Today was an exciting day. My longest friend, my friend Ami from 2nd grade, had a new baby. She called me at about 11:00 to tell me that Landon was born. He has a big brother, Carson. I can’t wait to meet him! She lives in Chicago.
So, being old and all, that was about all the excitement I could handle for one night. B and I spent the evening watching “Memoirs of a Geisha.” We started the movie late, and found ourselves bleary-eyed on the couch at midnight.
All of the sudden, we were jolted out of the trance by the animals—all six of them—thundering up and down the stairs, knocking over a picture, upsetting the laundry basket, running from room to room! I had no idea what was going on, but B exclaimed, “It’s a bat!”
Yes, there was a bat loose in the house. Flying around frantically, it raced from room to room with it’s would-be captors following close behind—jumping, leaping, freaking out! It raced around ceiling fans and zoomed around the globe and clock on the bookshelves. It weaved and bobbed and threatened my hair! I was not afraid of the bat, I just was worried that in its fear, it might zig when I zagged and we’d end up crashing into each other.
No worries. My hero, B, took off his shirt and put it up as the bat flew by, catching it. He then just took it outside and freed the cute little guy.
The cats and I remain on high alert, all of us sitting around, gazing at the ceiling, with eyes as big as saucers. The dogs are back asleep.
Friday, March 31, 2006
Thursday, March 30, 2006
Weekend Safari
A couple of days ago I decided to go on a mini safari. I probably had some work I was avoiding. Safari for me doesn’t mean killing anything, it just means exploring and capturing the surroundings on camera. And that I did.
I started out in the grove of trees near my house. I try to look for small things when I take pictures. Often times there is so much grandeur—from the size of the land to the magnficience of the sunsets, to the age of the trees—that I try to focus on something small, framed by the significance of its surroundings. I try to really exploit the contrast in my photos. (Maybe that doesn’t come through, but…)
So here are some pictures of the first part of the safari.
I then moved onto the chicken coop. It’s still cold enough so that there are not many bugs or critters living in there. I need to use that opportunity to clean it out! But that day I just photographed it. I’d really like to paint it and turn it into a potting shed or storage, but there are a hundred other things I can think of to use it for—chickens (how novel!), goats, a playhouse…
I then walked over by the driveway and once again was moved by the hugging trees. I can’t capture the significance on camera, but I tried. These trees are so large and so old.. and so special to me.
Next I walked down by the creek. On my way there, I stopped to take a picture of the “neighborhood.”
I saw a turkey vulture that had returned to the area after the winter, one of many signs that spring is coming!
I was snapping away…
…when I suspected I was being followed! I turned around, and sure enough. Three kittens decided to accompany me. One kitten has been named “Angel” by the kids. At first, I thought it was a stupid name, and was certain that the cat would rebel. However, she has this strange affinity for hanging out on peoples’ shoulders. Like the little angels that tell you to do good things (or devils that tell you to do bad, in some cases!). So Angel it is.
(a photo of my shadow, with the shadow of an Angel on my shoulder)
She was accompanied by Lady Nicole (the cat formerly known as Sir Nicholas de Mimsy-Porpington, until it was determined that the SIR should actually be a LADY)…
…and Fraidy, the cat that likes to be around people, but doesn’t like to be close to people. In the cat world, there IS a difference.
The cats and I snaked our way around the creek, jumping over, sitting on the trees, exploring, and seeing what we could see. Eventually, B joined us, and we were really soaking up the great weather.
We came upon the horses, grazing in the pasture. We approached them from the west, a direction that they have rarely (if ever) seen anyone approach. I knew this, so I purposely startled them, and I took some pictures of their obvious distrust, and later distaste, for the change of routine.
When they realized it was just us, they decided to start a fight amongst themselves. I have no idea what caused the disagreement, but it was fun to photograph.
We moved on down the creek to the end of the property. You can see the bridge between the trees, the neighbor’s driveway over the creek.
We wandered around, pausing to look at everything so drastically changed for the winter, wondering what it would look like in just a matter of days. I always thought about the winter as stark and cold, just counting the days until life begins again. But maybe nature is enjoying its nap? Maybe it enjoys it as it comes, not anticipating tomorrow, just relishing today. I saw that in this vine:
A stagnant part of the creek.
Angel and our other safari-mates were still with us.
We saw all kinds of old treasures. Some things were left there on purpose, other things were relics consumed by the earth in years past, only to be pushed up again for us to see today.
We walked back past the horses again, who barely acknowledged us, now that they knew we were no threat.
We saw evidence that Terre d’Esprit did not belong to only us…
I started out in the grove of trees near my house. I try to look for small things when I take pictures. Often times there is so much grandeur—from the size of the land to the magnficience of the sunsets, to the age of the trees—that I try to focus on something small, framed by the significance of its surroundings. I try to really exploit the contrast in my photos. (Maybe that doesn’t come through, but…)
So here are some pictures of the first part of the safari.
I then moved onto the chicken coop. It’s still cold enough so that there are not many bugs or critters living in there. I need to use that opportunity to clean it out! But that day I just photographed it. I’d really like to paint it and turn it into a potting shed or storage, but there are a hundred other things I can think of to use it for—chickens (how novel!), goats, a playhouse…
I then walked over by the driveway and once again was moved by the hugging trees. I can’t capture the significance on camera, but I tried. These trees are so large and so old.. and so special to me.
Next I walked down by the creek. On my way there, I stopped to take a picture of the “neighborhood.”
I saw a turkey vulture that had returned to the area after the winter, one of many signs that spring is coming!
I was snapping away…
…when I suspected I was being followed! I turned around, and sure enough. Three kittens decided to accompany me. One kitten has been named “Angel” by the kids. At first, I thought it was a stupid name, and was certain that the cat would rebel. However, she has this strange affinity for hanging out on peoples’ shoulders. Like the little angels that tell you to do good things (or devils that tell you to do bad, in some cases!). So Angel it is.
(a photo of my shadow, with the shadow of an Angel on my shoulder)
She was accompanied by Lady Nicole (the cat formerly known as Sir Nicholas de Mimsy-Porpington, until it was determined that the SIR should actually be a LADY)…
…and Fraidy, the cat that likes to be around people, but doesn’t like to be close to people. In the cat world, there IS a difference.
The cats and I snaked our way around the creek, jumping over, sitting on the trees, exploring, and seeing what we could see. Eventually, B joined us, and we were really soaking up the great weather.
We came upon the horses, grazing in the pasture. We approached them from the west, a direction that they have rarely (if ever) seen anyone approach. I knew this, so I purposely startled them, and I took some pictures of their obvious distrust, and later distaste, for the change of routine.
When they realized it was just us, they decided to start a fight amongst themselves. I have no idea what caused the disagreement, but it was fun to photograph.
We moved on down the creek to the end of the property. You can see the bridge between the trees, the neighbor’s driveway over the creek.
We wandered around, pausing to look at everything so drastically changed for the winter, wondering what it would look like in just a matter of days. I always thought about the winter as stark and cold, just counting the days until life begins again. But maybe nature is enjoying its nap? Maybe it enjoys it as it comes, not anticipating tomorrow, just relishing today. I saw that in this vine:
A stagnant part of the creek.
Angel and our other safari-mates were still with us.
We saw all kinds of old treasures. Some things were left there on purpose, other things were relics consumed by the earth in years past, only to be pushed up again for us to see today.
We walked back past the horses again, who barely acknowledged us, now that they knew we were no threat.
We saw evidence that Terre d’Esprit did not belong to only us…
Wednesday, March 29, 2006
The songs in my heart
I have already divulged that I am a serious car singer. I have my stash of favorites on my iPod, and I have it wired in through the cassette player, so I can click through and operate the remote to get to my favorite songs.
B and I have the strangest taste in music. Probably mine is stranger than his, since I love 80’s music (he thinks most of it is superficial, and I respect his opinion, even though he’s wrong). Strange in an eclectic way, I suppose.
Just filing through a small number of artists on my playlist gives you an idea of my varied taste: AC/DC, Aqua, Beatles, Joe Walsh, Ozzy, Norah Jones, Prince, Cheryl Crow, The Who, Blondie…
And as background music for a trip, I just hit shuffle and away we go. However, when I am alone, I crank it up and sing along. I ride the remote and find my favorites. Sometimes I’m not in the mood for certain songs. But there are some songs that no matter my mood, I CAN’T pass up:
Why Worry – Dire Straits
Layla – Derek & the Dominoes
I Know Where It’s At – All Saints
Hook – Blues Traveler
Sweet Home Alabama – Lynrd Skynrd (I always turn it up when he says, “Turn it up!” Do you?)
Bobby McGee – Janis Joplin
Semi Charmed Life – 3rd Eye Blind
Lady Marmalade – from the Moulin Rouge Soundtrack (now there’s some handy French to remember in your travels)
You’re So Vain – Carly Simon
Fat Bottomed Girls – Queen
Complicated – Avril Lavigne
Brimful of Asha – Cornershop
Late in the Evening – Paul Simon (I love the mariachi-esque horn solo—it can’t help but make you smile)
Come Dancing – the Kinks
Hair – The Cowsills
Werewolves of London – Warren Zevon (you’ll catch me grinning when that one comes on—reminds me of M—more on that later)
Mama Told Me Not to Come - Three Dog Night (listen to your mamma!)
One Week – Barenaked Ladies
When I’m Sixty- Four – Beatles (he always answers yes when I ask him)
If nothing else, I guess this proves I’m a Gemini.
I have to explain the Werewolves of London connection. My kids laugh at the songs and sing along. My parents were huge music fans—my mom adored the Rolling Stones and has all of their albums. I remember admiring her Beatles White Album as a child—the 33 is actually white, and they included all of their black and white glossy photos inside. My dad was a huge fan of the Doors, Van Morrison, and the Who when I was growing up. I listened to all of that stuff, and still think it’s great. I guess I’m subjecting my kids to the same thing—forcing them to listen to dated music. No top 40 in our house. So anyway, we always all howl together when the Werewolves of London comes on (okay, for the record B does no howling). But the kids and I do. When I went to London last year for work, the hotel I stayed at was the Hilton Park Lane, and in that hotel is Trader Vic’s. In the song, the line is “I saw a werewolf drinking a piña colada at Trader Vic’s. His hair was perfect.” We joked a lot before I left, that I would be on the lookout for werewolves. Remember that the time is 8 hours different from here to there. So one day I came up to my room after a long stressful day, and had an email from M. She said (and I quote—I have saved the email), “Hey Mom, How is London? Are there any Werewolves? Did you see one with a Chinese menu in his hand? Love M”
That one always makes me smile.
What songs can you never skip? What makes you sing at the top of your lungs in the car?
B and I have the strangest taste in music. Probably mine is stranger than his, since I love 80’s music (he thinks most of it is superficial, and I respect his opinion, even though he’s wrong). Strange in an eclectic way, I suppose.
Just filing through a small number of artists on my playlist gives you an idea of my varied taste: AC/DC, Aqua, Beatles, Joe Walsh, Ozzy, Norah Jones, Prince, Cheryl Crow, The Who, Blondie…
And as background music for a trip, I just hit shuffle and away we go. However, when I am alone, I crank it up and sing along. I ride the remote and find my favorites. Sometimes I’m not in the mood for certain songs. But there are some songs that no matter my mood, I CAN’T pass up:
Why Worry – Dire Straits
Layla – Derek & the Dominoes
I Know Where It’s At – All Saints
Hook – Blues Traveler
Sweet Home Alabama – Lynrd Skynrd (I always turn it up when he says, “Turn it up!” Do you?)
Bobby McGee – Janis Joplin
Semi Charmed Life – 3rd Eye Blind
Lady Marmalade – from the Moulin Rouge Soundtrack (now there’s some handy French to remember in your travels)
You’re So Vain – Carly Simon
Fat Bottomed Girls – Queen
Complicated – Avril Lavigne
Brimful of Asha – Cornershop
Late in the Evening – Paul Simon (I love the mariachi-esque horn solo—it can’t help but make you smile)
Come Dancing – the Kinks
Hair – The Cowsills
Werewolves of London – Warren Zevon (you’ll catch me grinning when that one comes on—reminds me of M—more on that later)
Mama Told Me Not to Come - Three Dog Night (listen to your mamma!)
One Week – Barenaked Ladies
When I’m Sixty- Four – Beatles (he always answers yes when I ask him)
If nothing else, I guess this proves I’m a Gemini.
I have to explain the Werewolves of London connection. My kids laugh at the songs and sing along. My parents were huge music fans—my mom adored the Rolling Stones and has all of their albums. I remember admiring her Beatles White Album as a child—the 33 is actually white, and they included all of their black and white glossy photos inside. My dad was a huge fan of the Doors, Van Morrison, and the Who when I was growing up. I listened to all of that stuff, and still think it’s great. I guess I’m subjecting my kids to the same thing—forcing them to listen to dated music. No top 40 in our house. So anyway, we always all howl together when the Werewolves of London comes on (okay, for the record B does no howling). But the kids and I do. When I went to London last year for work, the hotel I stayed at was the Hilton Park Lane, and in that hotel is Trader Vic’s. In the song, the line is “I saw a werewolf drinking a piña colada at Trader Vic’s. His hair was perfect.” We joked a lot before I left, that I would be on the lookout for werewolves. Remember that the time is 8 hours different from here to there. So one day I came up to my room after a long stressful day, and had an email from M. She said (and I quote—I have saved the email), “Hey Mom, How is London? Are there any Werewolves? Did you see one with a Chinese menu in his hand? Love M”
That one always makes me smile.
What songs can you never skip? What makes you sing at the top of your lungs in the car?
Wednesday, March 22, 2006
Gadget Mania
I am big fan of gadgets. About the time I went back to work in 2001, I began to acquire as many gadgets as I could get my hands on. Cell phone, palm pilot, lots of computer peripherals. I have always embraced technology. I’ve scaled back a bit since then, but I still love technology.
Even here in our rural lifestyle, technology has been invaluable. While I hate the fact that we have spotty cellular service at our house, I do appreciate that I don’t need a land line installed in the barn—I can usually be reached via cell phone, even outside. I have made no secret of my enjoyment of wireless internet access via my laptop from the hammock! And where would I be without high speed internet via satellite?
My iBook itself has been my right arm. I look up anything and everything goat-related on the internet. I have found other folks in my situation with whom I can network and learn a lot.
My car’s CD player ate my CDs, so instead of replacing the factory CD changer ($$$), I just bought a $150 iPod and use the cassette interface. Voila! Instant music, many more songs, and no need for a CD player. Plus, I can use it when I mow the lawn.
This week my car is in the shop getting fixed (from the recent non-traumatic accident). I have a rental car, a Mazda 6. I used to have a Mazda, and I liked it fine, so nothing against Mazdas, but this car is just run of the mill. I would never buy it, though I don’t hate it.
But this car has one feature that I absolutely CAN’T live without in any new car I get! One feature that I am lusting after, after tasting it for three short days! A feature that when it is gone, I will feel so deprived without! And that feature is: radio controls on the steering wheel.
When it comes to changing stations on the radio, I am like a man with a tv remote. I have a long commute, so I often talk on the phone, and there is a handy mute button right on the steering wheel. You can flip between channels, adjust the volume, even change between AM/FM/FM2/CD. Oh Heaven!
I must have it for my own!
Even here in our rural lifestyle, technology has been invaluable. While I hate the fact that we have spotty cellular service at our house, I do appreciate that I don’t need a land line installed in the barn—I can usually be reached via cell phone, even outside. I have made no secret of my enjoyment of wireless internet access via my laptop from the hammock! And where would I be without high speed internet via satellite?
My iBook itself has been my right arm. I look up anything and everything goat-related on the internet. I have found other folks in my situation with whom I can network and learn a lot.
My car’s CD player ate my CDs, so instead of replacing the factory CD changer ($$$), I just bought a $150 iPod and use the cassette interface. Voila! Instant music, many more songs, and no need for a CD player. Plus, I can use it when I mow the lawn.
This week my car is in the shop getting fixed (from the recent non-traumatic accident). I have a rental car, a Mazda 6. I used to have a Mazda, and I liked it fine, so nothing against Mazdas, but this car is just run of the mill. I would never buy it, though I don’t hate it.
But this car has one feature that I absolutely CAN’T live without in any new car I get! One feature that I am lusting after, after tasting it for three short days! A feature that when it is gone, I will feel so deprived without! And that feature is: radio controls on the steering wheel.
When it comes to changing stations on the radio, I am like a man with a tv remote. I have a long commute, so I often talk on the phone, and there is a handy mute button right on the steering wheel. You can flip between channels, adjust the volume, even change between AM/FM/FM2/CD. Oh Heaven!
I must have it for my own!
Tuesday, March 21, 2006
Fried Eggs with Popcorn
Do you have an aversion to something? A food, a smell, a taste? I have a slight aversion to eggs. Once, when I was about 12, I decided to bake a cake using a lot of eggs. I decided not to use the electric mixer, so I hand mixed those eggs into the batter. Needless to say, my pre-teenage job was less than par, so the eggs settled to the bottom of the cake pan. When I was baking the cake, I became less interested in my task, so I was alerted to the cake’s doneness by the smoke alarm. Have you ever smelled the putrid odor of burnt eggs? REALLY burnt eggs? It will put you off of eggs for years. And I was put off by eggs.
But not liking eggs in this world is like not liking oxygen. They’re everywhere, and some good things have eggs in them. So I do eat eggs, but there are those flashback moments where I just have to pass…
I recall this woeful experience for a reason.
B has an aversion to popcorn. Popcorn is not, well, as universal, for lack of a better word, as oxygen. Or eggs. One can get away with politely declining popcorn. It seems that as a child he was not feeling well, and came downstairs to find a pan of burnt popcorn soaking in the kitchen sink from the night before, all soggy and wet, with the acrid burnt smell lingering in the water. His already-queasy stomach was put off, and he hasn’t touched the stuff since.
I have been sick for about the last week, with a nasty sinus infection. It was miserable, let me tell you! I have been on antibiotics, and an antihistamine with codeine. Of course the codeine makes me sleepy, and I’ve spent a lot of time sleeping the past week.
My mom made me some great bean bags, well, they’re made with corn, so technically they’re “corn bags.” You heat them in the microwave and they feel great on a headache, or any kind of ache that feels soothed with heat. I have a lot of them, and I use them all the time.
Unfortunately, after many uses, and many, MANY re-heats, the corn inside has begun to burn. Not burn as in smoke and turn black, but when you put your face close to it, you do smell an odor reminiscent of burnt popcorn. (Can you see where I might be going with this?)
Of course, since it’s not that strong, and I don’t have an aversion to popcorn, this does not bother me. For me, the odor is reminiscent of pain relief! But, for someone who has had a near-lifelong loathing for the stuff, the bags really do offend.
Which is why it means so much that when his hacking, darth-vader-breathing wife drags her sick, snotty, contagious self and her stinky corn bags to bed, that B still snuggles up next to her and tells her he loves her. : )
But not liking eggs in this world is like not liking oxygen. They’re everywhere, and some good things have eggs in them. So I do eat eggs, but there are those flashback moments where I just have to pass…
I recall this woeful experience for a reason.
B has an aversion to popcorn. Popcorn is not, well, as universal, for lack of a better word, as oxygen. Or eggs. One can get away with politely declining popcorn. It seems that as a child he was not feeling well, and came downstairs to find a pan of burnt popcorn soaking in the kitchen sink from the night before, all soggy and wet, with the acrid burnt smell lingering in the water. His already-queasy stomach was put off, and he hasn’t touched the stuff since.
I have been sick for about the last week, with a nasty sinus infection. It was miserable, let me tell you! I have been on antibiotics, and an antihistamine with codeine. Of course the codeine makes me sleepy, and I’ve spent a lot of time sleeping the past week.
My mom made me some great bean bags, well, they’re made with corn, so technically they’re “corn bags.” You heat them in the microwave and they feel great on a headache, or any kind of ache that feels soothed with heat. I have a lot of them, and I use them all the time.
Unfortunately, after many uses, and many, MANY re-heats, the corn inside has begun to burn. Not burn as in smoke and turn black, but when you put your face close to it, you do smell an odor reminiscent of burnt popcorn. (Can you see where I might be going with this?)
Of course, since it’s not that strong, and I don’t have an aversion to popcorn, this does not bother me. For me, the odor is reminiscent of pain relief! But, for someone who has had a near-lifelong loathing for the stuff, the bags really do offend.
Which is why it means so much that when his hacking, darth-vader-breathing wife drags her sick, snotty, contagious self and her stinky corn bags to bed, that B still snuggles up next to her and tells her he loves her. : )
Wednesday, March 15, 2006
Uncle Rick Wants Photos
And photos he shall have. Sorry it took me so long.
They were taken today, it's one of those days where you can just see nature trying to be spring.
Audrey is the beauty in the photo, she's our Goddaughter. The shelves are finally done. I put doors on the remaining cabinets today. Whew! Check out the photo of the old fence embedded into the ground. We've never noticed it before...
Click on the photo for the slideshow.
They were taken today, it's one of those days where you can just see nature trying to be spring.
Audrey is the beauty in the photo, she's our Goddaughter. The shelves are finally done. I put doors on the remaining cabinets today. Whew! Check out the photo of the old fence embedded into the ground. We've never noticed it before...
Click on the photo for the slideshow.
Tuesday, March 14, 2006
Starting my day with Honey
I am home from work today. L is sick (bummer, but just a cold), so it’s my day to stay home with him. For that reason, I was not pressed for time as I fed the animals today.
After everyone had eaten, and the horses had gone outside, I leaned over Cindi and Joe’s pen. Cindi was interested in nibbling and investigating everything about me that she could—though she has investigated me many times before. I guess it works both ways, because I can never get enough of petting and loving on my animals, either. As she tasted my gloves and my coat, and enjoyed my scratchings, my “parrot kitty” crept up and perched her body on my shoulders as I leaned over the pen. She tucked her legs under her chest and proceeded to purr and nap on me. Joe heard her and saw that Cindi was obviously not afraid, so he ventured over. I spoke softly to him, and he came up and sniffed the kitten, and then sniffed my nose. He didn’t stay long, but he was quite close for a short time.
All of this was accompanied by Garrison Keillor reading a poem from Robert Morgan, entitled "Honey":
“… Only calmness will reassure the bees to let you rob their hoard. Any sweat of fear provokes them. Approach with confidence, and from the side… If you go near bees every day they will know you. And never jerk or turn so quick you excite them…”
What a way to start my day.
After everyone had eaten, and the horses had gone outside, I leaned over Cindi and Joe’s pen. Cindi was interested in nibbling and investigating everything about me that she could—though she has investigated me many times before. I guess it works both ways, because I can never get enough of petting and loving on my animals, either. As she tasted my gloves and my coat, and enjoyed my scratchings, my “parrot kitty” crept up and perched her body on my shoulders as I leaned over the pen. She tucked her legs under her chest and proceeded to purr and nap on me. Joe heard her and saw that Cindi was obviously not afraid, so he ventured over. I spoke softly to him, and he came up and sniffed the kitten, and then sniffed my nose. He didn’t stay long, but he was quite close for a short time.
All of this was accompanied by Garrison Keillor reading a poem from Robert Morgan, entitled "Honey":
“… Only calmness will reassure the bees to let you rob their hoard. Any sweat of fear provokes them. Approach with confidence, and from the side… If you go near bees every day they will know you. And never jerk or turn so quick you excite them…”
What a way to start my day.
Sunday, March 12, 2006
Bert and the Goatherd
In an email from my cousin Mike, he spoke about my staying with Bert and giving him support until he died. Indeed, I had a stethoscope to his chest and petted and spoke to him until his last heartbeat. While all in all it was a painless death—pretty much a coma, with a few random neurological movements, but at the last few minutes of his life, he aspirated his vomit and choked. The last few minutes were difficult for me, not because of my intense love for Bert (though he was a great guy!), but because I had compassion for him, and I did not want to see him suffer. As I look back, I am confident that he did not suffer long, and that the Banamine that I gave him shortly before his death greatly reduced any pain he was feeling. I really did not want to be with him and witness that—I really would have rather left and come back when it was all over. However, I owed it to him to stay with him until the end. That is my job as a shepherd (or goatherd).
Most of us have read stories of the shepherds in the Bible, especially the Christmas story. I always thought of the concept as somewhat romantic and magical—out there, leading your sheep around in the blackest night one can imagine, no buildings around so you can see black and sky forever on all four sides. Crisp and cold in the desert. Later I found out that this was incorrect—the least inaccuracy being that sheep don’t probably graze in the middle of the desert! We’ve all heard the analogies of the shepherd and the sheep, how sheep trust their master and can be led anywhere.
A few years ago, I learned that the shepherds lived with their sheep year round. The point of the knowledge was Biblical background, but I learned that they lived with their sheep all of the time, as nomads and couldn’t follow the traditional Jewish customs of cleansing and ritual. For this, they were shunned, and spent their entire lives with their sheep, away from society. (That makes the Christmas story that much more interesting to me, that God would reveal Jesus’ birth to the shepherds—outcasts, unclean folks—before he revealed it to anyone else.)
It wasn’t until after I got the goats that it was illustrated to me how the sheep trust the shepherd and the shepherd knows his or her flock.
The goats have the most complete trust in me. I am the person who—twice a day, every day, rain or shine—brings food. That is paramount in building trust with livestock: Be the food lady! My consistency and calm mannerism (at least in the barn) built that trust. They will follow me wherever I go. I don’t need a fence if I am out with them. Last fall we scoured the pasture looking for 2 fly masks lost in the heat of horseplay, and as I walked around, I was followed by an entourage of three goats (followed by their three kittens), and we trekked around the pasture in single file until we found our masks. It struck me then that I could lead them anywhere, and they would follow. They had amazing confidence in me. Blind trust. If I was leading them, only good could come of it.
Goats are herd animals, so Bert was without his herd when he was in the house for the last few days before his death, and that had to be distressing. They can’t stand to be alone and away from the other goats. The one exception, however, is when they are with me. They don’t mind being away from the herd if I am close by.
So, it was only natural then, that when it came time for Bert to leave this earth, that I would be with him. I felt that as a shepherd, the least I could do is to comfort him before his death, so that he wouldn’t be afraid to leave this earth. After all, if the food lady leads you somewhere, it has to be okay, right?
Most of us have read stories of the shepherds in the Bible, especially the Christmas story. I always thought of the concept as somewhat romantic and magical—out there, leading your sheep around in the blackest night one can imagine, no buildings around so you can see black and sky forever on all four sides. Crisp and cold in the desert. Later I found out that this was incorrect—the least inaccuracy being that sheep don’t probably graze in the middle of the desert! We’ve all heard the analogies of the shepherd and the sheep, how sheep trust their master and can be led anywhere.
A few years ago, I learned that the shepherds lived with their sheep year round. The point of the knowledge was Biblical background, but I learned that they lived with their sheep all of the time, as nomads and couldn’t follow the traditional Jewish customs of cleansing and ritual. For this, they were shunned, and spent their entire lives with their sheep, away from society. (That makes the Christmas story that much more interesting to me, that God would reveal Jesus’ birth to the shepherds—outcasts, unclean folks—before he revealed it to anyone else.)
It wasn’t until after I got the goats that it was illustrated to me how the sheep trust the shepherd and the shepherd knows his or her flock.
The goats have the most complete trust in me. I am the person who—twice a day, every day, rain or shine—brings food. That is paramount in building trust with livestock: Be the food lady! My consistency and calm mannerism (at least in the barn) built that trust. They will follow me wherever I go. I don’t need a fence if I am out with them. Last fall we scoured the pasture looking for 2 fly masks lost in the heat of horseplay, and as I walked around, I was followed by an entourage of three goats (followed by their three kittens), and we trekked around the pasture in single file until we found our masks. It struck me then that I could lead them anywhere, and they would follow. They had amazing confidence in me. Blind trust. If I was leading them, only good could come of it.
Goats are herd animals, so Bert was without his herd when he was in the house for the last few days before his death, and that had to be distressing. They can’t stand to be alone and away from the other goats. The one exception, however, is when they are with me. They don’t mind being away from the herd if I am close by.
So, it was only natural then, that when it came time for Bert to leave this earth, that I would be with him. I felt that as a shepherd, the least I could do is to comfort him before his death, so that he wouldn’t be afraid to leave this earth. After all, if the food lady leads you somewhere, it has to be okay, right?
Friday, March 10, 2006
More Silliness
Well, B and I are planning our herd for this spring. We're still having "analysis paralysis" and just dragging our feet, so I hope it all pans out. Anyway, as we plan for our crop of "girls" (does) this spring, we have already picked out names:'
Jane
Marezy
Dozey
: )
We really do take this very seriously.
Jane
Marezy
Dozey
: )
We really do take this very seriously.
Daycare
Ugh, this daycare thing is really causing me grief. My kids have such a crazy schedule this summer, that it is hardly worth sending L to daycare. M can be home alone, but not with L there. The two of them together would really be a bad mix. M is visiting grandparents for part of the summer, several grandparents are visiting us for several days, and we have the county and state fairs, and a couple of weeks of camp…
L’s daycare has a policy that you can take 2 weeks off in the summer without having to pay, but you have to let them know in advance what weeks those will be. And, any additional weeks off you have to pay for.
I’ve calculated that through the 10 weeks of summer, they will be busy for 5 of the weeks. Of course, the days are hit and miss—sometimes it’s 3 days a week, sometimes it’s the whole week, etc.
We pay L’s daycare $120 a week for the summer (he is not in daycare except for the summer). But if you tried to ask someone to come to your house and pay them that wage hourly, for 7 hours a day, 5 days a week, that amounts to less than $3.50 per hour! Putting an ad in the paper for a job paying $3.50 per hour is likely to bring only laughs, rather than applicants.
So I am stuck.
What do you do for summer care? I wish I could take the summer off…
L’s daycare has a policy that you can take 2 weeks off in the summer without having to pay, but you have to let them know in advance what weeks those will be. And, any additional weeks off you have to pay for.
I’ve calculated that through the 10 weeks of summer, they will be busy for 5 of the weeks. Of course, the days are hit and miss—sometimes it’s 3 days a week, sometimes it’s the whole week, etc.
We pay L’s daycare $120 a week for the summer (he is not in daycare except for the summer). But if you tried to ask someone to come to your house and pay them that wage hourly, for 7 hours a day, 5 days a week, that amounts to less than $3.50 per hour! Putting an ad in the paper for a job paying $3.50 per hour is likely to bring only laughs, rather than applicants.
So I am stuck.
What do you do for summer care? I wish I could take the summer off…
Monday, March 06, 2006
Child of the 80's
Okay, I admit it, I was immersed in pop culture as a child. I scored a 96.5% on this test. Poor B, he got a 34.4. I think he had his head, ahem, elsewhere, in the 80's. : )
Sunday, March 05, 2006
So sweet your teeth will hurt just looking at it...
Is this not the cutest thing you've ever seen? It's "kid jammies", designed to keep them warm after they're born.
Makes you want to run out and get a few babies and a few jammies.
: )
Makes you want to run out and get a few babies and a few jammies.
: )
Saturday, March 04, 2006
Okay, this frightens me.
If you have so much money that you can afford this, then we should talk. I can help you find a good use for your cash.
I was trying to find a goat halter for L when he shows Cindi, and I ran across this. Maybe he can just push her around the ring in this contraption?
I was trying to find a goat halter for L when he shows Cindi, and I ran across this. Maybe he can just push her around the ring in this contraption?
The Verdict
I took my car in to have an estimate done for the damage in the accident. There really isn't any visible damage, except the tire cover is torn. B took it to get washed, however, and it was leaking from the back door, so I know there is futher damage. I found out today that the damage is nearly $1000, and that is only if they don't have to replace the door. They weren't able to tell today, they will have to take it all apart and see.
The mechanic might well have been a salesman. I asked him if I would need to rent a car for the three days my car was in the shop. He said yes, and that they rented cars at their shop. He said, "Well, you DO have to be 25 to rent a car, you know."
I said, "Now, you don't REALLY think I am not yet 25, do you?" And he said, "Well, looking at your children and guessing their ages, I am thinking that you must be."
Those kids are cramping my style! I bet I would get carded all the time if I didn't have a teenager in tow!
I wonder how many women he says that to. Probably all of them.
But given that I am approaching 40, he sure made my day.
The mechanic might well have been a salesman. I asked him if I would need to rent a car for the three days my car was in the shop. He said yes, and that they rented cars at their shop. He said, "Well, you DO have to be 25 to rent a car, you know."
I said, "Now, you don't REALLY think I am not yet 25, do you?" And he said, "Well, looking at your children and guessing their ages, I am thinking that you must be."
Those kids are cramping my style! I bet I would get carded all the time if I didn't have a teenager in tow!
I wonder how many women he says that to. Probably all of them.
But given that I am approaching 40, he sure made my day.
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