Day 42

Another close call . . . but soon these girls will no longer be chicks and I won't have to do this blog every single day.
I jush got back from a new hotel's artist reception (the decore is very local artisty) with an open bar and lots of unhealthy hor d'oeuvres, like mini scotch (quail) eggs. Lot's of coolie Portlanders, but for our national audience I'll just mention G. Van Sant was in attendance.
And now for the chicks . . .


Noodle Soup about to fly, but with her pretty face still in focus . . . poop stain under her foot . . .




Salad Sandwich . . . yes, I think that's poop on her foot . . . it's cool, I washed my hands before I typed this . . .


Pot Pie--I've got a new plan for her. She's very stomach oriented, so I'm gonna start buying her cooperation with food--we'll see how that works out.

My friend Sandra, an artist for whom the rececption was held, stopped in to see the girls in person (she of course is an avid blog follower and supporter). She was pretty impressed with the rapport I have with most of the chickens (you know who I'm excluding from that statement).
Chrissy, my other chicken oriented roommate was just out of town for four or five days, and when I came home I asked her how the girls were doing--she replied "they're huge!"
Yeah . . . hopefully by this weekend I'll have 'em out in the coop . . .




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