & Order. We thought nothing of it.
I'm going to try to make Vietnamese sandwiches -- banh mi -- tonight. At least they contain vegetables.