Today I went out into the barn to find Don Pecos out of his stall. I must have left the latch undone, I can't come up with any other explanation (he can't possibly reach it). He had torn three bales of hay apart in the barn. Have you ever strewn around a bale of hay? It's quite compacted in the bale-- it covers a large area when thrown around. It is now in a colossal pile in the barn. He had also gotten into some supplemental feed I had stored in a plastic bin. I yelled at him, and he went back into his stall, so he knew he was in trouble. He also hid behind the door so nobody could see him. : )
I put him in the dry lot so I could keep an eye on him. I also decided that it was such a nice day, that I'd put the goats out there with him. They were enjoying the weather, so I thought I would also put a little platform out there (goats like stuff they can climb and hang out on that is up high). So I got a pallet and some cinder blocks and went to town. Well, Ernie liked that idea, too, but couldn't wait for me to finish. He had to test it all out while I was working on it. Trouble was, I was right at eye level with his horns. He smacked me in the nose with his horns (not intentionally), and it hurt! He also headbutted me in the head. He did enjoy it even more when I finished constructing his little plaything.
We let Cleo in later, and she was COVERED in cockleburrs. She had them matted in her forelock, mane and tail. The best way I've found to get them out is with baby oil, so we slicked her all up and spent nearly an hour getting them out. She also got a nasty, nasty bug bite in an "unmentionable" place, which, needless to say is painful. She didn't like me doctoring it up. I hope it is less swollen tomorrow.
I decided to bring my saddle in today. Since Major is gone, I haven't ridden (I could ride Pecos, but I don't have a good bridle for him, and I just wanna ride Major!) in a few weeks. I wanted to get the cobwebs off of the saddle and condition the leather. I decided I will keep it inside. My tack room isn't that secure, and I heard that the previous owner had some tack stolen. My saddle is expensive and I just think it is better inside, not as subject to the extreme heat/cold, humidity, etc. So, I went to the hardware store and bought what I needed to construct a sawhorse to keep it on. It won't be the best decor item to have around, but it is pretty in its own way!
I saw a sign in a farm supply catalog that said, "These premises are maintained for the comfort and safety of my animals. If you don't like that, go away!" How fitting for us!
Saturday, July 30, 2005
Friday, July 29, 2005
Cheese Soup
Okay, I’m no gourmet, but I have this awesome recipe to share. Not because it’s really great (which it is) but because it’s virtually magic. You could make this dish every single day and change it a little so that it’s something different each day.
The Basic Recipe for Cheese Soup (awesome on its own)
1 stick of butter
1 cup of flour
1 quart of milk
2 cups of cheddar cheese (shredded)
1 quart of chicken stock
Season to taste with salt, pepper, garlic, etc.
Start by melting the butter and adding the flour to make a roux. Add the chicken stock to thin, and when you have a creamy base, add the cheddar cheese. When the cheese has melted, add milk to thin it to your desired consistency.
**************
Last night, I added some pepper jack cheese (and a little less cheddar) and some leftover Iowa peaches ‘n’ cream sweet corn that I had. That was divine!! And completely different from the original recipe.
I have added roasted potatoes, chicken pieces, ham, broccoli, peas, carrots, green beans, and just about any other leftover that I can come up with. If you add beer, it gives it a great taste, too. Substitute that for a portion of the chicken stock.
The only thing that I would caution you about is that it’s not the best in the crockpot, unless you can keep yours at an extremely low temperature. The cheese sometimes can get too hot and separate and it’s not as creamy. It tastes just fine if this happens, but it isn’t as lovely and creamy looking as usual.
Now I’m hungry.
The Basic Recipe for Cheese Soup (awesome on its own)
1 stick of butter
1 cup of flour
1 quart of milk
2 cups of cheddar cheese (shredded)
1 quart of chicken stock
Season to taste with salt, pepper, garlic, etc.
Start by melting the butter and adding the flour to make a roux. Add the chicken stock to thin, and when you have a creamy base, add the cheddar cheese. When the cheese has melted, add milk to thin it to your desired consistency.
**************
Last night, I added some pepper jack cheese (and a little less cheddar) and some leftover Iowa peaches ‘n’ cream sweet corn that I had. That was divine!! And completely different from the original recipe.
I have added roasted potatoes, chicken pieces, ham, broccoli, peas, carrots, green beans, and just about any other leftover that I can come up with. If you add beer, it gives it a great taste, too. Substitute that for a portion of the chicken stock.
The only thing that I would caution you about is that it’s not the best in the crockpot, unless you can keep yours at an extremely low temperature. The cheese sometimes can get too hot and separate and it’s not as creamy. It tastes just fine if this happens, but it isn’t as lovely and creamy looking as usual.
Now I’m hungry.
again, people, what's with the name thing?
we must have a boer doe.
we will name her bordeaux.
or boerdeaux.
sick. sick, sick, sick.
we will name her bordeaux.
or boerdeaux.
sick. sick, sick, sick.
Thursday, July 28, 2005
pride
my nine year old son
learned to shoot a .22 a couple of weeks ago.
raced some go-karts
tried to skateboard
(on vacation, where i was not present, and couldn't worry)
this week
he has learned to crochet
and is crocheting us all scarves
for the 100 degree heat.
can't be too prepared
the weather could change...
secure in himself,
my renaissance man.
my daughter
the "special ed kid"
carries more baggage than a 747
having a tough time right now
we all are-
adolescence is hard.
my daughter
the one who did miserably
on her standardized tests
who hates math
who hates her teacher
my daughter
made the A honor roll.
learned to shoot a .22 a couple of weeks ago.
raced some go-karts
tried to skateboard
(on vacation, where i was not present, and couldn't worry)
this week
he has learned to crochet
and is crocheting us all scarves
for the 100 degree heat.
can't be too prepared
the weather could change...
secure in himself,
my renaissance man.
my daughter
the "special ed kid"
carries more baggage than a 747
having a tough time right now
we all are-
adolescence is hard.
my daughter
the one who did miserably
on her standardized tests
who hates math
who hates her teacher
my daughter
made the A honor roll.
Wednesday, July 27, 2005
refreshed
The heat has finally moved out, and the cool air and rain have left us feeling quite refreshed. Today it barely eeked past the 70 degree mark, which was quite a change. We were actually cold and we liked it! M couldn't go to the pool yesterday because it was closed, as the temperature didn't even reach 70 degrees!
All of us are feeling refreshed, including the animals. Pecos and Cleo were much friskier in the cool morning air than they have been the past week. The goats have been outside enjoying the paddock, and even Mark's kittens are coming out and playing.
Speaking of Mark, she has stolen one of BB's kittens! I wonder if she is still feeling the void of losing her baby, and had to steal BB's to replace it! BB had her babies behind the bale, the same place that Mark originally had hers, but she has moved them. I wonder if there was too much commotion, or if she was afraid Mark would steal another one! I don't think they are in the barn, I haven't seen her in a couple of days. So it's strange to see these two 5 week old kittens near Mark, and then this teeny, barely 1-week old kitten! BB's kittens are black, also, and Mark's are gray. So it's interesting...
Here are some photos I took today. Click on the picture for a slideshow.
All of us are feeling refreshed, including the animals. Pecos and Cleo were much friskier in the cool morning air than they have been the past week. The goats have been outside enjoying the paddock, and even Mark's kittens are coming out and playing.
Speaking of Mark, she has stolen one of BB's kittens! I wonder if she is still feeling the void of losing her baby, and had to steal BB's to replace it! BB had her babies behind the bale, the same place that Mark originally had hers, but she has moved them. I wonder if there was too much commotion, or if she was afraid Mark would steal another one! I don't think they are in the barn, I haven't seen her in a couple of days. So it's strange to see these two 5 week old kittens near Mark, and then this teeny, barely 1-week old kitten! BB's kittens are black, also, and Mark's are gray. So it's interesting...
Here are some photos I took today. Click on the picture for a slideshow.
Sunday, July 24, 2005
a productive morning!
This morning I worked on the barn windows. I got two more done, so now three are finished. One more to go! Here are some before and after pictures:
I hope the animals like the view and the increased light in their house!
I hope the animals like the view and the increased light in their house!
Saturday, July 23, 2005
incredible wisdom
I read a lot of blogs. B says I am addicted to other peoples' blogs. But I am such a people watcher. I have a funny story about that:
I was living in England, and making a concerted effort to get involved with the people in our community. We decided to send M to British school, and I joined the PTA. While involved in the PTA, I met some wonderful friends, Amanda and Tracey. One day we were over at Mandy's house and all of our kids were playing together. They were getting wild like kids do, and Mandy looked over and shouted at the group of them, "Pack it up, you lot! Somebody's going to lose an eye!"
For some reason, I found that absolutely hysterical. That the entire time I was growing up in Wisconsin, listening to my mother put the fear of God in me about losing an eye to my frivolity, someone else was hearing that from her mum half a world away. And we'd both grow up and use it on our own kids. We all had a good laugh and speculated that at that very moment, some woman in Russia was shouting at her kids and cautioning them about losing eyes.
But I digress. I read many peoples' blogs, and I glean a lot from them. Michael referenced Red Clay's blog, and I have never missed a post since. This young woman has a wisdom well beyond her 20-something years.
A few days ago she posted something that I cannot get out of my head. I thought I would share it:
"...i felt sick and grumpy and wanting lots of things
my mind said to me:
your life is not your own life
and then immediately everything changed
and i felt okay and good even
i forget how burdensome entitlement is
how burdensome a life all about me is
i need these thoughts said in my head during the day:
be Christ to people
my life does not belong to me"
Powerful.
I was living in England, and making a concerted effort to get involved with the people in our community. We decided to send M to British school, and I joined the PTA. While involved in the PTA, I met some wonderful friends, Amanda and Tracey. One day we were over at Mandy's house and all of our kids were playing together. They were getting wild like kids do, and Mandy looked over and shouted at the group of them, "Pack it up, you lot! Somebody's going to lose an eye!"
For some reason, I found that absolutely hysterical. That the entire time I was growing up in Wisconsin, listening to my mother put the fear of God in me about losing an eye to my frivolity, someone else was hearing that from her mum half a world away. And we'd both grow up and use it on our own kids. We all had a good laugh and speculated that at that very moment, some woman in Russia was shouting at her kids and cautioning them about losing eyes.
But I digress. I read many peoples' blogs, and I glean a lot from them. Michael referenced Red Clay's blog, and I have never missed a post since. This young woman has a wisdom well beyond her 20-something years.
A few days ago she posted something that I cannot get out of my head. I thought I would share it:
"...i felt sick and grumpy and wanting lots of things
my mind said to me:
your life is not your own life
and then immediately everything changed
and i felt okay and good even
i forget how burdensome entitlement is
how burdensome a life all about me is
i need these thoughts said in my head during the day:
be Christ to people
my life does not belong to me"
Powerful.
just another saturday
Well, it's a scorcher out there, supposed to get up to 100 today. Fortunately, we are ready! Our a/c is working overtime, and so far no issues with the electricity (except the bill, which will, no doubt, be shocking!). That is a relief in more ways than one!
This morning we woke up at 6:00 to work outside. I fashioned a hay feeder from the side of the goat pen. They wanted $60 for one in the Valley Vet catalog, and I made one for about 50 cents! And it doesn't even look homemade! I cleaned everyone's stalls/pens out, and then put some fence over the big gates to the paddock. The goats can get through the gates, but not anymore! They had a fun time playing out there.
B and I worked hard, and were done by 11. Good thing, because it was already hot. We're taking it easy for today, even grilling out tonight so we don't add anymore heat to the house!
Oh, I forgot to mention a kitty update. BB had 4 kittens a few days ago, but strangely enough, Mark has "adopted" one and is caring for it. She still has her 2, which are about 4 weeks old now, and have come out of hiding. They are adorable, and I have held them. They both have 7 toes, and one is missing an eye. It had an infection in its eye the day I cut it out of the hay netting, so I wonder if in the massive growth that occurs the first few weeks of life, if it just absorbed the eye. There isn't any infection, and the eye is closed. It doesn't seem sick or encumbered at all. The eye socket looks a little sunken, like there is no eyeball. But it's a really cute little long hair. BBs kittens are all black or black and white.
I was thinking about how when I first moved here, how things easily skeeved me out. I didn't like going in the basement, I freaked out when mice were in my cabinets, etc. Well, today was certainly a day to test my growth, and my farming skills.
First, I have some fly traps. They are disgusting, basically various types of vessels that have water in them and attract flies and then the flies drown because they can't get out. Well, the "attractant" is absolutely the foulest thing you can imagine smelling. It smells like rotting flesh, that's been left out in the sun for days. Just foul. Add about 500 flies to the trap, and then it defeats the purpose. You have to wash it out. And touching and moving it is gross, but then washing it out to leave this giant pile of dead flies. Not all of the flies are dead, though, since some were still alive in the trap when I started to wash it out. They are humming and buzzing around this stinky pile of dead flies, all soaked with the fly attractant. And an hour later, even more flies are attracted to the ground where I dumped it. Ewwww!!!
Then, Ernie was bleeding. I figured out that he was bleeding from his testicles, where he was castrated. He was banded, which means that a rubber band was put around them, and then they will lose circulation and just fall off. Well, they are nearly falling off, but the band has made a sore, and it's bleeding. And the flies are getting it, etc. So I had to doctor on that this morning. If it still giving him fits tomorrow, I will have to just cut them off.
I can't believe I am saying this with a straight face, and not making B do it or my skin is not crawling... I can do this!
Mark got stung by something. She is always chasing bugs around, including mud daubers that fly around. Well, her chin is all pink and swollen. She looks like a furry Jay Leno.
Stay cool! I am chilling this afternoon!
This morning we woke up at 6:00 to work outside. I fashioned a hay feeder from the side of the goat pen. They wanted $60 for one in the Valley Vet catalog, and I made one for about 50 cents! And it doesn't even look homemade! I cleaned everyone's stalls/pens out, and then put some fence over the big gates to the paddock. The goats can get through the gates, but not anymore! They had a fun time playing out there.
B and I worked hard, and were done by 11. Good thing, because it was already hot. We're taking it easy for today, even grilling out tonight so we don't add anymore heat to the house!
Oh, I forgot to mention a kitty update. BB had 4 kittens a few days ago, but strangely enough, Mark has "adopted" one and is caring for it. She still has her 2, which are about 4 weeks old now, and have come out of hiding. They are adorable, and I have held them. They both have 7 toes, and one is missing an eye. It had an infection in its eye the day I cut it out of the hay netting, so I wonder if in the massive growth that occurs the first few weeks of life, if it just absorbed the eye. There isn't any infection, and the eye is closed. It doesn't seem sick or encumbered at all. The eye socket looks a little sunken, like there is no eyeball. But it's a really cute little long hair. BBs kittens are all black or black and white.
I was thinking about how when I first moved here, how things easily skeeved me out. I didn't like going in the basement, I freaked out when mice were in my cabinets, etc. Well, today was certainly a day to test my growth, and my farming skills.
First, I have some fly traps. They are disgusting, basically various types of vessels that have water in them and attract flies and then the flies drown because they can't get out. Well, the "attractant" is absolutely the foulest thing you can imagine smelling. It smells like rotting flesh, that's been left out in the sun for days. Just foul. Add about 500 flies to the trap, and then it defeats the purpose. You have to wash it out. And touching and moving it is gross, but then washing it out to leave this giant pile of dead flies. Not all of the flies are dead, though, since some were still alive in the trap when I started to wash it out. They are humming and buzzing around this stinky pile of dead flies, all soaked with the fly attractant. And an hour later, even more flies are attracted to the ground where I dumped it. Ewwww!!!
Then, Ernie was bleeding. I figured out that he was bleeding from his testicles, where he was castrated. He was banded, which means that a rubber band was put around them, and then they will lose circulation and just fall off. Well, they are nearly falling off, but the band has made a sore, and it's bleeding. And the flies are getting it, etc. So I had to doctor on that this morning. If it still giving him fits tomorrow, I will have to just cut them off.
I can't believe I am saying this with a straight face, and not making B do it or my skin is not crawling... I can do this!
Mark got stung by something. She is always chasing bugs around, including mud daubers that fly around. Well, her chin is all pink and swollen. She looks like a furry Jay Leno.
Stay cool! I am chilling this afternoon!
Friday, July 22, 2005
i surrender! i surrender!
Current Conditions:
93.4 °F / 34.1 °C
Partly Cloudy
Heat Index: 118 °F / 48 °C
Humidity: 71%
Dew Point: 83 °F / 28 °C
Wind: 1 mph / 1.6 km/h from the ESE
I hate to belabor the point. I know you all are sick of hearing me moaning about the weather. But can you, just for a moment, imagine that you are in a tiny bathroom. Taking the hottest shower you can stand. And someone is pumping heat into that room, like when you are driving along in the middle of winter and your heat is on max and it's making your face hot-- that kind of heat. So it's steamy, and it's make-your-face-red hot.
That's my world right now. In short, it's miserable.
So we finally bought two window a/c units. You would have thought we'd won the lottery, we're so darn giddy. They were difficult to install. Oh, not because it was hard, but because we were so hot, sweaty and cranky that we couldn't stand to even wait or make the effort it took to install them. But that is behind us now, and our bedroom is a frosty 72 degrees. And we are still married.
We were cautious, as our electricity is "tender." We only have 80 amps to the house, and each room upstairs has only one outlet. They were a luxury at one time!! With 2 a/c units upstairs, on likely the same circuit, we have unplugged all but the necessities (other than the cubes!). We carefully researched and bought the maximum btus for the minimum amps.
For the first time in ages, I was freezing cold last night when I slept. And boy, it felt good. Both kids were sleeping with comforters this morning, and it made me happy. I know that they have not slept well in weeks from the hot, humid weather. It takes forever to get to sleep.
Well, now that I've finally given in and surrendered to ugly, window a/c units, I'm going to go take a nap in my frosty room!
93.4 °F / 34.1 °C
Partly Cloudy
Heat Index: 118 °F / 48 °C
Humidity: 71%
Dew Point: 83 °F / 28 °C
Wind: 1 mph / 1.6 km/h from the ESE
I hate to belabor the point. I know you all are sick of hearing me moaning about the weather. But can you, just for a moment, imagine that you are in a tiny bathroom. Taking the hottest shower you can stand. And someone is pumping heat into that room, like when you are driving along in the middle of winter and your heat is on max and it's making your face hot-- that kind of heat. So it's steamy, and it's make-your-face-red hot.
That's my world right now. In short, it's miserable.
So we finally bought two window a/c units. You would have thought we'd won the lottery, we're so darn giddy. They were difficult to install. Oh, not because it was hard, but because we were so hot, sweaty and cranky that we couldn't stand to even wait or make the effort it took to install them. But that is behind us now, and our bedroom is a frosty 72 degrees. And we are still married.
We were cautious, as our electricity is "tender." We only have 80 amps to the house, and each room upstairs has only one outlet. They were a luxury at one time!! With 2 a/c units upstairs, on likely the same circuit, we have unplugged all but the necessities (other than the cubes!). We carefully researched and bought the maximum btus for the minimum amps.
For the first time in ages, I was freezing cold last night when I slept. And boy, it felt good. Both kids were sleeping with comforters this morning, and it made me happy. I know that they have not slept well in weeks from the hot, humid weather. It takes forever to get to sleep.
Well, now that I've finally given in and surrendered to ugly, window a/c units, I'm going to go take a nap in my frosty room!
Wednesday, July 20, 2005
the best intentions
i wanted to go out to the barn when i got home, and finish the stall windows. however, it's 94 degrees outside, with a dewpoint of 81 (66% humidity). that means the heat index is 115.
we had ice cream. it's cheaper than a/c, but much less effective!
here's hoping that i sweat off a few pounds!
we had ice cream. it's cheaper than a/c, but much less effective!
here's hoping that i sweat off a few pounds!
Tuesday, July 19, 2005
from the depths
Yes, it has been a long time since I’ve made an entry. I have deliberately avoided posting any words (though I have made some adjustments to the photos and layout) because I was afraid you would not want to read them.
I created this blog to document my life in the country. I wanted to track my progress, my growth and adjustment to this different lifestyle, and I think I have really done that. I have looked back to reference dates, or to re-read my reaction to mice or other disgusting things, when I am particularly proud of how far I have come. It is very effective.
Unexpectedly, the past ten months of blogging has opened my eyes to how cathartic writing can be. I don’t claim to be good at it, but putting my thoughts into writing is very therapeutic for me. Reading the words is final. If they are spoken (or written) then they are out there and they have been said. Sometimes I think of the blog as an entity of its own—I will be doing something, and I will make a mental note that I have to “tell you” about this experience. And ultimately it has been good for me. I have a record, I have benchmarks, and I have proof of my growth.
I have avoided making many personal postings, unless they have related to the farm. I posted some comments about a friend’s sad situation, and I tried not to be specific, but I ultimately noted how I was consoled by my home and surroundings. I have mentioned B’s and M’s disabilities, but always in that context.
A month or so ago I posted a little survey asking whether I should let my kids read my blog. Overwhelmingly the comments were that I should, that they should be allowed to read what I write, and I was leaning toward letting them. But then a friend suggested that if I know that my kids are reading, then I will censure my writing. It will be written “fit” for them to read. Not that what I write is NOT fit for them, but I will always write it so that it is. Already, I am cognizant of friends and family visiting, and while I have nothing to write that would offend them, I do bear them in mind when writing.
There are several blogs I read faithfully. One of them is dooce . I admire her so much because she does not censure. She knows that her parents read her blog, as do her friends and other family members, and someday even her baby will read it. And it is not always nice. But it is TRUE. And it is WHOLE. There is nothing left out, nothing left unsaid because it’s not fit to hear. It is out there. Said. Final.
I have aspired to be like that, but I know that I am not. I have hid behind the notion that I am writing about the farm. I have chosen not to say things that don’t relate. Maybe I wanted to say them, or needed to say them, but I decided that they were not about my life here, so I didn’t say them. Truthfully, I was afraid to say them.
But, again, I think of dooce. And House In Progress.H.I.P. is a diary of home renovation. Just like mine is about living in the country. Both of those women have spoken on their blogs about life, the reality, the good and the bad—and sometimes the context is outside the premise of their blog. I have admired that from my corner of the world, and aspired to do the same. It’s time I was honest.
Like dooce, and like JM at H.I.P, I suffer from depression. There, I said it.
It has been a somewhat recent thing for me, though I think I have been teetering on the edge for a long time now.
M has Asperger’s Syndrome. It’s a form of autism, she is very high-functioning, which means that she will likely grow up to be a productive person like everybody else. But it means that it will take a lot of effort and support from her familiy to get her there.
I have always been a control freak. Control has been my friend. Even when I was out of control, (remember the post about the military?) I would think up scenarios to cope with things. I would say, “Okay, if B gets discharged right away, this will be our plan. If it is in a year, then we’ll do this.” I was always focusing my energy on being ready, being in control.
And I have lost control. I feel have lost control of my daughter. I know in my head that she looks up to me, and she respects me. But on a day-to-day basis, as she just begins adolescence, and she is making both of our lives a living hell. She has made shocking choices this summer, and screams when she receives her consequences. She constantly badgers us about her punishments, and about what is fair. I don’t have the control of her behavior, I can’t help her understand and control her thoughts. They are out there, untethered, straying and erratic. My logical head may be able to make sense of this, but it has no control over my distraught heart.
The words in that paragraph are so superficial, you could never get a sense for the despair that hangs over our home. I am sad from the hair on my head to the soles of my feet. My bones are sad. Everything is out of my control, and it is terrifying.
My house is in disrepair (yes, by choice, but disrepair nonetheless). I recently uploaded the photos of my old house to flickr, and I was looking through them. Everything is coordinated, everything matches! The furniture is perfect for the rooms, all the windows are clean. Even the corners of the rooms are dust free. I look around now, and because of the gravel roads, the surfaces I dusted on Saturday are thik and white. You could write your name in them. Walls are stripped of wallpaper, but not patched. There are no pictures on the walls, and there are still boxes in the living room that contain knick-knacks and pictures that can’t yet be unpacked and placed.
The barn and pasture need repair. We have made the most progress on that area, and it feels good. But there is always more work to be done. And when that is done, the animals always need attention. The work is cathartic, though, it’s within my control, and it is back-to-basics.
Work is good, I love my job. But with my increasing work load after my promotion, it is becoming more difficult to finish all of my projects. However, it is a good outlet for my control issues. I am good at what I do. My client just signed a contract increasing payment to my company by 22% for next year. Not only did they willingly sign the contract, they gave my company a bonus for the work that I did for them. And on a day-to-day basis, the more organized I am at work, the more effective I am. As you may imagine, my office is practially sanitary. I have client files color coded, everything computerized, ultra-organized.
I set a goal last year to complete a certification in my job by the end of the year. As I look at my calendar, and anticipate the back-to-school season next month, followed by three back-to-back meetings between September 22 and October 15 (in London, Des Moines and Cedar Rapids), I cringe at the lack of control I will have during that time. All of those tasks and responsibilities that will fall on someone else’s shoulders. I have no idea when I will obtain the CEUs necessary to apply to sit for the test. And I have no idea when I will study.
In light of all of this, I am tired. I am spent. No more energy, no more creativity, no more reserves that harbor extra patience.
So, today, I met Eileen. She is my therapist. M sees a therapist, and does well, and gains strategies for coping. I thought I should do the same. I met her today, and she is amazing. I know she will help me straighten this out inside of myself.
I told her about the joy I found at the farm. I told her how I saw God in the hugging trees and the faces of the animals. I told her how this house, despite its chaos, is happy. I shared how I can feel the footprints of all of the families before us on the soft hardwood floors. I told her that I have great kids, despite our issues. I told her about B, and the amazing relationship we have. I told her that he is my best friend, hand-picked by God, just for me. And that I am thankful for him. I told her that we can see the satellites from the hammock when we go out in the evening.
And she wept.
And she told me that I struck her as a happy person. She said that she could see in my face that I was a thankful person.
And then I wept.
And I left Eileen’s office feeling that it couldn’t be all that bad. I am sad, I am depressed. I have been assigned a label of “adjustment disorder” and “depression.” But my happiness and thankfulness are still evident, even to someone who is virtually a stranger.
And I am thankful for that.
I see Eileen again on Monday. And I saw God a few more times today.
I created this blog to document my life in the country. I wanted to track my progress, my growth and adjustment to this different lifestyle, and I think I have really done that. I have looked back to reference dates, or to re-read my reaction to mice or other disgusting things, when I am particularly proud of how far I have come. It is very effective.
Unexpectedly, the past ten months of blogging has opened my eyes to how cathartic writing can be. I don’t claim to be good at it, but putting my thoughts into writing is very therapeutic for me. Reading the words is final. If they are spoken (or written) then they are out there and they have been said. Sometimes I think of the blog as an entity of its own—I will be doing something, and I will make a mental note that I have to “tell you” about this experience. And ultimately it has been good for me. I have a record, I have benchmarks, and I have proof of my growth.
I have avoided making many personal postings, unless they have related to the farm. I posted some comments about a friend’s sad situation, and I tried not to be specific, but I ultimately noted how I was consoled by my home and surroundings. I have mentioned B’s and M’s disabilities, but always in that context.
A month or so ago I posted a little survey asking whether I should let my kids read my blog. Overwhelmingly the comments were that I should, that they should be allowed to read what I write, and I was leaning toward letting them. But then a friend suggested that if I know that my kids are reading, then I will censure my writing. It will be written “fit” for them to read. Not that what I write is NOT fit for them, but I will always write it so that it is. Already, I am cognizant of friends and family visiting, and while I have nothing to write that would offend them, I do bear them in mind when writing.
There are several blogs I read faithfully. One of them is dooce . I admire her so much because she does not censure. She knows that her parents read her blog, as do her friends and other family members, and someday even her baby will read it. And it is not always nice. But it is TRUE. And it is WHOLE. There is nothing left out, nothing left unsaid because it’s not fit to hear. It is out there. Said. Final.
I have aspired to be like that, but I know that I am not. I have hid behind the notion that I am writing about the farm. I have chosen not to say things that don’t relate. Maybe I wanted to say them, or needed to say them, but I decided that they were not about my life here, so I didn’t say them. Truthfully, I was afraid to say them.
But, again, I think of dooce. And House In Progress.H.I.P. is a diary of home renovation. Just like mine is about living in the country. Both of those women have spoken on their blogs about life, the reality, the good and the bad—and sometimes the context is outside the premise of their blog. I have admired that from my corner of the world, and aspired to do the same. It’s time I was honest.
Like dooce, and like JM at H.I.P, I suffer from depression. There, I said it.
It has been a somewhat recent thing for me, though I think I have been teetering on the edge for a long time now.
M has Asperger’s Syndrome. It’s a form of autism, she is very high-functioning, which means that she will likely grow up to be a productive person like everybody else. But it means that it will take a lot of effort and support from her familiy to get her there.
I have always been a control freak. Control has been my friend. Even when I was out of control, (remember the post about the military?) I would think up scenarios to cope with things. I would say, “Okay, if B gets discharged right away, this will be our plan. If it is in a year, then we’ll do this.” I was always focusing my energy on being ready, being in control.
And I have lost control. I feel have lost control of my daughter. I know in my head that she looks up to me, and she respects me. But on a day-to-day basis, as she just begins adolescence, and she is making both of our lives a living hell. She has made shocking choices this summer, and screams when she receives her consequences. She constantly badgers us about her punishments, and about what is fair. I don’t have the control of her behavior, I can’t help her understand and control her thoughts. They are out there, untethered, straying and erratic. My logical head may be able to make sense of this, but it has no control over my distraught heart.
The words in that paragraph are so superficial, you could never get a sense for the despair that hangs over our home. I am sad from the hair on my head to the soles of my feet. My bones are sad. Everything is out of my control, and it is terrifying.
My house is in disrepair (yes, by choice, but disrepair nonetheless). I recently uploaded the photos of my old house to flickr, and I was looking through them. Everything is coordinated, everything matches! The furniture is perfect for the rooms, all the windows are clean. Even the corners of the rooms are dust free. I look around now, and because of the gravel roads, the surfaces I dusted on Saturday are thik and white. You could write your name in them. Walls are stripped of wallpaper, but not patched. There are no pictures on the walls, and there are still boxes in the living room that contain knick-knacks and pictures that can’t yet be unpacked and placed.
The barn and pasture need repair. We have made the most progress on that area, and it feels good. But there is always more work to be done. And when that is done, the animals always need attention. The work is cathartic, though, it’s within my control, and it is back-to-basics.
Work is good, I love my job. But with my increasing work load after my promotion, it is becoming more difficult to finish all of my projects. However, it is a good outlet for my control issues. I am good at what I do. My client just signed a contract increasing payment to my company by 22% for next year. Not only did they willingly sign the contract, they gave my company a bonus for the work that I did for them. And on a day-to-day basis, the more organized I am at work, the more effective I am. As you may imagine, my office is practially sanitary. I have client files color coded, everything computerized, ultra-organized.
I set a goal last year to complete a certification in my job by the end of the year. As I look at my calendar, and anticipate the back-to-school season next month, followed by three back-to-back meetings between September 22 and October 15 (in London, Des Moines and Cedar Rapids), I cringe at the lack of control I will have during that time. All of those tasks and responsibilities that will fall on someone else’s shoulders. I have no idea when I will obtain the CEUs necessary to apply to sit for the test. And I have no idea when I will study.
In light of all of this, I am tired. I am spent. No more energy, no more creativity, no more reserves that harbor extra patience.
So, today, I met Eileen. She is my therapist. M sees a therapist, and does well, and gains strategies for coping. I thought I should do the same. I met her today, and she is amazing. I know she will help me straighten this out inside of myself.
I told her about the joy I found at the farm. I told her how I saw God in the hugging trees and the faces of the animals. I told her how this house, despite its chaos, is happy. I shared how I can feel the footprints of all of the families before us on the soft hardwood floors. I told her that I have great kids, despite our issues. I told her about B, and the amazing relationship we have. I told her that he is my best friend, hand-picked by God, just for me. And that I am thankful for him. I told her that we can see the satellites from the hammock when we go out in the evening.
And she wept.
And she told me that I struck her as a happy person. She said that she could see in my face that I was a thankful person.
And then I wept.
And I left Eileen’s office feeling that it couldn’t be all that bad. I am sad, I am depressed. I have been assigned a label of “adjustment disorder” and “depression.” But my happiness and thankfulness are still evident, even to someone who is virtually a stranger.
And I am thankful for that.
I see Eileen again on Monday. And I saw God a few more times today.
Sunday, July 17, 2005
consolation?
NOT!
The high temperature in Des Moines today reached 95 degrees at 434 PM CDT. This ties the warmest day so far this season... it reached the mid 90s with heat indices topping out at 101 degrees.
It's supposed to rain tonight. Pray for rain, do a rain dance, cross your fingers, whatever it takes. Our soybeans are half dead, and we are wilted, too.
Wednesday it's supposed to be 97.
I'm thankful for A/C in my car. :)
The high temperature in Des Moines today reached 95 degrees at 434 PM CDT. This ties the warmest day so far this season... it reached the mid 90s with heat indices topping out at 101 degrees.
It's supposed to rain tonight. Pray for rain, do a rain dance, cross your fingers, whatever it takes. Our soybeans are half dead, and we are wilted, too.
Wednesday it's supposed to be 97.
I'm thankful for A/C in my car. :)
Saturday, July 16, 2005
just call your m-a-a-a-a
well, leave it to the critters to provide content for the blog...
baby animals are endearing. the goats are especially endearing when i come into the barn and they call me m-a-a-a-a-a!
they are usually pretty quiet, unless it's feeding time. so today, we are enjoying the 94 degree heat with the 101 degree heat index (and no a/c). we are all lounging around in front of the fans, trying to move as little as possible. if you get up for any reason, you break a sweat and have to sit back down to cool off.
(okay, i'm exaggering a bit, at least, but cut me some slack, it paints a good picture...)
so we are lounging around, and suddenly we hear M-A-A-A-A!! from the barn. we are surprised, it sounds very loud and urgent. of course, when someone calls for ma, she always goes.
i head out there to find ernie in distress. he has somehow (??) caught a bucket on his body. it is hanging from his back, down from his stomach. he has put his front legs and head through the handle.
i have no idea how to get it off, and he is screaming M-A-A-A-A and running frantically around his pen (in 101 degree heat index weather). i console him and talk sweetly to him, which seems to work but doesn't really get the bucket off. i calmly tell L to go get B and bring some tools, as we'll have to cut the thing off. i have no idea how he got it on, and he is not going to stand still to get it off.
b comes, and he speaks the word "sawzall" and i instantly figure a way to get ernie's legs out of the fix. voila, he is freed, no traumatic sawzall necessary. can you just imagine how he would have reacted to a sawzall 2 inches from his side??
the trials of being a m-a-a-a-a.
back to the couch and the fans.
baby animals are endearing. the goats are especially endearing when i come into the barn and they call me m-a-a-a-a-a!
they are usually pretty quiet, unless it's feeding time. so today, we are enjoying the 94 degree heat with the 101 degree heat index (and no a/c). we are all lounging around in front of the fans, trying to move as little as possible. if you get up for any reason, you break a sweat and have to sit back down to cool off.
(okay, i'm exaggering a bit, at least, but cut me some slack, it paints a good picture...)
so we are lounging around, and suddenly we hear M-A-A-A-A!! from the barn. we are surprised, it sounds very loud and urgent. of course, when someone calls for ma, she always goes.
i head out there to find ernie in distress. he has somehow (??) caught a bucket on his body. it is hanging from his back, down from his stomach. he has put his front legs and head through the handle.
i have no idea how to get it off, and he is screaming M-A-A-A-A and running frantically around his pen (in 101 degree heat index weather). i console him and talk sweetly to him, which seems to work but doesn't really get the bucket off. i calmly tell L to go get B and bring some tools, as we'll have to cut the thing off. i have no idea how he got it on, and he is not going to stand still to get it off.
b comes, and he speaks the word "sawzall" and i instantly figure a way to get ernie's legs out of the fix. voila, he is freed, no traumatic sawzall necessary. can you just imagine how he would have reacted to a sawzall 2 inches from his side??
the trials of being a m-a-a-a-a.
back to the couch and the fans.
Wednesday, July 13, 2005
Stolen from another blog
Ring the bells that still can ring;
forget your perfect offering;
there is a crack in everything;
that's how the light gets in..."
"Anthem" by Leonard Cohen
forget your perfect offering;
there is a crack in everything;
that's how the light gets in..."
"Anthem" by Leonard Cohen
Tuesday, July 12, 2005
One of those weeks
What's to tell? Nothing really...
I had a migraine on Sunday, and have been nursing the remnants of one each day since then. So I haven't had too much energy to do anything adventurous.
I took some pictures of kitties inside the house, and I'll post them later.
Ernie is not well. He is having tummy troubles, and just isn't himself. Fortunately, I have some things on hand that might help him. Did you know that you can use Pepto Bismol for a goat with a tummyache? You can. I also bought some ProBios, which is live beneficial bacteria that helps ruminents keep their digestive systems in order when they are physically stressed. I think Ernie might have to get a dose of that. The breeder from whom I bought the goats gave me some "potion" that her vet made up. She thought they might have a digestive reaction to the stress of the transport and new farm. They never did, but I did keep the potion and some penicillin on hand, should something arise. I'm glad I did. I already gave him the potion.
I think he will be fine, it's just one of those things! Maybe he's having sympathy pains for my migraine.
Cleo is being a pistol. She really has an attitude. With parents like Major and Kitten, she was sure to be born with an attitude!! She will now stand still for her fly spray, but recently has been avoiding letting me put on her fly mask. No fly mask=no outside. Today she was not happy when I didn't put her outside, but it's just cruel to have those flies congregating around the corners of her eyes. It did Pecos good to have a break from her outside anyway-- she always tears his fly mask off. He got to eat in peace today. But when I got home, she had an earfull for me!
Bubba's daughter and her cousin came over today to play with the kids. I didn't let them play long-- it was just before dinner. But they went into the barn (I said they could, and then watched them like a hawk from the kitchen window). B said she asked him if we had any kittens. Like we're going to tell them!! Our kids overheard us tell the sad story of Mark's kittens, so they know that Mark has kittens, but they don't know where they are (though it's so obvious!). I was bracing myself for the conversation where L told her we were going to shoot the dogs or something...
I think this weekend we are going to construct windows for the barn. I have to think long and hard about how to do it, because I want them to open up, but yet they have to have a guard over them so the horses don't break them out. It will let so much more light in there, and if we can open the window, so much more air. Right now we just have an east-west opening, but this would allow some air to come in from the south. The north windows are intact. There are already (south) windows in the barn, but they were broken out when we got here, and we just boarded them up. It's time for some barn improvement! I have also been meaning to do my annual spring powerwash of the barn (as it IS summer already!) but I want to be able to open it up and air it out so we don't have to inconvenience the animals too much as it dries out.
We have a serious fly issue. I am not sure why. I am vigilant about cleaning the stalls each morning, and usually the horses are out all day, so the stalls aren't too dirty. I am wondering if keeping the horses in the dry lot (the pasture goes unused becuase they are tubby and will fatten up if they are on pasture all day-- hence the goat solution) is making the fly problem seem worse. The manure collects in their favorite poop spot, and maybe that is why there seem to be so many more flies by the barn. Out in the pasture, it is spread out, and dries in the hot sun, so it is not as prime of a fly breeding ground. The manure pile itself, while it would SEEM to attract flies, is not really the fly attractant that you would think. It generates too much heat to be desireable for them. Truthfully, it smells very earthy, and not stinky at all, and I see very few flies around it.
In response to the influx of flies, I have bought some fly predators. Hopefully this will help to solve the problem. I also bought some fly traps. They stink to high heavens and attract the flies to drown in the water inside. It's really gross, but it's very effective. My dad also told me that the neighbors at his house hang plastic bags full of water, and nothing else, and the flies avoid going around them. I had actually heard that just the day before from a completely different source! So I tried it. Well, those Arizona flies must be stupid, and the Iowa flies must be geniuses. Because they are not phased one bit. You can just imagine them saying, "Thanks, lady, for the drink. It's mighty dry out there in that poop."
I think I am losing this battle, and it's a nasty one.
I had a migraine on Sunday, and have been nursing the remnants of one each day since then. So I haven't had too much energy to do anything adventurous.
I took some pictures of kitties inside the house, and I'll post them later.
Ernie is not well. He is having tummy troubles, and just isn't himself. Fortunately, I have some things on hand that might help him. Did you know that you can use Pepto Bismol for a goat with a tummyache? You can. I also bought some ProBios, which is live beneficial bacteria that helps ruminents keep their digestive systems in order when they are physically stressed. I think Ernie might have to get a dose of that. The breeder from whom I bought the goats gave me some "potion" that her vet made up. She thought they might have a digestive reaction to the stress of the transport and new farm. They never did, but I did keep the potion and some penicillin on hand, should something arise. I'm glad I did. I already gave him the potion.
I think he will be fine, it's just one of those things! Maybe he's having sympathy pains for my migraine.
Cleo is being a pistol. She really has an attitude. With parents like Major and Kitten, she was sure to be born with an attitude!! She will now stand still for her fly spray, but recently has been avoiding letting me put on her fly mask. No fly mask=no outside. Today she was not happy when I didn't put her outside, but it's just cruel to have those flies congregating around the corners of her eyes. It did Pecos good to have a break from her outside anyway-- she always tears his fly mask off. He got to eat in peace today. But when I got home, she had an earfull for me!
Bubba's daughter and her cousin came over today to play with the kids. I didn't let them play long-- it was just before dinner. But they went into the barn (I said they could, and then watched them like a hawk from the kitchen window). B said she asked him if we had any kittens. Like we're going to tell them!! Our kids overheard us tell the sad story of Mark's kittens, so they know that Mark has kittens, but they don't know where they are (though it's so obvious!). I was bracing myself for the conversation where L told her we were going to shoot the dogs or something...
I think this weekend we are going to construct windows for the barn. I have to think long and hard about how to do it, because I want them to open up, but yet they have to have a guard over them so the horses don't break them out. It will let so much more light in there, and if we can open the window, so much more air. Right now we just have an east-west opening, but this would allow some air to come in from the south. The north windows are intact. There are already (south) windows in the barn, but they were broken out when we got here, and we just boarded them up. It's time for some barn improvement! I have also been meaning to do my annual spring powerwash of the barn (as it IS summer already!) but I want to be able to open it up and air it out so we don't have to inconvenience the animals too much as it dries out.
We have a serious fly issue. I am not sure why. I am vigilant about cleaning the stalls each morning, and usually the horses are out all day, so the stalls aren't too dirty. I am wondering if keeping the horses in the dry lot (the pasture goes unused becuase they are tubby and will fatten up if they are on pasture all day-- hence the goat solution) is making the fly problem seem worse. The manure collects in their favorite poop spot, and maybe that is why there seem to be so many more flies by the barn. Out in the pasture, it is spread out, and dries in the hot sun, so it is not as prime of a fly breeding ground. The manure pile itself, while it would SEEM to attract flies, is not really the fly attractant that you would think. It generates too much heat to be desireable for them. Truthfully, it smells very earthy, and not stinky at all, and I see very few flies around it.
In response to the influx of flies, I have bought some fly predators. Hopefully this will help to solve the problem. I also bought some fly traps. They stink to high heavens and attract the flies to drown in the water inside. It's really gross, but it's very effective. My dad also told me that the neighbors at his house hang plastic bags full of water, and nothing else, and the flies avoid going around them. I had actually heard that just the day before from a completely different source! So I tried it. Well, those Arizona flies must be stupid, and the Iowa flies must be geniuses. Because they are not phased one bit. You can just imagine them saying, "Thanks, lady, for the drink. It's mighty dry out there in that poop."
I think I am losing this battle, and it's a nasty one.
Friday, July 08, 2005
Visit
I drove the 45 minutes yesterday to visit Major at his "new" barn. He seemed happy to see me, especially because my pockets were bulging with treats.
Interestingly, when I used to ride him during my lessons, I would get there on a Saturday, and he would seem annoyed with me. He would be mean, or at least dismissive, and very impatient (Why I loved him in spite of that is another story. Maybe I'll tell it later...). I was wondering if he'd really remember me. I mean, I know they can remember, but I just wondered if he would treat me differently because I was not his caregiver anymore. But he seemed happy to see me, and he remembered the tricks I had taught him.
M called me a few days ago and said he was really angry when she brought him there. She said he was biting the bars and everyone who came into his stall. I told him that she should take out the bars, or somehow let him hang his head out. He doesn't have bars at my house, and can hang his head over and see what is going on. So she did, and he stopped biting! Here is his picture-- looking over the side, of course. (forgive the quality, it's my cell phone cam)
We saw the rest of the gang: Ace, Kitten, Sonny and May. I hadn't seen much of May previously, but I spent a little time with her yesterday. M gave a handicapped boy a lesson on her, and then drove her a bit. She looks great! She's a Shetland Pony.
I'll definitely have to go back.
Interestingly, when I used to ride him during my lessons, I would get there on a Saturday, and he would seem annoyed with me. He would be mean, or at least dismissive, and very impatient (Why I loved him in spite of that is another story. Maybe I'll tell it later...). I was wondering if he'd really remember me. I mean, I know they can remember, but I just wondered if he would treat me differently because I was not his caregiver anymore. But he seemed happy to see me, and he remembered the tricks I had taught him.
M called me a few days ago and said he was really angry when she brought him there. She said he was biting the bars and everyone who came into his stall. I told him that she should take out the bars, or somehow let him hang his head out. He doesn't have bars at my house, and can hang his head over and see what is going on. So she did, and he stopped biting! Here is his picture-- looking over the side, of course. (forgive the quality, it's my cell phone cam)
We saw the rest of the gang: Ace, Kitten, Sonny and May. I hadn't seen much of May previously, but I spent a little time with her yesterday. M gave a handicapped boy a lesson on her, and then drove her a bit. She looks great! She's a Shetland Pony.
I'll definitely have to go back.
Thursday, July 07, 2005
Terror
I have been following the news of the bombings in London very closely. Many of the folks that read my blog know that we lived in England from 1996 to 1999, and visited London often. B was in the Air Force, and we were stationed at RAF Mildenhall in Suffolk.
I am planning a meeting in London and will be traveling there in September.
My first thought when all of this came to light, was to want to build a big wall around our farm, keep my loved ones inside and never go out.
But that would be feeding the very definition of terror. And the terrorists would win.
When we lived in England, the U.S. government would issue guidelines for Americans living there. They would remind you that before you started your car, you should walk around it to check for trip wires. They would randomly search cars coming onto the base with mirrors and dogs. A security police officer was positioned on top of a humvee vehicle (sorry, B, I keep forgetting the name of it!) with a big gun, pointed on every single person entering the base. Imagine going for groceries, and passing through a checkpoint where a 22-year-old routinely viewed your infant in his carseat through the scope of an assault rifle. It was very surreal. We had reminders about speaking on the phone and emailing to family back in the States. It was said that the biggest breach of security came about through those conversations being intercepted by the "enemy." The old "loose lips sink ships."
While I understood the necessity of this all, I never got used to it. Some things became routine, however, or just a matter of fact. I remember this one time I was searching for a particular outfit for M. I suddenly remembered that I had packed it in the bag that we were instructed to have ready at all times. We were supposed to be prepared to leave the country with 15 minutes notice.
It was never so noticeable as when I actually moved back to the States. I realized that a huge weight had been lifted. It took me a while before I realized what it was. It wasn't necessarily that it was any safer here, but I felt safer-- it was my home turf. And I was angry with myself because I allowed the terror to take over, at least in some fashion, while I was away.
One thing I remember being particularly frightened by was the nearby proximity of the American Elementary School to our house, when we lived on base. Our housing area was not secure, nor was the school. One time, M was home from school (she went to British school) and we were outside playing, and I saw all of these children running through the housing areas to their houses from the school. I immediately called my neighbor who had children who attended the school. It seems there was a threat made to the base and they sent all of the children home.
One time B went on the base for a late night snack (Cadbury chocolate, his favorite). This was in the days before our family had cell phones! Anyway, he was taking forever. What was typically a 20 minute trip turned into nearly 2 hours. I was worried sick. Come to find out, the shoppette was evacuated and the base locked down, and he was unable to come back home until "Threatcon Bravo" resumed. Seems there was a car parked outside of the base, but near enough to the shoppette to be worrisome, so they closed it down. If I remember right, he didn't even get the chocolate. ; )
We aren't safe anywhere, I suppose even at home. And I know that. I just didn't need to be reminded today.
I am planning a meeting in London and will be traveling there in September.
My first thought when all of this came to light, was to want to build a big wall around our farm, keep my loved ones inside and never go out.
But that would be feeding the very definition of terror. And the terrorists would win.
When we lived in England, the U.S. government would issue guidelines for Americans living there. They would remind you that before you started your car, you should walk around it to check for trip wires. They would randomly search cars coming onto the base with mirrors and dogs. A security police officer was positioned on top of a humvee vehicle (sorry, B, I keep forgetting the name of it!) with a big gun, pointed on every single person entering the base. Imagine going for groceries, and passing through a checkpoint where a 22-year-old routinely viewed your infant in his carseat through the scope of an assault rifle. It was very surreal. We had reminders about speaking on the phone and emailing to family back in the States. It was said that the biggest breach of security came about through those conversations being intercepted by the "enemy." The old "loose lips sink ships."
While I understood the necessity of this all, I never got used to it. Some things became routine, however, or just a matter of fact. I remember this one time I was searching for a particular outfit for M. I suddenly remembered that I had packed it in the bag that we were instructed to have ready at all times. We were supposed to be prepared to leave the country with 15 minutes notice.
It was never so noticeable as when I actually moved back to the States. I realized that a huge weight had been lifted. It took me a while before I realized what it was. It wasn't necessarily that it was any safer here, but I felt safer-- it was my home turf. And I was angry with myself because I allowed the terror to take over, at least in some fashion, while I was away.
One thing I remember being particularly frightened by was the nearby proximity of the American Elementary School to our house, when we lived on base. Our housing area was not secure, nor was the school. One time, M was home from school (she went to British school) and we were outside playing, and I saw all of these children running through the housing areas to their houses from the school. I immediately called my neighbor who had children who attended the school. It seems there was a threat made to the base and they sent all of the children home.
One time B went on the base for a late night snack (Cadbury chocolate, his favorite). This was in the days before our family had cell phones! Anyway, he was taking forever. What was typically a 20 minute trip turned into nearly 2 hours. I was worried sick. Come to find out, the shoppette was evacuated and the base locked down, and he was unable to come back home until "Threatcon Bravo" resumed. Seems there was a car parked outside of the base, but near enough to the shoppette to be worrisome, so they closed it down. If I remember right, he didn't even get the chocolate. ; )
We aren't safe anywhere, I suppose even at home. And I know that. I just didn't need to be reminded today.
Wednesday, July 06, 2005
Monday, July 04, 2005
An Open Letter to Bubba
Dear Bubba-
I have truly enjoyed your patriotism these last couple of days! It seems that this holiday has really brought out the party animal in you!
I have especially enjoyed your music. Despite all I said about you, you really do have great musical taste. It’s great that you can play it loud enough so that we all can hear it. I’m sure you know about the echo in the valley, so you must be enjoying the fact that it’s being heard for miles around! Madison County must be impressed with your stereo system!
Having said that, I am curious about the folks joining you for the celebration. Are those folks your kin? What about that shirtless boy walking along the road picking up wood for your fires? We weren’t sure what to make of him, and given the fact that we’d never seen him before, we didn’t automatically trust him, as he ambled down the roadside collecting firewood like a nomad collecting cans for money for his next meal. We had to run into town, so we left our dogs loose in the house, just in case. We didn’t notice until we came back that he was part of your celebration.
Speaking of dogs, I have been meaning to chat with you about your dogs.
Bubba, did you know that the law here in Iowa says that if a dog is harassing livestock, that they can be shot? So, yesterday, when I was riding in the north pasture, and your dogs came barking at Major and me, that would have been grounds for a little target practice.
I know that these legal terms are confusing, so let me help you:
ha·rass vt : to persistently annoy, attack, or bother somebody
Now, I know you know what annoy means! And I know you know all about shooting, I heard you a couple of weekends ago! Persistent means on and on, again and again. You know, like how many times your dogs get out. Those dogs sure are persistent!!
Back to the livestock subject, we have goats now. I saw your dogs with your landlord’s cows—they think they have finally found a job herding their own cattle. But did you see how that one man chased your dogs on horseback? He was not practicing his cow cutting, Bubba, he was actually trying to keep your dogs from destroying his livelihood! And while these goats are not our livelihood, they are our friends, and our property. So we would appreciate it if you found a herd of your own for your dogs to mind, or better yet, CONFINE THEM.
Defending is an instinct for your dogs. Did you know that? That might give a good explanation for why, the other night, when we were dog-sitting MK’s dog, and B took her out for a walk last thing before bed, that your dogs decided to run from the depths of our property and bark at him like he was bringing some stranger on their land. I realize that maybe you think that your dogs are helping me out by keeping strangers and their dogs from my land, but I think we’re okay in that department.
I did a little searching on the internet, Bubba, and I found an Iowa law that might interest you:
Citation: I. C. A. § 351.27
Summary: This Iowa statute makes it lawful for any person to kill a dog, wearing a collar with a rabies vaccination tag attached, when the dog is caught in the act of worrying, chasing, maiming, or killing any domestic animal or fowl, or when such dog is attacking or attempting to bite a person.
Statute in Full: It shall be lawful for any person to kill a dog, wearing a collar with a rabies vaccination tag attached, when the dog is caught in the act of worrying, chasing, maiming, or killing any domestic animal or fowl, or when such dog is attacking or attempting to bite a person.
Oh, and in case things are a little fuzzy today after your “celebrations” the past few days:
lawful=okay
domestic animal=goats, pigs, sheep, cows, horses, other dogs, cats (pretty much anything on our farm now and in the future)
I think it’s clear that your dogs have worried my animals (Major seemed quite concerned Saturday), and Cleo hates dogs.
I’m actually not clear about where the law stands on dogs “frequenting” our fields. I have seen them in the hay field, and in the soybeans. This might surprise you, but horses won’t eat hay that’s been pooped on. And I don’t know if the dogs dig, poop, or just run through the soybean field. But it would be great if they stopped any and all of the above. Both of these ventures are not going to make us rich, but they will provide more income if they were not hindered by the presence of your dogs!
Now, that’s not to say that we will kill your dogs, as we are generally peaceful folks. But we will definitely be invoking that law to ensure the safety of our animals, especially the goat kids that, unlike Kitten or Cleo, don’t have large hooves and back legs with which to defend themselves. I’m sure the Madison County Sherrif would be pleased to come out and see your dog setup and chat with you about the necessity of keeping your dogs on your property.
Maybe you can offer him some of that moonshine while he enjoys your illegal fireworks show!
Also, I am not sure if you know this or not, but we have our own dogs. So, not only do we have two that keep us company—and we don’t need yours for that—we have two that make enough of a mess in our yard to keep us busy cleaning it up for a long time. I imagine that your yard is quite tidy, given that you send them over here to do their business. But give us a break! We have the poo of at least 10 animals to clean every day! And yes, we do notice when 3 more animals show up.
Well, Bubba, other than this several-times-a-day, colossal nuisance, and the recent shifty kinfolk roaming the roads, we have truly enjoyed the entertainment that your family has provided. It would just be grand, however, if you could keep your dogs away from our animals and out of our fields.
Do you like my new slogan: It’s not just neighborly, it’s the law! Let's say it together!
And we’re making a pact now to uphold OUR end of the law, which means, if you like your dogs, you should uphold yours!
Love,
Your neighborly neighbors
I have truly enjoyed your patriotism these last couple of days! It seems that this holiday has really brought out the party animal in you!
I have especially enjoyed your music. Despite all I said about you, you really do have great musical taste. It’s great that you can play it loud enough so that we all can hear it. I’m sure you know about the echo in the valley, so you must be enjoying the fact that it’s being heard for miles around! Madison County must be impressed with your stereo system!
Having said that, I am curious about the folks joining you for the celebration. Are those folks your kin? What about that shirtless boy walking along the road picking up wood for your fires? We weren’t sure what to make of him, and given the fact that we’d never seen him before, we didn’t automatically trust him, as he ambled down the roadside collecting firewood like a nomad collecting cans for money for his next meal. We had to run into town, so we left our dogs loose in the house, just in case. We didn’t notice until we came back that he was part of your celebration.
Speaking of dogs, I have been meaning to chat with you about your dogs.
Bubba, did you know that the law here in Iowa says that if a dog is harassing livestock, that they can be shot? So, yesterday, when I was riding in the north pasture, and your dogs came barking at Major and me, that would have been grounds for a little target practice.
I know that these legal terms are confusing, so let me help you:
ha·rass vt : to persistently annoy, attack, or bother somebody
Now, I know you know what annoy means! And I know you know all about shooting, I heard you a couple of weekends ago! Persistent means on and on, again and again. You know, like how many times your dogs get out. Those dogs sure are persistent!!
Back to the livestock subject, we have goats now. I saw your dogs with your landlord’s cows—they think they have finally found a job herding their own cattle. But did you see how that one man chased your dogs on horseback? He was not practicing his cow cutting, Bubba, he was actually trying to keep your dogs from destroying his livelihood! And while these goats are not our livelihood, they are our friends, and our property. So we would appreciate it if you found a herd of your own for your dogs to mind, or better yet, CONFINE THEM.
Defending is an instinct for your dogs. Did you know that? That might give a good explanation for why, the other night, when we were dog-sitting MK’s dog, and B took her out for a walk last thing before bed, that your dogs decided to run from the depths of our property and bark at him like he was bringing some stranger on their land. I realize that maybe you think that your dogs are helping me out by keeping strangers and their dogs from my land, but I think we’re okay in that department.
I did a little searching on the internet, Bubba, and I found an Iowa law that might interest you:
Citation: I. C. A. § 351.27
Summary: This Iowa statute makes it lawful for any person to kill a dog, wearing a collar with a rabies vaccination tag attached, when the dog is caught in the act of worrying, chasing, maiming, or killing any domestic animal or fowl, or when such dog is attacking or attempting to bite a person.
Statute in Full: It shall be lawful for any person to kill a dog, wearing a collar with a rabies vaccination tag attached, when the dog is caught in the act of worrying, chasing, maiming, or killing any domestic animal or fowl, or when such dog is attacking or attempting to bite a person.
Oh, and in case things are a little fuzzy today after your “celebrations” the past few days:
lawful=okay
domestic animal=goats, pigs, sheep, cows, horses, other dogs, cats (pretty much anything on our farm now and in the future)
I think it’s clear that your dogs have worried my animals (Major seemed quite concerned Saturday), and Cleo hates dogs.
I’m actually not clear about where the law stands on dogs “frequenting” our fields. I have seen them in the hay field, and in the soybeans. This might surprise you, but horses won’t eat hay that’s been pooped on. And I don’t know if the dogs dig, poop, or just run through the soybean field. But it would be great if they stopped any and all of the above. Both of these ventures are not going to make us rich, but they will provide more income if they were not hindered by the presence of your dogs!
Now, that’s not to say that we will kill your dogs, as we are generally peaceful folks. But we will definitely be invoking that law to ensure the safety of our animals, especially the goat kids that, unlike Kitten or Cleo, don’t have large hooves and back legs with which to defend themselves. I’m sure the Madison County Sherrif would be pleased to come out and see your dog setup and chat with you about the necessity of keeping your dogs on your property.
Maybe you can offer him some of that moonshine while he enjoys your illegal fireworks show!
Also, I am not sure if you know this or not, but we have our own dogs. So, not only do we have two that keep us company—and we don’t need yours for that—we have two that make enough of a mess in our yard to keep us busy cleaning it up for a long time. I imagine that your yard is quite tidy, given that you send them over here to do their business. But give us a break! We have the poo of at least 10 animals to clean every day! And yes, we do notice when 3 more animals show up.
Well, Bubba, other than this several-times-a-day, colossal nuisance, and the recent shifty kinfolk roaming the roads, we have truly enjoyed the entertainment that your family has provided. It would just be grand, however, if you could keep your dogs away from our animals and out of our fields.
Do you like my new slogan: It’s not just neighborly, it’s the law! Let's say it together!
And we’re making a pact now to uphold OUR end of the law, which means, if you like your dogs, you should uphold yours!
Love,
Your neighborly neighbors
Saturday, July 02, 2005
Nurture and Nature
On the nurture note, Major is gone. I wasn't as bad as I was Friday when L left on the plane for AZ! And L won't be gone as long! : ) I can't wait to see Major at the show.
What I didn't know is that M is planning to ride him western (we ride English) for the Bob Riley trophy. Bob Riley is a legend in the Morgan Horse World. He has won the American Morgan Horse Association's Man of the Year and Hall of Fame induction. Bob died in 2001 at the age of 92, and he was a spectacular trainer and Morgan horse enthusiast. He began training at age 65! M got to know him when he volunteered with her handicapped riding program, and he was the one who trained Major.
I rode Major Saturday morning-- it was amazing. We were doing turns on the forehand, which is hard for me to get him to do because I just need to "find the buttons." I found some this morning! B was watching, and it always nice for us to talk while I ride. I can show him when I am excited about something that I just figured out, or to vent to him when I do something stupid (like this morning, when I didn't take up the reins when I asked for a trot and nearly wound up riding the ground!).
I missed him this morning when I went to feed and didn't hear his sassy nicker. I also habitually dodged his teeth today when I went to close the barn door-- he usually tries to grab me when I get close to him to latch it closed.
Six weeks and counting...
On the nature note, I have saved more kittens. I am convinced God put me here to watch over the cats of the world!
Friday, Mark was walking around the barn bellowing, obviously distressed. She meowed loud and long like she does when she wants food, but her food and water dishes were full. I noticed that she did not go back to her babies immediately. In hindsight, on my way out to the barn Friday afternoon, I noticed that there were turkey vultures circling the barn, and thought immediately that something might have happened to Bert or Ernie. When all seemed well, I thought nothing of it.
Saturday, after I got back from my ride, I was grooming Major and decided to look in on the kittens. I noticed that they were in a tight ball, and didn't seem to be moving. Upon closer inspection, I saw that they were tangled in the bale netting of the bale next to which she had had her babies! I grabbed some scissors, and cut a large piece of the netting off, circling the kittens, and dragged the whole mess out and away from the bale. What I found was so sad.
One of the kittens was dead. Dead for days. Decomposed and stinking, with flies all over it. It had been strangled by the netting.
Another kitten was close to death. He had been strangled by the netting, too, and was barely able to move. He was not able to meow.
The third kitten had his paws stuck in the netting, but not his neck. However, the netting was very tight around his paws and was restricting his movement. All of the kittens were tangled into a huge ball, and could not easily be extracted from each other.
Of course, I cut them all apart, and disposed of the dead kitten (thanks, B, my hero!). B cleaned up all of the loose hay and netting behind the bale, but we decided that it would likely just happen again. Kittens that don't have their eyes open just grope and stagger around blindly, and that is what got them tangled in the first place. We couldn't get behind the bale to remove all of the netting that might pose a threat.
So we got a cardboard box, with sides high enough so they couldn't climb out. We lined it with hay and put it back where we found the kittens.
Mark came back, and we watched her notice that something had changed. She frantically grabbed one of the kittens, and ran around the barn, as if she were drunk, zigging and zagging, looking for a safe place for her kitten. She finally settled on the tack room, as the door happened to be open from my ride earlier. She plopped down on the cold, dirty cement, and seemed content to let her baby nurse. I brought the other baby in, in his box, and left him there. She did not get him.
I continued to check on the family for hours, and finally, after about 4 hours, she had retrieved the other kitten.
By the next afternoon, however, she was gone again. The tack room door is noisy in the wind, and she is skittish. I bet she was too uncomfortable with that setup. However, I did find them behind some wood we keep in the barn. All still seems well-- she was gone, and the kittens were sleeping contentedly.
Those kittens will make four that I've saved! I had thought about cursing Mother Nature, but then realized that in all four cases, it was the human influence that caused the issues, directly or indirectly.
It's not easy saving cats, but somebody's gotta do it! : )
Happy Fourth of July!
What I didn't know is that M is planning to ride him western (we ride English) for the Bob Riley trophy. Bob Riley is a legend in the Morgan Horse World. He has won the American Morgan Horse Association's Man of the Year and Hall of Fame induction. Bob died in 2001 at the age of 92, and he was a spectacular trainer and Morgan horse enthusiast. He began training at age 65! M got to know him when he volunteered with her handicapped riding program, and he was the one who trained Major.
I rode Major Saturday morning-- it was amazing. We were doing turns on the forehand, which is hard for me to get him to do because I just need to "find the buttons." I found some this morning! B was watching, and it always nice for us to talk while I ride. I can show him when I am excited about something that I just figured out, or to vent to him when I do something stupid (like this morning, when I didn't take up the reins when I asked for a trot and nearly wound up riding the ground!).
I missed him this morning when I went to feed and didn't hear his sassy nicker. I also habitually dodged his teeth today when I went to close the barn door-- he usually tries to grab me when I get close to him to latch it closed.
Six weeks and counting...
On the nature note, I have saved more kittens. I am convinced God put me here to watch over the cats of the world!
Friday, Mark was walking around the barn bellowing, obviously distressed. She meowed loud and long like she does when she wants food, but her food and water dishes were full. I noticed that she did not go back to her babies immediately. In hindsight, on my way out to the barn Friday afternoon, I noticed that there were turkey vultures circling the barn, and thought immediately that something might have happened to Bert or Ernie. When all seemed well, I thought nothing of it.
Saturday, after I got back from my ride, I was grooming Major and decided to look in on the kittens. I noticed that they were in a tight ball, and didn't seem to be moving. Upon closer inspection, I saw that they were tangled in the bale netting of the bale next to which she had had her babies! I grabbed some scissors, and cut a large piece of the netting off, circling the kittens, and dragged the whole mess out and away from the bale. What I found was so sad.
One of the kittens was dead. Dead for days. Decomposed and stinking, with flies all over it. It had been strangled by the netting.
Another kitten was close to death. He had been strangled by the netting, too, and was barely able to move. He was not able to meow.
The third kitten had his paws stuck in the netting, but not his neck. However, the netting was very tight around his paws and was restricting his movement. All of the kittens were tangled into a huge ball, and could not easily be extracted from each other.
Of course, I cut them all apart, and disposed of the dead kitten (thanks, B, my hero!). B cleaned up all of the loose hay and netting behind the bale, but we decided that it would likely just happen again. Kittens that don't have their eyes open just grope and stagger around blindly, and that is what got them tangled in the first place. We couldn't get behind the bale to remove all of the netting that might pose a threat.
So we got a cardboard box, with sides high enough so they couldn't climb out. We lined it with hay and put it back where we found the kittens.
Mark came back, and we watched her notice that something had changed. She frantically grabbed one of the kittens, and ran around the barn, as if she were drunk, zigging and zagging, looking for a safe place for her kitten. She finally settled on the tack room, as the door happened to be open from my ride earlier. She plopped down on the cold, dirty cement, and seemed content to let her baby nurse. I brought the other baby in, in his box, and left him there. She did not get him.
I continued to check on the family for hours, and finally, after about 4 hours, she had retrieved the other kitten.
By the next afternoon, however, she was gone again. The tack room door is noisy in the wind, and she is skittish. I bet she was too uncomfortable with that setup. However, I did find them behind some wood we keep in the barn. All still seems well-- she was gone, and the kittens were sleeping contentedly.
Those kittens will make four that I've saved! I had thought about cursing Mother Nature, but then realized that in all four cases, it was the human influence that caused the issues, directly or indirectly.
It's not easy saving cats, but somebody's gotta do it! : )
Happy Fourth of July!
Our Excellent Adventure
Yesterday we went to Omaha to take L to the airport. He is spending a week with grandparents in Phoenix. M is staying here, as she has summer school.
On the way back, we encountered construction and congestion on I-80, as it was the holiday weekend and there were a lot of cars on the road.
Before I could realize that I was turning into my grandfather, we elected to get off of the interstate and take a side road. We found our way through Avoca, and onto Walnut, through Marne, Atlantic (the Coca-Cola Capital of Iowa!), Anita, and then back onto I-80. After we had travelled a ways, and had several discussions, I decided that I would keep track of the conversations. The comments went something like this:
"Wow, look at that barn. They've really kept it up here."
"Look! Someone's buildling a new pole barn!"
"All the farms are really tidy out here."
"How many cattle do you think that guy has on that land?"
"The corn has really bounced back from the cool, wet spell we had earlier this summer."
"Look at those deer in the field! I wonder how much damage they're doing to that farmer's soybeans."
I can't believe what an "agricultural" conversation we had!
On the way back, we encountered construction and congestion on I-80, as it was the holiday weekend and there were a lot of cars on the road.
Before I could realize that I was turning into my grandfather, we elected to get off of the interstate and take a side road. We found our way through Avoca, and onto Walnut, through Marne, Atlantic (the Coca-Cola Capital of Iowa!), Anita, and then back onto I-80. After we had travelled a ways, and had several discussions, I decided that I would keep track of the conversations. The comments went something like this:
"Wow, look at that barn. They've really kept it up here."
"Look! Someone's buildling a new pole barn!"
"All the farms are really tidy out here."
"How many cattle do you think that guy has on that land?"
"The corn has really bounced back from the cool, wet spell we had earlier this summer."
"Look at those deer in the field! I wonder how much damage they're doing to that farmer's soybeans."
I can't believe what an "agricultural" conversation we had!
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