Movie-ing On!

By Jody Worsham

All rights reserved for pot of gold!

I admit I do not go to movies very often.  In fact, the last movie I saw was “UP”. But this summer, without any plans for a cruise or vacation, I decided to use our allocated vacation money to treat the children to a movie or two or three. 

Since “UP” brought down my average monthly salary, I knew to attend movies before 5p.m. on a week day and skip the 3-D version (which stands for Depleting, Depressing, and Debilitating my budget) otherwise I could quickly max out my credit card.  I also knew to stop at Wal-Mart for the prerequisite sugar jolt of candy that I would hide,  sneak, place in my purse in case anyone in the theater had a sudden diabetic emergency…or the movie turned out to be boring and the children started chomping on each other.

The first movie that had the children marking off the days until it opened in theaters was “Monster University.” Opening day and we were off at 3:44 for the not-matinee-and-not-evening showing. “One senior, two children please.”  I held my breath until the credit card flashed “approved.”  Feeling like I now had a little wiggle room in the budget, I thought about splurging and getting popcorn and drinks for the children; that is until I saw the prices.

 $19.95 for a bucket of popcorn and two MEDIUM drinks.  Seasonings were $1.50 extra but salt was only $1.00.  The profit margin must be 99%, the only actual expense being the bucket and the cups.  I bet if they could figure a way, they would have you bring your own sack and just have you stand under the coke spigot with your mouth open for so many seconds.  We skipped the $20 popcorn and cokes.  The movie was cute and funny on so many different levels.

The second movie opening marked on the calendar was “Despicable Me.”  Still working off our cruise vacation budget, I agreed to take them.  I had never seen “Despicable One” but the children said that was ok they would tell me anything I did not understand.  As it turned out, I had to explain why I was laughing so hard to them.  It was a perfect cartoon spoof on all the James Bond super spy movies I had seen.  This movie had the children chomping on the contraband M&M’s half way through.

The third movie was “Turbo.”  I love Dream Works so I was looking forward to this movie.  Remember this is replacing a seven day cruise for four with all gourmet meals, entertainment, continuous soft-serve ice cream, free child care, and constant maid service included.  Getting tickets on line enables you to bypass the trauma of credit card APPROVED and the Snack Bar prices and head straight for the movie theatre.   This was a “formula one” type movie.  The underdog, or in this case the under snail, dreams of winning the big race and does.  It did have a couple of profound philosophical points which went completely over the heads of the children.

With no more must-see movies on our list and a little bit of change left in the vacation fund, we headed for the frozen yogurt store.  Here, in true genius marketing fashion, they do not post their price list.  Instead you fill your cup with as much frozen yogurt as you want and pile on all the candies, toppings, and nuts that you can.  Then, when it is too late to put anything back, they weigh it and charge you by the ounce or in our case, by the pound.

After crunching the numbers, 4 ½ hours of actual movie entertainment, 1 ½ hours of movie advertisements plus M&M’s times three, add in frozen yogurt and future dental appointments, we will definitely get more for our money by btaking a cruise….possibly around the world.

Wring Your Own ....!

By Jody Worsham

All rights reserved for an  egg-sorcist

When Dr. Hubby mentioned that he would like to raise a few chickens, I didn’t think anything about it.  He has these ideas that pop into his head occasionally.  I should have known after 49 years that his ideas pop like popcorn and somehow expand exponentially.

We started with twelve little yellow fluff balls in a cardboard box in the barn.  The cute little yellow fluff balls soon outgrew the cardboard box and the pen hubby had rigged up temporarily and turned into twelve white feathered noisy pooping, smelly pullets.

 “Not a problem.  I’ll just build them a pen down where the old barn used to be.  We are going to need a place for the kids' show chickens anyway” says Dr. Hubby.

What followed is now referred to as the Trump Condos for Chickens or the Government Economic Term Stimulus Tentative Under Planned Interactive Development.  I just refer to it as G.E.T.   S.T.U.P.I.D.   In hindsight, I probably could have gotten a government grant to determine which came first:  The Chicken or the Egg.   But no matter, that was a moot question.

Actually the shed, the chain link fence, the recycled old patio doors, the unused French doors, the ceiling fan for circulation, the water-ers, the chicken feeders, plumbing and electricity, a door for easy access, covered porch for the John Deere Gator bought to haul the chicken feed, and shavings  came first.  But to keep the stimulus stimulating, more chicks had to be bought so there would be a continuous supply of eggs…of which I had yet to see one of…..egg  I mean.

We are now up to 24 chicks in various stages of development.  The eleven-year-old picked out her favorite and named it “Sweet Thing”.  After a few more weeks when the first birds were discovering their voices, Sweet Thing had to be renamed Sweet Boy.  Now we have 23 chickens and one rooster.  Dr. Hubby is now concerned that the older birds are pecking on the younger birds so….there is an addition to the Trump Chicken Condos.

 “Well, when the show chickens get here, we are going to have to have a separate place to keep the broilers away from the layers.” I had a better solution.  KFC came to mind.

With the added room, more chicks arrived because…I don’t know why.  He’s a man who can’t resist a sale, auction or anything homeless.  We are now at 32 birds and one rooster and awaiting the arrival of 50 show chickens. 

After four months and an additional 500 square feet of condo living, the first eggs arrived.  It was very educational.  Our eight-year-old has, after much observation, deduced that it takes all day to make an egg.  “First you have to get the yoke in it; then make the shell and add a little dab of protein.”  I think he has mixed up farm life and the cooking network.  Our eleven-year-old was a bit more astute.  “Chickens don’t lay eggs before 10:00.  It is now 11:00.  Do you think chickens can tell time?”

With a rooster in the flock, the eight-year-old got a lesson in sex egg-ucation early on.   Sweet Boy is anything but sweet.  If you walk into the chicken condo carrying anything in your hand like a bucket, he will attack.  If you walk in empty handed, he rushes up to you and wants to be petted.   He has also developed a powerful set of lungs as our neighbors down the road will verify.

As promised, egg production began to increase.  At first we got two or three eggs per day.  Eggs sunny side up.  Then we began to get half dozen a day.  Scrambled eggs.  French Toast. Omelets.  A dozen eggs a day.   Egg salad.  Quiche. Boiled eggs.  Egg custard.  18  eggs per day.  Egg sandwiches.  Eggs Benedict.  EGGS FOR SALE!  I even pushed for our church to declare an Egg-umenical Sunday.  I lobbied for Egg-stra school days.  I argued for a yard sale of Egg-normous size.  I nagged for an Egg-ercise program at the gym.  Nothing.

We can’t afford any more eggs.  Between the chicken feed, the egg cartons, the now egg allergy shots, it is costing us to have chickens.  I am waiting for the old hens to shut down.  Then I’ll add:

 FRESH CHICKENS FOR SALE!  Wring Your Own and Take Her Home!

 And I am not egg-aggerating!