Privacy: The Final Chapter

Unless something changes in the overall NAIS, or it begins to affect me more significantly at our farm, I will not be blogging about NAIS or privacy after this entry. We’re beating a dead horse, no pun intended.

It’s obvious that the nation is polarized on the issue of wiretapping. There are those that feel that the President acted within his power when authorizing the wiretaps. There are others who feel that he did not. We can discuss it until the cows come home, but it doesn’t really matter what conclusion we come to. It will ultimately be decided by the government as to whether he acted appropriately or not. We can make interpretations about privacy and law, but the legal judgment rests with the court and with Congress. It’s good to have dialogue here, and we have done that. If we want to turn our words to actions, we need to communicate with our legislators.

Regarding the NAIS, a comment was made about my use of the example of the Oklahoma City bombing and how government did not place more restrictive regulations upon rental trucks and fertilizer. I believe I made my point, as I initially stated. The commenter said that I was “reaching” and had proved his point that RFID tags would allow us to “catch” the source of contamination in the same way that the license plate allowed the authorities to catch Timothy McVeigh. What this commenter does not consider is that there are ALREADY checks in place that allow us to track livestock entry into the food supply! (The “license plate example.) Do you think a farmer just drops old Bessie off at the slaughterhouse no questions asked?? Of course not! And the paperwork and checks that are currently in place are affording the public protection from BSE, eColi, and other diseases. Putting a radio tag on my llama is unnecessary, and does NOTHING to support any further protection of the food supply. How does any of this PREVENT problems? It doesn’t. And it won’t CONTAIN problems any better than the current system does. The NAIS will not apply the same to producers across the board! My neighbors and I will be required to tag every animal we have. Big Ag will not. They will be allowed to record information on a herd as one animal. Where do you think the bulk of your food comes from? What about the bulk of the disease? Four processors control 80% of the beef that goes to four companies that control 90 percent of the meat sales in America. (source: industry data found on meatpoultry.com) I also attempted to locate information on the sources of the two BSE-infected cattle that have been detected in the US. The USDA releases very sketchy information, but their press release notes that the cow which tested positive in 2003 came from a factory farm in Washington. Details on the 2005 cow from Texas are scarce. They do note that some of the animal’s herdmates had to be tested, and “some” amounted to 208. An additional amount of calves from the farm had to be tested, and the additional amount was 213. So there were a significant amount of cattle being raised at this farm, if it was not a factory farm. This is a much different scenario than my farm, or my neighbor’s farms. These will likely be the very operations that will not be affected as much by the NAIS, because they can register their herds as one entity.

Of course the public demands accountability in the food supply. I eat the food, I also demand that accountability. But this will not afford us that accountability. It will serve to provide a false sense of security to the general public who do not understand what it entails, and it will ensure that food prices increase. In my last post I addressed the record keeping and management standards that successful producers need to maintain. If an animal leaves my premises with the NAIS in place, I will have to file a report. The producers who are crappy record keepers will neglect those reports as they neglect their records today. And those with bad intentions will find a way around it. Ear tags can be lost, replaced, faked, misread, and cheated just about any way imaginable.

The point is well taken with the credit card companies, websites, and other businesses that collect my personal information. And I fight with them as well about privacy. Just because I don’t blog about it, doesn’t mean one should assume it doesn’t concern me or that I am not doing anything about it. But to roll over and say, “Well, everyone else has my personal info, I’ll go ahead and RFID my animals, too” is just dumb.

I made this comment in an earlier post: If you notice, I am quite anonymous—I don’t mention my location (just general), or my name, or my company, etc. If you wanted to find me, you couldn’t (I hope).

I can see where I led you to believe that I thought I had a heavy veil of anonymity. Of course I am not anonymous. Very few people are. And, if I had truly been concerned with anonymity, I would not have registered my domain in my real name with my real address. I would have an unpublished phone number. Frankly, I would have stayed off of the Internet. I live in a small town, and everybody knows the name of my farm and me. You can look up my address and see what my property value is (and look up if and when I paid my taxes). You can even check out a satellite photo of my land. If you go to this website , you can look me up and see how old I am, and other family members that I might have lived with in the past—maybe see who my siblings are and where they live. You can find my phone number, and you can do a reverse lookup and find my address that way, too.

So, no apology necessary for “my heart stopping” as you did not tell me anything I didn’t already know. I am not naïve (about that, at least).

Ultimately I hope to sell my animals, and we will heavily market our name and brand to our customers. The organizations to which we belong will list us as members. It would be silly for a business to not list a way to contact them. With that increased marketing comes a loss of privacy, but a loss that we have determined to be an acceptable risk and price.

As I said before, this world is a risky one, and we all have to assume this risk. I, for one, will not depend on (or even ask) the government to insulate me from any potential danger at the expense of my own right to choose.

My Overworked Guardian Angels

On January 24th, for some reason, I was driving along and thought, "You know, we got new insurance in July and I am not sure if I recall putting my proof of insurance in my glove box." Now, WHO has thoughts like that?? WHY would I suddenly be driving along and have THAT thought? Six months after we got the cards in the mail?

So, I called my insurance agent, and had him fax the proof cards over to my office. I thought it might be just my luck to get stopped on the way home and not have my proof of insurance with me. He did so within the hour.

Today, on my way into work, my car was rear-ended in rush hour traffic. I am fine; my car is relatively fine (a small scuff, and maybe some damage that we can't see, like door alignment, etc.). The gentleman that hit me was fine, too. Not only was I thankful that we were all fine, but I was thankful that I had that out-of-the-blue thought a few days ago, and I got my proof of insurance in my car!

My guardian angels are very overworked keeping me on the straight and narrow.

My car was hit by a young man (just a few years younger than me-- I don't HAVE to admit that people a decade younger than I am are old enough to drive). Now, the man in front of me slammed on his brakes, and I nearly hit him. Traffic is always bad in a particular construction zone that I drive in every morning, and I really do try and keep a safe distance. But this morning, I jammed on my brakes to avoid hitting the car in front of me. The man behind me just didn't hit his brake in time with enough space. It was pretty much inevitable, unless he was keeping an outlandish amount of space between us. Of course, one SHOULD, but we don't...

We both pulled to the side and jumped out, and we exchanged pleasantries (really, that's not facetious), and he apologized for hitting me, and making me late for work. I told him that the man in front of me braked hard, and it was just one of those things. We both commiserated about traffic, high insurance premiums, working downtown, and just general BS. Of course, we had plenty of time to do so, since the police took 25 minutes to arrive.

I can't imagine a more pleasant accident. : ) Only in Iowa. Have I mentioned how much I love it here?

GIRL POWER!!!!!!

One of the reasons that I have not blogged in a while is that my mom was here for a visit. She lives in Arizona, and decided to come for a visit. We timed her visit to coincide with B’s being out of town for a class. He went up to Minneapolis to stay in a luxurious hotel for a week and be waited on! Mom and I stayed behind with the kids. The two of them get along famously, so it’s not like they were avoiding each other (that has been asked!).

While he was gone, Mom and I decided to get busy on the house. One wall has had some work done to it—a doorway was moved. Part of the wall was plaster and lathe, and the other part was sheet rock. However, the seams were not clean, and you could really tell the outline of the old doorway. Unfortunately, there wasn’t really much we could do except sheet rock over the plaster, or maybe take it all down and sheet rock the entire wall. I could not skim coat or come up with a “fix” good enough to apply paint to—that is why they were so fond of wallpaper and paneling. A couple of walls like that are my big reason for “analysis paralysis” when it comes to the walls of my house. Not knowing how I was going to solve those huge problem areas was a reason for not proceeding.

We fixed the wall by constructing shelves over the entire wall. Talk about girl power! We built them 10 feet wide by 8.5 feet tall. I even made doors for one section, and have plans to create doors for two other sections. Let me just tell you that while shelves themselves are not particularly hard, the shelves that I made were tough. We made them so well, they will last the life of the house. Plus, we had to level and plumb them when the walls are not. I think we did an excellent job.

Let’s just say that when B came home, he was blown away. Given that he and I have been together for 19 years this year, I am sure he was not surprised that we got the idea and just did it. We could have sat around and drank margaritas all week! (Though we did have a few drinks, of course!)

In preparation, we visited the inspiration for my idea (all of my ideas are stolen) at a hotel in West Des Moines. They had a floor-to-ceiling bookcase that I immediately thought would suit our room. We then bought a prototype test board and samples of stain, and came home to choose a color that would match the wood in our home. It’s a reddish, golden honey color.

The next day we started the building process by hauling several hundred dollars’ worth of lumber home in my Honda CRV. Quite a feat, and there were several enjoying the show in the parking lot as Mom and I loaded it up. We then brought it all home and stained it.

The next morning we paneled the back wall with ¼” plywood. Then we constructed the frame and upright supports in the living room. We were sure to test first that the creation could be set upright without taking out the ceiling fan! We then set it up and secured it to the ceiling and floor. We would have secured it to the sidewall, but the wall was not straight, and would cause our sideboard to warp visibly. It was difficult enough with the top and bottom boards not being straight.

Then we drank heavily.

The next day we cut the shelves. In a perfect world, all of the shelves would be even, so we could “mass produce” them. Not in my house!! While we set the upright boards the same width, when it was all said and done, the width of the shelves ended up being anywhere from ¼ to ½ inch different. So we had to measure each one as we went. Some of the widths even changed once we secured the shelves to the uprights, so we ended up measuring and cutting as we went. We cut back and side shelf supports for each shelf (42 total, plus 14 shelves). We got all of the shelves cut, assembled, leveled, plumbed, and attached the second day.

We then went to the store and brought home another hundred dollars worth of trim.

And then we drank heavily.

The third day (and the day B was due home) we put the trim up. We expected it to be an easy job, and the one that would really create the polished, professional look of the piece. We were excited to get started. It did not go as well as the other days, or as easily as we expected. We had problems with the quarter round staying in the gaps because the boards did not meet the back wall (the very reason we bought the quarter round). I had problems creating the doors because the space over which they fit was not a uniform space (it was like a trapezoid). We got it finished about an hour before B came back, which left time for me to drag out all of our old knickknacks and souvenirs from our travels. Oh, and our books. Now, we have a lot of books. In our old (new) house, we had bookshelves built in around the fireplace because we had so many books. The majority of the shelves were filled with the books. We did buy a bookshelf for our existing house, and it’s chock full of books. When we added our “stuff” to the new bookshelves, however, it barely fills them up! That’s not to say that we’ll go looking for more stuff…

I plan to create more doors for the bottom portion of the shelves, so that the kids can store games and videos in them. I have a closet that is overflowing with that sort of thing, and I’d like them moved to a more accessible place. But I think I will take a rest for a week or so.

Here are some pictures of our creation. What do you think? (click on the photo for a slideshow of our progress)



Thanks Mom. You're the best. : )

YUMMMM!!!

Yesterday we went to a meat goat event. The Iowa Meat Goat Association held a Potluck at one of its members’ farms. Guess what the main course was? Goat, of course! And boy, was it GOOD. I don’t like lamb, venison, or anything else that is “gamey” like that. To me, goat meat tasted like a combination between beef and pork. Not as mild as beef, but really close. I had a nice big goat chop (B did, too). If you like beef and pork, you’ll like goat. It’s much leaner, and better for you. A nutrition comparison is below:




If you try goat, you’ll want to be sure you eat Boer goat (meat goat) as it has a milder flavor than some of the dairy breeds. That’s why most customers of chevon ask for Boer or Boer crossed goats for butchering.

Watch out Ernie, I’ll eat you myself if you get too sassy!! You’ll taste good all roasted up…

On a side note, we did tour the facilities, and we were impressed. We were happy, though, because we saw that our facilities are very nice as well. We have seen some shabby places, and while we don’t have heat, bathroom facilities, or cement floors in our barn, we do have a nice setup. I think we will buy some baby girls this spring.

More on NAIS and Personal Freedom

I have had some comments on my post about the NAIS and on my perception that the government is overstepping its bounds and encroaching upon personal freedoms in the name of defense against terrorists.

Benjamin Franklin said, “Those who would give up Essential Liberty to purchase a little Temporary Safety, deserve neither Liberty nor Safety.”

Framing my definition of “Essential Liberty” is easy: if I have been afforded due process, then I have not given up my liberty. If I am under suspicion for something, then my accuser can take his or her case to a judge, where the judicial branch of government can consider the validity of my rights vs. my accuser’s suspicion. My beef with the presidential wiretapping was not over my support of the president, but over his choice to bypass the checks and balances put into place by our founding fathers. It would be like B bypassing the smoke detector in our home. I have every reason to trust him, but if he purchased the smoke detector in the first place, and then he was the one disabling it, it would be silly. Firstly, it protects him, too! And if he didn’t have anything to hide, then why would he be going around it?

Land of the free, home of the brave. It seems that there are some who are willing to give up their freedom because they are scared. That is the very nature of terrorism. Some seem to be so willing to give up freedoms to the government—why? Do they think that the government can protect them? Is it so that they will have someone to blame when the government can’t? Folks cried foul when the government couldn’t protect against 9-11, and now people are willing to give up their freedoms right and left so that the government can “protect” us against some future unnamed attacks. What makes you think that they can do it any better than they already have? It’s the same principle as the people who sue because the companies have not adequately warned against every possible danger of a product. We bitch about the high prices, the lawyers in everyone’s business, and then we cry foul when we slip and fall on the wet floor because we didn’t have the sense to take that personal responsibility necessary to prevent an issue.

Maybe I am selfish, as I have been accused. Maybe so. I would like to think that it is more about being secure in my personal responsibilities and the rights that go along with them. It seems that many citizens don’t want to assume the personal responsibilities, they just want to hand it over to the government and let someone else do it for them. So, I guess in that sense, I am selfish. I am happy to comply with the responsibilities if it means keeping my rights.

I would not point my finger at the government if there were a terrorist attack on our food supply. I don’t feel that the government can adequately prevent an attack like that, so I would not accuse them if they couldn’t. What makes you think that if the government implements NAIS (or, should I say “WHEN”) that the food supply will become magically safe? A microchip isn’t going to keep someone from poisoning an animal, or from it entering the food supply. Nor is someone registering his or her feed purchase. Criminals can always find a way around the “protections” that the government has established. And while “tagging my cattle” may be my responsibility and someone’s perception of “doing my part” against terrorism, I fail to see how it will REALLY prevent any incidents.

Look at the bombing in Oklahoma City. The government has all kinds of regulations about who can handle dynamite and C4 and other types of explosives. All it takes is one bad person to buy a bunch of fertilizer and rent a truck, and mayhem ensues. Do we outlaw fertilizer? Rental trucks? What good would that do? Did the laws restricting the public’s access to explosives (like dynamite and C4, for example) prevent someone from buying fertilizer to use it for an explosive?

It is not an inconvenience to me to put a microchip in my animals. I can afford it, and with the small number of animals that I have, it will not be difficult. However, who will bitch and moan when food prices increase? And believe me, they will. Here is an excellent illustration of how one has to file a report every time their animal practically so much as blinks. Don’t think that a farmer’s having to file all of these “incident reports” will not increase the price of your food!

Be aware, however, that the NAIS will require a two-fold identification system: a premises ID for the farm, and an animal ID (a radio-frequency ID chip inside the animal or on an ear tag). Small farmers will be required to tag each individual animal. Larger operations (“Big Ag”) will be required to identify their preemies, but will NOT be required to identify individual animals—only herds. So identifying diseases such as mad cow disease will not be any easier unless the animal came from a smaller farm. If it was a Big Ag animal, then the animal could be one of a crowd. The Big Ag animals are already able to be identified by herd, which is how we can trace back the (MINUTE NUMBER OF) Mad Cow diseases that have been identified in the food supply. NAIS will change NOTHING with Big Ag, other than giving them a premises ID. Small farmers already keep good records. If they didn’t, they would stand to make even less than the small profit margin that they currently do. Even with my animals, that are not my livelihood, I keep records on FileMaker Pro, recording births, breeders, vaccinations, routine procedures (like hoof trimmings, wormings, etc.). My kids are learning the importance of record keeping in 4H. This isn’t a new thing, and farmers don’t need the NAIS to keep records for them, or to force them to keep records.

Allegations that the borders will be magically opened with NAIS in place are crazy. The government is not going to be any more likely to find the source of contamination from “mad cow disease” (really, it’s BSE), given the above setup.

A comment was made regarding the EU and other foreign market demands for tracking of US beef. There are several responses I have regarding that, one being that the tags are not simply for cattle. I personally have no cattle, I have pet goats, horses, and a llama. None of them will ever be eaten. What justification can the government give for requiring non-commercial producers, homesteaders, or hobby farmers to tag pets or livestock that will not be sold (i.e., the family that buys their own steer to raise and butcher)? I may end up commercially raising goats for meat production, and that may be a different circumstance. But regardless of my status, if I have a sheep, cow, pig, chicken, llama, horse, goose, duck, alpaca, donkey, mule, miniature horse, or other livestock—for whatever purpose I keep that livestock—I will need to have a premises ID, and will need to tag that animal with RFID unless that animal is born on my property, lives its entire life on my property (never sees a vet, never goes on a ride off my land, to a show, to school for show and tell, gets out of the fence, or is sold), and dies on my property (never goes to a slaughterhouse or meat locker),

It was suggested that we have lost foreign export markets because we do not comply with the tagging requirements, and that if we complied, these markets would open up and the farmers’ profit margin that I have been whining about (not my own, the profits for my neighbors) would increase. Might I suggest that we look to offset the amount of beef exports by those we import? If other markets will not accept our exports, then we can simply sell it domestically. In 2003, the US exported 1.163 million tons of beef. We imported 1.5 million tons. If we just eat our own beef, we’d not need to worry about the hoops that other governments have set for us to jump through.

I remain unconvinced that the NAIS is a good idea, and if anything, it infringes upon the rights of small farmers.

As an aside, I recently had to doctor Bert’s ear because his ear tag was torn out. It was incredibly painful for him, and I was worried about infection and treated him preventively. I made a decision at that point that I would not have ear tags at our farm. He and Ernie came with tags, and both were ripped out in a matter of months. Ernie’s bled just a bit, but Bert’s was a major wound. Cindi has tattoos in her ears (no ear tags), and I decided that tattoos were the way to go for my herd of goats. Well, the government has stepped in and determined that I will have ear tags, and they will be RFID, and they will hold the entire 15 digit animal identification number. I’m no rocket scientist, but something tells me that in holding a 15-digit number, the tags will not be small. Plus, can you imagine the amount of paperwork I will have to file when a goat has an eartag torn out and I can't find it? (I never did find Bert's ear tag, but I did find Ernie's.)

C'etait un Rendez-Vous (avec le privé)

So yesterday B turned 38. It was a great day for a birthday, and I made him chicken and dumplings to celebrate. His favorite. He bought his own birthday cake this year, at his request. He bought cheesecake from the Cheesecake Factory.

I bought him, among other things, the movie C'etait un Rendez-Vous. Of course I love it because it is French, and it has great views of Montmartre, where we stayed in Paris. But it's a stomach-turning car racing movie-- all 9 minutes of it. We bought the DVD online, of course, and when it came, it had come loose inside the package. So, L and I decide that we need to open it up and watch it and make sure it was not damaged in shipping, before giving it to B for his present.

Well, it was fine, and L was riveted. I asked him why he thought the guy was speeding along through the streets of Paris at breakneck speeds. His answer?

Because he had to go to the bathroom.

What a romantic.

(B loved the movie!)

A Quick Snow

It snowed on Friday, melted on Saturday. I was able to capture a few good shots. Click on the photo to view the slideshow.

Epiphany

No, I’m not talking about the holiday kind that we just celebrated, I’m talking about the “wake up and smell the coffee” kind of epiphany. The kind that kicks you in the pants and makes you wake up in the night.

The kind that aren’t so good.

Yesterday, as I was feeding the animals, it suddently occurred to me: Ernie and Bert are not pets. They are livestock. And I mean that in all seriousness. Perhaps that occurred to YOU, but to ME, it has taken a couple of jabs to the face with horns, being jumped on as I bring hay into the pen, countless bales of wasted hay, and many hours of repairs to realize this.

I remember the cute little babies we brought home, who answer to their names, cute “smiley” faces and how they bounded over when I called them. And they still are that, to some degree. But they are also large, they will soon weigh more than I do, if they don’t already. They have large horns, and they know how to use them to get what they want. They go on only instict to get what they want most: food. They tear up anything that stands in their way.

And they are becoming less and less endearing. And I wonder why I ever thought they were going to stay endearing?? I look at Cindi, and I hope that she always stays little, petite and sweet. And she may, as she is a doe, and should always be handled. But wethers, they are just not pet material.

THIS is why I blog. THESE are the conversations I need to have with myself if I will ever reconcile farming. I need to have these epiphanies and talk them through. It is such an adjustment for me. It is one that I want to make, and that I am ready to make. But I don't know how to do it, other than to learn as I go. And that's what I am doing, and that is why I decided to blog. I wanted a record of my thought processes and my epiphanies-- good and bad.

I am not saying that Ernie and Bert will be sold or slaughtered. After all, they are the farm spokesgoats! But as I was reading on an online livestock board recently, I took offense at a woman’s comments about how “wethers should only be one place: the freezer.” I am rethinking my offense at her advice—they can be dangerous, and they are too large to be pets, even the one with great personalities.

Part of the problem is that they have been inside all winter. We let them out when we can, but as long as the neighbor’s dogs are loose, we can’t be sure that they won’t be in harm’s way (at least all day long when we’re not here). The paddock fence has been reinforced, keeping them in mind. We had hoped they could go out during the day into the paddock with Joe. However, watching Joe jump the fence like a gazelle, and Ernie and Bert slip through between the (reinforced) gate and gatepost has only underscored that we need to be here when they are out. (And that we need better fences.) We will be getting better fences this spring, and may fence off a new area just for the goats. But until then, they must stay in the barn the majority of the time. And I can’t blame them for trying their escape tactics when they are cooped up all day. However, this has been good—it has revealed to me the exact sentiment that I was hoping I would someday feel: babies are cute, but you can’t keep them all as pets.

Maybe there is hope for us someday to get that beef steer… I don't think we're ready to eat Ernie and Bert, but maybe a steer.

Small Talk

Do you have trouble making small talk? What IS small talk?

It has been quite the obsession around our home today. When you have a child with autism, the importance of (and the ability to make) small talk is not easily grasped.

Church is a great place to practice small talk. That’s not to say that you can’t discuss heavy issues with your church friends, or go to your clergy person with an intense problem to sort out. However, after church, when you’re sitting around having coffee and a donut, that’s not the time to bring out the family skeletons for dusting and cleaning.

Acceptable small talk:
The weather
The flowers in your garden this year
How one’s children/grandchildren are doing
How good the coffee/juice/donut tastes
The yield on your crops/vegetable garden
Latest animal antics at our farm


Unacceptable small talk:
Announcing that we have 19 cats inside (a lie)
Communicating your mother was running around with leopard print pajama pants threatening to wear said outfit to church
Pointing out to your co-conversant that it’s likely that she is the oldest member of the church
Pointing out to someone that they have a stain on their clothes
Declaring the food/drink awful
Telling fellow church members that we never pray (a lie)
Sharing that your grandfather is getting a divorce from his second wife
Announcing to everyone that you are rich
Sharing your feelings that your classroom teacher is annoying

Yes, please take a moment to commiserate with me: picture me, with my imaginary shovel, digging my imaginary hole in the tiled church floor, wanting to crawl deep into the hole and never come out again.

When I had kids, I thought they came with an owner’s manual. I know I’ve moved a lot, but I always registered my change of address with the post office. I never got a manual. Does anyone have one I can borrow? I’ll even take an emailed PDF copy.

I really need to go back and read the directions, because I think I’m doing this all wrong.

All work and no play...

I am finally getting close to caught up at work. However, it's taking all of my energy and focus! I took some pictures of my office today, since it seems like that's all I see these days. When I get home, I don't feel like doing much... : (

Check out the keyboard-- look at how the letters are worn off! I must be working too much. Certainly it's not from blogging too much!

Here are the photos of my office-- it's nice enough, but see why I prefer my farm?

OH ERNIE!!!!!

Ernie is such a little shit. We just can’t keep him in! We made the feeder, the “fix your wagon” feeder, which made him angry. He did get over it, but the only reason he got over it, I suspect, was because he got his graph paper and pencil out when I wasn’t looking, and plotted his next attack.

Yesterday I came home, and he was out. He had just jumped the side of the pen. I have no idea how he did it, as the one side is at least 9 feet tall, and there is only a small opening between the top of the gate and the header. Bert was inside of the feeder—you know, the one we constructed so that goats could not get inside. Everything went to hell in a handbasket.

So today, B went into the barn and Ernie had torn the top length of fence off, and had jumped out. He must have stood on top of the feeder for hours tearing the length of fence apart, then jumped over and got the alfalfa.

That alfalfa must be heavenly, since it seems as though it’s worth spending your days calculating the big breakout. On the other hand, with Ernie, you never know. It could be the thrill of pissing me off.

Well, you have to hand it to the kid, he has accomplished his goal!

Next we will move him and Bert to the stall that Joe and Cindi occupy. They hold horses, so with some chicken wire to give it some more height (a LOT of chicken wire), they should be contained. Now let’s hope that Joe and Cindi stay in the pen…

You can rest assured that I will continue to update on this developing situation.

EFNJ

I took a Myers-Briggs type test today online, and it determined that I was an EFNJ. Interesting...

Teachers are abstract in their thought and speech, cooperative in their
style of achieving goals, and directive and extraverted in their interpersonal
relations. Learning in the young has to be beckoned forth, teased out from
its hiding place, or, as suggested by the word 'education,' it has to be
'educed.' by an individual with educative capabilities. Such a one is the
eNFj, thus rightly called the educative mentor or Teacher for short. The
Teacher is especially capable of educing or calling forth those inner potentials
each learner possesses. Even as children the Teachers may attract a gathering
of other children ready to follow their lead in play or work. And they
lead without seeming to do so.

Teachers expect the very best of those around them, and this expectation,
usually expressed as enthusiastic encouragement, motivates action in others
and the desire to live up to their expectations. Teachers have the charming
characteristic of taking for granted that their expectations will be met,
their implicit commands obeyed, never doubting that people will want to
do what they suggest. And, more often than not, people do, because this
type has extraordinary charisma.

The Teachers are found in no more than 2 or 3 percent of the population.
They like to have things settled and arranged. They prefer to plan both
work and social engagements ahead of time and tend to be absolutely reliable
in honoring these commitments. At the same time, Teachers are very much
at home in complex situations which require the juggling of much data with
little pre-planning. An experienced Teacher group leader can dream up,
effortlessly, and almost endlessly, activities for groups to engage in,
and stimulating roles for members of the group to play. In some Teachers,
inspired by the responsiveness of their students or followers, this can
amount to genius which other types find hard to emulate. Such ability to
preside without planning reminds us somewhat of an Provider,
but the latter acts more as a master of ceremonies than as a leader of
groups. Providers are natural hosts and hostesses, making sure that each guest is well looked
after at social gatherings, or that the right things are expressed on traditional
occasions, such as weddings, funerals, graduations, and the like. In much
the same way, Teachers value harmonious human relations about all else,
can handle people with charm and concern, and are usually popular wherever
they are. But Teachers are not so much social as educational leaders, interested
primarily in the personal growth and development of others, and less in
attending to their social needs.

These things have been said about me before, not necessarily in such a scientific fashion.

I wonder what personality type is the best goat farmer.

The Wrath of Ernie

Wednesday evening we came home from being out, and the goats were out. When I leave in the morning, I crack the barn door a bit for some fresh air, but not so much that it gets cold. It was open about 12". The kids noticed the goats peeking out, and laughed and of course, the goats squeezed through the opening and through the fence and came running over. I called their names and they came running to me like dogs. "The food lady! The food lady!"

Apparently, they had head-butted each other and played rough enough that the gate to their pen came unlatched and there was a large opening between the edge of the gate and the gatepost.

Previously, we had made them a keyhole feeder. It's a piece of plywood cut with "head holes" in it so that the goats can only have enough room to get their heads inside. Ernie is mean to Bert and tries to keep him from eating. But, if his head is occupied in the feeder, he won't be as likely to fight. Also, they waste a tremendous amount of alfalfa, only eating the leaves (because they can). They really won't, instinctively, eat soiled hay. Once they have walked on it, or slept on it, it's as good as straw. The keyhole feeder was supposed to alleviate that.

We wired the wood into the corner, so that it cut off a triangle section of the pen, and we put the hay behind the plywood.

We didn't count on Ernie jumping behind the wood, and into the sweet little alfalfa bed that we made for him. Of course, this served many of Ernie's ulterior motives, such as keeping Bert from eating alfalfa, ruining copious amounts of good hay, and making us steaming mad. Oh, add into that our worry that he would cut himself on the wires that were behind the wood (holding it to the pen).

This past weekend we decided to fix Ernie's wagon. I took the plywood and constructed a heavy box, with a lid on it. B even shored it up, as the first thing that Ernie did was jump onto the box like it was his throne. We also added a locking latch to the gate, so they can't push the gate apart from the gatepost anymore. Oh, and because the box puts Ernie another 3 feet off the ground, we added another length of fence on that side of his pen. It's probably at least 10' high now! He can't jump it.

I swear that Ernie is angry with me now. He is making this angry little baaa noise when he sees me, and he doesn't answer when I call his name.

I'm sure I'll be back in his good graces soon. After all, I am the food lady.

Censored? Not here!

Okay, one of my new year’s resolutions was to censor less on my blog. I know that certain people read my blog (hi all of you!) so I am careful about what I write. Not that I have bad things to say, but as Eileen would say, my need for approval is evident. I may think something, but I don’t want to offend, or I wonder what people would think of me.

Originally, I started my blog as therapy. If you notice, I am quite anonymous—I don’t mention my location (just general), or my name, or my company, etc. If you wanted to find me, you couldn’t (I hope). My blog is just the general ramblings of a woman who was transplanted to paradise from the suburbs.

However, the word has gotten around, so my friends and family visit. And generally, that’s okay. But I like to keep relations between my friends and family friendly. So I don’t write about things that might offend.

But, by doing that I am not being true to myself. This is MY blog, MY vent, MY space to compose. If my writings offend you, I would not be upset in the least if you chose to refute my ramblings either in my comments section, or on your own blog. Everyone is entitled to their own opinion, and this is just the venue through which I share mine.

A fact that my cousin Mike will confirm, as he has really given me some things to chew on about farmers, and I greatly appreciate the dialogue that he continued with me. It was really good, and I am glad that he chose to comment on my writing and question me on my opinions. : )

By the way, you can make a comment in the comments section by clicking below the entry, and you can remain anonymous! So all of you 3000 people that have visited me, SPEAK UP!! At least let me know why you keep coming back!

Okay, and now my vent:

The recent news of the government spying on private citizens is shocking to me. I have nothing to hide—I’ve done nothing wrong. For that reason, I feel as though I deserve to be left alone and to have all of my constitutional rights respected.

Think about it: the government has legislated for years on privacy: the Freedom of Information Act, the Financial Modernization Act (requiring financial institutions to adhere to privacy standards), the Fair Credit Reporting Act, and even the Children’s Online Privacy Protection Act. These acts are in addition to the basic premise that allows personal privacy, as noted in the Fourth Amendment.

I did a little checking, and I found that the Supreme Court had ruled on this very same issue in 1968. In Katz v. United States, the Court found that: The Government's duty to preserve the national security did not override the guarantee that before government could invade the privacy of its citizens - it must present to a neutral magistrate evidence sufficient to support issuance of a warrant authorizing that invasion of privacy. This protection was even more needed in ''national security cases'' than in cases of ''ordinary'' crime, the Justice continued, inasmuch as the tendency of government so often is to regard opponents of its policies as a threat and hence to tread in areas protected by the First Amendment as well as by the Fourth. Rejected also was the argument that courts could not appreciate the intricacies of investigations in the area of national security nor preserve the secrecy which is required.

You can find the complete explanation of the proceedings here. (http://caselaw.lp.findlaw.com/data/constitution/amendment04/05.html#f151)

I think, in the wake of 9-11, all of us were beside ourselves with concern for our country’s and our personal security. I have to admit, I was fearful of flying, and even worried about trips to large cities. However, as the immediate fearfulness dies down, logic prevails, and we now need to stop and look at what is being done in the name of national security!

It is horrific enough that people are being profiled as security risks by the color of their skin and the origin of their names. We are now finding out that the President took it upon himself to authorize the wiretapping of anyone and everyone—superceding the Constitution, and a Supreme Court ruling on this very issue.

Have you bought a car lately? We bought one after 9-11, and we were asked for our drivers’ licenses so they could photocopy them. We were also required to furnish same when we bought a house, and also when we opened a separate checking account for the farm. Each time it was explained that the relationship and/or transaction was being disclosed to the government as per the requirements set forth in the Patriot Act.

You know, all of these things in and of themselves really aren’t that big of a deal. Come on, you pay taxes, all of your private information is out there and linked with your social security number. The government KNOWS YOU. But where do they draw the line? They could encroach little by little until we look around and say, “How the hell did it get to this point?”

I don’t want you to think I am one of those people who worries about this constantly, who is ready to barricade the borders of my farm and secede my own little plot of land from the US. Not at all!

But something came to my attention lately that has caused me to reflect upon all of this collective “government in my business”:

The NAIS. The National Animal Identification System.

If you have never heard of the NAIS, it was quietly instituted back in 2004, for implementation by 2009. It is a national program intended to identify specific animals in the United States and record their movement over their lifespans. It is being developed by the U.S. Department of Agriculture (USDA) and State agencies. Animals will be tagged with radio frequency ear tags (or other RFIDs), and they will be tracked.

The premise is to track animals that could be sick, or animals that might have been exposed to bioterrorism. Many of the press releases that mention the NAIS specifically mention the BSE (mad cow disease) threat and the potential for this system to track the animal’s movements and exposure for its life. (As an aside, the total number of people in the WORLD that have died from vCJD [the human disease caused by mad cow disease] is about 150—think of that in relation to the number of people that have died from dog bites [20 per year] or the flu [36,000 per year]).

It isn’t just the big producers that will be required to tag their animals (in fact, “Big Ag” will not have to tag its animals, they can just create a premises ID and estimate the number of animals they have—in my opinion defeating the USDA’s proposed purpose), nor will it just be animals that are designated for meat. They will require cattle, swine, sheep, goats, horses, poultry, bison, deer, elk, llamas, and alpacas to be tagged. If you read the information that is provided on the USDA’s website, they say that not all animals need to be tagged, only those animals that are “commingled.” They define commingling as an animal having contact with, or being inter-mixed with, animals other than herdmates from that animal's premises of origin. While on the surface that may seem to mean “only if the animal leaves your premises,” remember that an animal may leave your premises if it is going to the vet, or on a trail ride, or to a show, or if you sell it. So if you sell that animal at any time, it must be tagged. Think of it this way: the only way you will get away with NOT tagging your animal is if it is born and lives its entire life on your premises, without ever leaving the property.

In my opinion, the government doesn’t even have much luck running the postal service, so what makes them think they can run a national animal ID program? And for what purpose? A valid reason, in my opinion, has not been established, and given the other privacy issues that have recently come to light, it is a little scary.

Remember, consumers will see the implications! I have ranted previously about the narrow profit margins for farmers, and now this is one more cost for them to incur in the process. Not only that, but if there is a perceived increase in liability (if you trace an illness back to my herd and I have to destroy my entire herd, kind of thing), then consumers will see the costs increase. There may even be insurance implications that could be costly and passed along to consumers.

For me, it just goes against common sense. Come on, I’m over here, just trying to mind my own business and keep my pets until I have the guts to raise real animals for business. Suddenly the government is saying that everyone, myself included, has to ear tag their animals with a radio frequency ID so that they can track every step of that animal’s life? Come on! What about those people who are reclusive and just want to raise their animals for their own food? If they bought that calf from the farmer down the road, it needs to be RFID-ed.

Breeders do keep records of their animals. Responsible animal owners keep extensive records for their animals, and would have no problem tracking illnesses. Those of us with registered stock tattoo our animals and register them with the appropriate organization. I have a database of my animals, and I record everything in there- birth, vaccination dates, manufacturers of the vaccinations, hoof trims-- everything. There are also government programs that require registration, such as scrapies eradication, that are currently in force, and folks can choose to participate. Or NOT. And that, there, is the key. The NAIS program will be mandatory.

The other shoe to drop is the registration of people who purchase animal food. This falls under the Bioterrorism Act. Now, there are certain exemptions for who needs to keep records but it will be mandated that feed is tracked, and the paper trail be documented from the time that the seed is sold to the farmer, from the growth process, to the feed mill, to the feed store, and then to the consumer. The information on this is vague, but some interpretations suggest that even dog and cat food will need to be tracked, and people who purchase it will be entered into a national database. There are already feed stores who are requiring customers to furnish name and addresses for the government database.

I’m just wondering WHY?

Okay, my rant is done for the evening. Feel free to comment—I’d love to dialogue about this.

P.S. I’d like to see Uncle Sam out there in his stripey top hat trying to catch Joe Llama so he can ear tag him.

URGENT: THIS JUST IN...

CAFE PRESS IS HAVING A SALE! IT'S LIKE $5.00 OFF OF THE HOODED SWEATSHIRT! SUCH A DEAL...

WHAT??

Okay, I admit to being old, and out of the hip lingo scene. B played Quake years ago, but to the best of my knowledge, he didn't play online. So, we were both shocked to learn that our newest species' name is being blasphemed:

Llama: A term coined by American McGee, formerly a level designer at id software. This is the Quake-lingo version of lamer, loser, idiot, etc etc.

Well, Joe, you're no llama in our eyes.

The Joneses

M has met a wonderful girl, also with similar developmental issues, and they see each other weekly in a social skills group. The two have just gravitated toward each other, and are now officially “best friends.” This is fantastic; we are thrilled to see this friendship!

When we take M, I usually sit and discuss parenting a child with special needs with the girl’s mother. The family is from an affluent suburb—pretty much the same area from which we moved. They have the McMansion (my term of endearment for the cookie-cutter tract house from which we moved—by no means a “mansion”, however), and the clothes, and the cars, and the other accoutrements of a well-manicured lifestyle. The Joneses, those folks with whom we spent much time trying to keep up, have nothing on this family.

So, when the girls wanted to get together at our house, I was a little nervous. I mean, what would they think? The woman already told me she was a self-proclaimed neat freak, and she is a stay-at-home mom, so she has the time to devote to keeping her house absent of the cobwebs and dust bunnies that free-range in my house. The little girl would likely not notice, but how could the mom come over without noticing? I did explain a little about how we came to live “so far out” from the metro, as she questioned. And I did tell her that I used to be a neat freak, until I landed my ass in therapy for my borderline OCD over neatness.

So it wasn’t like she wasn’t warned.

And all morning yesterday, as I am trying to look at things from a fresh perspective (That plug is dusty! There are spots on the bathroom mirror!), I asked my self repeatedly: WHY DO YOU CARE? WHY DO YOU SEEK APPROVAL? SO WHAT IF THEY THINK YOU’RE CRAZY/TRASHY/MESSY/(INSERT OTHER HUMILIATING ADJECTIVE HERE)? I kept wondering why? I mean, I have a lot of friends. A lot of supportive friends. I don’t have to defend my move or my animals or my cobwebs to them at all. I have a huge family that is likewise supportive of our decision. I don’t even have time for another friend, let alone a high-maintenance one!

I still have not answered the questions I asked myself, but I did make peace with the fact that maybe she would judge me and maybe she would think it was messy. I just welcomed them heartily and invited them in.

And you know what? She loved it. She LOVED it! She said that she really loved the house, and thought the walls were cool as-is (as other people have said, it looks like an Italian villa). We had a lovely conversation, and the girls played and had a great time. She even loved the animals, and fawned all over Cindi.

Maybe at some point, the Joneses will be trying to keep up with me. Good luck to ‘em, I think they would have trouble with the goats in the McMansions. Hell, even Paris Hilton is having trouble.

Santa is totally my hero

Today, I left at 5 (from my house) to meet B in West Des Moines at the mall to exchange my ring. He came from work. My ring needed to be resized, and then we talked and decided that the lovely one he picked was just that-- so lovely that I would also be sorry to mar it in any way by wearing it outside to work. So we decided to go with a simpler style, and a smaller ring. It had beading around both sides, and it was a comfort band (sort-of rounded on the inside so it doesn't cut into your finger). We opted for a 5mm plain gold comfort band. It is very tasteful and I really love it.

He took my SUV today to work, and left me with his cool car. He took my car in for an oil change. I met him at the mall, as I said, and then I went on an errand afterwards. I went to put the stuff I bought in the back of my car, and it was full! FULL OF TIRES.

He bought me new snow tires today and had them put on my car!! I slid the other day on the way to work, and I have had to drive slowly-- unreasonably slowly for someone who is driving a four-wheel-drive SUV. So he surprised me and had them put on my car for me.

Santa takes good care of me. : )

Santa is so the best

So I have been on this marathon cleaning binge for going on the 2nd day. My mom and brother are coming in January and I want this place to at least be clean, if not fabulously restored (which it will NOT be). I never have guests that have high expectations (lucky for me), but having guests gives me a deadline, a benchmark to which I can strive. No, they may not care if the curtains are clean (or even notice) but putting that on my to-do list before guests arrive gives me incentive to get that job done a couple of times a year. It's all psychological for me.

The tree is gone, and most of the decorations are put away. I'm going to vacuum the entire downstairs and dust, and just get everything generally back to normal. Oh, and do the 4 dozen loads of laundry that are calling my name.

Today the UPS man came with my Lush present! Yay! I have been cleaning, and sweating, and I am confident that the Lush will be just what the Santa ordered to rid me of my stank.

Thankfully I will be done today! Just in time to go back to work tomorrow...

At least I will get to enjoy it this weekend. A 3-day weekend.

Santa Scored!

Wow, I must have been good this year.

My Santas really treated me well. I got the wedding band I had asked for, and it was much nicer than I ever dreamed. : ) Santa shouldn't have!

Santa also bought me a great bottle of muscat champagne. I can't wait for New Year's Eve when I will drink it! My young Santas bought me some Yankee Candles and neat-o holders.

My momma Santa bought me all the stuff I need to have to can vegetables. I'm excited! She's going to come next month and hopefully teach me how to use it. Yumm, for next fall! (Now I REALLY have to get that garden going in the spring!)

My inlaw Santas gave me a great sweater, which I will wear to work tomorrow. I have a meeting I'm not looking forward to holding, so in those situations, I try and wear something that makes me feel good. It's like wearing a hug. : )

The one thing I did not get this year that was on my list was a horse. But I think it has probably been 35 years that a horse has topped my Christmas list (and birthday, and every other holiday) so I am used to not getting that one. Maybe I have to be even better for next Christmas! I loved on Major and Don Pecos, and that was good enough. Major gave me kisses as trade for candy canes.

Today I am spending the day cleaning. I am a huge fan of FreeCycle, and I am just tossing things into the FreeCycle basket right and left. I can't wait for a clean house!

MK is coming this weekend to celebrate New Years, and I have to clean out the guest room so he and P have a place to stay.

I'd better stop now, I don't know how long this motivated mood will last!

Who's Your Santa?

Quite a few years ago, when L was about 4, he decided that there was no Santa. We were driving in the car, and he noticed a couple of Santas at different stores, and we had just seen one at the mall. He came right out and said, ‘Santa is make-believe, right?” What could we say?

Well, we don’t believe that there is a man at the North Pole making toys, but we do believe that Santa is alive and well. We tell the kids that we are all Santas for each other. I am Santa for a lot of people, and B is my Santa, and the kids are Santas for us. It’s cool to be a Santa. And this year, L asked me for something, and I said, “I’ll tell Santa that you want that.” So he may or may not get it, and who knows which Santa might get it for him? Santa’s still a mystery…

My Santa didn’t have a very large list this year. I told him I wanted a wedding band. Mind you, I already have a very lovely wedding ring, complete with sparkleys, but working outside so much I am afraid that I will lose the diamond in my engagement ring. I told Santa I just wanted a plain gold band. I did think that it must be strange to hear that—most women want larger diamonds after being married for 15 years. He reminded me that I “was not like most women.” Not sure how to take that…

My second item on the wish list is Karma. I adore Karma, as do the people who get close enough to smell me…

But, my first wish is what has been at the very top of my list every year, a horse.

It’s peaceful here. It’s 10:00 pm. We came back from church a few hours ago, with songs in our hearts and uplifted spirits. It’s dark and quiet outside, and the only sounds on the inside are the snoring of my kids and the padding around of the kitties. I’m baking bread for tomorrow’s feast, and the house smells yummy. It’s warm and cozy and the tree lights are magical.

Here’s hoping your Christmas is the best. Wish your Santa a Merry Christmas from me too.

i am always a day late and a bean short...

Clearly I am missing out on what could be my big business break. Click here to see my new business venture for 2006. You think this woman would mind if I stole her idea? Sheesh, there are enough beans to go around...

certifiable

Okay, as if you don't already have enough proof that I'm insane, here are some photos that will seal the deal.

B heard that tonight Saturn was supposed to be glorious. But not until around 10 pm. You know, during the heat of the day...

So, at 10:20 pm, I find myself outside, shivering, wearing barn boots and earmuffs, looking at magnificient, glorious Saturn! Of course, my amateur photos don't do it justice, I just hold my camera up to the lens, and I move, the telescope moves, I can't quite focus, and on and on. But I think the photos will show you that it is very, very amazing. It is clear as a bell-- tiny, but clear as a bell. And I haven't seen a ring so beautiful since I got the one on my left hand...

See, I'm insane.

confession...

I'll admit it. It's been bugging me all morning. You know, a girl has to make her own way in this world, and it really hurts when someone else takes credit.

I mean, Paris Hilton now has a goat. And it is just so hurtful!! It cuts me deep.

First, Paris is such a superstar. She has the money to circulate those videos and with the hotel thing and all... Of course, if *I* get a goat, nobody knows about it unless they stumble upon my blog, or they get my Christmas letter. But for PARIS, I mean, come on! The girl tries to take her goat on an airplane and it's picked up by every major news network. Even though I was the first one of us girls to get goats, she will get all of the credit because there are not paparazzi keeping vigil on my back 20. I just don't have that kind of cash or those kinds of connections- or those kinds of videos. But do you think she will give me the credit for being the first goat girl? Hell no. That's how she is.

Also, I fear for the goat's well-being. Goats aren't partial to traveling. I know that first-hand. We had to use the extra-large pet porter airline kennels to haul them around. The article says that Paris hauled her goat back to LA in her "rental car." While I know that it doesn't specifically say that she didn't rent an SUV or a pickup truck with a livestock trailer, I am really picturing her showing up at the rental counter (all pissed off after being kicked off the airline) with her goat on a leash with her rhinestone-studded pink collar and lead, and the guy behind the counter handing her the keys to the subcompact because "that's all we have left, Ma'am." So I see Paris and her monkey (have I previously mentioned my hatred for monkeys?), her dressed up dog, her ferret and her goat all crammed into the Ford Focus for six hours to LA. I just don't envision Paris stopping at the rest area to take the animals out on the doggy trails. Besides, goats have HORRIBLE bathroom habits. They just go when the spirit (or the bowel) moves them. So that had to be one rank Ford Focus by the time they got to LA. And I've been to the zoo, monkeys stink as well.

Thirdly, Paris has a history of casting aside her unwanted pets. Quoting from ABC News here (on why she's been voted worst Celebrity pet owner):

"First she loses Tinkerbell, then she ditches her for a cuter dog, then replaces that dog with a ferret, then a kinkajou monkey and then, I gather, a goat," Padgett said in a statement. "Recently Tinkerbell was spotted back in Paris' arms. But how long will she be in favor this time?"

I heard she abandoned Tinkerbell and left the dog with her mother. I'm sure her mother will want a cast-off goat. In the penthouse of the Waldorf-Astoria.

This can't be emotionally healthy for the goat. And what, does she think that her little menagerie will suffice for a herd for her goat? Goats need OTHER goats! Goat's don't consider monkeys part of the herd. Or ferrets. And they eat grain and alfalfa and minerals. I can't see her having a bale stashed in her Gucci bag (though they do make some tidy alfalfa cubes, which could be marketed to fashion plates). I can see her breaking out her extra-large-sized pill box and handing her goat-ie some cubes 6-8 times a day...

I'm really sick about this.

And if Paris Hilton gets a llama, I am totally going off the deep end.

Goats are all the rage this season

Can you believe this? Who would have thought I would be such a trendsetter with my choice of livestock. I'm so ahead of the game here...

If you are into the latest trends, be sure to rush out and get the boots I'm wearing, as well as the hats.

a conversation with my brother who lives in Arizona

(he's planning to visit me in Jan)

me: so, is there anything you want to do while you're here?

br: nah.

me: we can hang out with the animals, or go sledding, or play monopoly, or even go into des moines, you can ride, whatever.

br: whatever

me: i will be throwing snowballs at your head

br: i'll be throwing them right back. how many animals you got?

me: well, we have 11 cats...

br: (expletive) are they ALL inside???

me: no. we have 3 inside, plus the rehab-kitty, and then 7 outside. we have the 2 dogs, 3 goats, 2 horses and the llama.

br: what's the llama's name?

me: joe llama

br: you got a hamster?

me: no. that's one thing we don't have

br: you should get one. and name him MC Hamster.

I think the insanity is genetic...

do they?

Have you ever read the book Animal Farm or watched the movie Babe? I wonder if my animals talk about me when I am not around. I wonder what they say?

I wonder if they really like me?

I really, really, really hope it's not just about the food...

feeling special... or maybe not.

I just got a Christmas card from the Governor. I was feeling pretty special around here. Come on, how many people get a Christmas card from the governor of their state?

Well, apparently not only do LOTS of people get cards from him, but even people that don't exist, even organizations with made up names get cards! We had about 9 delivered to our office today.

He didn't even sign his name for real. It was a computer signature.

I think I will go home to my animals where I am really, really important.

Brrrrrrr!!

It’s damn cold here.

Currently, it’s a toasty 6.6 degrees. It’s supposed to climb up to a steep 16 tomorrow, slide up to 9 on Tuesday, and 11 on Wednesday. We are expecting a heat wave on Friday as it spikes up to 29. Every night this week the low is forecast to be 0.

Yes, I know that Iowa is cold in the winter. It’s not a new thing. But I have endured a week of cold, and I’m already ready for spring! Our neighbor happens to be gone this week and has asked me to feed his horses. Ugh, I don’t mind helping a neighbor, but he had to pick the coldest week!

His barn and paddocks have no electricity, so I have to be sure and feed while it’s light outside. He has 5 horses, and they all get different grain, too, so it takes forever. He’s a feed salesman, so nobody gets “a scoop of that.” Instead, you have to mix several scoops from about 6 different bags into one bag and a bucket. It’s like a recipe! And then this horse gets 6 scoops from the bucket, that horse gets 8 scoops from the bag. I am just kvetching here, his horses are healthy and his care is paying off. I do take issue with his watering system, however. He does not have any electric, as I said, so with it being so frigid, the stock tank freezes. I have to take a metal fence post and smash all of the ice up in the tank, and then pick out the big “icebergs” (as I fondly call them) with my hands. You know what I hate most? When my wet gloves stick to the gates as I try to open/close them and latch them closed. I am always exhausted and freezing when I come back. Thankfully I only have to feed through Tuesday.

In my own barn, I have to change out water twice a day, simply because if I don’t, it will freeze solid. The buckets are always frozen, and the trick is to break the ice, empty the water, and then also break the ice that is on the sides and bottom of the bucket. If you smack the bucket too hard, it will break, so beating the crap out of the bucket is not an option. (Though I have gone that route.) You don’t want to slosh water on yourself, however, because that has serious ramifications.

Okay, I’m just rambling about the miserable cold. I know, I asked to be here, I asked for the animals; I pretty much made my bed (in my unheated bedroom). But have a little sympathy for me, okay?

A word about Flickr & my photos

Some of you, who shall remain nameless, have complained that I do not have my photos organized well. I have since remedied that situation by adding tags.

Photos on Flickr can be organized in "sets." That is, a group of photos on any given theme. I organize my sets by date-- "monday in the barn" or "horse and buggy days." The barn photos may be of all the animals, and the horse and buggy photos may contain horses and people. If I create a slideshow and link to it on my blog, I have to leave that set intact, or the link will be invalid.

I have rectified this situation by assigning a tag to each photo. For example , the "monday in the barn" set may contain photos of horses, goats, the llama, and people. They would get uploaded in the set, and remain in that set, but have a tag that is unique to their subject. So, in a month, you can go back and search for "goats" or "ernie" or raven" and you will get a list of photos with the relevant subject matter.

Here is a link to the page with my tag list. If you think of a better tag for any of them, let me know.

Bert! Caught on film!

Bert always does this crazy thing-- it's so hard to explain. He puts his feet up on the fence/side of the pen and then he puts his head all the way back. I used to do this as a kid, it kind of made me feel dizzy, or tickled my stomach to look at the sky, etc. I never thought goats got a rush from it, though.

But look, I swear to you, the animal loves it.

Rocky - So Wrong

Can you tell it's cold in our house these days? Rocky has curled up like a fetus to keep worm. He's not Fido, he's Fe-to.

bear with me

My &^*($#! internet is down again, and I am limping along using dialup. I have loads of pictures to post and lots to tell about Thanksgiving, but it will have to wait until I can get my high speed back.

Supposed to be Monday, but we have been down since November 9th. Arrgh!!!

Never, never, never, never, never buy Direcway.

Because I said so.

Before I had children, I said I would never tell them to do something "because I told you so." Now that I have children, I have cast aside all of my “I’ll never do thats” in favor of more traditional parental behavior.

“Because I said so” is much better than carefully explaining the reasons behind a decision. You can’t argue with “because I said so.” Case in point:

Me: “Hey, be sure to grab a coat when you go outside.”

L: “Why?”

Me: “Because it’s cold out!”

L: “I’m not cold.”

Me: "It's 30 degrees outside!"

L: "It doesn't feel that cold to me."

Me: “You may not feel cold now, but you will when you go outside.”

L: “No, really, mom, I won’t be. I’ll be fine.”

Me: (really irritated by now) You were sick with a sore throat yesterday! Put your coat on when you go outside!”

L: “But really, mom, I’m not sick today. I feel much better.”

Me: “I TOLD YOU TO PUT YOUR COAT ON WHEN YOU GO OUTSIDE! DO WHAT I SAY!!”

I should have just said “Because I said,” after the first time he asked “Why”!!

A Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day

To say that today was the worst day of my life would be an overreaction, but let’s just say it has earned its place on the list of days I don’t want to repeat.

It really started last night, with a tragedy. L had a music conference, and we hurried out of the driveway, and one of the kittens was in the way, and it was hit by our car. I feel so badly, so incredibly sad. (I will elaborate on his condition later, but I will tell you now so you don’t wonder, that he is banged up, but okay.) I heard him meow, and then I pulled forward again, and he ran away. So I took that as a sign that he was not so injured that he could not move. I got out, of course, and couldn’t find him, but I could hear him meowing. We had to go, because L had a concert, and he was graded on his attendance. We were already running late.

So when we got home, I took out the flashlight and looked for him with no luck. I did not sleep well all night, wondering and worrying about him. I prayed that he died quickly, or that he was only mildly hurt. I looked forward to the morning when I could go out and look again for him.

I went out as soon as the alarm went off at 5:30 with no luck.

I came in, and L had a sore, swollen throat, and we made the call that he would stay home, and I would stay home with him. We got M out the door to school.

I decided that I should go into work and pick up a few projects that I could work on from home. I can take L with me if necessary, and he plays in my office and draws, etc., while I take care of business, so that was fine. He came out to the car less than appropriately dressed, so I sent him back in with my keys so he could change.

He came back out, sure to lock the door, without my keys… he had locked us out!

So B had to come home and unlock the door. While sitting in the car, waiting for B, we saw the kitten come out from his hiding. His back leg looks broken or bruised, but he is putting weight on it and is able to walk. So we fashioned up the sick quarters just like we did for Bub, about this time a year ago. While I did not take him to the vet, I presume the same rx applies: “cage rest and neglect.” We bought him some canned food and gave him some blankets, his own litter box and fresh water in his kennel, and he is sleeping and resting very soundly. I think he will be fine in a few weeks.

I then made the trip into work, and took care of business.

When we got back, it was so nice outside that we let the goats out. They have been in their pens for a week or so, and while their pens are large enough that they have room to play and run around, there is nothing like a big paddock and some fresh air to bring out the spring in your step. I reasoned about what to do with Joe Llama, since he really isn’t that tame at this point, but I decided that being away from the goats would distress him, and he would likely have bonded with them enough at this point, that he would comply with my wishes so he could be near them.

I’m thinking you know where this is going…

All was well, and I was looking out the window admiring my flock, when the goats got crazy-spooky-squirrelly and ran around the paddock, spooking Joe Llama so that he ran frantically to the corner, and proceeded to jump the fence! Of course, the fence is 5’ high, and he could not easily jump it, so he was literally hanging from the fence on the other side. His leg was stuck in the fence panel, too! Of course, I ran out immediately, and as soon as I got out there, he had extracted himself (leaving a chunk of wool on the fence), and was limping around on three feet. Oy vey! And then he was in the big pasture, where previously we had not been able to catch him. Fortunately, I used the goats to lure him back into the paddock, but he was frantic, and I was not up for chasing him around and making him more upset. So there they stayed.

I came back inside, and the phone rang. It was our pastor, and he was reminding me that M was 20 minutes late for her confirmation class! I had not even checked my calendar! So we rushed off to that.

When we came back, I decided to start trying to get Joe back inside before it got dark. I was out there for 1.5 hours before the kids came out and helped me. We cornered him and I was able to get his halter on without incident, and by this time he had stopped limping.

Everyone got fed, watered, and tucked in for the night.

If ever there was a night that I needed a drink, it is tonight.

Full Circle

As I was driving home from work today, it occurred to me that some things in my life had come full circle.

When I was growing up, I had a boyfriend (let’s call him “S”). I dated him from when I was a sophomore in high school until I was a sophomore in college, when I met B. This man’s family was farmers. His father, his grandfather, and his grandfathers before them farmed the same land. At one time, they had a large operation, with dairy cattle, hogs and a lot of crops. While the operation had been scaled down some, they were working to build it back up. His grandfather had become a seed dealer, and the two sons had taken over the operation. S hoped to take over the operation from his father and his uncle, and farm full-time. As it was, his uncle’s wife worked off the farm to support the family, and his father worked full time also, as a truck driver. S went to college and studied agriculture in hopes that he could save his family’s farm from the crisis that occurred in the mid 80’s.

S was very independent, which was not so much a function of being the child of a farmer than being the child of his father, who was somewhat dysfunctional. S worked non-stop on the farm, as a junior in high school I remember him putting in 20-hour days, week after week. He did poorly in school and there were times that he and I did not see each other for weeks, and even then it was often because I chose to come to his farm and spend time with him there. He did not live in my town and go to my school, he lived about 40 minutes from me.

While S and I were not right for each other, he did teach me a whole lot about farming. I helped where I could (the summer of 2005 was NOT the first time I baled hay). He taught me a lot about implements and what they were used for. I know quite a lot about dairy farming and how that whole process works. I have milked cows, and I have nurtured piglets. I remember so clearly one day after we had stacked the hay in the haymow, just lying on our backs, resting, feeling the breeze come in one side of the mow and out the other. I remember the tiniest kittens running about in the haymow—it seems they lived their entire lives up there.

I will not forget that day, not because of anything that has to do with S, but because the feel, the smell, and the sounds just radiated peace. When I was in labor, I focused on a peaceful place. Not Hawaii, not a hot tub, not even the Eiffel Tower—I focused on that day in the haymow. Peace and tranquility.

One thing I disliked about S’s chosen field was that his car always stank. He had a white Trans Am, and he let me drive it anytime I wanted. I would drive it home and keep it for the weekend (sounds crazy now!). But it was the roving pigmobile. It stank like livestock, and there was no getting rid of the smell. He would always say, “Oh, L, it smells like money!” But truthfully, I think he could not smell it as strongly as I could.

This past weekend B cleaned out the barn for me, as I had to work. He cleaned out the horse stalls to the bare earth (no small feat). He bought fresh bedding and hay, and stacked it all in the barn. However, he did drive my car (a SUV) to accomplish all of this. I drove it Sunday, and when I got in, I immediately smelled manure. I forgot about it, as I was (appropriately) taking L to 4H. However, as I drove to work today in my new Evan Piccone suit, I was considering that I likely looked great, but smelled like a barn, and that, like S, I could probably not even smell the full impact.

As I was driving home, I was reminded of the same thought. I stopped and washed my car—shampooing the carpets even. But I did stop to think about how the smell was different this time. In 1986 I was headed down the path of least resistance. I had a boyfriend, we had plans for marriage, and my life was laid out in front of me. I would not go to college, (or if I did, I’d stay close to home). I’d be a farmer’s wife and put my heart and soul into the farm.

Today, in my thoughts, I decided that my leaving him was not about resentment of being a farmer’s wife, it was about wanting to choose my life. I wanted to be in charge of my future, and not have decisions made for me because of my husband’s family, or what was expected. Ironically, even though I did not choose S, I am drawn back to farming. And, even more ironically, I am able to put to use some of the knowledge he passed along to me.

So today, I find myself searching again for that peaceful place. I see glimpses of it now and then, so I know it’s here. But this time, the peace will be on my terms.

the odds are definitely NOT in our favor

There is always some sort of excitement here. With a 4.5:1 animal to human ratio, the excitement usually centers around a furry child. Today was no exception.

We awoke this morning, intending to go to church, and I went through my normal routine of getting up and going to the barn before showering and getting ready. I was greeted by the usual nickering, humming, meowing and baa-ing that I expect, but one was a little more urgent than usual. I didn’t notice at the time.

A few minutes later, it occurred to me that Ernie had not run to the side of the pen and jumped up to greet me. But he was talking to me. Upon further inspection, I noticed that his head was stuck!

We have a “keyhole feeder” for the hay. There are many different versions of this type of feeder, but the general idea is that the goat can only stick their head in to eat the hay. Goats are notorious wastrels when it comes to hay, and if they can only stick their heads in to get it, you can at least help to contain it. Otherwise, they paw at it and pee on it and use it for bedding, and they will not eat dirty hay.

So our keyhole feeder is a piece of something-or-other that we found when we moved in. It looks like “jail bars” and it’s a panel about 2.5 feet high by three feet wide. It was perfect for putting in the corner of their pen and keeping the hay at least somewhat contained.

But Ernie got his head wedged in there and couldn’t get it out!!

The trick was to use the sawzall on the bars and bend them apart to get his head unstuck. We couldn’t do it in the pen, though, as there is hay and straw everywhere and we couldn’t risk a spark. So we had to remove the panel and carry it out into the middle of the barn—with Ernie’s head still stuck in it! And then we gave him some alfalfa, which put him into a blissful state, causing him to not be affected in the least by the power tool operating just inches from his head.

Darn goat, should have took the sawzall to his horns!

We didn’t make it to church.

check out yesterday's sunrise

This was actually taken before sunrise. We looked out, and saw an amazing pinkish/purple sky, with this beam coming up from the horizon. In the photo, the light actually looks like the sun is up, but at this point, it's still behind the horizon. Click on it to make it bigger-- it's amazing and I have never seen anything like it!

ranting

I have been without my high-speed internet access since last Wednesday. We came home to find the satellite modem lights blinking the “blink of death.” You know, usually they are doing something that looks constructive, but there is a certain point where you know the thing is dead, just by the way the lights are going on and off. They look as though they are not doing anything constructive.

So I called up Direcway and told them about the problem. Okay, well, let’s back up.

I called Direcway and spoke to their tech support in India. They were very friendly and helpful, except that they were determined that my problem was a low signal. I tried to convey that the lights were blinking on and off steadily, not randomly like they often do when they are searching for a signal.

About 55 minutes later, I had been transferred to a higher level of tech support, and we had gone through all of the same diagnostics that had been administered in the lower level of tech support, and the technician determined that we needed a new modem. Okay, I think I said that…

He arranged for shipment of a new one that should arrive in 5-7 business days. In the meantime, he set up a dial up account for us, but was ultimately unable to give me the username and password because the database which generates those was down. He told me to “call back later.”

Later was Friday, as B’s parents were in town, and we were busy. I spent an additional 75 minutes on the phone with tech support that day. After being transferred from India back to New York, I was able to easily get the username and password that were promised to me, and I asked the support tech to confirm that a new modem had been ordered for me. It had NOT been ordered! Of course, the second tech could not authorize the shipment of a new modem until we had gone through all of the diagnostics that we had gone through in the very first call.

Last night we received the modem. The modem needs to be registered and initialized, and it was determined that some earlier problems I had were attributed to a low signal (though the modem was, in fact, dead) so we needed to review issues with the satellite transponder. I was transferred twice, and spent another 88 minutes on the phone, where I was then disconnected! I called back, and was told that I would need to wait 36 minutes on hold to be connected to someone at the level from which I was just disconnected!

I waited and called back again about ½ hour later, and was told that my wait time would not be more than 2-3 minutes. He then came back and said it would be more than 10 minutes. I decided +/- 10 minutes wouldn’t be a big deal. But I was steaming mad when they finally picked up the phone 46 minutes later! Of course, they read the case review, but still had to go through the same diagnostics. At this time it was 12:15 am, and I still had no internet access. He told me that he would need to put the information in the system to change the transponder, and that I should give it about ½ hour and call back! I wanted to ask him if he could just put me on hold, as that should take about ½ hour for someone to pick up the phone anyway! But it was too late and I needed to go to bed. That call took 58 minutes.

They also told me that there are two transponders on the horizontal and vertical axes that I am trying to lock onto. The support person said, “we will change it in the computer and hope it locks onto the one with the stronger signal strength. If it doesn’t someone will have to come out and configure it from your house.” Oh joy. This could take a while.

I wonder how long the call will be this afternoon to finish the job (or maybe “finish” is too optimistic?).

I HATE THIS COMPANY!!!!!!!! I hated the cable company for being such a gorilla, but Direcway is much, much worse. Customers like me are the perfect “captive audience” because we are screwed if we need high speed internet—they are the only option. No DSL out here, no cable, nothing but satellite, and they are the only provider.

Oh, and regardless of your thoughts on outsourcing call centers to other countries, don’t you think the individuals should at least be familiar with the geography, the time zones in the U.S. and the protocol? I was asked how the weather was in “Idaho;” I was told just to call back in a few minutes, and I could not make them understand that it was IN THE MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT HERE; and they gave me a phone number with too many digits.

Okay, done with rant.

i'm full

My brain is full! I learned a lot from the chakra workshop I attended. It wasn’t one of those times where you are overwhelmed with so much information and “newness” and excitement that you can’t contain your enthusiasm, then you come home with resolve and ambition, but somehow don’t ever get there…

This was different. It is a quiet thing, very subtle and personal. It’s about being aware, about always thinking about who is looking out of your eyes and living inside of your body. Why you operate the way you do, and how to change the patterns of behavior inside of yourself that hinder your progress toward your goals and self-actualization.

The quietness is good for so many reasons. First and foremost, it means that it’s not going to lose the fizzle quick. It’s going to be easy to implement and continue. Secondly, it is so complementary with other things in a person’s life. You are not asked to replace your religion, relationships, or to forsake all of the behaviors that you currently have. The big steps are just about awareness and understanding. Making peace with who you are, and why you are who you are. If you can’t make peace, then you work quietly, peacefully, steadily, to make it to where you want to go and who you want to be.

Keeping Warm

It’s that time again. Bitter cold, near-zero windchills, frozen buckets. This year there are more buckets!

As I have mentioned before, our bedroom has no heating ducts. Both of the kids’ rooms have heat, but ours does not. We just have each other. : ) But even with all of the doors upstairs open, it makes for a chilly room! And with that nippy west wind whipping through, I swear my bedroom had a windchill this morning…

Even so, extracting my body from under the cozy covers was bad enough, but not nearly as difficult as convincing myself to step from the warm house to the freezing outdoors at 5:30 am… it took a bit of convincing.

The barn is pleasant. Of course, there is no wind, but the animals keep it warm with their body heat and their breath. And they are always happy to see me. So it makes it all worthwhile. And after a few minutes saying my good mornings, I am warm and have forgotten about the cold (until I have to step outside, break the ice on the 4 water buckets, fill them with icy cold water, and then carry them back to the barn without sloshing the water on my leg and soaking my pants). That kind of warming—from the inside out—really stays with you.

Happy Wednesday!

P.S. Today I am going to a chakras workshop— here is the link to an article about the seminar. Makes you want to come, doesn’t it!

okay, so you’ll never believe this story, but I swear to the Almighty that it’s true

This weekend we dog-sat for MK’s dog Porsche. He came around 9:00 this evening to pick her up, and B and I were lazing around watching a movie with the dogs. I was snuggled up under a quilt, and for some very, very odd reason we didn’t hear MK’s car come down the road or up the driveway (that has to be a first—we notice EVERYTHING—but the movie WAS really good…). The dogs heard NOTHING, and only barked when he knocked on the door.

Anyway, B came out to help him load her gear up and MK asked what animals we had in our backyard. B said that we didn’t have anything, but noticed that the leaves were rustling. Upon further inspection, he saw faces, and came quickly to the conclusion that there were cows in our backyard. About 20 of them. Of course, like most men, when faced with danger or urgency, he called for his wife. : ) I called the neighbors because they have cattle behind us—but really far behind us, and it didn’t seem logical that they were theirs, but whose else’s could they have been?

So they came roaring over. The neighbor that lives close is the dad, and his two sons also have cattle, so they came over as well (though they don’t live that close). They immediately discerned that the cattle were not theirs. Then we all thought maybe that they belonged across the road (at Bubba’s house). So they called BK, the landlord, and asked if they were his cattle. He lives about 20 miles away, so we waited for quite a while and got to know them a little better. He came over and determined that they were indeed his cattle. For them to have come into our backyard, however, would have meant that they would have had to walk about ¼ mile down the road, and just mosey up the hill of our driveway, walk past the barn and down into the backyard. Oh, and without getting hit. Strange but true, that’s how it happened.

So, then BK starts calling his cattle, and proceeded to have a mini cattle drive out the yard, down the driveway, down the road, into Bubba’s driveway, and back to the corral from whence they came. It was pretty obvious that Bubba’s kid left the gate open when she got the pony out, and the pony and two horses were out as well. But they all went back in, slick as a whistle. Unbelieveable. I will ask B tomorrow if this was all a weird, weird dream.

Our dogs are SO fired.

progress with joe llama

B’s parents are visiting this week/weekend, and we had a nice brunch at the Hotel Pattee in Perry, Iowa. You should visit if you get the chance!

I had a chance to spend some quiet time with Joe Llama today, and he actually took alfalfa from my hand. It’s a start! Tomorrow I will work with him on a longe line (just leading, no exercises or anything), and we’ll hope it gets better from there.

He is so cool, he makes this humming noise, kind of like a sheep or goat’s baa, but it’s quieter and more of a hhmmmm noise.

I didn’t know that llamas hummed.

Go figure.

How to catch a llama

Joe Llama has been here 2 days, and we are still not good friends. : ( The first day we kept him inside in his stall with Cindi, and that worked out fine. Yesterday we put him in the paddock with all of the goats, and they became fast friends. However, when it came time to put everyone in the barn for the evening, the goats went fine but Joe Llama did not want to go in. We ran that poor guy ragged around the paddock trying to get his halter on him. The fun and games ended when I fell down, and we decided to open the paddock gate and the barn door, and try to drive him from one into the other. Well, that worked fine, except he took a sharp right and went into the large pasture.

So there we were, with a three-acre pasture, and a llama roaming somewhere down there in the dark…

Joe Llama spent the night outside.

This morning, we heard that bad weather was coming (did you hear about all the tornadoes in Iowa? Not too far from here…). So we needed to get Joe back up to the barn. I chased him around for an hour, and got nowhere but tired. And I probably didn’t do much to endear myself to him.

We decided to let him rest, and then later we sent Rocky outside to try and corral him in. Now Rocky is known around our house by several nicknames, most of which translate to “dumb.” He is a loving, wonderful guy. But he is dumber than a box of hammers.

One time, however, he managed to get into the pasture with Kitten. She started pawing and snorting (think of a bull in a bullfight—get the picture?), and Rocky knew the signs. He took off so fast he was practically a blur. So we decided he could take care of himself if Joe got too aggressive. Raven would try and make friends, and wouldn’t read the signs of aggression.

So, Rocky went out, I told him to get the llama, and he chased him around the pasture for a while, ultimately getting him into the paddock! Not without disturbing him greatly, causing the llama to make this horrendous clucking noise (the warning before spitting) and sending him into a state of panic. BUT, he was IN THE PADDOCK! And we were back to square one.

Again, we let him rest for a while, and put the goats and horses back out there so he would have calming company. That did the trick, and we went out to get him the final time. We had to entice him by standing with the herd in a corner of the paddock, so he could feel like he was not with the herd (with hopes that he would want to join in), and also to let him see that the rest of the herd trusts us. It actually worked some, by keeping him calm and letting us approach slowly. We finally got a rope around his neck, and then his halter on, and talked quietly and calmly to him, and then peacefully led him to his stall. Like it was a non-event.

But it was a HUGE event, and I never want to go through that again! Joe Llama will be staying in the barn for at least a couple of weeks until he can learn to trust that we will not hurt him, and come when he is called. I can take him outside on the longe line, and that is all the playing outside that he will get. Hopefully next time I can report on our blossoming friendship.

Help Wanted.

Help Wanted!

Goat herder needed. Prefer candidate that is tall, herd-oriented, has a keen eye (and distaste) for canines. Preference will be given to individuals with big brown eyes, long eyelashes and thick fur. Benefits include full room and board, a great employer and loving charges. Please contact us.

Good news! The job’s been filled—Our newest staff member at our farm: Joe Llama.


What a saddo I am— our internet access is down for several days. Somehow we fried the modem (we connect via satellite), and we are waiting for a replacement to be shipped. It may be as long as a week! In any case, we have driven to a wireless access point so I can share the news about Joe Llama!

Happy weekend.

P.S. Look at this picture of Erine and Bert, the farm SpokesGoats!

And you think MY animals are bad?

Check out this link.