BarnCam

Well... no babies yet.

And, given that life goes on (read: I have to work despite having babies due), we have set up a barncam. I mentioned it before, but I can't even tell you how consuming it has been. Firewalls, port forwarding, the direcway system, remote desktops, USB cams vs. IP cams, hard wired vs. wireless, antenna boosters, wireless repeaters-- all of this crap has consumed us for the past 2 weeks. All to make sure we don't miss the blessed event.

And, as is often the case with technology, when it works, it's awesome. When it fails, it's miserable. Unfortunately, it has failed more than it has succeeded. We strive for audio and video, since it's important to hear her as well as see her (especially if she moves off-cam). But if you have audio, your video can be unreliable, and vice-versa. When we are home, we can get it to work very well. At work-- where we need the most reliability-- it works not-so-well.

So, while we are at work, our solution is a streaming web cam, with no audio. At least we can see something.

Here is the link:

Our cam is "BarnCam"-- be sure to select the Friends and Family section, and then the Barn Cam from the dropdown link.

Sorry for the commercial nature of the feed-- it was all I could find. If you have a better solution, I will jump at it!!

Happy Monday. I have meetings all day today, so send Precious some good thoughts about holding onto those babies until at least late this afternoon.

Updated: Ugh, I see it's down now. See what I mean? And we're not there to reboot or anything...

I Kid, I Kid!

Actually, I am not kidding. But we do have a goat that is about to kid any day! I did not mention that we have two new girls, Precious and Tango. We now have three that are going to kid this spring, as Cindi is bred as well. Precious' due date is Saturday, and Cindi's is March 4. Tango has been ultrasounded, and is pregnant with twins, but nobody saw her being bred, so her due date is unknown. By looking at all of the goats, I would say that the date is somewhere between the two, maybe mid-February.

So, given the concern for being with the girls while they kid, we have been focusing the efforts during our scarce free time into crafting a barn cam. It would be very helpful for me to be able to view the cam while at work, so that I can keep tabs on them and come home if needed. It's also a long way to the barn when it's 10:30, freezing cold outside, and you're in your pajamas. Or 1:30 am and you wake up in a cold sweat just KNOWING she needs you out there, but you really don't want to leave the comfort of your bed.

Our barn cam is experiencing HUGE issues, however. First there is the issue of the metal barn. Then there was the connectivity between the barn and the wireless router in the house. Now we are having problems with me being able to view streaming video while at work. It's one thing after another. However last night we were able to keep a stable video connection between the barn and the house all night. We all slept like babies, Precious and Tango in plain view (and plain voice!) on my nightstand.

Again, I am concerned becuase I am at work today, unable to view them. But if we can just make it a few more hours, then we have the whole weekend... Keep your fingers crossed for me!

My Teeny College Made the News

http://news.yahoo.com/s/ap/20070125/ap_en_tv/people_colbert

People can be so petty. But it was cool to open Yahoo news and see my alma mater.

Saturday Morning

I haven't taken photos in forever. Friday night and into Saturday morning, the area was blanketed in a heavy fog. When the sun came up yesterday, we were treated to a beautiful sight! I couldn't resist even the nasty cold-- I dusted off my camera and headed out. Hope you enjoy.

The Transformation

This is the living room of our house, taken from the dining room. This picture was taken before we bought it. We had a vision, which was clearly different than the shag carpeting, light-blocking curtains and dark walls.






In the second photo, we have stripped the paneling off of the walls, removed most of the wallpaper underneath, and took up the carpeting. Even though it's not finished in this picture, you can see the transformation in the room just from lightening up the environment. Also, in the first picture, the "archway" was all framed in-- a surprise to us when we removed the paneling.



We stripped the walls, patched and painted them. We're now ready for trim and ceiling tiles. They had put foam 1 x 1' square sound-absorbing tiles up, and we are going to replace them with a tin pattern ceiling. Someday. When we get more time...


Same room, different angle. Isn't it so much better?

My parents should have named me Frank.

Because I am. It’s just the way I am.

So, I will be frank with you. (Spoken like I have never been frank before in my blog.)

I have not blogged about anything recently, as I have been intentionally avoiding the “elephant in the corner” as we affectionately refer to the term at work. It’s that thing that that is looming there, that everyone wants to know about but nobody wants to ask about. This elephant, in this food lady’s life, is her fragile mental health. How is my mental health these days? Am I hanging out in the rubber room? Curled up in the fetal position on my living room floor?

Well, my motto has always been “Better Living Through Chemistry” and this situation is no exception. Lexapro is my miracle drug of choice, and with the exception of a few speed bumps along the way, it has been a miracle.

I have a friend at work who battles his own demons, and he has said to me, “You need a heaping spoonful of ‘I don’t give a shit.’” And he’s right. However, I seem to have a cup full at the moment. Remember my posts about feeling guilt for not doing laundry? Or dishes? Well, there is guilt no more! But now I struggle with the need for some sort of motivation. I struggle with it at home and at work. I am very motivated with the animals, however. I am happy that I continue to honor my commitment to them as an “animal husband.” But the laundry? It’s not done.

B says that’s fine. He likes it much better this way. Let me tell you a funny story:

I had Christmas Day dinner planned out. My inner Martha Stewart was somewhat shut down by the drugs, and I had decided that I’d do a spiral glazed ham in the crock pot, put some veggies and potatoes in the oven, and then we’d just eat off of that all day. It would be a NICE dinner, but not a formal dinner. And there would be minimal work for me.

But the trouble started on Christmas Eve, when my Lexapro self decided that I couldn’t be bothered with the prep work. The inner Martha could not win that battle. I went to bed without the pumpkin pie or pineapple upside down cake being made. Martha was placated by Lex’s assurance that I would get up early and get it all done before 9 am. I mean, the kids will not let us sleep very late on CHRISTMAS, right?? Wrong.

Martha, Lex, B, the kids and I all woke up at 9 am. I am surprised that Martha slept that late. She is usually up at 5:30, banging around in the kitchen, trying to guilt everyone else into getting up and helping. But Lex drugged her into sleep. And we all slept well! We opened our prezzies, and I went to the barn, and it was all good. I came back, and snuggled under the quilt on the couch, and the sun was streaming in, and the cats surrounded me and…

I WOKE UP AT 2:30!!! And nobody had made anything; there was nothing in the house to eat (except the uncooked Christmas dinner and a few leftovers that were not enough to feed a ravenous household!). B suggested the grocery store, but Martha reminded him in her infinite wisdom that the grocery store was closed on Christmas day. Lex told him to go to the gas station and see what he could rustle up.

AND MARTHA WAS QUIET!!! She was drugged in to submission, and Lex seemed pleased that her family was so well fed WITH SLIDERS ON CHRISTMAS DAY !! What did BABY JESUS think when he looked down and realized that LEX LOVED HIM SO MUCH SHE CELEBRATED HIS BIRTH BY SERVING HER FAMILY WHITE CASTLE SLIDERS???!!! FROZEN ONES THAT WERE REHEATED IN THE MICROWAVE!!

Martha was secretly pleased when the kids remarked, “Mom, these are the nastiest burgers I have ever tasted! Can I please have that extra sub sandwich that dad got?”

Strengthened by this, Martha rallied the troops and enlisted help from everyone, to whip up the meal that had been planned! The boy made the pumpkin pie while Martha made the crust and barked orders at the crew. Thankfully Lex tempered the Martha dictator, and the atmosphere was one of camaraderie. Baby Jesus would be proud of THIS. We had the meal done by 7:30 pm, and ate our fill that day, and had ham for dinner for a week after that.

Later, when Martha begged forgiveness from B for being under the influence of Lex, B said he loved her multiple personalities with Lex in the mix. Martha asked him if he wanted to boot Lex out of her life, and while he said, ‘It’s up to you, Dear” she really heard the truth in his voice: ‘If you ever go off of this medication, I will run screaming for the hills never to be heard from again. Never, EVER miss a pill.” And I think he really means that, White Castle for Christmas dinner and all.

So, bear with me and my cup full of I don’t give a shit. It’s not that I don’t, I really care about things. But other things just get in the way…

Truthfully, and kidding aside, part of the titration is to get through the part where you are feeling somewhat numb. My first reaction to the medication was that I did not like how it took away all of the good feelings with the bad. My emotions were spiking up and down, and I liked the ups. I never even considered that the medicine would shave the peaks off of the good and the valleys off the bad moods. Fortunately, the peaks have come back, and the valleys have stayed away, except when appropriate. This has been a good thing for me. But I continue to have motivation problems. It’s the old, “spirit is willing but the flesh is weak” line. Last night I really intended to get some extra work done that I had brought home. Yeah, and B woke me up at midnight to go to bed. My laptop was still open. I had fallen asleep waiting for a remote document to load. I had every intention to stay awake, but…

Okay, you get the picture. The gist is this: I know you are all used to Martha with the stick up her butt. But please, be patient with Lex, and get to know her. She’s totally laid back and cool (when she’s not sleeping). And she’s REALLY, really good for Martha.

I'm SO making this next year...

Cool, eh?

Jumping to Contusions

Saturday night B and I went out to feed the animals. I had gone to a meeting, so when we went out it was later than usual. I fed as I always do, and stopped a minute to pet Major as he ate. I must have startled him or made him think that in some way I was going to take his food, but he instantly lunged at me and bit me in the upper arm. It was an extremely hard impact, it happened so fast and suddenly that I had no idea what happened until took a couple of seconds to replay it all in my head. He bit me straight through my coat, and while he did not break the skin, I can't imagine what he would have done had I not been wearing a coat. Or if he would have bitten my face. He did not mean to do it in that way, he has never been aggressive to me, other than nipping for attention or stamping out of anger. He has been relegated to low horse on the totem pole in the pasture, and I am sure he was instinctively potecting his food from a horse-- he just assumed that it was another horse coming up next to him.

Too bad.

it HURTS!

Just another day in paradise...

Last week when B was sick, we pretty much spent the day in bed, ala John and Yoko. B slept, and I kept vigil with the thermometer and extra quilts, but I had my laptop with me and got some mundane data entry done.

I also mentioned that the cats were there (most of the day), all three piled on the bed with their thermal support, and the dogs were sleeping on the floor, surely adding a degree or two to the ambient temperature.

The kids were downstairs watching a movie, I heard a frantic shriek, “Mom! Bub’s got a mouse!” She is the resident mouser, while the other two cats jump on chairs and quiver when they see one of the rodents. In a vain attempt to get the mouse away from her (we are happy to have her kill them, but prefer she doesn’t eat them), the kids chased her upstairs with her kill—that wasn’t completely killed. She ran into our bedroom and under the bed, and promptly let the catch go. She wanted to play with it some more!

I chastised her and told her I would really REALLY like her to find that mouse sometime before bedtime, as I would prefer not to wake up with Mickey on my pillow! She set to work trying to find it, and she did just that. However, when I tried to get it away from her, she jumped up on my bed and let it go in my bed!!

Yes, that was creepy.

At that point, I put all phobias aside and threw the covers back, grabbed the (still very much alive) mouse by the tail, and took it outside.

I’m trying very hard to shed my suburban image. Is it working?

Renegade!

About two weeks ago B had to work late. We chatted on the way home via cell phone, of course, and he was just about home when he exclaimed, “Holy shit, there is a cow in the road!” It was a black cow, and given that it was dark, although we live in the country, the animal suddenly appearing in front of his rapidly moving automobile was somewhat of a shock to him.

We had an idea who owned the cow, and that person does not actually live on the premesis. He does have tenants who live in the house on the land, and B knocked on the door and told the tenant. The tenant said that he did, in fact, know that the cow had escaped, as it was a “jumper.” I had seen the cow jump before, or at least one of the cattle, as I drove by and stopped to tell the tenant at the time (not the same tenant).

So, the next morning I was doing chores at 5:30 am, it was still pitch black outside, and I was checking the waterer to make sure it had not frozen over. All of the animals were still inside munching on breakfast, and I heard a noise on the east side of the barn, near the manure pile. It sounded larger than a cat, and it occurred to me that it could be a deer. I happened to have a flashlight in-hand, and shined it toward the noise. I saw two large, glowing eyes staring back at me, framed by two sets of eartags. It was the renegade cow! She had come quite a distance, maybe a mile. I went around the fence to where she was, shooing her toward home, when suddenly the flashlight’s battery died! There I was, dead flashlight in-hand, in the middle of my yard, so dark I couldn’t see my hand in front of my face. I could hear the cow, as she wandered off in the wrong direction—going deeper into our property. It was all I could do to stumble back in the general direction of the house and get ready for work.

A few days later M was home from school sick. I stayed with her, and decided to finish up some chores that afternoon. I was standing at the kitchen sink doing dishes (we don’t have a dishwasher) when I saw old Boss just wander up the driveway, like she was coming for her scheduled 4:00 pm visit! It was just one of those “this could only be happening to me” moments. Have you ever had a cow come visiting? Walk up your driveway when you were just doing the dishes? Strange, eh?

When the bus dropped L off a few minutes later, I said, “Hey, there is a cow in our yard, back in the back. Let’s go try and shoo her back home.” He went out with me, and she would not be deterred. She wanted nothing to do with us, but wouldn’t go in the direction we wanted her to go. When we cornered her, she ended up jumping a fence (should not have been a surprise to us) but toward the inside of the property, not toward her home. L intelligently pointed out that we should just leave her, as she would go where she wanted with her ability to jump.

The next morning she was still there. It was a Saturday, and I figured that I should get her home, lest the farmer think I was attempting to steal his cow. So I opened the gate, and chased her out. She was reluctant to leave once she was in the open yard, so I had to shoo her all the way down the driveway and out to the road, where she moseyed on home. I heard someone drive along and honk at her, too, so I know she was just carrying on back the way she came.

Fortunately, it was in the day, so she was not creating a traffic hazard as she was when Bill first saw her on the road.

The next night, the farmer gathered up all of his cows and took them away. He rotates his pastures over the winter, so it was not unexpected. But it was a good thing she got home in time.

Gift Idea...

Give the gift of goats!

This is an amazing organization. At some point, when our farm is turning a profit, I would like to donate some of our profits to this organization. This year we can consider it from our family to other families.

Just think of the headlines, "Goats Bring World Peace and Prosperity!"

My most requested Christmastime recipe...

Even the folks at work are clamoring for it!

Oreo Cookie Truffles

1 (550g) bag Oreo cookies
1 (8 ounce) package cream cheese, at room temp
2 cups milk chocolate chips

Crush the oreo cookies in a food processor, half of the bag at a time, until fine crumbs. Mix the softened cream cheese with the crushed cookies until completely mixed together with no white streaks from the cream cheese. (If you have a stand mixer, this process is painless.) Roll into half inch balls and place on a foil lined cookie sheet. Freeze (or at least refrigerate) for 30 minutes. Dip in melted chocolate. Try not to eat them all before you finish the batch...

Sometimes I alternate with coating them with white chocolate and milk chocolate, for a variety. The chocolate center does show through the white chocolate, though, so make sure you're okay with that. You can also drizzle the milk chocolate onto the white chocolate cookies, and white chocolate onto the milk chocolate cookies. It looks cool and professional that way.

Almond bark is easy to work with, but I don't think it tastes as good as the real thing. It does provide a nice crunchy outer chocolate coating, though.

Okay, now I'm hungry.

What Movie is Your Christmas Most Like?

Your Christmas is Most Like: A Charlie Brown Christmas

Each year, you really get into the spirit of Christmas. Which is much more important to you than nifty presents.

What Movie Is Your Christmas Most Like?

News from the farm...

Check this out:



That means we'll have spring kids!! And it also means that Wolfgang can do his job. While it seems kind of silly, when your buck is not proven, it's a gamble to spend the money on him.

But all is well...

Celebrate! We are!

Rut Defined

rut [ruht] noun, verb, rut·ted, rut·ting

is a general term that refers to the breeding period of mammals. During the rut, males exhibit specific behaviors to establish harems or to attract females to mate with.

Before Rut:



During Rut:



Notice the legs full of pee, the beard all matted and also full of his fresh scent. He really stinks as bad as he looks. But we love him. : )

Blogging from Bed

No, it's not a kinky sex thing, or a John and Yoko thing (though that might be kind of fun and stress-relieving)-- we are sick with some sort of stomach virus. Ugh.

It started early Friday morning, like about 2:45, when I heard M's voice say, "Mom, I got sick in my bed." I can't illustrate enough how I hate those words. First of all, I abhor being awakened in the night. I am just selfish, I guess, or maybe I feel like my years of having babies young enough to wake up multiple times in the night are over. I really don't know the reason, but I am cranky, sometimes downright mean. Especially when it's like 30 minutes before my alarm is supposed to go off... Secondly, when there is a mess involved-- like, "Okay, get up in the night now, and be at your best, and make snap decisions, and hop to it!" No.Thank.You. I will just go back to sleep and pretend your telling me that you projectile vomited all over numerous items in your room was just a nightmare. Sleep well, love.

Alas, it was not a dream, but yes, it was quite a nightmare. She is a horrible patient, she should have been born a man. (And for the record, the men in my house are great patients. : ))

All Friday I stayed home and listened to her moan about her aching body, prepared various food items in a vain attempt to see what she could keep down, shared the couch with her, even though she was hogging the entire space... It's a mom's job, right?

L came home that afternoon and told us that 50 kids on the 3rd floor of their school (I would estimate that that's approximately 150 kids) were out sick with this virus, as well as numerous teachers. So it's a community effort.

Saturday things were a little better, though she was cranky and certainly not completely well. B had a project at work to get done, and was not home until nearly 4:00. Shortly after arriving home, he felt sick. Yep, you guessed it, it was all downhill from there. We spent the vast majority of the night with the light on while he practiced his aim into the bowl.

And now, I am blogging from bed, as I do everything in my power not to get sick, and also to take care of B. He has a fever, and is very cold. It doesn't help that the current temperature in our room is 58! We have some great quilts, though, and the three cats and two dogs are crowded around to offer their heat as well.

L and I are just counting down the hours until the inevitable. We keep asking ourselves if we feel sick, and we always say, "A little." We're just waiting... Hopefully by that time, B and M will be well enough to take care of us.

Appropriate Attire

After a wonderfully thankful Thanksgiving day, spent with great friends and our darling goddaughter, we spent Friday and Saturday doing nothing. Absolutely NOTHING. Watching TV, playing games on the computer, eating, just vegging out. It felt SO good.

But yesterday we saw the forecast: our 55 degree days will be ending soon—and abruptly. Our barn needs to be winterproofed asap, and cleaned, too. So yesterday we spent the day cleaning and doing some minor maintenance to the barn. B and I shoveled all kinds of crap into the back of the pickup truck—an entire bed full—and moved it to the manure pile. Our neighbor’s horses that we are keeping (temporarily) seem to go more than Major does. And he is so tidy, where they are slobs.

In any case, I realized that the local farm store closed at 3:00, and if I wanted to get any wood shavings for bedding, I would need to get there before that time. L and I decided to go. I contemplated freshening up, but I was just going to go in the FARM store. So it would be appropriate to be wearing bib overalls, a t-shirt, my work boots, and a baseball cap thrown over my scary hair. Right?

I was not expecting that the woman behind the counter would ridicule me for my outfit! She said to me, “Did you not look at yourself in the mirror when you put those clothes on today?” She also told me that she wished she had a camera…

Sheesh, you’d think one could go to town and shop at the farm store looking like a farmer without being ridiculed for looking like such.

Next time I will don a work suit and show up in my patent leather pumps.

Ernie Calling!

No, this isn't Ernie calling. But I got this new phone, and I was trying to assign ringtones to some of the numbers that call frequently. Thinking that a "baaing" sound would be appropriate for a phone call coming from home, I searched for "baa ringtone" and came up with this crazy site. You should visit the URL when you are finished watching the little video. It's a hoot.

Yes, it's sheep, but it's a baa, and it's hilarious. I need to make one of these videos of the goats at my house.




Hope you at least smiled!

There might not be any crying in farming, but by God, there sure is cussing...

I should have gone out to the barn yesterday when it was still light, but I got a new cell phone, and I was playing around with it. So I didn't get out there until after supper to feed. Mistake. BIG mistake.

I walked into the barn and smelled a horrible smell. Now, my biggest fear has been that I will encounter a skunk either in the barn, or cross paths with one outside. So far I've been fine, but last night I thought my luck had ended. Come to find out it was yet ANOTHER possum, but this one had been "skunked"! He stank to high heavens. He was in a horse stall, but very close to the exit that the cats have fashioned for themselves. So I grabbed a pitchfork and tried to encourage him to leave. No luck. He was angry, biting at the pitchfork and growling.

One thing that is interesting to note is that our animals have "keyhole feeders" which are feeders fashioned so that they can stick their heads outside of the stalls to eat. That keeps the feeders (and water buckets) free of food and poop so that they are less apt to catch worms or other disease. Goats will also (smart as they are) not drink from a bucket that they have soiled. So when I walk into the barn, they all have their heads stuck through the feeders, looking at me.

So last night I am shouting at the possum, wielding my pitchfork like a wildwoman, and suddenly I look and see that everyone, all six of them, have stopped their chorus of baas, and are looking at me intently. Dead silence, just observing the food lady take charge. It was quite amusing, given the amount of bellering that usually occurs. I don't know if they were glad I was getting the possum out, watching me supportively; wondering what the hell I was doing; or scared to death of my carrying on. But it was funny.

So I cornered it, and put a trap near it with some cat food. It was scared, and not going anywhere. In the meantime, I started feeding. I have taken Wolfgang out of Cindi's stall, as it has been a month and we are hoping she is bred. So Ernie is back in with her and Joe Llama. I have had to hold a separate bucket of feed for Joe because Ernie steals his food. Well, last night I held the bucket for him, but Ernie got too close. Joe spit the contents of his mouth straight at Ernie, but Ernie ducked! Guess who got spat at?! From about 18", nearly a point blank range, he spat straight at my face. Grain. Covered in llama saliva. It was in my hair, stuck to my glasses, down my jacket, all over me.

Having finished feeding, and worse for the wear, I went back to dispatching the possum. It was still huddled in this corner, behind a door. I opened the door, to create somewhat of a triangle (hard to explain, but just go with me here), and left the only opening to be directly into the trap. I couldn't get to him, then, as he was behind the door. So I jabbed him with the pitchfork from under the door. He ran out, and directly into the trap. Success!

But then I had this stinking possum to get rid of. I really wanted to just let him out away from the barn, but I knew I would be dealing with his sinky self again if I did that, so I put him in the back of my car and took him to the same place we've taken the others. My car stank to high heavens, and I am hoping that after removing the animal, the trap, and the paper I put under the trap, that my car will smell better this morning.

I have a professional development class today, and I really don't want to come sauntering in smelling like a goat bathed in llama saliva, with skunk overtones.

Off to the barn to see what surprises are in store for me today...

Santa Baby

Yesterday I sent Santa a little hint. He didn't get it, apparently he's never heard the song "Santa Baby." Anyway, I'm not humming Christmas carols just yet, but my Christmas list was made long ago...


Santa baby, slip a new goat under the tree, For me.

I've been an awful good girl,
Santa baby, and hurry down the chimney tonight.

Santa baby, a set of hoof nippers too, Light blue.

I'll wait up for you dear,
Santa baby, and hurry down the chimney tonight.

Think of all the hay that I will need,
Alfalfa, oats and black oil sunflower seed,
Next year I could be oh, so good,
If you'd bring me some goats to breed,
Boo doo bee doo.

Santa honey, I wanna big herd,
And really that's not absurd,
I've been an angel all year,
Santa baby, and hurry down the chimney tonight.

Santa cutie, there's one thing on which I’m stuck, a buck.
A sire for my new herd,
Santa cutie, and hurry down the chimney tonight.

Santa baby, fill my stocking with a doe, And Oh!
Please could she be bred to Pistolero,
Santa baby, and hurry down the chimney tonight.

Come and trim my Christmas tree,
With some tools bought at TSC,
I really do believe in you,
Let's see if you believe in me,
Boo doo bee doo.

Santa baby, forgot to mention one thing more, A Boer.
(I don't mean a dull guy),
Santa baby, and hurry down the chimney tonight,
Hurry down the chimney tonight,
Hurry down the chimney tonight

Grocery Shocking

Last weekend we stocked up on supplies before the long winter. A partial list of necessities included:

Latex Gloves
KY Jelly
Enema bottle
Absorbent Pads
Rubber Tubing
Bulb Syringe
Karo Syrup
Dental Floss

No, we didn’t have some kinky sex party, we are preparing for spring kidding! It’s not for a while yet, but we sold our corn at a good price and used the check to stock up on the supplies we’ll need for spring. Some great folks put together a list of necessities. We already had many things on the list, but buying the remaining items cost around $300! This goat business is not a cheap business…

Anyway, it was fun to put those things in the basket at Target and make people wonder

Got Milk?

This is an interesting article about small farmers and raw milk/eggs. It's particularly interesting to me because when we moved here and acquired livestock, I saw all of the catalogs containing all of the medicines and supplements that are available for livestock, and I was shocked. I have always been concerned about the hormones and such in milk and meat, but I guess it was just more "in your face" when I saw the catalogs that sold the stuff. It's easy as a consumer to live with your head in the sand.

When we created our business plan, we were determined to avoid giving any unnecessary supplements to our animals. Totally organic would mean no antibiotics, no deworming, and only organically grown feed. While, in theory, this is an ideal practice, for us just starting out, the potential for loss of animals is too great. Several animals have been treated for something in their time at our farm. Organically grown feed is nearly 3 times as much as the feed we buy.

We do, however, refrain from overuse of antibiotics, we do not use growth hormones or steroids in any way, and we only deworm if we actually find worms. We do not worm on a regular basis, or proactively. We feed hay grown on our farm, which is not sprayed with insecticide or contaminated with feces (fertilized with manure).

Folks who sell organic meat can usually command prices high enough to afford the additional costs and risk of organic practices. However, our land is surrounded by farms on all sides, and because they do not practice organic farming, it makes it difficult to avoid any residual pesticide or runoff, and that would exclude us from organic certification.

Anyway, I'm sort of digressing from my point, which really is that it's a shame that someone who wants to avoid hormones, antibiotics, processing, or other changes/supplements/additions to their food is precluded from the freedom to buy it. If a person wants to buy it, the government should not intervene and say that they cannot. However, if someone should not do the research and become sick because they bought food that was unhealthy, neither should they count on the government to bail them out via litigation. It's a buyer beware situation.

It's just that you can't really go in the store and look at a steak in the stryofoam package and tell if that cow has been fed growth hormones or antibiotics, or has been treated cruelly. It's really limiting the freedom of the consumer to choose.

Stepping off the soapbox...

Good Morning Food Lady!!

I am sick. With strep throat. Ugh...

So when I came into the barn this morning, I was not myself, groggy and sick. I perked up right away when I was greeted by a gaggle of cats plus two goats and a llama. Because I was late this morning, it seems that Major decided to stir up some trouble. He opened up the stall next to his, containing Cindi, Ernie and Joe Llama. It was a free for all in the barn-- hay everywhere, jumping and frolicking in the aisles... Thankfully I have endured enough shennangans to know that one should always keep the grain locked up and goat proof.

Because they were extra hungry, it didn't take much more than a feeder full of grain to entice them back into captivity.

On a related note, I let the horses out and they were alarmed by something. Horses are so funny, they look like weather vanes when they are worried or concerned about something. They face the "threat" all puffed up, all standing in the same direction like sentries defending against said threat. So today I noticed that there was cause for concern. I peeked around the barn to see what they were en guarde against, and lo and behold there was a field full of cattle a couple of pastures away. Horrors!!

However, I did also notice that an old fence was broken and needs to be repaired. I hope they don't consider a jailbreak until I am feeling better

Playing Possum Part Deux

I blogged last time about my possum experience. Well, there is more.

All of this whole business started because of the cats. (You know, all of the good stories start with that line...)

So when we moved into this place, we inherited, along with gobs of junk that needed to be taken to the dump, a cat. Grey and white, and tough as nails. Our house had been vacant for nearly a year, and she survived just fine. She gave us about a 30’ berth, so we had no idea if she was a he or a she. Well, of course, until she brought her kittens around.

We nicknamed her BB, I don’t really know why. But that is her name, and she is still around today. After three years, she and her babies and all of their descendants have graced us with their presence. I don’t know how many cats have come and gone, but currently we have 13 cats—all descended from BB.

Many of those that have come and gone have been truly feral—not only skittish, but really disliking people. BB has come around somewhat, since we do feed her, but we have not been able to even touch her, let along hold her or love on her. Sometimes we don’t see her for a few days, or sometimes she shows up for both the morning and evening meal. It just depends.

When we saw that she was definitely a she, we found out that there is a service provided by the University here that will spay and neuter your barn cats. It’s provided by the vet students, but there is a waiting list. It does cost, but at $15 it is quite economical. They have the setup necessary to sedate a feral cat in a cat carrier or trap. They also lend their traps to catch the cats. However, we had no idea that we would be on the list for a matter of YEARS. We put our name on the list in the summer of 2004, and just received the call on October 21st (of 2006) that our number was up to bring the cats in. We jumped at the chance!

The first go-round they only had space for 5 of our colony. No problem, the last batch of kittens born are very tame, and we found 5 that could travel easily in carriers. When we got up there, we borrowed the traps for the second set (8 cats), which were taken this past Sunday. Here is a picture of the traps, so you can see what they look like:



Saturday L and I went to a goat event, so we were busy. We came home and corralled the tame cats, and set traps for the feral cats. There were 2 feral cats loose, and 2 traps.

That night, MK and J invited us over for some great food, and, as it happened, some great margaritas. Some really great, put-your-ass-under-the-table margaritas. We came home, and I went to the barn. I was standing around in the freezing cold barn without a coat, even, those maragaritas had warmed me right up! I was feeling nothing but happiness! Until I saw that the cat I thought I had trapped was a POSSUM. Yep, Possum #2. Too bad I hadn’t trapped it before going to MK’s house, as I could have brought it as a housewarming gift instead of the jar of applesauce. Instead, since B was the sober one, he had to drive it at 11:00 on a Saturday night, up to the forest preserve and let it out.

The traps were again baited, and we went to bed.

The next morning, we woke up and checked the traps. TWO OPEN TRAPS. Those cats were not about to take the bait, and apparently we had dispatched all of the possums.

We load them up and take them up to the vet.

But let me paint the picture for you: You have just woken from your slumber at 5:15 am, after a late evening involving alcohol containing a worm. You stumble out to the barn to do chores, and collect the cats. The collection process is a royal bitch because you have to sort out the ones that have already been neutered, you are cussing at the ones that have not trapped themselves, but are still underfoot begging for their breakfast, and the ones that have been trapped overnight have already pooped in their traps and stink to high heavens. They are crying and lunging and carrying on, and they are running back and forth from one end of the trap to the other as you try and load them into the car. It’s heavy, stinky, and messy work. The cats provide a chorus for the entire 65 minute drive, and they fill your car with a scent like none other. Of course, we have protection down for the interior of our cars, but the smell while traveling with them is overwhelming. You have not had breakfast, are starving and in dire need of caffeine, but don’t dare stop on the way, as there will be no way you can choke down food with that stench in your car.

Ultimately, all’s well that ends well, as we got the cats back and everyone’s been de-gendered, and they have been released back into the barn. God knows they won’t be so scarred from the event that they will not stick around for the next meal.

A footnote: B went to load some hay into the barn after we came back on Sunday night, and when he came in the house, he said,

“You’re going to be mad.”

Me: Wha?

“I saw another possum in the barn. It ran behind the fridge.”

I set the trap last night, but only caught a kitten. I’m turning into Bill Murray.

Playing (with) Possum

Okay, MK, here is the possum story:

A week or so ago, I came into the barn in the evening, and switched on the light. Usually the “pile” of cats disbands and comes running toward me in a “welcome food lady!” gesture. This particular day, the cats disbanded per usual, but one of them waddled the opposite way of the door. Upon further investigation, it turned out to not be a cat, but to be a possum.

Possums are ugly. They are like rats, relatively bald with patchy, coarse hair, with a nasty bald, pink, somewhat scaly tail. Their faces are not necessarily nasty, but it’s hard to get past the tail.

This possum was about as large as a cat, and strangely, he was not deterred by my presence—even when I grabbed a pitchfork and attempted to “encourage” him to leave the barn.

I have been instructed to kill any possum that shows up on my property, as possums can be carriers of EPM, a debilitating disease of horses. However, I could not bring myself to destroy him—especially with a pitchfork—simply for showing up in the wrong place at the wrong time. I just wanted him to leave, as the last thing I wanted was for "him" to turn out to be "her" with her babies in tow. I am sure she won't hesitate to use her teeth on me if she feels as though I am threatening her babies...

He finally went behind the refigerator in my barn, and I didn’t see him after that. (That was not what I had planned to happen…)

I thought maybe I had scared him away, and he would leave the barn after I left.

That was not true, and I found that out a few days later when I came into the barn and found a bottle of nutritional supplement knocked to the ground and completely chewed up. I knew it was not a cat!

I happen to have some live traps (long story, another blog post) and decided to set a trap for him. Of course, I knew that as soon as I baited the traps, that cats would be caught in them right and left. So I fed the cats in a large dog carrier, and lured as many of them in as I could. There were three cats left that would not be duped. Fortunately, I had 4 traps. Nearly immediately after baiting the traps, two cats were lured and trapped. That left one cat and two traps.

I came into the barn the next morning, and the one cat was still wise enough not to be trapped. However, both of the remaining traps had been tripped! One was occupied by a stray tom cat that has been quite a nuisance lately, and the other trap contained Mr. Possum! Success!

I contemplated breaking in my new .22 rifle and using Mr. Possum for target practice, but I considered that I would rather have a shooting course first, and dispatch Mr. Possum humanely. So that suggestion was out. I ultimately decided to take him to a nearby county woods park and let him go.

The kids were so funny—they wanted to go with me and see him off, and the whole drive there, they talked to him in their funny baby talk. He was not impressed as he drooled and played dead. He woke right up when we let him go, and he shot out of the trap like a bat out of hell.

All’s well that ends well.

MK: I don’t believe that possums course, per say, unless they are the bait. However, some folks do eat possums.

Roasted Opossum (Possum)

1 opossum

1 chopped onion

1 tablespoon of bacon fat

1/4 teaspoon of Worcestershire sauce

1 cup of bread crumbs

1 hard boiled egg

1 teaspoon of salt

water


Rub opossum with salt and pepper. Brown onion in fat. Add opossum liver and cook until tender. Add bread crumbs, Worcestershire sauce, egg, salt, and water. Mix thoroughly and stuff opossum. Truss like a fowl. Put in a roasting pan with bacon across back and pour one quart of water in pan. Roast uncovered in moderate oven 350ºF. until tender (about 2 1/2 hours).

SILENCE!

My m.o. is basically OUTPUT. I am a loud, busy, (usually) fun and energetic person. I am not typically quiet or shy. I do not spend a lot of time in solitude, or pondering. In fact, I would be willing to bet that it's been said about me that I should spend more time thinking before I speak, rather than during or after my comments. : )

The last couple of weeks, as I recovered from my busy time, I have been spending in quiet. Not necessarily in my relationships with others, though I have been more thoughtful about my interactions with my family, but also in my blogging and my consideration of things. For example, I saw a sunset last night, and really wanted to photograph it, to capture it and share it with the world. But, instead, I chose to take it in-- spend more time and energy keeping it to myself, rather than spitting it back at others. I have had silly thoughts, and funny things to report, but instead, I just chose to laugh to myself or to share them with B.

I don't really know why I am feeling this way, and I don't think it is indicative of any sort of immediate depression or problem. I think it's just a phase. It is healthy for me, though, as I think that while my normal behavior is, well, normal (for me), it consumes a lot of energy and effort. I am tired, lots of things have made me tired lately, and as I try and recover from this busy time, from a very difficult work period (which went off very well, I might add), and a very difficult time with M, being quiet and thoughtful has enabled me to recharge.

I think that I am very close to being "back to my normal" self (whatever that is), but I feel like that panic is just the other side of a bad day. It's also exhausting to be fearful or cognizant of that. I do have some appointments lined up to be sure that it doesn't happen again. Eileen said that I had a panic attack, and if you have never had one of those, consider yourself very lucky. I used to think that people made those things up, or were fragile people, and couldn't deal with life's speed bumps very well. I have struggled with not only the fear of another panic attack, but the feeling that I must now not be as strong as I once was. Logically that's just BS, but emotionally it's hard to convince oneself otherwise.

I read a wonderful article recently (Dooce linked to it). If you have a chance to read it, you should. It describes a man, like myself, who thought depression and panic was for weak people. Not strong people like me. He happened to be smack in the middle of Hurricane Katrina. My "hurricane" was when B was discharged from the AF. That same time, M was diagnosed, and we had no idea where we were going, where the money would be coming from, and I-- a person who was typically in control-- was feeling incredibly out of control. I used to write scenarios on index cards and then write everything that would happen if that scenario came to pass. It was like having a flow chart for my life. If we were discharged with X amount of money, to X part of the country, then we would take action by doing this and this and this. For a different amount of money, or a different part of the country, or for not being discharged, then we would do this. In that situation, given that he was not yet discharged (and not certain of discharge), and we didn't know where we were going, it was difficult not to put the horse before the cart. No job until you have a destination, no destination until you are discharged, no money until you are discharged... A very, helpless, out-of-control situation that rocked my confidence and made me forever second guess my plan in life. I will never allow myself to be controlled to that extent ever again.

So that was my "hurricane." The author of the article was never able to recover from the hurricane because he covered stories of suffering and despair daily. Even when his familiy moved away to stay with family while the worst of it was occurring, he stayed behind to cover those desperate souls still mired in the aftermath. My aftermath was not a result of the Air Force, but rather my daily struggle with M and her emotional issues. It has been 14 years, and it has its ups and downs. Currently, it is down-- she is a teenager, with a severe attitude problem, unable to understand cause and effect, unable to conceptualize her place in relationships. Always angry at me for my role in whatever situation is plaguing her at the moment, from something about her clothes, to something that happened with her friends. She punishes me daily, from the time I wake up until the time I go to bed. Our family dynamic clearly needs help, and I have plans to work on that, but I have to fix me first, as I need the strength to deal with her. Had I not been dealing with that for 14 years already, I think I would have more energy, but she has become fiercest when I find myself at my weakest. So I did not have an adequate chance to recover and renew after my hurricane. Work was a source of strength and stability. Dotting i's and crossing t's is a great way for one to feel in control. I can juggle all the balls necessary at work, even if the balls at home are dropping. It's enough to make me feel in control and effective, just to have the work part humming along smoothly. And frankly, that is a big step for me. Because at my old house, before we moved to the farm, I could not let the house/home stuff lie, either. But now my cleaning standards have relaxed, and I am content with not being supermom. However, when I had four meetings in four weeks (three major meetings), a ball was bound to drop. Instead of rolling with the punches, I was ill equipped. I was unable to roll with the punches. I lost my mind when the ball dropped, as I had lost all control of every aspect of my life (in my warped reality). In REALITY, I have amazing support from B and L. M does provide me with stability in her own way--- I can always depend on her to be consistently angry! I did NOT lose control. But my perception was one of despair, and I became desperate.

So, now as I come back, I am trying to take that respite. I am still bruised from that episode, and I am still very wary of it happening again. And, true to form, I will do what it takes to ensure I never find myself there again. Of course, that comes with its own pressures, but there are some things that one cannot change about themselves. I will not be silent for long!

In the meantime, I am storing up lots to write about. I can't wait to tell you about my possum that is at home in my Hav-A-Hart trap, just waiting for me to get home and figure out what the heck to do with it!!

What a morning...

I have had "one of those mornings." I got up early enough to get to work early. I was happy about that, because I am taking tomorrow and half of Friday off to recuperate from my crazy month. (Like one day will help! But it's a start...) I ended up late for work, since about the time I left, Rocky (our dog) ran away. It makes me so incensed, since Raven would never run away. The emotional side of me thinks that if life is so terrible at our house that he just wants to bolt every time the door opens, then he should just run and leave his miserable existence here. Why should we hold him captive and feed him great food and love on him and give him a nice warm house, if he would rather be on his own? I know that he doesn't really think that logically, but it just makes me angry... So instead of heading for work, I help B find him in the hay field. I am running through the grass in my blazer and skirt. I smashed my hand in the gate, and it is swollen and bruised already. I stepped in dog poo in my new (not work) boots. I left without getting breakfast, and I was already 20 minutes late.

As I typed this blog, I got a call from B that he had run over a kitten.

Ugh, what a day. I just want to go back to bed, and it isn't even 9:00.

On the positive side, I did sell our corn this morning for a very great $2.89 a bushel! Woo hoo! We will be buying "infrastructure" as B calls it-- fence and waterers. Of course, I would like to buy more goats, but that's always my answer!

Where to begin?

It has been an interesting few weeks. I wish I could say they were great, but they have definitely had their ups and downs.

The downs first...

Work is getting exceedingly stressful. I think probably the largest part of it is my inability to settle for anything less than perfection from myself. Definitely a character flaw, and given that I have spent the year (plus) in therapy, you'd think I'd have learned something. I have learned how to meditate, appreciate, vegitate, procrastinate and a hundred other things (that don't end in -ate) to give myself permission to be human. I have learned how to talk myself through tough situations and rationalize that my life doesn't have to be this way.

But it is not enough. While I thought I was making tremendous progress, when it came down to the wire, down to where it really mattered, it was all lip service. Superficial. I was unable to cut the mustard.

I have been doing my job since 1990. I am really, really good at it. I make mistakes, of course, as everyone does, but my clients love me. They just signed another year's contract with my company, for my services, and they have increased their pay to my company by over 33% in the past two years. They spoke the words, "we love her" to my company's CEO.

You would think that hearing and knowing that would be enough. Enough to get me out of bed in the morning, enough to give myself some lattitude to enjoy my job knowing that they love my work and find it worthy of a hefty raise.

Instead, it makes me feel intense pressure. If my client is paying that much more, then they deserve that much more toward perfection. Just typing it makes me feel like I must be insane-- that logic is just nonsense. But it is the way I feel, and the reality.

I had a meeting last week. I can't remember how many meetings I have planned for my work over the years. Scores. Big and small, complicated and simple. This meeting was for my dream client (the ones I mention above). I stressed out so badly last weekend I could hardly keep food down. (That is *SO* not like me!) I woke up every morning at 3:30 am, and even went into work one morning early because I couldn't get back to sleep. Two days before the meeting I had what I can only describe as a panic attack. I was convinced that I could *NOT* go to this meeting. I was thinking of all kinds of things I could do to get out of it-- feign sickness, call in with a made up farm accident, etc. It was completely and totally irrational. And even as I type it, it sounds like the most ridiculous thing one would ever do or think of. But my panic and my fear were completely overwhelming and undermined every ounce of logic and reason that I could even muster.

Fortunately, I am married to my most cherished friend. He picked me up, and while he validated my fears, he told me what I needed to do to get past them and succeed. He told me to breathe, put one foot in front of the other, and not to stop moving. And I did just what he told me to do. It was one of the hardest things I have ever done, but I kept hearing him tell me that I could do it. During the meeting, he answered my phone calls, and text messaged me nice things. What an amazing friend.

Needless to say, my life is not the same as it was a year ago. Whatever has a hold of me has really gotten to my core, to the point that I am unable to do what I used to do in the same way. It has attacked my confidence and my experience. However, there is enough left of me to fight. There are things that I want to do, and I am pursuing them (the goats), and of course, for now, the day job is a necessary evil. But I am considering the amount of stress that I have daily, and whether this job is really healthy or not. Eileen has repeatedly told me that my job is not good for my health. I believe her, but I also question whether it will be this way for any job. After all, this is not reality, it is *my* reality, and it will be the same everywhere I go. It is not going to get any better until I fix the problem with me.

This runs in my family, it is deeper than logic, more real than you can ever imagine. I have seen it paralyze those who are heroes to me, render them helpless and hopeless. Fortunately, I think, because I have seen both sides of it, I know there is hope, and while it will not be an easy journey, I have what it takes. I have creative outlets, I have financial stability, I have the insight of experience with mental health issues, and above all, I have the dearest friend in the entire world for my life partner. I can't fail.

While all of that sounds like it would be all-consuming, life does go on, and there is plenty to be thankful for and from which to derive hope. Autumn is here, and I am determined to be excited about it. I am finding beauty today in the crisp wind, the whirlwinds of yellow and orange maple leaves swirling at my feet as the kids and I rush to get the last green tomatoes in for the season. It is going to be very cold the next few days, highs in the 40's and lows in the 20's. We will bring the tomatoes in the house, and hope they will ripen so we can can them. I can't wait to steam up the windows on the house, like a container of warm goodness in the cold air. Coming back in from the barn, you open the door to a steamy, savory smell that makes you ravenous, even if you just ate. I can't wait to bake pies and throw snowballs. This winter is going to be colder and more wintry than usual, or so they say. (Who ARE they??) We will get through it, hunker down and snuggle up, and get through it.

I came home from my meeting, and a good portion of the apples from the tree had fallen on the ground. So we shook the others loose and canned 14 quarts of applesauce this weekend. YUM!

The animals are doing well. Wolfgang and Cindi are bunking together, and you never know what might happen when you're not looking! We are hoping for some March kids from her. They will be so cute, and so cheeky! L has already asked for all of the babies. I don't think so! I get something for buying all of the feed, and doing most of the work! He will be working on a meat goat project for 4H, in addition to showing Cindi again this year.

Speaking of L, he is doing well in football. We are proud of him! His team has not had one touchdown, nor have they won one game (of course). It is sad to see them not do well, but we are proud of his effort and his sportsmanship. He plays left tackle. He has taken up the clarinet, and Rocky (the dog) enjoys singing his little duets. I can't figure out how that boy can play with the dog howling like he does...

M is going through her usual fall crises, too. We are getting through them better than ever this year, though. Currently we are planning for the big 14th birthday party, which involves renting a hotel room (Sheraton Points are a job perk, thank God) and inviting 4 girls to go swimming and have pizza. I hope I will be cool enough, but I'm sure I will fail miserably. I recently took her to a salon to have her hair cut, and I took a photo of how I wanted it cut. (Think Jennifer Anniston's haircut, but a little younger style.) You should have seen how she came out of there! Even B couldn't believe how different the photo was from her hair. This week is picture week, and I decided to get out the scissors myself. I must say, her hair looks stunning. I can't believe how cute it looks, and not frizzy at all. I should have done it in the first place-- it would have saved some money and several weeks of complaints. She is not happy with the length, I cut 2-3" off of it to get the dead ends off, and you'd have thought I removed an arm. Some days I'd like to take her tongue.

B and I are hooked on watching "The Office." Well, let me qualify that by saying that we don't watch it on TV, since we don't watch hardly any TV at all. We rent Netflix, and have watched the first couple of seasons on DVD. Actually, the finale of last season was so good that we may have to start watching it on TV, even though we hate that, and we have already missed the first few. It's one of those shows that is like a train wreck-- Michael Scott makes you cringe-- but you can't stop watching.

Well, think good thoughts for me this week. I am trying very hard to make things right.

A sensory time of year...

I am extremely stressed this time of year, it's the annual time when I have too much to do and not enough of me to go around. It makes me sick to my stomach, makes my head pound, I catch every sickness going around, and I am sure it takes years off my life. I am working on changing that, but change is not always fast enough for me. My first meeting came and went, and it went off without the tiniest hitch. A great way to start this "season" for me. The second meeting will be a week from Wednesday, and so far it is going well. Great attendance on all accounts, and my i's are dotted and my t's are crossed. The last meeting is a bit of an uncertainty for me, as it seems that the committee I am working with is setting me up to fail. I am working on turning things around so that despite their best efforts, the meeting succeeds, but obviously this is causing me to expend much effort, and certainly much stress. That meeting ends on the 20th of October. So, in about a month, I will be going on my annual 2-week drinking and sleeping bender. : ) Want to come with me?

For now, I am enjoying the farm and all of the sensory input it gives me:

I see the leaves turning as fall starts to creep in.

I smell Wolfgang's stinky ass as he is in rut now! About a month from now, he and Cindy will have a little rendezvous, and we'll have spring babies!

I hear the sound of the tractor in the north pasture and east field. Not only is the corn coming out tomorrow (cross your fingers that it's a good year for corn-- ethanol!), but we are actually getting a SECOND CUTTING of hay! That is exciting, as that field used to be crappy. We pay 70 cents a bale to our man who cuts and rakes it. He drives the bale and we (and our wonderful friends) stack it on the rack and then put it up in the shed. The 70 cents saves us a fortune over the winter when we are looking at paying $4.00 a bale from the farm store.

I taste the YUMNESS of the apples on our apple tree! The first year we moved in, our tree was either struck by lightning or had some sort of wind damage, but half of it had fallen off over the driveway. The following fall there were hardly any apples. Last fall there were a few more, but not many. THIS year we are having a bumper crop of red delicious apples! They are so good, so much better than the store apples with their wax and preservatives. I have made a batch of apple butter, and hopefully will make applesauce some time this week.

I feel the crisp cool mornings when I go out to feed. It's been nippy here, down into the 40's. B told me last night that the only time he missed our old (new) house was when he came to bed and it was freezing in our bedroom. I told him that having no heat in your bedroom gives you bragging rights. Or at least the people you work with can talk about your stupidity behind your back! We gave the kids the rooms with heat, so we are without. At least he's guaranteed not to have to sleep on the couch all winter-- I need his warmth.

Back to work-- I've been at it all weekend. So much else to tell-- L's football success, the goats' bout with pinkeye, Luna's continual, EXHAUSTING bout with bloat... ugh... after the bender, I'll tell you all about it.

My Blog-o-Versary

Today is the second anniversary of my blog! I started September 13, 2004. How far I have come...

Also, B and I are celebrating the 19th anniversary of our first date. Yippee! : )

We met when we were 19, so now we have been together longer than we have not.

Happy day! I wonder if the goats will throw us a suprise party.

There’s No Crying in Farming (aka: a fatal collision of nerves, work stress, PMS, bad luck, inexperience and a full moon)

(caution: talk about guts will ensue, not for the squeamish)

Last week at the show I did not blog the entire story. Mostly because I was a bit in denial, but some because I just didn’t want to think about it and hoped it would go away (isn’t that denial?).

When you practice leading a goat for a show, unless you’ve started with them from day one that they are a tiny bottle baby, they don’t like it. They pull and drag around until you get the hang of it. Most animals don’t take very long to get used to it, and don’t mind it at all.

Most.

Aurora was not in the category of “most.” She was in the category of, “I might have gotten the hang of it the last time we practiced, but this time I don’t like it, and I really don’t recall what we did last time anyway.” We struggled and pulled and dragged and coughed and sweated and didn’t get too far. She acted like this was something new every time we did it. We practiced every day for about 10 days. Some people start later than that. They say you don’t want them too docile or they start dozing or they just look too calm and without that wide-eyed spirited look. I am not sure who “they” are, though. And I’m not sure if I agree with “them.” But, my point is, 10 days in advance was not putting it off until the last minute, according to “them.”

So, during all of this struggling and wrassling, L said to me, “Ewww, what’s with her butt?” Okay, if you’ve been reading my blog for any length of time, you know that poop and the poop area of the body is not something that is a tee-hee for us. It’s way beyond that. It’s about health, money, and work around here. So asking me about her butt was a very weird thing for him to do. I looked at her butt, and said that it looked fine to me, and that I was surprised that after all this time he thought goat poop was offensive. He just shrugged, and I didn’t think anything of it.

Fast forward to last week’s show. I already said that we struggled and dragged just before the show, and that I finally took her to the ring to wait because it was such a struggle to get her anywhere. Well, on the way, a boy was following behind and asked me what was wrong with her, and if it was a prolapse. Prolapse to me (until now) was defined as the uterus coming “inside out” during kidding. Well, Aurora is 5 months old, and is not even ready to be bred, let alone kidding and able to have a prolapse. So I just gave him a weird look, and then looked at her butt. Well, boy howdy was I in for a shock! Part of her intestine was out of her body—it was like a giant hemhorroid. But then it went right back in.

I debated what to do, and ultimately decided to go into the ring and not jerk her around any more. I did that, it worked okay, and then we won. And all was well.

All was well until she came home with a sniffle and a cough. That in and of itself is not a huge deal, it’s like a person getting a cold. We watched her, and as the week went on it seemed to get a little better. I gave her some Vitamin B and extra enzymes, and she seemed to perk up. However, she had a cough. And the cough strained her bum, which caused her to prolapse even more. The deal I made with myself was that I could show her Saturday, but I could not practice leading with her for the whole week, and I would have to take my chances in the ring with a goat who had not been led in a week (and before that was obstinant).

By Thursday the prolapse was worse, and was not going in right away. I was really on the fence. I don’t think it was hurting her so that it would be cruel to take her, but that’s not something you want people to see in your goats. So I was racking my brain about the pros and cons. I put her up on the fitting stand, and it popped out again, worse than ever. I decided that I would not take her.

Thursday was also the day that Luna got bloat. I don’t know why, it’s usually from eating lots of grass or too much grain, and we are careful about the amount of grain and pasture they get. So we don’t know why, but she got it. And that involves force feeding her corn oil and baking soda and massaging her stomach until she burps and the giant kettle drum that is her stomach is smaller. I came out of that stall covered in oil and white powder, hair and smelling like a goat. Oh, and she hated me even more.

Not ten minutes later, Wolfgang jumped up on the gate and stuck his head between the bars on the gate, getting his head stuck. He would have suffocated had B not climbed over the stall, pushed his head forward and then, togtehr with me, turned it so he could get it out.

At that point, I just sat down on a bale and cried. This is not easy. It’s tons of hard work, tons of money, tons of worrying. And after you’ve invested all of that, there is still no guarantee. Other jobs are virtually guaranteed that if you do XYZ and you do it well, you will be successful. You can do your farming job well, follow the directions to a T, have spectacular animals, then get a disease off of a visitor’s shoe, and have your entire herd wiped out. It is overwhelming.

I am not quitting, though those words passed my lips on Thursday. It is just an immense responsibility, and I am such a perfectionist with myself, that nothing less than 100% is good enough. The problem here is that it is way out of my control—something that a control freak like myself finds it hard to handle. I mean, it’s healthy for me, and I need to keep doing this—and I want to keep doing this. But it’s very, very hard. So I just had a good cry, and threatened to quit.

The next day, I came home and was ready to load Wolfie up for the show. Wouldn’t you know that Aurora looked fantastic? I took her out—no prolapse. I bathed her—no prolapse, and then I decided to take her.

She did have a bit of a proplapse while we were there, but not while we showed. Come to find out, the “old timers” knew all about them, and said that it was because she was carrying extra weight, and that if we trimmed her down it would go away. They said it would not be a fault if it happened in the ring, and not to worry because it likely would not happen in the ring. It was happening in her pen on the rare occasion that she was headbutting her neighbors in the next pen.

So I took her out there, with me trembling the whole way. I was beside myself with fear and the anticipation of the crowd being mortified as my goat’s ass falls out in the ring. I was sick to my stomach, and my knees were probably visibly knocking.

The judge looked at Aurora a little longer as we walked around. I was thinking that she must have thought she was really pretty, as she was holding her head up and walking along very nicely. I knew her prolapse was not showing because she hadn’t coughed or yanked on the chain, etc. We stopped, and I posed her beautifully, and the judge came by to check the requisite disqualifying areas on a Boer goat: the tail, the teats and the teeth. The tail has to have dark pigment on the underside, as in the warm sunny climates they are prone to skin cancer. The teats have to be four or fewer, and can’t be fused, etc. The teeth have to line up with the top pad in their mouth.

She checked Aurora and moved along to the other goats in the class. Then she came back to check Aurora again. And asked me to look at her teeth—I was shocked to see that her top and bottom jaw did not meet! Now, I had checked her when we bought her, and I had checked her through the months we have had her on occasion. Never did I see such a gap. And she had been checked the week before at the previous show, without any problem! (and won grand champion)

I have no idea if it could change that suddenly, if the judge the week before just missed it, or what happened. But it was completely unexpected and mortifying. Aurora was disqualified, and I had to leave the ring and not be judged. I did find out who my friends are, as a group of them crowded around to ask what happened and to comfort me and give me advice. Bless them, it was much easier to be comforted by them then to walk to her pen alone and put her away with people staring at me from the bleachers. The judge was gracious and pleasant and absolutely right to do what she did. I am just mortified that I brought an animal that was incorrect according to the breed standard. What a newbie…

And so the prolapse was not even a concern, but something actually much worse was. I am second guessing myself up and down—and probably I will never know what happened.

Wolfgang went on to do quite well, he ended up taking second place in Fullblood Buck Kid 9-12 months. I was especially happy because he was the youngest buck in the class, yet he stood up to them just fine. The judge did give me some ideas on where he can improve, too, so we’ll get ready for the 2007 show season.

And so we packed our bongos and came home. It was exhausting just to show the two, I can’t imagine if I had 20 or 25 like some of the larger farms. That is a lot of entry money, but it’s all about advertising. However, I can’t fit them all in the dog carriers in the back of our car!

Speaking of showing them, and thinking about next year, there is a “herdsmanship” award. If you have ever been to a fair or a show and noticed the extensive stall decorations that some of the exhibitors bring—some bring tables with literature, business cards, signs, banners, some even have carpeting and plants! There is an actual award for the nicest “bank” of stalls and the best farm presentation. You are judged on your clean animals, whether they are well-cared for, if they have food and water, if you have signs, and coordinating buckets and business cards etc. I was a judge this time, given that I am a newly-elected board member of our state organization. It was quite eye-opening.

So we really have some work to do this winter if we are going to show in the spring!! Maybe I will look forward to a long winter, with lots of days so we can get a lot accomplished…

Politics

I used to be a competitive baton twirler in junior high and high school. I also dabbled in beauty pageants. Yeah, I know, hard for most people to believe, but it's true. I have the photos to prove it (those are for another day, however).

I think it was because I was such a tomboy when I was younger, I felt I had something to prove when I got a little older. I rememember having these huge scars on my knees from falling down and getting so many scabs as a young child. When I decided to try out for cheerleading, I actually shaved the scars off (no blood was involved, it wasn't gross! But it was damn desperate, don't you agree?). I was so embarassed about my tom-boy-ish-ness. Now I just don't care.

Okay, I was digressing, but you have to have expected that.

Having been involved in these things, I know that politics run rampant. Who do you know? Who should you not admit knowing? Who helped you get here?

So, when we talked about showing goats, the politics were the first thing that came up in discussion, other than the money. It was not like this was a surprise.

Of course, this being our first show, I guess I had hoped that it woudln't rear its ugly head until later in the process. Of course I couldnt' be so lucky!

I raved about this judge well before the show, you can read back in my posts that I give him a lot of credit and I have learned a lot from him outside of the show context. He is very humble and gives back a lot to the "goat community," especially the kids. He really wants the industry to succeed.

I thought he did an outstanding job judging, and not just because we did well. He took time to discuss the pros and cons of each goat, as well as general information. You couldn't really argue with him when he explained his reasons for ranking the goats as he did.

Or so I thought.

You know, there is always one in every crowd. There was a man who happened to have his pens just outside of our pens, with his table and marketing "booth" (illegal) set up as well. That was fine, not worth haggling over. After the show we had a pizza party, and he felt free to bash the judge because he was "only giving grand champion to folks with the last name of xxxx." He said that the judge contradicted himself many times, and that he wasn't the only one who thought so. He said that he brought the same doe last year, and the judge raved about her, but hated her this year (I believe he got a blue ribbon out of her this year, so I wasn't sure about the "hate" comment). He then moved into discussing the association of which I am a member (and I am on the ballot for board election-- the results remain to be seen). He bashed the current leadership, one of the folks happens to be our "mentors" who are partnering with on the does. I defended them the best I could without getting into a fight.

It really makes me mad when I deal with people like that. Who do they think they are, just spewing venom like I am going to agree with everything they say? I hate discussing politics of any sort. People just feel free to spew their opinons to us, and either they don't care what we think and hope we'll not respond (or change our minds to agree with them), or they want to fight. It always seems as though I am the one to smile and nod and try to be diplomatic. Why is it me who is always disengaging, and it seems like others always feel free to bash what I think?

Aside from that, he was trying to sell me any number of four wethers. What in the world do I need with a wether? Everyone needs that one, the one that just hangs around for whatever sentimental reason (ours is Ernie), but aside from that, to spend money on yet another one is just dumb. He then moved into saying that we couldn't take him home because he "seen that you brought them goats over in dog kennels." Um yeah, you "seen" it right, and if you are going to try and mock me about that, than you can f-off because I don't really care what you think about how I get my goats here.

Hell, if I rode them there, it wouldn't matter. They WON. And they beat yours.

It's not gloating, it's a fact.

I'm still sore that he discredited a great judge, because by slamming him, he slammed me indirectly-- it seems like the judge didn't know what he was talking about when he was judging my (or anyone's) animals.

The politics will be even heavier this weekend. It will be interesting to see how it all plays out.

The Grand Champion

Photos of L and Cindi at the GC Fair

If you can't see the slideshow, click here.

SCORE!

This year, you may remember, I did not get L's forms turned in on time so he could show Cindi at our county fair. (We were sick that day-- though we could have turned it in earlier, and did not- nobody's fault but mine.) In any case, we went to the fair to see the show, to support his friends and to see what it would be like for him to show in future years. We were saddened to see that the judge was subpar, he was a dairy cattle judge, called in to judge animals he had no knowledge of. He didn't know the breeds, and especially disconcerting was that he docked the Boer goats for having four teats. The rules say that milk goats have 2 teats, meat goats can have four, but he did not know that.

However, while we were at the fair, I met up with an acquaintance who said that she was superintendant of her county fair's goat show, and that they were having a good judge. I know the judge, he is an excellent judge. He can judge dairy cattle, and goats, and has recently gone to school and been certified to judge meat goats. He was at the State Fair Show, and was assisting the judge there. He holds fitting and showing clinics for kids, and is just an amazing guy, who is really in this for bettering the industry.

In any case, I was excited to have our animals judged by him. I knew that if we got 3rd, we'd deserve 3rd, and we would get a lengthy explanation why, and how we could improve, if that was possible. I look at our goats and think they're beautiful, but how do you know until you put them against another animal before a judge?

So we entered my friend's county fair open show (where you don't have to be in 4H to show).

We went over on Thursday to take the goats, B and I. (L had football practice, so it was just the two of us.) I think we just must look so awkward driving up in our sports car and SUV. We have to take the sports car in addition to the SUV, because the dog kennels in which we haul the goats are the only thing that will fit into the SUV-- we need the sports scar to haul the hay, buckets and other supplies. So it's quite the production. Most people have their pickup trucks which pull their goat trailers. Not us, we look like Laurel and Hardy hauling goats. But we try to be quiet and discreet-- we don't want to make a big production of our comical comings and goings.

On Thursday night we noticed that many people there were bathing their goats, almost immediately upon arrival. Now L and I had bathed our goats earlier in the week. We bought the fitting stand last weekend, and spent the week clipping everyone and bathing them, and working with them to lead. So we felt like they were pretty clean, and we didn't bring our fitting stand, or think we should bathe them. I mean, we figured that all of that stuff should be done at home, ahead of time, when you're not pressed for time and really nervous. But what do we know, we had never done this before. So that fact kind of made us nervous.

That intensified on Friday. L had school, and the show began at 2:00. B and I took the day off, went over early in the morning and fed the girls, and then went and got some breakfast and some "show sheen." It's stuff you put on your animals to make their coats soft and shiny. The increased doting on the competitions' goats made us think we should be doing something constructive, so we spent $12 on a bottle of show sheen. What else could we do?? The girls were clean, chilling out in their stall, chewing their cuds, all was well. But everyone else was buzzing like bees in a hive. We picked L up at school at noon and headed over. 20 minutes before the show began, we were buying boots at a nearby fair stand, as L did not have properly fitting boots. Everyone else was scrubbing and clipping, and we felt inept and ill-prepared. Should we have brought the fitting stand? Should we haul them out to the washrack? We didn't want them to get a chill, and we have no blow dryer. The girls just lied there, hanging out, chewing their cuds like it was another day in paradise. Neither of us could think of anything we should have been doing, so we did nothing.

The show began, and we saw some amazing animals. We watched the 4H show closely, trying to see what the judge liked, and sizing up our competition (the 4H kids can also enter the open show).

Finally, at 5:00, the open show began. L was up relatively quickly, as dairy was first. Cindi led into the ring like a dream--- unlike all of the times we practiced. The judge LOVED her. The competition was not stiff in the ring for her, but the judge praised that goat up and down! He liked her straight back, her feminine appearance, her conditioning (I thought she was fat), her feet and legs (I thought they were bad), her udder attachment-- there was not a thing about her he did not like (apparently I know nothing!). In other classes he had awarded the blue to a less-than-perfect animal, but he was careful to note that "if he could change her, he would add this or subtract that." So he was not obligated to praise her up and down just because she was better than the competition in her class. So she took 1st place in the 12-24 months junior dairy doe class. Then it was back for the Grand Champion Dairy Doe run. There were 5 does in the run, all first place entries from their respective classes. He said that he rarely gives a dry doe preference over a milking doe. That would make sense, because you judge a dairy animal on its udder and ability to give milk and have babies. You can judge that on an animal who has done that already, but on a doe like Cindi, you can only project what she might do. But he gave Cindi the Grand Champion! He said that she was just the best doe there, and again, praised all of her physical attributes! L was STUNNED to say the least. Even in the first class, when he was up against only one other, he had no idea. I really suspected he'd get first, having seen the competition, but I am not the judge, so I didn't know for certain. L was stunned then, and really thrilled. But when he went back and got GC, he looked like the winner in a beauty contest. He said, "ME?" when the judge pointed at him, his jaw dropped, and he nearly forgot to shake the judge's hand. After everyone left the ring, he just stood there staring at his big purple ribbon and I had to call him out of the ring. I was proud, because he was really a humble winner (at first). I had to rein him in when he told his goat that they "beat the pants off" everyone there... but it was a good line anyway. : )

So then it was my turn. Aurora, true to her stubborn self, seemed to "forget" that we had practiced this leading business quite often in the past couple of weeks. We led (read: dragged) around the barn a bit, which did not go well, and by the time we finished, we were both exhausted. I was drenched in sweat, both from nerves and from exertion. I thought maybe I should take her into the show ring and have a seat just outside and wait for the show. That turned out to be the most sensible thing-- she was very calm, watching the other animals come and go. She actually relaxed and chewed her cud, just watching the other animals go by.

When it was my turn, I was disappointed that I was the only fullblood doe that entered in the show. However, I was happy to hear that the judge loved her. He actually said that he wished she had more competition, because she could have beaten it. He said that she had a lovely, straight back, a beautiful head and neck, very feminine, was very sound, tracked nicely as she walked, and was very three-dimensional for a doe her age (she's 5 months old). I was beaming like a proud parent! Again, he had not hesitated to award the blue to a less-than-perfect animal if they were still better than the others or the only animal in the class, but he always pointed out the areas that could be improved, or traits that made them less than perfect. So I know he was being straight. Again, when we went back into the ring for the Grand Champion run, we were the only ones, and easily awarded the ribbon. However, he said that he wished she had more competition, as she could definitely stand up to it.

Those comments and the judge's critical eye are what really made the experience. The ribbons are great for marketing-- my website already has up that we were champs at the fair. We tacked on a few dollars to the imaginary prices of our yet-to-be-born babies. So the ribbons and titles make some difference. But as I said, I trust this judge's critical eye, and I had seen earlier that he was fair and did not hesitate to point out both good and bad points in an animal, regardless of place (there were some third place animals that he praised, too, because they were worthy of praise-- it wasn't just the first places that were noted). I wanted him to look at our goats and tell us what he thought about their conformation, their character and their physical health. Of course, he told us exactly what we were hoping to hear, that we have beautiful animals, and that we're doing it right.

I am so proud of L, and I am so thankful for B. I should mention, that after all that hard work, B had to leave the show and take M to a birthday party on the other side of the metro. He was there with us all day, helping to prep, feed, and do the dirty work, but did not get to see either of us win. He was very bummed about that, and we were sad that he could not be there to win with us. So that was a low point. But he was glad to see the hardware we brought home.

So, we have another show next weekend. L will not show his dairy goat, it is a Boer Goat show, and it's an ABGA sanctioned show. In fact, the judge we had yesterday will be showing his own goats next weekend. The next judge is from Texas. This will be playing with the big boys, and we'll have to see if we have what it takes. I'll be showing Aurora and Wolfgang Buck (by the way, working with Wolfie is going very well, he is a big pussycat, but I'll write more about that later).

I'm glad we have this show to boost our confidence next weekend. We know we won't get laughed out of the ring!

Happy happy joy joy!