Category Archives: Days in My Life

I don’t just sit around and watch TV.

The Broody Hen

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I help a broody hen hatch 12 eggs.

Right around the time I returned from my vacation in early May, one of my hens got broody. A broody hen, in case you’re not familiar with the term, is one who wants to sit on eggs so they hatch and she can have chicks.

Although I’ve had chickens on and off for at least fifteen years, I’d never had a broody hen. The trouble with a broody hen is that she doesn’t lay eggs. She just sits on them. Worse yet, some of the other hens will lay eggs where she’s sitting so you don’t get eggs from those hens either. If you have chickens for eggs — which is why I have them — you don’t want a broody hen.

But I figured I’d let her sit until she got bored. She was sitting in the upper nest closest to the coop door and was in there every day that I peeked in to gather eggs.

And then one day, she was sitting on the nest farthest away from the coop door, leaving all her eggs — about ten of them — exposed and cold.

For some reason, I decided to take the eggs and stick them in my incubator. I set it up in the garage, added water to keep the humidity sensor happy, put a box of cat food cans on top to secure the lid, and forgot about it.

Until about four days later when she switched back to the first nest.

I gathered up the neglected eggs and added them to the incubator. At that point, I had 18 eggs in there.

Becoming a Chicken Mama

Life went on. She kept sitting on eggs in that first nest. I kept trying to pull the eggs out from under her, trying to discourage her from sitting.

And then one evening about 18 days after starting the incubator (according to the incubator’s clock), I went down to check the incubator and heard a chick. I saw the broken egg but didn’t see the chick right away. Turns out it had fallen off the platform where the eggs were in their turner and fell into a tiny crevice that normally would be full of water. Fortunately, I’d put water on one side only.

I had to take the incubator apart to get it out. Then I had to set up a warm place for it to brood. I had a chicken heater and a clear plastic bin and some pelleted litter material. Within minutes, I had a place set up on my dining table for the squawking little bird. Then I went back to the garage, put the incubator back together and put the eggs back.

Chick and Eggs
Here’s the first chick that hatched, along with two pipping eggs. Can you see the cracks? The black thing is a heater that won’t burn the birds (or anything else).

That’s when I noticed that three more eggs were pipping. That means they had tiny cracks caused by the chick trying to get out. I brought them upstairs and set them in the warm bin with the other chick, which had quieted down now that it was warm.

And then I thought about the work I’d made for myself: brooding another batch of chicks in my chicken coop. I had a brooding area in there that could comfortably hold 8 chicks for about a month. They had to be manually fed and given water daily. And then I had to shift them to a separate area in my chicken coop and yard so the larger birds wouldn’t kill them. I had just gone through this process with chicks I bought in March and those six birds were still separated. I was looking forward to having just one flock. These four (or more) chicks would make that tough.

But what about that broody hen? She seemed to want chicks. How about if I let her hatch one?

Worth a try, I figured. I grabbed one of the pipping eggs, took it out to the coop, and stuck it under the broody hen.

I went to bed. Around 1 AM, I was woken by squawking chicks. I got out of bed for a look. There were two more chicks with the first one. I went back to bed.

In the morning, there were three more hatched chicks in the incubator. I brought them upstairs and stuck them in the bin.

Outside in the coop, there was a fluffy yellow chick poking out from under the broody hen.

Hen with Chick
Here’s a happy mama with her first baby.

I called my friend Janet, who has experience with broody hens. I wanted to know if she thought I could stick the other chicks in with the first one. We decided on a plan of adding them one by one and keeping an eye on things. If the hen rejected the chicks, she’d kill them.

So, for the rest of the day, I worked in the garden near the chicken coop. Ever hour or so, I’d go upstairs, grab a chick, and bring it outside. I’d open the coop door, talk to the hen, pet her with my left hand, and drop the chick behind her with my right hand. I also prepped the adolescent chicken area, which was still occupied by six pullets, with a tighter screen that the tiny chicks would not get through. I even made a nest for the area and added chick food and a water bottle.

I tried getting the pullets in with the adult hens and roosters. That didn’t work out right so I herded them back into their area. I figured the mom would protect her chicks against them.

By around 3 PM, I went up for the last two chicks. More petting and dropping. The broody hen didn’t seem to mind. She’d bonded with all the chicks and they had bonded with her. They stayed together and when they got cold they snuggled up under her. It was painfully cute.

But they were in an upper nest and I wanted them in the other area. So I opened up that area and started grabbing chicks. The hen immediately started squawking, but I worked fast. In the end, I grabbed her and stuck her in there with the single egg she’d been sitting on. I closed up the area. As her chicks gathered around her and she made a spot in the makeshift nest to sit on the egg, they all calmed down.

Hen with Chicks
The hen and her chicks settled into the young chicken area of my coop.

Success!

I kept an eye on the situation, visiting regularly over the next few days. I was very surprised when they went outside just two days later. The young chickens didn’t bother them — but they also stayed far away. I think the broody hen read them the riot act while I wasn’t looking.

When I saw the chicks slip through the fence from the young chicken yard to the adult chicken yard, I nearly panicked. But the adult chickens didn’t bother them at all and they slipped right back to mama quickly.

More Chicks

Of course, my chicken hatching experience wasn’t over. There had been 18 eggs from at least two batches. There were 11 left.

Baby Chick
This was the first of the second batch of chicks to start hatching.

I checked the incubator after a day out running errands and was horrified to discover that one of the eggs had hatched and the chick had fallen into one of the water reservoirs. It was chirping away with just its head above water. In a panic, I gently lifted it out by its head and wrapped it in my shirt, then hustled upstairs to the bin, turned the heater back on, and put it inside.

Then I carried the incubator upstairs and put it on the table so I could keep an eye on it.

Later in the day, I tried introducing the new chick to the mama hen. She took one look at it and pecked it on the head. I snatched it out. Damn.

I had a little get together with friends that evening and they all commented on how cute the chick was. I explained my dilemma, which was worse than it had originally been: it looked as if I had to raise a single chick by itself.

Fortunately, my friend Alyse agreed to take it. She’d just ordered some chicks and already had some older ones. She felt confident that she could introduce it to her flock. I was thrilled. I put the chick in a yogurt container with a pierced lid and she took it home with her. The next day, she sent a photo of her significant other with the tiny chick and an older chicken sitting on his chest and belly.

Chicks
Three chicks fit comfortably in a one-quart yogurt container.

Unfortunately, three more chicks hatched the next day. Again, she agreed to take them. We met up in town and I handed off another yogurt container full of chicks.

I wasn’t done yet. The next day, another chicken hatched. (If you’re keeping count, this is number 12.) This time, I set up my camera atop the bin and videoed the last few minutes as the chick finally pushed out of the egg.


Watch that last chick hatch.

Later in the day, I met up with Alyse and handed over yet another yogurt container.

And that was it. No more pipping or hatching for the next two days. I disposed of the six remaining eggs.

Meanwhile, in the Chicken Yard

Meanwhile, I took away the divider between the chickens so all of them have access to the whole coop and both chicken yards. The mama and her babies mostly stay in that first yard where I have chick feed in the feeder. They camp out at night in a tucked away spot in the young chicken area. When the hen inexplicably got out with her chicks and Penny went after them, she charged Penny several times, successfully driving her back before I got them all back in the yard.

Chickens
The mother chicken and her babies. Note the young chickens to the left. They are mortally afraid of the big hen.

So I’ve got seven more chickens — for a total of 18 — and just have to hope the little ones turn out to be girls. One rooster is enough.

Prepping and Planning for my Winter Migration

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In waiting — and planning — mode.

Autumn is just about over. The leave are mostly gone and nighttime temperatures are dipping into the 30s. There’s been frost on the ground every morning. As the sun rises and fills the valley north of my home with light, odd little patches of evaporation fog form over the Columbia River 800 feet below the shelf where my home perches. I often stop my morning activity to watch, wishing I had one of my good GoPros around to create a time-lapse of the slow cloud formation and dissipation.

Of course, by the time that happens, I’ve already been up for a few hours. I’ve had my coffee and usually my breakfast. I’ve probably finished my daily journal entry and maybe even a blog post. I wake very early no matter what the season is, usually between 4 and 6 AM, although sometimes earlier. I’m a morning person and I have been for at least the past 20 years. It’s hard for me to believe that I had trouble attending 8 AM classes when I was in college. These days, by 8 AM, I’m usually ready for my mid-morning snack.

Sunlight and the Shadow Time

Living this far north — latitude 47.34° — the days start getting very short around the middle of October. By mid November, there’s only 9 hours and 15 minutes of daylight each day and we’re losing about 2 minutes of it every day. By the Winter Solstice, the sun is up for only about 8 and a half hours a day. That means the sun isn’t up for 15 and a half hours a day.

But worse than that is what I call the Shadow Time — the six weeks each year that the sun fails to clear the cliffs south of my home. For that brief period, sunlight does not shine at all on my house, although it does still reach out and fill the Wenatchee Valley. For the days leading up to the start of Shadow Time — December 1, I think — there’s less and less light on my house. Yesterday, there was about an hour of it starting around 1 PM. I love the way it shines into the high windows on the south side of my home, sending warm light at weird angles into my living space. But it’s weird looking out the north windows and seeing a big shadow in the foreground with the brightness of the valley behind it.

November View
I shot this photo yesterday afternoon from my deck. The clouds were great and the river was so blue. It’s a panorama for a reason — I cropped out the shadow in the foreground.

And I don’t have it bad at all. Some of my neighbors on the south side of the road have been in it for weeks already. Their Shadow Time lasts months. I can’t imagine living that long in the shadows, without the rejuvenating properties of warm, direct sunlight coming through the windows. Honestly, I don’t know why some of them built their homes where they did, especially when I see the occasional boulder coming down off the cliffs dangerously close to one neighbor’s backyard. It seems like it’s only a matter of time before one of those basalt columns lets go and ends up in their living room.

The Shadow Time is one of the reasons I go away for the winter. I’m a sunlight person — I need to be in the sun. That’s one reason why I like living on the east side of the Cascade Mountains. People think it rains a lot in Washington, but that’s not true. It rains a lot in Seattle. It doesn’t rain much here. And those short days turn into gloriously long ones in the summer time; it’s actually light out when I wake up and sometimes when I go to bed.

My goal is always to be gone during the Shadow Time and I’ve been pretty good about that for the past few years. But this time, I’m can’t get out quite as early as I hoped to.

Killing Time

So as November winds down, I find myself waiting for my departure date.

I’m spending much of my time at home goofing off and doing odd jobs around the house, with a few occasional forays down into town to catch a movie, have dinner or cocktails with friends, or run errands. My home and its menagerie — currently 13 chickens (including a rooster just learning to crow properly) and two garage cats (for rodent control) — are pretty much prepared for winter. There’s always something to do around here, but none of it is pressing and some of it has to wait until spring.

I’m also working on glass projects again — something I haven’t done for years. The goal is to create some recycled glass wind chimes for sale in Quartzsite, AZ in January. I’ve been working with my new kiln for a few days now but have had disappointing results. Apparently, I’ll be spending a few more days troubleshooting before I can start churning out new pieces.

And, of course, garage reorganization is something I’m always working on. I’ve still got boxes to unpack. I’m also prepping for a garage sale in the spring. I have a lot of stuff I don’t want/need anymore — some of it from my old home/life in Arizona. While Craig’s List has been instrumental in offloading the larger items, there’s a ton of little stuff I can sell cheap.

My helicopter business is slow this time of year — and only gets slower as winter creeps in. I do have a nice charter later this month; I’ll be working with two other helicopters to take a group of nine men on a flight to various points of interest (to them) around the state. I’m hoping our flight path takes us past my house; my next door neighbor’s kids love it when I fly by with other helicopters — they say it’s like an air show.

Then, of course, is the primary thing keeping me in the area: my December 3 flight bringing Santa to Pybus Public Market. This is a community service I do every year. (Last year was the first time I missed a flight but that’s because the helicopter was in Arizona for overhaul.) The last time I did it, about 300 kids and parents were waiting on the ground when we landed at Pybus in my bright red helicopter. There were photos in the newspaper. I usually shut down and stick around for a while so folks can come up to the helicopter and get their photo taken with it. I’ll do that this year if the weather cooperates.

Pybus Market
An aerial view of Pybus Public Market, shot with my Mavic Pro the other day. I land the helicopter in the corner of the parking lot in the lower right part of the photo, not far from the white building. One year, we rolled the helicopter into the main (gray) building where I left it on display for a week.

Of course, that doesn’t mean those are the only days I’ll fly the helicopter. There’s a pretty good chance I’ll take it out today. I have two wine club shipments waiting for me at Cave B Estate Winery down in Quincy. That’s an hour drive but only 20 minutes by helicopter. I figured I’d take a few friends down there for lunch — I fly for food — and pick up my wine while I’m there.

And the helicopter will go to California for its sixth season of frost control work, likely in mid February.

Going South

Once I’m done with the few things I need to do in the area, I’ll hop on a flight to Phoenix with Penny the Tiny Dog. My truck, camper, and boat are already down there waiting for me. With luck, a month from today I’ll be camped out on one of the Salt River Lakes, soaking up the sun while I explore the lake in my silly little boat.

I’ll spend Christmas along the Colorado River with some friends, camped out in the desert. The site I hope we get — we got it last year — has a boat ramp and easy access to a stretch of river that runs 76 miles from the Palo Verde Dam north of Ehrenberg, AZ to the Imperial Dam north of Yuma. I brought along my new tent and some tent camping gear so I can do overnight boat camping trips along the river. My friends are seriously into fishing and I know we’ll do some of that, too. Last year, we had fish tacos a few times. We have a campfire nearly every night; it gets cold but not too cold to enjoy the outdoors.

Sunrise at the River
We were treated to a few amazing sunrises during our stay along the Colorado River last year.

Then in January, we move to Quartzsite where my friend sells her artwork at a 10-day show at Tyson Wells. This year, I got a booth, too. I’ll be selling drone aerial photography services for folks camped out in the desert, as well as my recycled glass wind chimes (if I can get the problems with the new kiln worked out). It’ll be weird and it might not make any money, but I’m really in it for the experience more than anything else. Besides, my booth at Tyson includes a full hookup and it’ll be nice to get a bit of “civilization” after more than a month camped out in the desert.

After that, I’ll likely start heading north along the Colorado River with my truck, camper, and boat. I’m hoping to do some camping and boating at each stretch of the river between dams, all the way up to Hoover. I’ll definitely revisit Arizona Hot Springs — this time in my own boat — and tent camp for a day or two in the mouth of the canyon there.

In mid-February, I’ll come home (via commercial flight), fetch the helicopter, and take it down to the Sacramento area for its frost contract. From that point on, I’m “on call.” This is different from cherry season, when I need to stick around with the helicopter to be called out on a moment’s notice. Instead, I get my callout at least 12 hours before they might need me. That’s enough time to hop on a flight from wherever I am to Sacramento.

I’ll be in the Vegas area for a week or so in late February to explore Lake Mead, visit some friends, and see HAI’s big helicopter show. When that’s over, I’ll continue north and west, eventually ending up in the Sacramento area. I’ll stick around there, boating on Lake Berryessa and Clear Lake, wine tasting in Napa Valley, and hiking in the foothills of the Sierra Nevada Mountains until March. If I’m lucky, I’ll get a few callouts while I’m already there; this can really be lucrative when I don’t have to hop a commericial flight, rent a car, and get a hotel room. Then, depending on weather in California and back home, I’ll make my way back north. I did a coastal route last year, but I might try a more inland route this time. It’s all about going new places and seeing new things.

It’s the typical migratory route I’ve been doing with minor variations since 2013 but I’m going to make it count this year. It might be the last season I go to Arizona for the winter; I’m hoping to begin researching retirement destinations in Mexico, Costa Rica, Belize, and possibly New Zealand in future winter seasons. We’ll see.

Of course, I will be working every day. I’m writing a book about my flying experiences and am determined to finish it before I get home. So I expect to spend at least 4 hours at the keyboard daily — likely early in the morning — to knock out a manuscript. I’ll handle publication next spring.

While I’m gone my house will be in good hands. I have a house-sitter who will live there for the entire time I’m gone. We did a trial in October when I took a 2-week vacation south to visit friends, re-explore a few national parks in Utah, and reposition my portable winter home in Arizona. While I’m gone, he’ll make sure the chickens and cats have food and water and collect eggs. Maybe he’ll even put up my Christmas decorations, which I haven’t bothered to do in years.

Waiting

So I’m in a sort of limbo right now, waiting for my departure date to roll along.

I feel as if I spend most of my life waiting. In the old days, I was waiting for my wasband to get his head out of his butt and start enjoying life. It was frustrating, to say the least. The older I get, the less time I have left. Waiting for someone else was like idly watching my life slip by without being able to do anything to enjoy it.

Now, with him out of the picture, I do a lot less waiting and a lot more doing. I spend a lot of time traveling when I’m not busy with flying work. When I’m home, I spend my time building and learning new things. My life is much more full and interesting; my time is much more flexible.

But I still have responsibilities that tie me to my home, even if I’m not kept here by work. So I’m waiting for calendar pages to flip by again so I can do the few things I need to do.

And then I’m outta here.

A Sad Surprise in a Moving Box

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Old photos bring back old memories and feelings.

Unpacking after a move is a funny thing. If you’ve organized your things properly and packed them into labeled boxes, you logically unpack things you need most first. And that’s pretty much what I’ve been doing since I moved from Arizona in May 2013 and started moving into my new home in early 2015. The kitchen and bathroom and bedroom items were first to be unpacked: pots and pans and utensils, toiletries and bathroom appliances and medicine cabinet contents, clothes and shoes and accessories. Then, as furniture locations were finalized and most of the finish work was done, I reached for boxes containing the extras: silk plants and baskets for atop my kitchen cabinets, collectibles to be arranged in new wall mounted displays, books for my library shelves, framed photographs for the walls. Each item that’s unpacked and put into its place makes my home more like my home.

Lexox Autumn
I love Lenox’s Autumn pattern, which was originally released back in 1918, but only used my set, which was a gift from my mother, three times. Make me an offer. I have service for 9 plus salad bowls and serving plates.

These days, there are still about a dozen packed boxes in my massive garage. Some will likely never be unpacked. Do I really need a set of Lenox china for up to nine dinner guests? Or real silver silverware? Why in the world did I collect all those pin-on buttons at computer shows in the 1990s and early 2000s? My matchbook collection was fun to add to after a dinner out, but who gives away matchbooks these days? And after writing more than 80 books and hundreds of articles, do I really need to keep the box of published clips I began accumulating in the late 1980s?

I’ve been going through the boxes — at least peeking inside them — in an effort to take inventory on what still needs to be unpacked and what can probably be disposed of. I’ve been shifting boxes to the shelves I built in my garage for long-term storage, separating them into three categories: store, sell, and unpack.

And that’s how I came upon the box labeled “Wall Art / Family Photos.” It had been at the bottom of a pile, slightly crushed. I peeked inside. Lots of frames, all carefully packed in bubble wrap. This needed to get unpacked. So later, when I took a break, I brought it upstairs to tend to when I had a chance.

That chance was yesterday evening. I put the box on my dining table and started pulling out the wrapped items, revealing them one after another.

First were two old framed still life prints of fruit. They aren’t very attractive, but they do have sentimental value. They’ve hung in every kitchen in every home I’ve lived in as an adult. It was good to see them. I have just the place for them in my new kitchen.

Then the framed puppy photo of my dog, Spot, who I’d gotten as a birthday present from my future wasband when we lived in our first house together in New Jersey. And a baby picture of me. And a group photo of me with my sister and brother, taken at a Sears photo studio about 20 years ago. And a photo of me standing by my first helicopter.

And then I got to the framed photo of my grandmother and her sister when they were kids. The photo was retouched, slightly enlarged, matted, and framed. It shows the two girls in sepia, sitting on the roof of their apartment building in the Bronx. My aunt Fanny is holding a small dog. I’d found the picture somewhere and had the touch-up work done, then made a framed print for my grandmother for Christmas one year. At the same time, I’d made one for myself.

Old Photo
The photo of my late father-in-law was tucked into the frame of the photo of my grandmother and her sister. I honestly don’t remember packing it, but I’m glad I did.

But it was not that photo that prompted this blog post. It was the more modern portrait of a man stuck into the side of the frame: my late father-in-law, Charlie.

I don’t remember packing the photo, but I must have. I always liked Charlie, who died suddenly and very unexpectedly of a massive heart attack only a year after he retired. He was fun and had a good sense of humor. Although he teased his wife mercilessly — which I’ve admitted elsewhere bothered me a lot — he took good care of her and stuck with her through thick and thin. She could not have been an easy person to live with and I suspect the teasing was one of the ways he dealt with it. But he was a man who understood what marriage was all about, what those vows really meant.

Unlike his son.

Early on in my divorce, when I was living alone my Wickenburg home, I put a photo of Charlie and his wife on my front door with a post-it note attached. The post-it note obscured Julia’s face, pointed to Charlie, and said something like “He would be ashamed of you.” My future wasband eventually saw the photo when he came to the house and took it away with him. I hope he got the message, but I doubt it.

But I know Charlie would have been ashamed of him. And I’m glad he was spared the pain our divorce likely would have caused him. I wish my family could have been spared the same pain.

Seeing his photo tucked into that frame reminded me of all this. It made me sad. Sad that he left so soon after his retirement, just at the point where he likely expected to relax and spend time with his family and friends. Sad that he was gone. Sad about all the things he’d missed.

And sad that his son couldn’t have been more like he was.

I’ve discarded or hidden away most of the reminders of the 29 years I spent with the man who betrayed my trust and broke my heart. But this is one I won’t put away. I’ll get a frame for Charlie’s photo and put it with the others on the table behind my sofa. Charlie is a man worth remembering.

Dealing with Two Colds in Three Months

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It’s really all about rest.

It’s funny how when you pay attention to your body it tells you things about yourself and the way your body works.

The September Cold

Back in September, a few days before I was due to head out on a trip to Lopez Island, I got struck down by a cold. It came upon me suddenly with a lot of sneezing and a very runny — more like drippy — nose. (I call that leaky faucet nose.) I assumed it was an allergy attack. I’ve had “hay fever” my whole life and moving to the west — first Arizona and now Washington State — really reduced the number of attacks I get. But I was working outdoors that day in a dusty environment and I assumed that either pollen — the sagebrush was blooming — or dust had triggered the attack. I walked around with a tissue box, which I brought with me when I went out to dinner with friends. “Just allergies,” I assured them.

But it wasn’t allergies. The symptoms persisted throughout the night and I woke the next morning feeling like crap. Weak, achey, miserable. I realized then that I had a cold and began to panic. I was really looking forward to that Lopez trip and knew how horrible traveling with a cold could be. (It had ruined vacations in Hawai’i and the Bahamas.) I was determined to recover quickly.

Alka Seltzer Cold Medicine
Alka Seltzer Plus is what really helps control my cold symptoms. Keep in mind that no cold medicine “cures” a cold. The best you can hope for is to control symptoms so you can get some rest.

So I spent the whole day in bed, drugged up with whatever cold meds I could find in my medicine cabinet. That was mostly Alka Seltzer cold medicine, which happens to work great for me. Daytime formula during the day and nighttime formula for night. I slept most of that first day, getting up only to feed Penny and the cats, let Penny out a few times, and gather eggs from my chickens. I found some frozen chicken soup in the downstairs freezer and heated it up for lunch and dinner. I had orange juice in the fridge and drank all of it. The whole day went by in a sort of fog. It’s fortunate that my calendar was empty; I would have had to cancel everything on it, including any revenue flights.

The next day, I felt human again. Almost good. I got up and started my day as usual: coffee, catching up on news, etc. I’d planned to take it easy again and did — at least for the first half of the day. I read on the living room sofa. I wasn’t tired enough to nap, so I didn’t.

Later in the afternoon, I ventured outdoors to take care of a few chores. I did more than I expected to do, but I monitored my condition carefully and came inside at any sign of fatigue. My symptoms were controlled by cold medicine and I was okay.

I was very surprised to be feeling fully recovered just a few days later, in time for my trip to Lopez. I thought long and hard about how that quick recovery and I realized that for the first time in my life, I’d done something I’d never done before: surrendered an entire day of my life to a cold.

Could that be the answer to a quick recovery? Just spending a whole day in bed?

I’d read in numerous reliable places that the common cold took 5-7 days to pass. I’ve had colds in the past that have lasted weeks, with lots of suffering every day and even a few doctor visits. Yet the symptoms for mine had come and gone in about 4 days.

Lucky? Maybe.

The November Cold

Unfortunately, I have the opportunity to try to repeat my fast recovery this week.

I flew home from Arizona on Saturday morning and immediately got to work putting out fires (so to speak) at my house. My housesitter had done a good job taking care of things while I was gone and left the house immaculately clean (which I really appreciate) but since I wasn’t expecting the temperatures to dip below freezing while I was gone — hell, it was in the 60s every day right before I left — I didn’t give him instructions for the chickens water. It was frozen and the poor birds had apparently been trying to peck through the ice. So I had to get them set up with their heated water dish for winter. They’d also run out of food — I thought what I’d left them in their feeder would have been enough. They didn’t seem to be suffering at all, so I suspect the situation had been short term. No harm, no foul (no pun intended).

I also had to struggle to deal with a frozen hose (which I’ll need to wait until warmer temperatures to resolve), my mousers running out of dry cat food, and clearing space in my garage for a friend who was bringing his boat over to store for the winter.

So I was running around like a nut all afternoon and most of the next day.

It was on Monday afternoon — notably three days after my commercial airline flight — that those “allergy” symptoms started in. I had just cleaned the chicken’s roost area in the coop and put down some bedding pellets. The pullets were on the perches in there and did a lot of panicked flapping around as I worked. The sneezing and runny nose started within 10 minutes. Damn birds. The dander must have gotten me.

But the symptoms persisted through my dentist visit and the rest of the afternoon. And that evening. By night time, I knew it wasn’t an allergy attack.

Puffs w/Vicks
My #1 choice for tissues when I have a cold is Puffs with Vicks. My mother used to put Vicks VapoRub on our chests when we had colds as kids. I don’t know if it helped, but the smell of Vicks is forever associated in my mind with cold recovery. These tissues are very hard to find in stores.

I got on the nighttime cold medicine before bed. I still had a miserable night, tossing and turning, blowing my nose enough to build a mountain of dirty tissues beside me.

In the morning, I felt super crappy with a headache the size of the migraines I used to get years ago. (Honestly, if nausea had accompanied it, I would have called it a migraine.) After the sun rose, my bedroom, with the lights off, was too bright — even though it was overcast all day. I got up only to let out Penny, give her some food, and take some drugs. I had grapefruit juice in the fridge and drank a bunch of that. I felt too weak to go down and check the garage freezer for more chicken soup. I went back to bed. Penny, obviously sensing that something wasn’t quite right, snuggled up between me and my dirty tissue mountain.

I cancelled my dinner date with a friend and blew off the wine tasting I was supposed to attend afterwards.

I slept most of the day.

Around 3 PM, I got up and made myself something to eat. A salad with sardines. (Don’t knock it; I like sardines.) I cursed myself for packing the balsamic vinegar into my camper (which is waiting for me in Arizona) and not buying a fresh bottle for home. I tore down and discarded my tissue mountain. I let Penny out again and went back to bed. I slept more.

In the evening, woken by that damn headache, I got up to take some more ibuprofen. I let Penny out again. I went into the garage and gave the cats a can of food. I let Penny in. Then I settled in on the sofa with a throw blanket and glass of grapefruit juice to catch up with Stephen Colbert’s Late Show. I felt a little better, but not much. At least I could stay awake.

After about an hour of that, I was exhausted. It was only 7 PM. I surrendered, took some more nighttime cold medicine, and climbed back into bed. I read for about 10 minutes and then fell asleep.

I slept pretty well until about 3 AM. Then I woke up feeling pretty darn good. I hung around in bed, catching up on news via Twitter. (Lots of good news about yesterday’s election. Hooray!) Then, at about 4:30 AM, I decided that my internal clock would just have to stay screwed up for a while and got out of bed to start my day.

With coffee.

I’ll take it easy today, but will get stuff done, mostly indoors. I have a lot of paperwork to catch up on after my two-week trip south. Maybe I’ll finally finish unpacking my books. And I’m sure I’ll take a nap.

My goal is to rest up enough to be completely recovered by Friday. I think it’s possible if I don’t push myself.

Lesson Learned

And that’s the lesson I’ve learned in dealing with these two colds: when a cold strikes, give in to it. Just treat the symptoms with whatever cold meds can help you get rest. Sleep as much as possible. Stay warm and comfortable. Rest, rest, rest.

If it’s just a cold — not the flu — a quicker-than-average recovery might be possible. But not if you push yourself.

And if you’re feeling good right now, go out and get a flu shot. I haven’t gotten mine yet — shame on me — but will definitely get it as soon as I feel 100% recovered from this cold.