Do Chickens Wear Bras?

As I was baking some banana bread for my Chup this morning (how awesome is that first part of my post?) it dawned on me that there are some quirky things about Retro House.

For one, we keep finding a wild chicken in our backyard. Our yard is surrounded by a large brick fence leaving me to wonder how is it possible for this chicken to make her sporadic visits? Wasn't the whole premise of Chicken Run based on the scientific discovery that chickens CANNOT FLY? Is she getting dropped in by helicopter? Why does she come-and-go all willy nilly? And couldn't she at least drop a few eggs on our back door step? Or do I want her eggs? Gross.

But it only gets more bizarre.

Ever since we moved in
(April) I hear--and sometimes see--fireworks being let off somewhere around the block. Sometimes I think they are south of me, sometimes east, but they are blasted off always around the same time. But get this, Chup has never seen or heard them. Not once. And just last night I heard four or five of them (LOUD ONES TOO) and Chup defends that he didn't hear a peep.

But he has seen the chicken.

Nextly, as I lie me down to sleep at night I am oft awakened by a mighty flash outside my bedroom window. Now, please don't make fun of me using the word "mighty" because, nay, there is no better word. The burst of light makes for a serious arousal from slumber. Dare I say I've felt the beam in my bones. The first time I experienced this phenom it proceeded an explosive storm which blew our lilac tree horizontally. Just lightening thought I, but I've been flashed many times since on still, cricket-chirping, hot summer nights. Could it be . . . am I that famous . . . am I being stalked by . . .


Speaking of my bed, in another post about my personal mysteries, I blogged about a blue stain that keeps appearing on my sheets. The curse followed us to Retro House, but 'cept now the stain is more green in color and it only appears on my husband's lumpy pillow. I've tried to get him to heave the lumpy pillow in the trash receptacle, but he says he "no deal." And now it's turning blotchy green on my new 500 thread count sheets that I bought with Popeye and Honey's Target gift card. I also bought my pear wreath with that gift card and Popeye was astounded because he thought I swiped it from a desperate garage sale.

No, I don't use green liquid detergent.

Then, I looked out my front window today and thought I saw a red lacy bra on my front lawn. I even attempted to take a photo of it in my pink pajamas balancing The Chief and my SLR. I mean, I don't own a red lacy bra and so where did it come from? Also, on my front porch were two mis-matched men's white athletic socks. Are you thinking what I am thinking?


When I got closer to the bra it turned out to be a large piece of frayed rope. But isn't that equally as weird?

Also, disappointingly
our favorite house-ghost Fiona did not make the move to Retro House. In fact, we had to tell our renters about Fiona as a part of our Full-Disclosure Owner/Renter Agreement. We said, There is a ghost who smokes in this house and gets ornery when there is a draft. Now please sign here.

No ghost.

But an occasional chicken?


And as I type Chup is slicing the soft loaf of banana bread.

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