Bwawk, bwawk, bwawk! Which means, it was time for a hen party, so all the Not-Exactly-Spring-Chickens 'crossed the road' to Ingrid's house in Fresno. Talk about a weekend flying by! For that matter, talk about talking - no wonder these get-togethers are called hen parties - we clucked continuously.
When hens haven't been together in a long time they have a lot of clucking to do you know. Our chatting, as usual, covered a wide variety of topics - from the serious n' solemn, to the silly n' seditious. A new tradition this year; from now on who ever hosts the party gets possession of our symbolic, brightly painted and carved Russian hens. They're pretty cute; when you get the pendulum swinging the hens all busily peck their platform. Not only do our 'little hens' represent our hen personnas, but they also demonstrate a poultry version of kegal exercises.
Our chatting went on deep into the night - but not too late. OK, everyone else stayed up quite late, but as most of my feathers have fallen out, I was the first hen to retire on Saturday night; a hen needs her beauty rest.
The following morning we all downed oatmeal and fruit for our breakfast, then realizing we'd hardly budged in 24 hours, we opted for a walk under beautiful blue skies. Ingrid's neighborhood is adorable; lovely homes, beautiful yards, brilliant autumn colors everywhere.
After our lovely walk we had our '2nd Breakfast', Hobbit Style and then before we knew it, the Hen Party was over and we all had to fly off home. Bugger. Fun times never quite last long enough, do they?