"They're Giving Away WHAT?!?"

One of Larry's dreams is to live on a farm; own some cows, have a large garden, and maybe even a couple of chickens. I try not to squelch too many of his dreams, but I told him early in our marriage there are some things I am not wired to do and farming is one of those things. Driving by the huge chicken farms back in SC during an August heat wave will bring tears to anyone's eyes. And I don't mean in a sentimental way. The smell, my God, the smell. Just remembering it makes my stomach churn.

As luck would have it, I no longer have to rely on my memories. Thanks to Intercontinental Hotel's Easter Brunch, the lovely parting gifts they gave the girls, and my inability to say, "No!", I can simply open the patio door and be greeted by the lovely odor anytime I want.
All of us were eagerly anticipating the rescheduled brunch. Even more since there was an egg hunt for the kids and free flowing champagne for adults. We'd eaten light dinners the previous evening, and were raring to go when Mr. Liu showed up at eleven. The girls even held off eating chocolates found during their six a.m. egg hunt. We weren't the first ones there, but close to it. We decided to check out the selection. SO much food. They were even grilling outside, and that's when we spotted the little cages. Certainly, they weren't going to grill chicks and bunnies. Larry said, "I bet they're giving them away." I scoffed, "This is a five star hotel. They wouldn't hand out livestock."
Two hours later, I'm finishing off yet another glass of champagne as ten little chicks and one bunny serenade me...right at the table. Our favorite phrase "Only in China!" was never more apropos. Kids are running around the restaurant with their new pets. Parents are casting terrified glances to one another and dagger-like death stares to the staff. I probably would have been angrier if I wasn't so blissfully stuffed from the delicious food.

Two days later, the honeymoon was over. We put the fuzzballs in the 'grill room'; the roofless patio room in the center of our townhouse that serves no other purpose except to collect dust and house our grill. Two chicks died the first night, and two more were given to the S.'s (their mom hasn't forgiven me yet). Wednesday morning around one a.m. the bright flash of lightening woke me. "Ugh, a thunderstorm. The girls will wake up scared" was my first thought. Then "Oh no, the chicks will drown!", popped in there. By the time I'd herded them into a box, having to get down on all fours to reach the bunny that was hiding under the grill, we were all soaked. I transported them to our third floor bathroom, turned on the heatlamp, proceeded to dry each chick and place the darlings into our shower stall. Larry had left for Anshan that morning so I had twenty four hours to come up with a more suitable solution. I spent the remaining three hours of the night dozing on and off, fearful the cats were going to somehow be able to unlatch two doors and slide open the shower door.

Another thunderstorm came through the next afternoon. The brood would have been quite content to stay in our shower, but Larry was going to be home and I had some major cleaning to do. Armed with lined cardboard boxes, I moved them to the second floor shower stall. I put the bunny in one, the chicks in another, locked the door and headed up to scrub chick and bunny poo from my shower. Who knew those little poopers could produce so much in such a short time? Only in China.