Admittedly, not my finest photography work, but you get the idea.

Speaking of ideas, here's CLH's latest: chickens. Raised in our garage.

Him: When can we raise chickens in the garage?

Me: I already told you. I'm totally cool with it. Do you know how to do it?

CLH: My grandmother did it when I was growing up. I'm sure I can find out. But you wouldn't like it.

Me: What do you mean?

CLH: The smell. You would DIE.

Me: Oh. Is is bad?

CLH: Um. Yeah. It would smell like guinea pigs and shit. It would waft up the stairs and you'd ha-a-a-ate it.

Me: Wait. Why would chickens smell like guinea pigs? Is it because of the cedar shavings? Because I kinda like the smell of guinea pigs. And cedar.

CLH: Alright, maybe not guinea pigs. But definitely POOP.

Me: Oh. Well, anyway, don't chickens need sunlight? The garage doesn't get any light. And living things need light to survive. They'd never see daylight unless you took them our for walks or something.

(and here's where we both pause and get lost in our own imaginings of CLH walking chickens on leashes down the sidewalks in our neighborhood.)

Me: Guess we're not raising chickens in the garage.


THEY have rules. My DIL wanted a goat or a pig, or something, I don’t remember for sure. Anyways, she gave up on the idea when she found she wouldn’t be allowed to walk the poor thing.