I'm plotting getting my studio workable. I need to fix the busted window, and fill in one more area of the big expanse of glass. So Earl and I have gone around measuring our tens and tens of old salvaged windows. I've got a 40-inch-square hole, and everything but 40-inch-square windows. The floor needs some work, too.
I'm going to be working from home two days a week, so I'm revamping the computer area. I hauled out the old desk – really a kitchen table from the '30s – and brought in a small oak-veneer teacher's desk. I need to get the height right, or sitting here for eight hours will be miserable. Next week I start working in my pajamas! I'll save an hour's drive, too.
Pearly and I took a ramble down to the lower gate.
The damn goats were out twice today.
I just noticed the tiniest teen chicken looks a whole lot like Jasmine, the Maltese. How weird is that?
We should name her Diller, for Phyllis. Or maybe Parker, for the jazz bird. Huh. And check out this big galoot, below.
What an interesting bunch of chickens. Their granddad was Polish, the sort of chicken with a feathery chrysanthemum on its head, so they come by the weird headgear naturally.