So, why the chickens? Well, that all has to do with the lovely (ahem) chicken lamps that my grandmother had in her living room. (This is me standing at my grandmother's couch).
![](https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgj9Oy9OqF5V7rKt7nMz7gL-E8Zx8-NnY4VeNDlCx4rO_oza6zg8XUhvWoc55_FMfMxIGmPI2gt0zrgfaF7uNSPIemLYoZX0YeIbejHVqM6ngHcX7OkbK-rGtvgniNia7shk0Pbp9-_HJf9/s320/Standing.jpg)
Take a closer look:
![](https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihwyJAzm0FG-s7pQTjhbbroxmLD6CVqA5KUFObfWfiidpt-fvvj9hAFBJ7T0nBF23VlTa9py2BciNGGglKWFYEBSKTGEEy10pqOg39avUrcHEhWAnZ6xMWrcc_TviogEcAJ-jCNgeAn4MK/s320/ChickenLamp.jpg)
Nice, huh? The threat was always that the chicken lamps would be part of my inheritance. They're long gone now, but somehow, I've gotten into the habit of buying chickens for decor.
*Except for the part where they pooped all over our car on our last trip.
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