He Didn't Say No

Sometimes, dear reader, the differences in my husband's and my personalities are glaringly apparent. I am always well aware that we think about life on completely different levels, but sometimes, I look at him and wonder how in the world he puts up with me. I mean, admittedly, I am a delight. He often needs to be reminded of just how delightful I am, like spending 24/7/365 doesn't make that clear. Sometimes, I have to call in the big guns to remind him how delightful I truly am. Aunt Pat, Eric's aunt on his dad's side of the family, is like my own personal cheerleader. If I need a boost in confidence or self-esteem, Aunt Pat is my girl. When Eric fails to see just how "made in the shade" he has it, and I am unable to remind him, I tell him to call Aunt Pat. However, I digress...back to how differently we think about everything. 

The other night, we were sitting on the porch, drinking our Mason jars of water, and our conversation meandered toward my bird obsession. The Bibbed Wonder inquired as to whether I was planning to incubate any cochin eggs this year. I informed him that my chicken flock numbers are on hold until I learn how to vaccinate my chicks, and I mentioned I  need a new chicken coop. When I mentioned the new chicken coop, oh, so nonchalantly, I got the side eye.  

So, in perfect ADHD, eternally optimistic style, I launched into my chicken coop ideas with the introduction: "So, do you want to hear about my dream coop?!" I didn't give him time to shut me down, I just jumped right in with, "First, I would..." I've given this some thought, dear reader. My little brain gets obsessed with ideas, and I think, and think, and think until I burn myself out. Most of the time, I draw pictures and write lengthy descriptions in a notebook. One of these days, I will take a picture of my stack of notebooks and share it with you. It's either quite impressive or insane—more than likely the latter.

My first detailed description began with, "I would have the coop running this way," as I waved my arms to indicate the direction the dream coop would face, which happens to be the opposite of how the coop sits now. Mid-sentence, of my detailed description of how I would have double doors that lead into a small room complete with a refrigerator, shelves, and cabinets, all of which would be used to sell eggs for eating and hatching, he stops me and says, "So, you would run it uphill? So, I will have to level that ground, which will be extensive, and backfill with loads of stone and..." It was my turn to interrupt.

I looked annoyed and said, "I asked you if you wanted to hear about my dream coop. Don't crush my dreams with your logic and nay-saying, ER-IC." Eric's name becomes two highly distinctive syllables when I am annoyed with him. I emphasize the "IC." He looked annoyed, but allowed me to continue without any more logic and nonsense. I informed him that my coop would have six to eight individual "apartments" for different breeds of chickens, each with a rooster and at least four hens. Each apartment would be equipped with a roosting area complete with poop boards, built-in, mess-free feeders and waters, and custom laying boxes I designed myself and made from our white plastic coconut oil buckets and wooden stands to hold them. Each apartment would have an automatic chicken door that leads out to a private chicken run for each breed. This way, I could keep my breeds pure rather than the backyard mix I have now. I told him about my feed room/hatching room, which would have brooders for my chicks, countertops for incubators, and cabinets for all my chicken supplies, plus an area to store my feed. Of course, it would also have a sink because it will have running water and electricity. He even jumped on the dream boat and said, "You might as well get one of those big cabinet-style incubators so each shelf can hold a different breed of eggs." I agreed. He's a genius. If I'm really dreaming big, my coop will have a cement floor with in-floor heat, be well-insulated, and I will add cupolas to the roof for ventilation. 

To his credit, he didn't say no to any of this. I mean, he didn't say yes either, but I'm going with he didn't say no. I really do think I could have a lot of fun and a little side hustle with eggs, hatching eggs, and chickens. Seriously, Cochin chickens and other rare breeds are so fun and beautiful. I wish I had a video of my Cochins running to me for snacks. They are quite possibly the most adorable creatures I've ever seen, aside from baby goats, of course. I truly believe everyone would be happier if they had goats and chickens in their lives. Animals make the world a better place. 

Anyhow, our conversation ended on a pleasant note. The Bibbed Wonder told me I am a dreamer, but he said it like it's a positive thing. He also made me feel good when he backed that statement up with, "Your dad was a dreamer too." I told him the difference between Dad and me is that Dad didn't have anyone telling him no. This time, I gave him the side eye. He just smiled his dazzling smile that makes his pretty blue eyes twinkle. Where I am not afraid to dream big, throw logic to the wind, and am optimistic to a fault that anything can be accomplished with enough time and hard work, Eric is logical, methodical, slightly pessimistic, and sees the pitfalls of every scenario. Although drastically different, our personalities balance each other. Eric likes to solve problems, and I give him a lot of them to solve... wink. 

On this lovely but chilly spring day, stay safe, be smart, dream big, stay grounded, get yourself a good grounding rod (mine wears bibs), and keep washing your hands.