Thursday, July 21, 2011

Bigger Picture Moments: Sometimes it's really just about Jacques Cousteau and Chickens

Simple BPM

It's not always philosophical thought, deep conversation and poetic prose tumbling around in my mind.

In the spirit of genuine and full disclosure, I just thought that you should know that mostly, around this house and in my head, it's a lot of talk about my deep, personal feelings toward chickens in relation to my loved ones as well as debate about whether Jacques Costeau {whoever he is} is actually dead or alive and if he wore really cool outfits and spoke with a French accent like his name would have you think.

And it's also quite a bit of giggling over conversations when my unsuspecting husband exasperatedly exclaims for our preschooler to stop stealing his brother's balls and share.

Oh, and sometimes there's just endless banter about really important things like if John's hippie name would be Keirajong or if we should take a cue from my former boss and put poetry in our bathrooms to help its guests relax when they enter so they can easily get down to business.

I guess I better dig out the road map and outline the trip before I totally am in Africa and you all are still in Chicago wondering what the heck this blog post is going and what the heck I used to spike my tea tonight.

Last night, the Bigger Picture Blogs girls and I had a hangout on Google+ to plan out BPB's fall happenings {exciting things ahead!}.

The conversation slipped away from productivity and straight down a steep hill of silly after I asked the girls a question about partnerships that center around visiting Illinois farmers and cows and chickens, oh my.

And as I was explaining my deep desire to engage in such a partnership {chickens, how I love thee and their farm-fresh eggs!}, I apparently confessed that if my lovely friends had any reservations about it that I would totally abandon ship because I love them more than I love chickens.

Which, apparently, isn't a normal thing to express to your friends.

Thus, that burst of giggles was the straw that broke the camels back, leading to many, many more fits of laughter that centered discussion around our imaginary computer hacker and destroyer, Ivan, and debate about whether Jacques Cousteau -- apparently the guy is quite famous, as spellcheck corrected my mispelling of his last name -- is actually alive anymore.

All of this randomness? It's totally par for the course around my house and my brain.

But apparently that doesn't always transfer over to my blog, I realized after reading one of Melissa's really sweet tweets last night after our Google+ Hangout ended: "Everyone should have a little @HyacynthW in their life, she's really not as cerebral as her blog would have you think, shes kind of giggly."

And that? That is tragic!

You all should totally know that I laugh. A lot. And sometimes I say really random, really weird things out loud that make complete sense in my head but actually sound quite ridiculous when given air time. And I use the word "like" a lot. And I often giggle like I've had too much wine even when I've had no wine at all. A lot.

I guess after spending all the live-long day, almost daily laughing about bodily functions with my boys and conversing about the intricacies of worm poop, I come here aching to spill the words that have been soaking in my mind and heart all day --so much so that I forget that part of the recognizing the bigger pictures is showing and documenting the whole picture in it's entirety.

My life is very much an intentional journey filled with epiphanies and struggles and beauty and learning and prose-worthy moments -- but it's also inundated with deep-seeded chicken-parenting envy, random conversations about poetry in the bathroom, lots of attempts at humor and laced with numerous successful giggling fits.

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