Thank you Louis Jordan.
Sorry for the late posting, kids, my brain isn't quite functioning yet. I was woken prematurely by roosters and a four-year-old.
As has been mentioned before, I live out in the country. For the record, I'm not one of these stupid yuppies who build McMansions out in a rural area, and then complain that everything smells like cow shit. Honestly, manure smells don't bother me. I had two indoor cats for thirteen years who shared a litter box, and nothing smells worse than a three-day-old litter box.
But the roosters are new. They weren't here when I moved in. I'm not sure, yet, where they've moved in to, because the land is flat, and sound travels a long way here, but since they're roosters, they wake up at the crack of dawn.
Many moons ago, when I did morning drive, this wouldn't have bothered me because I used to get up before the roosters. Now, my husband is the one to get up at 3 a.m. and I get to practice going back to sleep, until recently. For the last two mornings it's been cock-a-friggin'-doodle-do just as I settle back to sleep, 'round about 5 a.m. A little crowing wouldn't bother me, but with all that cackling going on, it's a little like listening to an interview with Graham Norton and Joan Rivers.
TFYO hasn't really seemed to notice, but she has been getting up much earlier than usual. So after the cocks stop crowing and I close my eyes to the blessed silence, I hear this:
"Yacky! It's morning! GET UP!"
Oh, yes, TFYO has given us all new nicknames. She's named herself "Quacky", I am "Yacky", and her father has been dubbed "Shmacky". No, I have no idea why. But for now, I'm blaming it on the roosters.
Anybody got a good recipe for coq au vin?
