'Ello, Irrelevance!

I had a good run riding on the coat tails of a grumpy cat, but it's back to reality for The Cackling Hen. I can only gain so many followers from doing nothing more than clicking a button, so it's back to writing for this little bird. Sure, I wrote about Estonia in award-winning fashion, but Tallinn doesn't have the same draw as an angry kitty. Maybe one day it will.

Inspired by the events of the Winter Olympics in Sochi, I wanted to stir the pot with cackles instead of a spoon. I had plenty of opinions on the figure skating events, so I chose to write a letter to Ashley Wagner. Her sour reaction to her scores froze in time in meme form. I thanked her for the new meme, but also had my two cents on her bold presence at the games. Unfortunately, it's hard to type with wings, so plenty of birds clucked their thoughts before mine. Now it's March and #AshleyWagner is irrelevant. Sorry, Ashley, but thanks for the face.

Shalom! Part I - Bienvenidos a Israel

Shalom from Israel! My wings have finally rested enough from the lengthy flight to start flapping at this keyboard again. My bird brain has also needed some time to wrap around the fact that I am working again full time, and I'm also in a middle eastern country. It's still sizzling a little, or maybe that's the heat stroke.

Israeli bird.

Some of you may be wondering, what is Israel like? Some of you may be wondering, what does a hen do in Israel? The rest of you may just be annoyed you've now read "Israel" four times. It's hard to decide where to start with all that's happening, so I'll just start and end with a Hen moment from the first few hours of my time on this soil. This way I can also share my happenings in multiple articles and drag it out into a book deal if I'm lucky.

Tupelo: Not Spanish for "Your Hair"

Real American. Real English.

As we travel weekly to a new city with Hens on Ice, I try to assimilate into the local culture. Last year's tour through Europe was a challenge in some ways, but easy in others. I avoided flashy clothes or anything with an American flag to blend in on the streets, and with my WASPy complexion, some locals even thought I was from there...until I opened my mouth. When I opened my mouth, no matter what country and what language they spoke, I was done assimilating. My accent was like an American flag sweater I couldn't take off.

I first thought this year's tour through much of the U.S. would be far easier to blend. I live in this country - consider me assimilated! I've had twenty...something years to learn and live. No menus in foreign languages or women asking me for directions in French this time. While Florida was easy since I live there, many of these southern cities have been worlds of their own. My parents never took me to the south to assimilate.