In the last week, I've learned...

...that I hate chickens. Chickens have been such a major part of my month that it deserves mentioning. There are no chickens on the farm at Black Sheep. There are, however, chickens living behind the house where I am staying in Chehalis. On occasion, I've cooked up the eggs they have provided and appreciated them for it. For two separate loooong, four-day weekends, I've had to feed and take care of the chickens. First I'll say I do love animals and I would never want any harm to come to these chickens. But, whatever, they suck. They're mean and stupid; the roosters gang-rape the hens; they peck each others eyes out (one of the cripple chickens is blind from a squabble with his brother over a hen); they won't let the babies come sleep in the coop; and they make my life a living hell during feeding time. The first weekend I was in charge of them they must have sensed I was a noob. They carefully stalked my routine and would try to jump into the covered food bins as I opened them or into the cripple chicken's pen to steal food from the sick chickens as I was feeding them. The first time I didn't want to shoo them or touch them for fear that they would peck my eyes out either because they're vicious or stupid. I was told roosters (but apparently not these roosters) can and will gouge a hole in your leg with their spurs. The second weekend I had to do this was much easier, and I did learn that the chickens at the house are generally docile and won't gouge or peck me. But still. They suck. (Not the babies, though. The babies are cute.)

...that some people don't really believe in health codes. The number of people at market who ask me to re-use their toothpick for their second sample and then proceed to scold me when I use a fresh one is boggling. I recognize that you didn't put your mouth to the toothpick so that you could reuse it and save a tree. But I'm not going to take that same stick that you just fingered and dip it back into the tub of sample cubes. I'm just not. That's gross. I love trees as much as you do, but I also love hygiene and not getting sued for making people sick. Call me a lawyer. Some people are just trying to be nice, and that's a-okay. Thanks for thinking of the environment and cutting my costs. But some people are just mean about it. You can go hang out with the chickens.

...that teen punk bands and girl rap groups will always have at least one fan at any market or event at which I'm present. Most of the farmers markets have a musical act perform each week. It's usually 50/50 odds on whether the music will be awful. Sometimes the music is a big crowd-draw. There was an afro-funk band in Portland a couple weeks ago that just owned the morning. At one market, a vendor busted out his banjo and started singing some folksy-backwoods songs while we were setting up. I really appreciated that too. But I think the the biggest surprise was the back-to-back lineup of an angry teen punk band, which rotated between violent screaming and covers of The Kinks, followed by the angry three-person girl rap group, which unapologetically verbalized very un-family-friendly lyrics. Both were totally out of place at a Saturday morning farmers market. Both drew a confused, shocked, and inquisitive crowd. Both brightened my morning.

...that the northwest can, at times, get somewhat gray and lonely. I've found a few places I enjoy. I love the people and my days at work. But my leisure time has been a bit pitiful, and some of it is my own fault for not venturing out enough. Still, finding a place to run or walk outdoors that doesn't lead me past the Industrial Park or remind me of a scene from Deliverance is a tall order. Natural beauty is within reach and can compensate for the sleepiness of the town (you can't beat a clear day when you can see Mt. St. Helens from a parking lot, and then turn around and see Mt. Rainier). Yet, exploration out here is much more sprawling and requires a significant investment in gas for my car, which adds up quick at $2.99 a gallon.

Whew, glad I got all that off my chest. I hope my posts as of late haven't been a total buzzkill. I recognize that as I've learned more and experienced more, some of the rosy, optimistic sheen may have worn off my cheesy reports to you. For that reason, I'll reiterate: I do still love what I'm doing and the choice I've made to try this out. I love all the people I've worked with and networked with on the east coast and the west coast. The people and my journey have led me to some really great experiences that have made me feel so much better about life and myself. For that, I'm really really grateful, chickens-and-all.

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