Sentences with phrase «from chook»

Christmas morning for Sprog 1 is going to be quite something: a toy pimple, a black T - shirt with a skull on it, a sea monster Barbie doll, Just Macbeth (book), a guide to weird scientific stuff, some Mushi Monsters, a stuffed owl made from chook feathers and a bug catcher.

Monaghan's has its own resident chooks and guests (especially the children) are welcome to collect eggs from the chook house and are encouraged to have fresh free range eggs for breakfast.

We have fresh eggs from the chooks, my favourite Kransky sausages from the deli, fresh herbs from the garden, orange juice squeezed by the boys, a pot of strong tea and a lot of giggles and kookiness around the table as we recount moments from the week that has passed.

Fresh eggs from the chooks and fresh vegies from the garden.

Husband keeps making smart remarks about how we are enjoying the most expensive eggs on the planet from the chooks who must have the best of everything.

Not exact matches

As I'm not vegan and didn't have any ground flax, I used an egg (from my backyard chooks!)

This breed originated from the harsh and extremely cold climate of the Siberian Arctic and was used as a working dog by the Chukchi people (pronounced chook - CHEE) of Northeastern Asia.

The cottages have everything you could want, a wood fire, gas barbecue, plenty of candles a large breakfast hamper including eggs from resident chooks, a full kitchen and queen size bed.

Dinner was a Woolies barbecued chook and bread rolls from across the road, washed down with a bottle of white from the boot (ah, Rutherglen, how I miss you).

TONIGHT»S MENU: Sprog 2 won the «lottery» at school on Friday, which entailed a bag of produce from the school veggie patch, so I'm turning the proceeds into a roast chook stuffed with lemon, olives & herbs, with some creamed silverbeet on the side.

Cooked bacon sandwiches for Sprogs» breakfast (to remove temptation from fridge for The Great Famine of 2012); did grocery shopping; bought Husband six - pack of beer for New Year's Eve party; bought chooks 25 kg bag of scratch mix; staggered to car with 25 kg bag of scratch mix; washed and hung out two loads of washing; filled recycling bin with empty bottles and cartons; baked eggshells to make grit for chooks; assembled wraps for Husband and Sprogs for lunch; baked banana bread to use up manky banana supplies; baked biscuits with Sprog 2, who doesn't like banana bread; shut back door 50 times to stop plague of mozzies getting in; shut front door 20 times to stop plague of mozzies getting in; killed lots of mozzies; threw out old magazines and newspapers; put crap away from recent car trip; cleaned chook shit out of chook house; sorted three baskets of clean laundry; unpacked and repacked diswasher; returned to supermarket for forgotten essentials: toilet paper, broccoli, sparklers and last shot of caffeine before The Great Famine of 2012; cooked dinner; washed Sprogs» hair and painted Sprog 2's toenails rainbow colours for New Year's Eve party; copped grief from Husband for painting Sprog 2's toenails (some sexualisation nonsense); went to New Year's Eve Party; reluctantly abandoned third glass of French champagne after being reminded of designated driver status; drove Husband and Sprogs home from New Year's Eve party; took Unisom; collapsed in bed at 11.50 pm.

This comes as a great relief, as I didn't get home from my mad chook -LSB-...]

Instead, the show was about the pavilions: marvelling at the sheep and the chooks and the alpacas; feeding the roaming goats and lambs in the farmyard exhibit; watching as baby chicks hatched from their eggs; gawping at the Hungarian pullis in the dog judging arena; watching a wood - chopping heat; grinding wheat into flour and making pasta in the fresh produce area; being awed by the 700 kg plus pumpkin...

I savoured the silence for a few moments, before realising the wind had blown the chook door open and they were kicking every single wood chip from our garden onto the concrete.

Like the moment my dog Charlie trotted inside from the garden and dropped a piece of one of my murdered chooks at my feet... bone, flesh, feathers...

It was a bit off - putting when the vet told me to keep Snoopy in isolation from the other chooks until his wound healed because they might smell the blood and eat him... notorious cannibals, chooks... Anyway, that was a rather long - winded (and disturbing) explanation for why I am driving two hours out of Sydney today, to buy a replacement Snoopy.