Ferdinand forgets sometimes who wrote the lyrics to a particular song–him or the Beatles–for instance. I decided it was time to start the conversation about the difference between fantasy and reality.
I tend to fantasize more about what a beautiful thing it would be to have chickens in the backyard. My friend has them, and they are super cute even though they don’t lay eggs anymore. You only have to change the hay once a day and they are happy with the ends of a tomato or fresh corn on the cob. You can of course build a coop for them yourself with all your tools, or order them a little house on the internet called an “Eggloo”. And then if they do lay eggs–bonanza–start collecting and cooking! Ferd and I could wander into the yard when the sun came up and sprinkle little snacks across the grass and I could make cakes and big breakfasts and instead of lemonade, Ferd could sell eggs. The only thing is, I have never gotten along with chickens. This is the reality I have to face.  Am I going to take them to Italy and France with me when I travel for my job? Where does the hay go? What happens in the winter–space heaters? Just wait until the firemen come to inspect–“oh Mr. Fireman, I wouldn’t worry about that–that’s just my chickens keeping warm out there in the dry grass with the added protection of radiator that is hooked up to my house with an extension cord.
I have immense respect for people that can bring the country to the city and raise chickens on a grass patch normally reserved for a future of cement and the occasional unidentifiable bird on its way to Florida. Any connection of Faye with that, and we are in that instant in a flying leap from reality over to fantasy island.
My poor son has been born to a mother who yells and refuses to raise anything other than a child.
In my defense, I make snickerdoodles:
2 3/4 cups of flour
1 teaspoon of baking soda
2 teaspoons of cream of tartar
pinch of salt
sift together and in separate bowl, cream 1 cup of unsalted butter with 1 cup of granulated sugar and 2 eggs.
Combine everything. Roll individual balls in a mixture of 2 tablespoons of sugar with 1 teaspoon of cinnamon. Bake at 375 degrees for about 8-10 minutes.