Fowl Love

When I am stuck in California traffic, I do one of two things. I usually call The Parents or I think. Sometimes I think about 26 pound turkeys and other days I think about putting words together for this blog. Some days I think about creative ways to express myself to my fellow motorists. Don't worry, I haven't waved any digits. I also have inner debates on whether I am setting a good example by peppering my posts with fragments, or if I use too many similes and metaphors. I am sure the thought will pop into my head this week if I should have shared my use of an aforementioned finger while driving. Someone, I'm sure, will be calling me.

For some reason, I recently had a random thought about how many fowl references occur in my house. The most obvious would be the title of my blog. I have been discussing the idea of a logo with a friend of mine, and he suggested I look for an image that I liked. I made the mistake of googling the word "chick." I toe the line on the gauche, I admit, but I would rather not make a full on dive into the offensive. Let's just say that I revised the search to "baby chicks." I am still looking for an image that I like. Stay tuned.

Another example of fowl love is my dog. We named her Dixie, but after witnessing her behavior with other dogs, she was renamed Dixie Chicken. She has poultry DNA, I am sure.
I also demonstrate fowl love with The Rev. by calling him a turkey on occasion. He calls me an impatient chicken. Sweet, I know, but you have to understand the logic (if that's what you want to call it) behind it.

Me: Knock, Knock?

The Rev: Who's there?

Me: Impatient Chicken.

The Rev.: Impat.....

And then, before he can get out the whole phrase, I "bwaaakkkk" like a chicken. If you haven't tried this with someone, YOU HAVE GOT TO DO IT. Just for kicks and giggles. So now, whenever I am flustered and mashing the elevator button because it won't hurry up and open up for me, I get called an impatient chicken. Or when I am waiting for the coffee to finish perking and I am drumming my fingers on the counter, I get called an impatient chicken.
"Are you almost done with your sermon so you can pay attention to me?" Impatient chicken.

Fowl love is the best love.