King Kluck and Questinos

The Saga of King Kluck is now on video! Ever thought of mummifying a chicken? Great educational project? Along with all the needed materials, get yourself a clothespin for your nose. Learn more here, and feel free to laugh as you do. I did.

This was a homeschooling project my younger sons and I did a couple of years ago. it was actually kind of fun, and the laugh value was priceless. I've blogged about it before and wrote an article about it for Home Education Magazine. Use the search function to look up the blogs.

Now a new word for authors:

Questinos: What you get when you break a query down to its base elements.

Have a great, laugh-filled week.

Chicken ala King, Egyptian Style

The saga ends. Today, we entombed King Kluck.

According to our book, the mummification process takes about 40 days. In the dry Egyptian heat, perhaps. In double baggies in a cool garage in Northern Virginia, the process is slightly longer...if by "slightly" you mean months.

And, got to admit, the salt hasn't been changed in a month. After awhile, the project just sort of lost its charm...

This week, we learned about King Tut, and I decided it was the perfect time to put an end to the Kluck who would be King. The boys were enthusiastic--"Yay! We're getting rid of King Kluck."

Then I told them they had to participate. "Oh, it doesn't smell so bad," I cajoled, but they weren't buying it.

Again, Mom handled the gross stuff, so while they prepared the sarcophagus and took photos, I pulled the fearsome fowl out of its bags and wiped off the salts. The smell had gone into stealth mode, lulling us into a false sense of security ("Hey! It really doesn't smell so bad!") then leaping out to attack our noses like a crazed cobra. Nonetheless, we soon had him wrapped in linen with the following trinkets tucked inside:

--a safety pin for, well, safety
--a coin and jewels for wealth
--a match and candle for light and warmth
--sea shells for the ocean it probably never saw
--a Chuck E Cheese ticket for fun

Next we wrapped him in foil to represent a golden tomb. He looked like a football and the next few minutes were spent trying to keep my merry mummy-makers from chucking the cluck around the room. Of course, Alex still wanted nothing to do with the odoriferous object, which meant Liam was only to glad to shove it under his nose. (Something I never thought I'd have to say: "Quite teasing your brother with the mummified chicken!") Nonetheless, we got him safely in his box, which only yesterday brought us a Neopet from E-bay.

"Hey, Mom. Can we sell him on E-bay?" Liam, my 6-year old entrepreneur, asked.

I started to protest, then thought about the Virgin Mary cheese sandwich and the Jesus potato. At least we wouldn't be saying ours was divine. (In fact, I can't think of anything less divine.)

So I told the kids if Dad will make an account, we can stick King Kluck on it.

Maybe I should go back and see if I can mold its corrupted flesh into a likeness of Elvis.

Addendum: Rob says E-Bay is no long accepting decaying-food-related items. Maybe they caught a scent of what was coming!



Liam, don't tease your brother with the mummified chicken!

Random Thoughts to Clear My Files

Since NaNo and the Virtual Book Tour Primer had been taking my attention, I'd been keeping a backlog of interesting things to blog. Of course, I now cannot remember a post's worth of stuff to say about them, so I'm going to toss them out to you:

Anousheh Ansari Space Blog: Want to know what being in space is really like? Anousheh, one of the world's first space tourists, tells you her experiences. Great for story research and fun to read.

How Will Internet Change Our Novel-writing? An interesting discussion by novelists Walter Kirn and Gary Shteyngart say about how instant communication, text messaging, e-mail, and IM-ing on multiple levels changes the way we communicate and how that will translate into novel writing. The wartime conversation between the President and the Secretary of Defense is a scream.

Spam Gets Gibberliterish: In order to avoid spam filters, spammers have been adding random text into the subject lines and texts of their messages, with amusing results:

Hi....look...straightened edge. He folded without a sound and I (graphic for "pharmaceuticals"{you know the kind} inserted here)happywhat a team we would make! Patience, doctor, I murmured and slipped him the packet..finally decided to wear a one-piece ship suit

In a subject line: And fro to the fish that went in this people that which is weak

It kind of takes me back to when I lived in Japan and we'd come across badly translated English. I love "And fro to the fish!" I need to use that in a story someday.

My Virtual Book Tour has moved into January, with one more visit scheduled and one in the wings. It's been a lot of fun, but now I'm turning my attention to when Infinite Space, Infinite God comes out in in print this August. Check here for details on both.

My Faith-Filled Fiction Newsletter has 25 subscribers! If you'd like to join up, e-mail me.

This weekend will be the last for King Kluck. Mummifying something in Virginia is not a task for the weak of stomach. I'll have a photo soon.

Indiana Mom and the Temple of Kluck

(The title gives you an idea of the state of my house lately...)

It was a dark and stormy day...

Even worse, it was salt changing time in the Temple of Kluck. Looking at the weather outside, I decided to risk contagion and "Do the Kluck" in the house. That didn't last long.

"AARGH! Is that King Kluck?" my teenage son asked from down the hall. (For the full effect, say that sentence out loud while hoding your nose.)

I hadn't even opened the bag yet. While the boys prepared the salt mixture, I took our odiferous odyssey to the front porch.

"EW! What's that smell? Is that King Kluck?" demanded the neighbor's girl, who was at our driveway and could not see the pale salty corpse. As you can see, or more to the point, smell, our fetid fowl has achieved neighborhood fame. She decided to enter through the garage.

Jokes aside, the smell has faded, but it's still strong enough to make me wonder how the ancient Egyptian priests could put up with such a disgusting duty, especially for 40 days.

Once the salt was off, I checked the chicken for signs of mummification. Last time, I'd noticed how the decomposing muscle tissue and water loss had made the skin loose. Today, I discovered something new: Some of the meat, especially around the openings and lean areas, had become hard. However, the more fatty areas like the breast and thighs, were not the consistency of gel. The effect was a squishy layer you could form. It reminded me of one of those gross toys I refused to let the kids spend their allowance on.

Still, had I found a fringe benefit to mummification duty? "Hey, look, Ank-Atar! I can form a relief map of the valley of the Kings on his chest!" Or maybe they considered it meditative, like one of those squishy stress balls...

Whatever, the boys were not interested in the phenomenon. They patiently listened and watched as I showed them the discovery--this was their school project, after all--but at a distance and with their noses held firmly plugged.

Afterwards, I found I needed another long shower to excise the smell.

Still, it's been an interesting experience. Squish, squish, squish.

Latest Peep on King Kluck

The saga continues...

Yep, we are continuing our chicken mummification project. Almost three weeks and four salt changes later, the...educational...aroma of our fetid fowl has abated somewhat. Now it's more prone to surprise attacks on the senses. Just when you thought it was safe to go back into the bag...

The neighborhood kids know the King Kluck theme song. The favorite verse seems to be "Smells just like a diaper/makes the dog go hyper/King Kluck!" It's made for a few trying moments around the dinner table.

I heard from a homeschooling family in Australia who tried to mummify a duck. It was an impromptu decision, apparently: the duck attacked Dad, who blasted it with his shotgun. (Classic self defense. Can't be too careful with a murderous out-of-control duck.) her boys didn't want to pluck it, so they decided to "mummify" it by leaving it outside. Once it was--what? hard and dry?--they planned to make it into a hat. A Father's day gift, I'm sure. Apprarently a fox, no doubt interested in furthering its education, absconded with it. Sounds like a happy ending for fox, Dad and Mom to me.

Remember how the Pharaohs had slaves buried with them? We almost had chicken minions for King Kluck. In a laudable fit of domesticity, I decided to cook three dinners at once: chili, curry beef and crock-pot chicken. In a shameful episode of domestic apathy, I neglected to put the chicken in the refrigerator. The next morning it was pink. Yes, Pink! I was tempted to wrap them in linen and put them next to King Kluck. At least they didn't smell.

Thus the Saga of the Kluck King continues. We're pretty certain we can hang to the end--but I'm considering buying a solid air freshener to shove up his cavity.

Wonder if Anubis would weigh that instead of his heart?

King Kluck Filk

Changed out the salts on King Kluck today. The neighborhood kids all came to see. Watching from a distance, Alex felt moved to comment, "You're attracting flies, Mom."

One girl said wistfully, "Wish we could do projects like that."

The smell fills the garage and on occasion permeates the walls. I invited my mother-in-law to see their project and she said, "I've smelled it."

The kids wanted to know why he smelled so bad. Rob said because he's tearing up all his songs. After all, he's de-composing!

Anyway, there's just no better way to express my feelings about all of this than in a song. (Sung to--you guessed it--"King Tut.")

You know, one of the fowl-est homeschool projects ever to grace the Fabian garage is the Mummification of King Kluck!
(King Kluck)
(King Kluck)
When Bauer wrote her hist'ry,
She never thought she'd see,
(King Kluck)
A Momma's eyes a-burning,
While making a mummy.
(King Kluck)
How'd you get so funky?
(Funky Kluck)
You're really smelling skunky.
(One he was free-range; now, he just smells strange, King Kluck)
(King Kluck)
Now if I'd known,
The stench would fill my home,
(King Kluck)
I'd've bought de-odorizer,
To kill that foul arome.
(King Kluck)
Bathed in cheap merlot,
(Funky Kluck)
Covered in oregano.
(Smells like a diaper; makes the dogs go hyper, King Kluck)
Change his salt out in the yard,
(We're all gagging)
The local kids think he's a star.
(Gross Kluck)
Stinkin' for a mile,
(Stinkin' Kluck)
We just grit our teeth and smile.
The garage will never be the same...
(King Kluck)
(Kluck, Kluck, Kluck, Kluck...)
Soggy salt stuff!
He's an Ovarian!
(King Kluck)
Technically, trans-genderin'
(Female Kluck)
Now when I die,
Now don't think I'm a nut.
(King Kluck)
Don't want no fancy funeral,
Just don't treat me like King Kluck!
(King Kluck)
He might make it to a mummy,
(Mummy Kluck)
If he'd only smell less scummy.
(Kids won't smell him on a dare, but the cat don't seem to care, he's fetid and he's fowl)
But we've learned a lot--and how!
(From King Kluck)

HOMESCHOOLING: Mummification Most Foul

You do not know the meaning of "stench" until you've tried to mummify a chicken.

It looked like such a neat project in the book: mummify an actual chicken. Make your own King Cluck! How cool can that be? Well, my older two kids refused to try, but my younger boys were game.

The older ones were by far the smarter.

For weeks, the Alex and Liam bothered me about when we'd mummify our clucker, so on Thursday, they were bouncing with excitement when I pulled it out of the fridge to start the project...

Until I told them we had to pull out its guts first.

They're boys! How can they get so squeamish about some giblets in a bag?

Well, Mom came to the rescue and it was decided to trash the giblets since the book said they'd stink even after mummification. (Of course, I'm savoring the irony of that statement now.) In the grand tradition of Fabian First Aid supplies, the rubbing alcohol had disappeared, so we decided to do things the Egyptian way and bathed it in wine.

Merlot, actually. Napoleonic Egyptians.

The boys were more than happy to mix the salt, baking soda and baking powder, plus the herbs "to improve the smell." The instructions said to double-baggie it, but not what to do with it then, so it sat on the counter.

Friday, according to instructions, we (read Mom) went to brush off the salt, which had absorbed the moisture of the chicken. While the boys made a new batch of salt, I opened the baggie--filling the kitchen with an aroma that defies description.

Think baby diaper, open sewage plant, and the Rappahannock River on a really off day. With oregano.

But it's all part of the learning experience right? So I wiped down King Cluck--now King Cluck-Awk!-Oh, Man! in honor of his royal stink. We filled him again with salt and double-baggied. This time, he went into the garage. We have to open the garage door regularly to air it out, but it's bearable.

Today was change the salt day. I was alone in this endeavor.

I didn't get to it until late evening, and while the older kids did homework in the school room, I dragged the malodorous, foulodorous project out of the garage. It immediately announced its presence.

"What's that Stench?!" Rob exclaimed.

"King Cluck! Be done with him in a minute!"

Well, it was more like 10 minutes of tending the fetorous foul, followed by 20 minutes of sterilizing everything from counters to floors to gloves. I bumped it against our Pur water filter. It may never be Pur again. I found the rubbing alcohol and used about half of it. Afterward, I took a long shower. We've discovered new meaning for the word "foul."

And the smell? Well, it's crept all around the house. I've got the windows and doors open downstairs and all the vent fans on. Rob has the window fan putting positive pressure in our room to keep the reek out. The dog is hiding up there, but the cat's being nonchalant about it all.

Next phase is Saturday. It will definitely be done outside.

I'm not sure if we'll be able to go the distance in preparing Ol' King Cluck for the Egyptian afterlife, but I if we do, I have a pretty good idea what Anubis will say.

And it's not, "Is that oregano?"