Burning the Candle at Both Ends

It is another one of those weeks. We are just swamped with things to do, since we are showing our goats this weekend. I am so nervous about it! I think I clipped Aurora too short, and Cindi is too wild and bossy, and oh, well, we'll just have to see. I have a shopping list a mile long, and have to stop for something on the way home every day after work.

Work? What's that? Something I try to ditch as often as possible, but for some reason they just don't seem to understand when I don't get my stuff done...

I will definitely take pictures this weekend, hopefully we'll have a ribbon or two to show for it. In any case, and I totally mean this, we will have a most excellent judge. It's a small town, county fair, non-ABGA sanctioned show. But the judge is an ABGA sanctioned judge, who really wants people to succeed. He has given impromptu clinics following shows before, so I am hoping for a lot of good insight to help me with the show on September 9th. L will show his goat, and I am just as excited and nervous for him as I am for me.

I am also working on a new business website for our farm. My mom brought me some gorgeous, really high quality business cards, and I have been handing them out. So I want a webpage that really looks slick to go along with the professional image we're trying to present. I'm enjoying it, but it is way time-consuming. I'm composing it in Joomla, which is something I know *nothing* about. Although I know a little now... : )

Happy Monday.

It’s a Pizzle, fo’ shizzle

Yep, this post will not be for the squeamish or prudish. Because if we can talk about poop, we can talk about male anatomy.

It’s just a curious thing, as a relatively new livestock owner, to see how these animals behave.

First it was the stallion. Of course, he is “ready and willing” at a moment’s notice, and that was to be expected. We could both handle that. And that he was so, um, aptly equipped, was also something that was not a shock—he IS a horse, and there is some truth to that age-old expression… But I digress.

One day we were wondering what on earth he was doing, as he was standing in the corner of the pasture, just chilling out with his head down, and his, um, “Little Major” very much awake. After a few minutes, it was apparent: self-gratification. But, mind you, he can’t REACH it. So the whole thing was over with in a few moments, with him just moving it strategically. B was quite impressed, and I think his actual quote was, “WOW. No hands. That.Is.Some.Skill.”

But I digress again, as this discussion is about goats. Isn’t it always about goats?

So wethers are just like girls, for the most part, in their behavior. They all do try and mount each other for pecking order, but that is no big deal. Our kids have coined the term “doing the victory dance.” Which is quite appropriate. Who will be victorious as the one in charge?

But bucks. Well, bucks are a different animal altogether. They are known for their rude sexual behavior. I remember studying about satyrs in art history, and they are half goat and half man, and are symbolic of sexual prowess (and “drunken revelry” as McGraw Hill defines it). So the goat image is appropriate.

While goats can reproduce all year, they do have a mating season which begins, funnily enough, right about now. Bucks go into rut, and they stink to high heavens. Frankly, I don’t think Wolfgang stinks all that badly right now, though I am told to expect much worse. I think I can handle it if it doesn’t get too much worse. To me it doesn’t really stink, it smells a lot like a dairy smell, like a cow barn. But right now it’s not too intense.

Another of their attractions to the female is that they constantly pee on everything, mostly themselves. They have an “attachment” called a pizzle, and it helps them, notsomuch aim, but actually create a fine mist of spray that covers everything around it. They have a knack for successfully aiming for their beards. Why goat chicks find that impressive, I don’t know. But they do.

So why do I feel compelled to discuss this? Well, I am preparing Wolfie for an upcoming show in September, and I am trying to work the rudeness out of him. After a few days, he is really cleaning up nicely (behavior-wise). I will get a fitting stand tomorrow and will clip him and bathe him and see what else we need to do to get him tip-top before the show. But yesterday I recall *twice* thinking that he was amazingly calm as I coached him to stand with his head on my knee and pose for the (imaginary) judge. And both times, I looked down to find him spraying all over my shoes and ankles.

Let me just state for the record, that if you pee on me, I reserve the right to blog about your anatomy.

The Rollercoaster

The year's four seasons, for me, are like a rollercoaster. Winter is somewhat at the low point. There are such good things about it, it's cozy, I love the snow, and the scenes are always magical. I love sledding and snow days and Christmas, and all of the fun things that come with it. I hate the dark days, with sunrise coming so late and sunset here before you know it. I hate breaking ice buckets in the barn, and worrying about the animals being so cold. I hate the bare trees, except when they are snow-covered, and I despise the bitterly cold days when it is subzero.

Spring is starting up the hill, rich with anticipation, looking forward to the thrill of being at the top. It's such a change from the winter, not just in that it's green vs. brown, but in the significance of that. Out of death and hibernation comes new life, and all the promise that it holds. Spring at our house is crisp air with warm sun, and lots of dew in the morning. It smells like damp hay and freshly cut grass, and horsehide. I appreciate it for what it is, but to my fault, I also appreciate it very much for what it signifies: Summer is coming.

For me, summer is the thrill. I think it stems from childhood, because some of the things that I *say* make me happy are really not true. For example, I say that summer is lazy and worry free. Umm, No. Not at my house now. Summer is crammed with plans, alternating with boring days that the kids spend at home (making me worry about what they will get into). Summer is desperation in finding a perfect childcare solution, it's extra money for daycare and more trips to the grocery store. It's a huge shift in schedule that is stressful on everyone. The days I remember as being warm and sunny are often oppressive and sticky. The animals are plagued with flies, and the manure can sometimes smell. Stalls should be cleaned daily to remove what attracts flies, and that work is always sweaty and dirty. Summer is starry nights and hammocking, and cookouts and staying up late. Not if you get up at 5:30 to work in the barn and then go to work. (But obviously, I like to pretend.)

Coming down the big thrilling hill is fall. I am still loving the weather and the routine, since the kids are back in school, but the peak is over, and the low point is ahead, which always makes me a little sad. The crisp nights discourage the flies, and in the mornings you can see your breath. The changing leaves are a sign of what is to come, and they always inspire me to take walks, lately with my camera in hand. Fall means Thanksgiving, my second favorite holiday, and football, and baking, and cozy kitchens, and canning and good smells. It means winterproofing and "battening down the hatches" and settling into the routines. And I love all of that.

For me, sadly, the craziest month of my year at work is October. So I am very busy, and unable to enjoy most of those things about fall. But this year, I think I am going to try and mentally adjust the peak. Maybe it should be right about now...

The kids are back in school, the days aren't quite as hot, but there are still plenty of warm days to get work done. The routines are back, and with the fall schedule comes some semblance of sanity. Fewer worries when the kids are at school, and reasonable expectations all around.

Soon it will be breeding time! Cindi will go on a date with Wolfgang, and we'll have even more spring babies. We are hoping for twins from the three does that will be bred (Cindi and the two does coming from our friends).

I am really going to try and love the winter for the break it provides, and the rest that it gives. We certainly need that-- and should look forward to it.

Oh, guess what I did... I went and entered my first show! It's September 9th, so start crossing your fingers now. I will show Wolfgang and Aurora. Luna is too tiny and fragile (arrgh) at this point, to show. She needs to beef up a little (or is that "goat up a little"?). We are also showing at a nearby county fair next Friday-- that's just 9 days away. Yikes!! L is showing his dairy goat, and I will show Aurora. No buck classes there, so Wolfie will stay home. B and I (and L) are frantically coming up with stall decorations and trying to put together all the supplies we'll need.

I'm getting old

I know that I am getting old because:

First, I would make a mistake, and not learn from it.

Then, I would make a mistake, but make a note of the lesson and do my best not to do it again.

Now, I try to learn from others' mistakes. I do make plenty of new ones on my own, but I still try to avoid those that others have made, if they share them with me.

At this point, however, I am doing things like I am elderly. A few weeks ago, our neighbor offered to sell us his horse very cheap, because he was moving. Now, I had fed the horse in the past, and I had spent a little time with him. I knew he was a nice horse, and had a nice, easygoing disposition. Our neighbor is our feed guy, so I knew the horse was well cared-for, and as neighbors, we had discussed things in passing, so I knew that the horse had regular vet and hoof care. The horse wasn't trained, though, so that was a big negative, but he was offering it very cheaply to us because he said that he knew the horse would get excellent care and attention (that was a nice compliment, even without the discount).

Now, I have always been horse crazy. My father attests to this day that he has seen horse crazy, and I am miles beyond that, approaching on "horse psycho." I asked for horses for every holiday, every birthday, every christmas. Every wish I made on a star, when I blew out the birthday candles, when I pulled the wishbone-- ALL were that I could have a horse. We lived in town, so that was pretty much out of the question. I did have riding lessons, and I did other activities that would allow me to be around horses as often as possible, but I wanted my own.

It subsided a bit later in life-- or should I say that it was overshadowed. I am not quite sure it ever subsided. But now that I am out where I can have horse(s), I just need the money, and B's blessing, to buy them and they are mine. No logistics to stop me.

And we *have* horses, but they are not mine. Technically they are everything *but* mine-- M doesn't check up on them, I ride when the spirit moves me, we care for them as our own. But they are *NOT* mine. And it is a big difference, at least to me.

So, my heart jumped at the chance to own my own horse, when our neighbor offered him to us at such a low price.

For about five seconds...

Okay, seriously, it was a few days. But in the end, we logically decided that it would be better to put that money into a goat. Even though the price was rock bottom, that was the better part of a goat purchase, and if that is our farm's business focus right now, we need to move forward with that. So, with a smidge of reluctance, I told our neighbor no thank you.

Fast foward a month...

We are caring for our neighbor's horses while he moves. I think they will be here a few more weeks or so, but it should not be long-term (famous last words). Since this horse moved in, the horse that was almost mine, I have been SO GLAD that I did not agree to buy him! He is dumber than a box of rocks! In his defense, I think that it is a combination of my high expectations after working with a beautifully trained animal, and his lack of understanding of my high expectations. But it has not gone well. I was nearly trampled a couple of days ago, and this morning he just could not figure out that I wanted him to go into the paddock to eat. This has been the routine every morning, so it's not new.

But I guess when you're young, everything's new.

I am SOOO glad that I said no to buying him. I would be tearing my hair out right about now.

Things I Learned at the State Fair

1. Battered, deep fried snickers bars are really not that good-- they are just one of those things that are so over the top. You know, like something that someone would use to (unsuccessfully) try to impress someone else.

2. If you are wearing a shirt that says, "I'm an Asshole" I'm likely to believe you.

3. If you are showing a lot of skin, people are going to look at you. And it may not be the kind of looks you are soliciting.

4. In that same vein, the more skin you have, the less you should show.

5. Large hair, that which might be used to smuggle familes across borders, is not in style. In fact, it has been out since the 1980's. However, some people are unwilling to accept this fact.

The fair was a great learning experience.

Oh, and our "mentor" (of sorts) won a gazillion classes at the show today. They were premier breeder (they bred the most winning goats, regardless of who owns them now), and they won premier exhibitor, meaning that they won the most awards. Their goat prices just went up! Woo hoo! We'll have three of their babies when it's all said and done.

Call me weird, but...

Maybe it's because I'm a transplant, or maybe it's because I am just strange. But each year our state fair tries to top the last year for something shocking "on a stick." Everything there is on a stick, the joke is that at some point they will figure out how to put soup on a stick. First there were some good ideas-- they have this giant turkey leg (it looks deep fried), but that's kind of on a stick. Then they put a pork chop on a stick. That's a good idea, too. Of course, we have corn dogs, and they have invented a chili dog that has the chili inside the cornbread, so you can have a chili dog on a stick. Okay great.

But then, there is always someone that take it a little too far. Someone who ruins it for those who are innocent. That happened when they started battering and deep fat frying things like twinkies and snickers bars. Yep, they stick a snickers in some corn bread batter, put it on a stick, deep fat fry it, dunk it in some sort of sugar water mixture, throw a little powdered sugar on it, and for $3.00 you can have a heart attack on a stick! Each year they try to top the last year, and so far I know of (and maybe there are more) a battered and fried twinkie on a stick, hostess cupcake, snickers, milky way and reeses peanut butter cup.

I had not had any of this, but yesterday I went to the fair with a friend, who told me that this was the equivalent of manna, and that I must have it. I admit, I had been curious, but really was not sure. So I went for it and got the snickers.

It was way overrated. It was roughly on the order of a s'more-- melted chocolate with a breaded crust. But it was way too much, and after I ate it I felt gross. I will not be trying any other varieties, but I would consider the pork chop, as it is not breaded or deep fat fried. And I understand that it has been voted the favorite fair food!

Today I am going to the meat goat show. We'll see how that goes! I saw a lot of goats yesterday, and am encouraged-- Aurora could easily compete with them. I may show her in a couple of weeks at a different show.

Today is the last day of the fair, and we got to go four times. We're down a little from last year. : ) But hey, it rained all week.

Luna's Recovery

You know, all the knocking on wood that is done around here is about as fruitful as banging your head against the wall. As I type this, I am taking frequent breaks to knock on wood...

Luna has recovered from her tummy troubles. She is back on her feed, and I no longer have to work from home while bottle feeding her. I frequently refer to the goats as toddlers with horns, and I was proven correct again as I had to wrassle her and chase her around to catch her to stuff the bottle's nipple in her mouth. She pursed her lips tightly so I could not get it in, she let most of the (expensive) colostrum dribble down her face, and she would often jerk her head back quickly so she could hit me with her horns. She chewed one ($4.00) nipple beyond servicibility, and just when I resigned myself to using a second one, and had cut the hole and put it on the bottle, she decided to eat solid food.

But I am thankful that she is healthy again. I was worried about her!

Biting the Hand That Feeds You

Something like that isn't a good idea.

The horses that we are caring for on a very limited basis live outside most of the time. They are not as friendly (as a rule) as the other horses that we care for. Certainly not as friendly or needing as much human interaction as Major. There is one, Waco, that does like people, but he has personal space issues.

Waco is only 2 and is still growing. His owner asked if we could feed him twice a day. That is no problem, we feed 2x a day anyway. But we don't feed the horses, since in the summer we have a pasture full of tasty grass. Nobody needs grain in the summer unless they are working hard or not an easy keeper. Neither is the case with those that we care for. Except Waco.

Typically I take the grain outside in a bucket, and Waco knows the drill-- he runs into the paddock, where I close the gate and let him eat in peace, before everyone else tries to push him away. Waco is the low guy on the totem pole, so he loses the battle every time.

Yesterday Major was already in the paddock, so Waco didn't have anywhere to go. I was trying to yell at Major to get out, but Waco was trying to get at the bucket in my hand. It got more intense, until Waco was slamming his body against me, trying to get the grain. The situation was worsened by the immense amount of mud that was in our pasture (just outside the barn door), so I was afraid of being pushed down in the mud and trampled. I smacked Waco with the bucket, and he had the nerve to turn his butt around at me and kick at me with two back feet!! If I would have had some good footing, I would have beat the daylights out of him. But I was scared of falling.

So I did what I don't like to do. I went inside and got a big old whip. And I cracked it. And I liked it.

And I was instantly in charge.

incommunicado

Well, not completely. I have the internet, thank God! But something is wrong with our telephone, and our cell phones are useless at our house (we live in a big limestone valley).

Initially, I checked out the phone junction box outside, and determined that the wiring the previous owners used to run from the box to the house was, in fact, interior wiring. The jack coming out the wall leaves some to be desired, as well, since it isn't connected to the wall and just hangs from the wiring. So, for $2.50, I bought 50 feet of exterior phone cable and for another $2.50 a new jack. Easy and cheap fix.

Well, a cheap and easy fix if you are not Mrs. Murphy, and your family's law always applies...

BUT, I have been Mrs. Murphy for many years now, and I know full well that the law always applies, so before going to all of the trouble to pull the wiring and install the jack, I decided to take a short length outside, install the jack, and see if it worked. It did NOT! It was so crackly, I could hardly hear the dial tone.

So I called the phone company, and the repairman just left. Turns out that the cable between the box and our house has to be replaced. At leat I didn't run that cable for nothing! I will do it, it needs to be replaced, but sometime when I'm less booked up.

Sign in the local Hardware Hank: Husbands choosing paint colors require a signed note from their wife.

Hey, remember me?

I can’t believe it has been so long since I blogged. But how many entries did I start out that way?

I have so much updating to do, where should I start? You’d better go grab a drink and a snack, cuz this will be a while.

Work, schmurk. I am sick of being away from home. I am really investigating the Tomboy Tools option to see if it will be a lucrative part-time venture while I try to build up my goat herd. B really wants me to quit, my therapist is screaming about how detrimental the job is to my mental health. And I agree. But what can you do? Nothing will happen quickly, just because I am wiser in my old age, and won’t just up and quit.

It’s coming up to my busy time, so we’ll see how that goes. Hopefully I can maintain some semblance of sanity.

So enough about work.

It’s State Fair time! We have gone only once this year, so far anyway. I expect that we’ll go tomorrow through the weekend. I was disappointed to learn that the draft horse show that we have loved for the past few years is no longer one long day (which seemed like minutes for us). They are breaking it up to a few different classes each day. So when we went a couple of days ago we saw them lining up to go into the pavilion and took some photos. If you have never been close to a draft horse, they are immense. Often the back of a horse is taller than 6’ so a typical man can’t even see over the back. Their feet are as large as dinner plates, and that is not an exaggeration. They make Major look like a toy horse. I took a photo of a man bathing his Percheron, so you can see how tall the horse is in relation to the man. The man was not a small man.





I did also have a chance to look through the photography salon at the fair. As you may know, none of my photos were selected. I did have a vindicating moment a week or so ago when a professional photographer looked at my photos and said that she thought they were outstanding. We had a lengthy discussion about the placement and what made them look good. These were hard copies that she looked at, so I felt good—they all look good on the internet! At the fair, they had just over 1000 photos on display, those that were selected to exhibit. They had 200 that actually won ribbons, everything from champion to honorable mention. There were nearly 4000 photos that were submitted. They selected about 30% for exhibition. One thing I noticed was that the colors were really intense. I don’t mess with the colors in my photos much, but it was obvious that they wanted bright, bold colors. There were photos that took my breath away, and there were photos that I thought were fine, and then there were those that I thought mine superceded. So at least I feel that I have a chance at being selected to exhibit next year. I’ll definitey try again. And each year they have one class that deviates from the usuals: still life, people, black and whites, etc.. This year the theme was one-room school houses. Next year it’s winter wonderland. Now THAT I can do!!

The family is great. It’s nearly back to school time, and we couldn’t be more ready. Fortunately, it’s still warm, so unlike when I was a kid growing up in WI (and starting school a few weeks later), we don’t need to go out and buy jeans and sweaters. We do have all the school supplies bought and packed up for next week. L starts football practice on Monday, and today we check out all of his equipment.

This past weekend B and I canned a bunch of produce from our garden. We did buy other produce and canned it, too. We made bread & butter pickles, stewed tomatoes, salsa, peach sauce and strawberry sauce. We didn't do much of each, but we did end up with quite a stash. We will have an abundance of tomatoes, so now that we have the hang of it, we will get busy canning! Here is a photo of some of the fruits of our labor:



Last weekend we went to my 20th high school reunion. It was quite the trip, let me tell you. I was part of the planning team, so it was nervewracking for me. I think I shocked most of them when I told them that I was a goat farmer. Of course, I prefaced it all with discussion about my “day job” but I did bring photos of the goats!

And speaking of the goats, they are mostly great. MK was so awesome to feed them while we were out of town last weekend, and they all (including MK) survived just fine. I missed them terribly, though!

However, this past Friday, Luna (the newest baby), developed scours (diarrhea). That can be problematic, or it can be something she ate—too much grass, too much grain, just a tummyache, etc. So I gave her some probiotics. That encourages the natural flora in the animal’s rumen, and can sometimes stave off an intestinal issue. By the next day she was not any better, so I immediately started treatement for coccidiosis. There are always coccidia present in the gut, but an abundance of them can be detrimental. It can be deadly for kids. So I started the treatement, and she responded immediately. Again, those antibiotics can upset the natural balance of bacteria in the rumen, so I continued with the probiotics. All was fine. Until yesterday, when she stopped eating! I gave her a shot of B complex yesterday (to encourage appetite), but no luck. She had been off feed for 24 hours today when I finally called the vet. I took a sick day from work, and I am now feeding her calf colostrum every 2 hours by bottle. Ugh, what us goatmoms don’t do for our babies. I hope she perks up.



I have found instructions on the internet on how to do my own fecal tests. Goats are extremely susceptible to worms, and those worms are very commonly immune to some of the more popular wormers. With horses, for example, you worm every few months for a particular kind of parasite, and it’s a preventive if the animal doesn’t have a parasite load. However, with goats, you want to find out if your goat is infected, and if so, exactly what type of worm it has, and then treat only for that type of parasite. You run a much lower risk of the worms becoming immune to the poison. And that word, poison, is also the reason that you don’t worm preventively in animals that you eat. We raise these animals so carefully, so that we don’t have hormones or too many antibiotics, etc. It only makes sense that we carefully choose which medicines they take, and avoid giving anything unnecessarily. So, I will be doing a fecal test on Luna today. I have a microscope and everything. We shall see!!


The other goats are great. Wolfie is great, growing his beard and turning into quite a young buck. He is making all of his girlfriend-attracting noises and doing the gross things that girl goats are attracted to. So all is well with him.



Cindi is doing fine, we are hoping that L will show her in a nearby county’s fair just before Labor Day. I am possibly going to show Aurora also. I am so nervous about that prospect!!



Aurora is doing well, gaining weight and looking great. I am really, really pleased with our purchase of her. She is sassy, healthy, vocal, and if she is a good mom, she will be the total package of near perfection. I can’t wait to see how she does.



Ernie is Ernie. Silly, fun, always talking, and just a great guy. Especially since he is now dehorned.



I had some amazing and exciting news the other day, which was confirmed last night. My “mentor” in this goat operation approached me about a “partnership.” I was hesitant at first, since we have put out mucho cash so far and are staying put with our herd for the time being. But they have too many goats, and what they proposed is that they will bring us does that are bred. We care for the does all winter, and when they kid in the spring, they will get the pick of the litter, typically a twin. If there are triplets, or an odd amount, then a price will be fixed for the offspring. We get the other kid. Basically, they come to the table with the bred doe, and we come to the table with the space to keep them and the feed all winter. It is totally a win/win situation. I trust these people so implicitly, they have such an interest in the market and the industry, and are just genuinely good people. They have an impeccable reputation in the state, and can not keep their sale goats around long. They always have customers. I am honored that they would ask me to partner with them, and can’t wait to get the does. That would be a way to increase our herd by two or more goats by spring. Let’s just hope for girls!!!

So all is well in the barn.

Oh, and I almost forgot to mention that our neighbor, our feed guy, has taken a job out of state. He has left, sadly, and has no place for his horses at the moment. During his move we have agreed to horse sit for them, so they are here keeping Major company. I think it will just be for a few weeks until he is settled, but we don’t mind the company. They stay outside all of the time anyway, though if they stay for any length of time during the winter, we will have to figure out a solution. They need some shelter, which they don’t have much of (just trees) outside.



So, that’s that! I hope to be around more from now on. Hope you enjoy the photos.


American Gothic for the New Millennium:

Could I be a tomboy?

OMG, check this out:

Apparently it's been around for a while, but I haven't seen it until now. Say goodbye to selling Tupperware, Mary Kay, Avon, Pampered Chef and all that. Hello TOMBOY TOOLS. Wow, this could be my calling when I leave the executive job behind and become a full-time goat farmer...

Socking this stuff away for a rainy day.

full of beans

This weekend was busy, as I noted. Our lawnmower is broken, which on the one hand is the perfect excuse not to spend time mowing the lawn! On the other hand, my dad is visiting next weekend, so we need to get busy... B needs to repair the starter. However, I may become the small engine expert.

It has been so nice after the recent oppressive heat. On the one hand, I have been inclined to spend time outside in the nice weather, but there is something to be said for hanging out on the couch with the gorgeous breeze passing over you. Admittedly I spent a little time doing that yesterday.

Aside from that, and shopping, and all of the other Sunday-mundane orders of business, I did head out to the garden and begin the weeding. It's amazing that one's crops can suffer in the heat, yet the weeds seem thrive. Why can't we raise weeds? And with all the technology we have, can't they create a way to keep weeds out? On the other hand, we stay away from those pesticides and altered stuff. Anyway, I didn't get much weeded, as I was sidetracked by the huge crop of green beans. I planted them in succession, so I wouldn't have a bumper crop all at once. So the first five bean plants yielded me over a gallon ziplock bag of green beans. The peas will be ready soon, as will the corn. Also, I have a huge crop of tomatoes, but I fear that the tomato hornworms have had their fill, and the crop will not be as prolific as it could be. We have been picking them off, and I believe that the birds have come along and helped, but much has been destroyed. It's amazing the amount of devastation that they can wield in a few hours.

Okay, off to say good morning to the furry kids, and then to work. : )

Oh, the new doeling is doing well, settling in. She has a weepy eye, however, and I am troubled by that. I have given her antibiotics & B complex, and she is eating and pooping well, so fingers crossed... No name yet.

what's up buttercup?

Yes, I am officially the goatmom now, though I did want to be the food lady. I can still title my blog that. I’m not sure I like the look, so I will probably mess with that soon. I am going to also delete the references to my farm name. Too distinct… but you know how to find me if you want to buy a goat. : )

So I posted a blog the other day, and it didn’t take. It bummed me out, and I haven’t
attempted to blog since then. From now on, I will blog in Word, so if it doesn’t save, I have not lost my entire post!

Yes, the excuse for being incommunicado is still that we are extremely busy. It is just hitting us with one event or commitment after another. Of course, they are all events or activities that we have signed up for and agreed upon, but still…

“The blog that wasn’t” talked about my experience entering the State Fair photo competition. I have not yet heard if I was accepted, but I am not optimistic. I am hopeful, but the odds are not in my favor. I arrived about 2 hours before the deadline, and I was entrant number 1101. Each of my photos was tagged A, B, C and D, so if everyone entered 4 photos, that would mean a total of 4400 photos! What an immense pool of entries to choose from.

The woman checking everyone in said that the average is about 3 photos chosen out of every 10 photos that are entered. I guess they are not impossible odds, but still quite slim. In a way, that is great. You know that if you were selected to exhibit, that you have something worth considering. It wasn’t one of those “I got first place out of one entry” deals.

Speaking of that, now that I am a bit more anonymous I will have to tell you all about the county fair show. WELL!! Quite the gossip, let me tell you…

First of all, there are not a lot of goats in our small county. We have several 4H clubs within our county, but the show superintendent happens to be in our club. Her kids are members, and she is a parent volunteer. The show superintendent arranges for the judge and the prizes, and fills out the paperwork. This woman does the work out of the kindness of her heart, and helps the kids get ready for the show. Her daughter is older than L, and she offered to help him get ready, although of course, we had the fiasco and were not able to show this year.

So anyway, we decided to go and support the other 4H members who were showing this year. We showed up, and were disappointed when the previous show’s judge (a dairy cattle show) announced that he would be judging the dairy goats. He was a young man, and explicitly stated that he did not know a thing about dairy goats, but was “told by someone he trusts that he should judge them like a dairy cow.” Umm, okay… So he picked the largest goat in each class, without regard to proportion, without looking at other areas that might have disqualified them or made them outstanding. There were kids there (fleshy, people kids) that were showing tiny several-day-old kids, which were darn cute, but how could they compete in showmanship when they are scooting a goat around the ring basically making it “ski”!? And they ended up getting first! When he was pointing out the placings, he would say things like “these white goats” (which were Saanens), or this little brown goat (an alpine). It was sad. But the saddest thing of all was that when the meat goats came around, he specifically stated in the ring that he docked the Boer goat for having more than 2 teats! Boer goats are supposed to have four teats!!

It was really frustrating, and even L was sad for the other kids. However the superintendent’s daughter actually got so many trophies that she had to pack them up in a box to carry them home. I bet she had over 12 trophies. On the one hand, I was sad that L didn’t enter—he could have won. But, on the other hand, there is no guarantee that he would have won, since the judge’s criteria were not fair or accurate. Also, if he is going to win, it’s better that he wins in a hard competition, where he can really be proud of his prize because he really deserved it, not because the judge was crappy and gave him a gift.

One interesting thing that happened is that I ran into someone that I know. I have not been forthcoming lately about some things that were going on, just because I wanted to remain under the radar. But I can now say that a little less than a year ago I became a member of my state organization that supports the livestock industry that I participate in (yes, I am being vague). I was asked to be a committee chair, and I did so. I then was required to attend board meetings and it was quite an interesting experience. After a few meetings, it became election time, and I am now up for election to the board. I don’t know if I will win or not, but if not, I’ll still continue on as committee chair, so I can report on the happenings.

Okay, so at our county fair I ran into this lady from the board, and she is actually very nice. (As an aside, the woman is not from our county, but lives about 2 counties away and was making the rounds to all of the 4H goat shows that she could attend. She pointed out several goats that were being shown that she had actually sold to 4H-ers in my county.) We were both appalled at the judging. But then one of the moms came over. The mom somehow knew her, and was freaking out because her daughter was not being judged fairly. She was NOT being judged fairly, so the mom had reason to be upset, but it was quite unbecoming. (I am SO filing this away for future reference!!) The woman turned out to be someone I know, also. She was M’s special ed associate last year at school. There were some issues there, so I didn’t immediately call attention to the fact that we knew each other. Plus, she was freaking out. Her kid ended up winning, so it was all good, but she was freaking out about the judge. It was an interesting, people-watching moment.

Everyone knows the expression “six degrees of separation.’ However, in my state it is like 2 degrees.

Today we picked up our newest doeling. We put a deposit down on her in May, and had been trying to arrange with the breeder a date to pick her up. It was really hard to come up with a mutually agreeable time to go and get her, but we finally agreed on today. I do believe I broke the first commandment of goat buying, which is not to buy a goat that was less expensive without regard to the husbandry of the breeder. I go back and forth about the decision. I mean, she was not cheap! But she was a few hundred dollars cheaper than the other ones we bought. She has really good bloodlines, too. And she is pretty. But admittedly, her breeder was less than the ideal animal husband. I may be being a little unfair, as I think what is really the case is that he is starting out, and instead of starting small, he went and bought a huge herd of goats from Texas. He has a livestock background, but not in goats. And he just can’t keep up with them. He is not neglectful or malicious, but he just doesn’t have a handle on what he is supposed to be doing. He has so many kids this spring, and he hasn’t tattooed or tagged them. So he has this giant herd, and I am wondering how he can even figure out who are the parents of which kid. On the other hand, we picked out our doe, and he managed to keep that straight (we took pictures, so we know we got the right one). He did get a health certificate (unheard of, but supposedly required), and vaccinated her. But when I asked him about the vaccinations, he assumed I was not sure what I was asking, and his detailed explanation was wrong. The doe was muddy and dirty, and we bathed her as soon as we got her home. So… we will cross our fingers and hope for the best. It could be the worst goat mistake we’ve made, or it could be the best deal. We shall see.

For now, her name is Jane Doe. Her mom’s name is Sapphire, so I was wanting to name her Gemma. But nobody else likes it. So we’ll wait to see who she says she wants to be.

Now I think I am caught up. I will try and be better about blogging now!

Just too busy

Sorry it has been so long since I've posted. My friend Jim gives a great explanation for us both:

"You may have noticed that posting is getting more and more sparse as summer comes on. That is not because nothing is going on, it’s because so much is going on I just haven’t been taking the time to write about it."

Life has been crazy at our farm. B's parents came for a nice visit, and then my mom arrived with my two nephews in tow (4 and 12 years old). It was an exhausting couple of weeks! We had great fun with both sets of families, but the housework, the outside work, barn chores, and that daytime gig all still need to be done. B and I worked 1/2 days, so we could leave at lunchtime and get home to the fun. But that means we spent the morning trying to cram 8 hours of work in!

Lest you think that this weekend was spent recuperating, think again! I had to proctor a test Saturday morning at work, so I was there until noon, and then left for an industry organization's board meeting. I didn't arrive home until 5:15 pm, and I left in the morning at 6:45 am. B had a project at work last evening, too, so he high-fived me on the way out the door. He worked all night and got home about 8:00 am. He worked outside yesterday, cleaned the barn and mowed the lawn. I think that we are both taking today OFF completely.

Next weekend promises to be the same, I have another work function on Saturday, and another industry function on Sunday. I will hardly see B or the kids next weekend. : ( The week after that is the Madison County Fair, and the following week my dad comes. It truly never ends, at least until school starts.

You might notice that I have been mentioning "industry events." I would like to blog more about them, as the cast of characters is quite interesting and gives me much blog-fodder, but it's too sensitive.

I've been doing some thinking, and I have decided to change the name of my blog to something more anonymous. If you were thinking of buying a goat from me, you might google our farm name and come up with my farm site and my blog site. You could easily connect the two. My blog gives insight into some deep personal issues, and I don't really think that it is the business of my customers and my colleagues. I realize it sounds silly-- after all, the blog is public, for goodness sake!! But it's an anonymous kind of public. The fact that one can bare all under the safety of anonymity is very cathartic. Tying my two sites together risks people who deal with me on a superficial level having the opportunity to judge me based upon words or insights taken out of context. If someone inadvertently surfs into my site and judges me harshly on those words/insights taken out of context, I don't really care. I can choose to engage in debate with them or not. And they can do the same, or just surf on to the next site. However, if you and I are doing business, then the blog gives you an insight into me without dialogue. I don't have an opportunity to know those things about you, or explain myself beyond the one dimension that you are reading.

As I said before, that was the reason that I removed the link to my blog from my farm's website. I think I need to go the extra step and make it officially anonymous. So, in the next few days, I will be switching my blog over to goatmom.blogspot.com. If you accidentally come back here, I will leave a link for a few weeks, at least. Eventually I'll remove the link and the old site will be only for superficial farm posts. goatmom will be for the deep stuff.

Happy Sunday! Look forward to more posts when the changeover has been made. There is lots to say, but much of it is personal and I am unable to say it in cyberspace unless my name is not attached!

Anything Boys Can Do, Girls Can Do Better

Okay, I don’t really believe that, but I do think that, with the exception of having babies and peeing sentences in the snow, tasks can generally be interchanged between the genders. Tasks that require tremendouis physical strength may tend to be more successfully carried out by men, for example, but by and large both genders can pretty much tackle tasks equally.

I was thinking about this the other day, as we went to a “caprine industry event” and heard a goat farmer talking about marketing and his customers. He was saying that he had individuals that came and butchered on the farm, and he had learned a great deal about their cultures and practices. He spoke very highly of them, and remarked that his and his family’s lives had been enriched because of these interactions with those of other faiths and nationalities, and that he was proud to have furnished the goat that facilitated those interactions.

One thing that he mentioned, however, is that in some cases, the men will come to purchase and/or butcher the goat, but they refuse to transact business with his wife. He said that often they will not even speak to her on the phone—not even to confirm an arrival time, or ask for directions. The speaker noted that in their culture(s) they cannot transact business with a woman.

For me, this poses somewhat of a problem, since the goat operation is primarily mine. I have an amazing amount of support and help and contribution from B, but if you want to know how much we feed, or what we use to worm, or who was vaccinated with what when, you ask me. I am involved in the day-to-day operation, and B is part of the decision-making process and direction of the venture. So, when it comes to fixing a price based upon market value, plus what we have invested into the animal, you would need to ask me.

I have often reflected on how I was brought up. My dad is a truck driver, and when I was younger, my mom had to run the house when he was gone. She ran it when he was home, too! I have always had an example of an independent woman, so I am very independent myself. Not only that, but my father has reinforced htat in me. I used to struggle quite a lot in math (well, let’s be honest, I still do!), and my dad would work with me whenever he could to help me understand. They supported me when I went out for sports teams, and encouraged me to pursue my interests when I headed off to college. There was never an expectation (or lack thereof) because I was a woman.

In fact, the other day I had this very conversation with my dad:

Dad: Hey, did you and B ever get that lawnmower running?

Me: Yeah, but it’s hit or miss. It starts sometimes, but not others. I know you told B you thought it was the starter, but he hasn’t had a chance to take the engine apart to see. You know, it’s interesting, he dives right into a lot of DIY projects, many of which he hasn’t done before. But he’s told me that he just doesn’t feel comfortable with small engine repair. I think it will come with time—after all, you need to know that on a farm! But for now, he’s just not comfortable.

Dad: Why don’t YOU become the expert in small engine repair?

Well there ya go. Just do it myself, and why not??

So, to think that a potential customer would not feel comfortable doing business with me is just mind boggling! That they would eat the fruits of my labor, but could not hand the money over to me, or haggle with me over a price, is just a very unfamiliar and even unsettling concept.

Of course, I will be respectful of that, and B can transact business just as well as I can, but I have really spent a great deal of time mulling this over and trying to make sense of it in my head.

Sixteen

It's been sixteen years that I have been married to the love of my life. Lucky, lucky me.

He sent me these sixteen roses on Friday. Are they not lovely?

Not a day goes by that I don't thank God for such an amazing man.

Chevon Castle

Is this not the best goat digs ever??? B did a marvelous job giving all the kids their own space, and extra space to boot.

Notice that great construction-- nothing is going ANYWHERE. See the feeders and water buckets? We designed the stalls so everyone could have their water and food refilled from the outside. We can't do that with hay, unfortunately, since putting the hay too close to the buckets means dirty water buckets too frequently. But the rest is down to a science. The opening allows them enough room to put their head outside the stalls, but not the rest of their body (keeps the poo out of the feeder, too, which cuts down on worm infestations).

The white PVC pipe outside of each stall holds minerals. There is a little part that sticks into the stall so the goat can eat it whenever it wants. One is mineral, and the other is baking soda. Baking soda is like "goat tums" and helps prevent bloat or other tummy troubles.

Notice the black kitty by the far pen (Wolfgang's pen). Our goats have their own kittens.

Big pat on the back to B. He's the man. ; )

Introducing Aurora!

Click on the photo for a slideshow of our newest baby, Aurora. (Click here just to see the photo set, if you aren't able to view the slideshow.)



We brought her home on Sunday, and she is finally settling in. It's taking some time, as she's quite skittish. Cindi did not take so much time, but she was also bottle fed, and loved to be loved on. Aurora is skittish, and misses her old herd.

She was born on March 24, so she is just a few months old. I would estimate her weight to be about 45-50 pounds.

In other developments, Ernie hurt his foot, and while at first we thought it might be broken, I think it was just a very painful bruise. He is now walking on it, and seems to be much better. On the other hand, you know the old joke about if something hurts, then just hurt some other body part worse, and the first pain will seem insignificant? Well, his other horn came off, so he has a massive head wound there! The first horn site is virtually healed over, and he doesn't mind being touched on that side of his head. He is obviously favoring the second side. And maybe that's why he's walking around on his foot! Doesn't seem so bad now! But seriously, I gave him a vitamin b shot and he was much better after that. I can't tell you the significant difference I have seen in goats who have been "under the weather." Give them a Vitamin B shot and they are up running around like they are in tip top condition. Do people get Vitamin B shots?

It's in the high 80's today, and the flies are MISERABLE. They are much worse than they have ever been. I'm going to go to Menard's this afternoon to buy some more fans for the animals, and also to see if they have any sort of gizmo/gadget/miracle to ease the fly problem. This year we have more animals, so it stands to reason that we'd have more flies. I have the fly traps, the fly paper, even a funky fly sprayer that automatically sprays ever 15 minutes. It seemed to work well at first, but now seems useless. I bought some diatomaceous earth, and hope to begin feeding it to the animals-- if it is in the poo, then it is effective when they lay eggs and the larvae hatch. The fly spray that we've used for years is not phasing them one bit, and even the Repel-x that I bought last year as "The Big Gun" is acting like a water pistol this year.

Speaking of guns, the neighbors' dog was outside the other night, probably about 11 pm when B and I were watching a movie. We were all snuggled on the couch, L was sleeping (M is in San Diego, visiting grandparents), and the dog chased a car down by our house. Of course, all of our windows are open, and he can hear voices from the tv. He begins to bark and bark and bark and bark... and it goes on for over 1/2 hour. While he is off of their property, he is across the street and not on our land. But he may as well be, since he is virtually right outside of our door. My dad happened to call, and I was venting to him, and he suggested firecrackers! I am SO buying some!! My dad is great, isn't he? I will keep you posted on the outcome...

Photos

I need your help!

I have decided, with some encouragement from others, to enter some of my photos in the Iowa State Fair photography competition. I have selected my favorites and put them into a set. Click on the link below for the slideshow.

Photo Slideshow

If you can't view slideshows (this problem was recently brought to my attention), click here to view the photos one at a time, in a set.


Photo Set

Which ones do you like best? I can't decide!

Thanks. : )

Llama Trauma

It has been so hot here lately that we knew the inevitable was coming: Joe would need to be sheared. So we put pencil to paper and decided that we could probably do it ourselves with an initial (hefty) investment for some "Shearmaster" clippers.

As an aside, I have some Oster clippers that I use to clip the dog and the horses, and let me tell you, there is a colossal difference. I was thinking that maybe I could try the Osters, but knew that once we started we couldn’t go back, so I didn’t want to go through all of that trauma only to have to stop halfway. Well, there was no comparison, the Osters wouldn’t have even cut an inch of this fur. That is why people charge $50 to shear your llama—it’s a job for the person and a job for the clippers. The Shearmasters are literally the size of my forearm, and they are built to run for extended periods of time. The Osters would have burned up if I left them on for the 45 minutes or so that it took to shear him.

Saturday we went out for some supplies and stopped at the grocery store. You remember, the beautiful store to which I hate to go… Anyway, B and I nearly busted out laughing when the checkout girl (a teenager), said, “So, you guys have any big plans for the weekend?” I’m sure she anticipated us chirping about our plans for a family gathering at the park, or a cookout, or even the excitement of a graduation party. I’m sure “We’re going to shear our llama” was not the response she expected. So we left it unsaid. But we should have said it…

I have asked B to make a llama chute so that Joe would be safe. However, we have hemmed and hawed about that because it is a lot of work for a contraption to be used once a year. And where will we store it? So it didn’t get built. Instead, we rigged up a sort of chute using a livestock gate. It was actually fine, except that when llamas are frightened, for some reason their instinct is to lie down. So they put supports under the llama’s body so that they cannot lie down. It’s definitely difficult to shear a llama when he’s lying down in a small space. Instead, we used a board, but it was at a small angle, and Joe ended up kicking it over. So that was not a good solution.

He has the most amazingly soft fur, and the Shearmasters worked a treat. It did take forever, however, and he struggled the entire time. I was drenched in sweat after finishing, and I bet if llamas could sweat, Joe would have been sweaty, too. But because he can’t sweat, well, that’s the reason we sheared him in the first place.

Here is a photo of the newly nekkid Joe Llama:

Keeping you posted

There is much to report these days! B and I have been very busy preparing our barn and farm for two new doelings that we bought. We went last weekend on our quest, and did not return empty handed. Actually, we did return empty handed, and also empty bank-accounted. :) The farm account doesn't have much money, it always has its hand out begging us for money...

We bought two little does, and they are not yet weaned. We bought them from two different farms, and will return in a few weeks to pick them up. It has been interesting to look at how other people do things, or don't do things. We are taking lots of notes about how we will and won't do business. It's very interesting.

I have photos of the two girlies, as yet unnamed. They are not good pictures-- the first girl was going potty when I took her picture-- the only way I could get her standing still!! When we bought the other girl, I had left my camera at home, so all I could get was a far away shot with my cell phone cam. Of course, when they come to live with us, you will have more photos than you ever wanted.


Jane Doe #1




Jane Doe #2

The garden is in and growing. Here are some pictures of the plot, and some of the corn and a cool bean sprout. Amazing how fast they grow! We planted corn, peas, beans, carrots, tomatoes and strawberries. We'll see what we get!







I've had some time to take a few pictures lately, here are some I took last night. I especially like the ones with the funky sky over the hay field.

Ode to Peonies

Click on the photo for a slideshow

I'll Not Tolerate Rudeness

One of my big complaints about living in the suburbs, and even when I lived in Phoenix and Chicago, is that everyone is very me-centered and busy. I remember coming back from living in England and really and truly being astounded that people couldn’t at least return their carts to the cart places in the parking lots. Like they were just SO busy on their way from the Wal-mart that they couldn’t take 45 seconds to scoot their cart back to the little corral. But those people would be the same ones to be angry if and when someone else’s stray cart banged into their cars. Or they would drive around for 10 minutes looking for a parking place really close to the store, when they could have come in and out in that time.

Now I’m not perfect, and I am sure I do some of those things to some extent. But I know that I have not gone completely over to the dark side yet, because I still notice them, they still bug me, and when I lived in suburbia, it was those types of things that drove me away.

So Monday was the first day of summer vacation for the kids, and they were home alone. (See the above snake story.) I had too many calls that day to referee (he hit me, she is bossing me around, he won’t do his work, she’s making me breakfast I don’t want to eat… and on and on and on and – feel my pain yet??). So I stopped at the store on my way home. The final breath I could take before opening the door into the lions’ den. I didn’t exactly hurry, even though I hate that store.

Now, let me just paint a little picture of that store. I hate it because it’s the Beautiful People Store. It’s a grocery store chain, and there are plenty in not-so-beautiful neighborhoods, but this is one in a new, upscale neighborhood. It has a Starbucks, a huge deli, a video rental, a large liquor store, a pharmacy. Quite the beautiful one-stop-shop. It’s the last one in the burbs before you hit the country, so it’s where we shop. It’s about a 20-25 minute drive from our house. My feelings alternate when I go in there—I NEVER feel like I fit in, but either I am walking around very self conscious about my hick appearance, trying to blend in, or I purposely put on my barn boots and overalls and walk around checking out peoples’ reactions to me and my traveling stank.

Monday I was just trying to fit in, and since I was in my work clothes, I did okay.

I got up to the checkout, and was taking the items out of my cart, when I realized that the kids hadn’t called me in the 25 minutes I had been shopping. No, that CAN’T be right! I fished my phone out of my purse, and saw that they had called three times and I missed their calls. Fearing that this would be the one time that the kids didn’t cry wolf, I punched the button and called them back. Right there in line.

Now, if you remember why I hate the burbs, it’s the me mentality, and the disconnect from others. So it is my SUPREME, GRANDIOSE, HUGEST, GIGANTICIST pet peeve to see people chatting away on their phones in line, in the drive through, in the store, totally oblivious to the people that are around them IN REAL LIFE.

So I am in the line, and I am being hypocritical.

Imagine my surprise and horror and shame when the bagger (a teenage boy) came over to me, and actually said, (and I’m quoting, because this scarring situation is forever branded and seared into my memory), “Ma’am, you just keep talking on the phone. I’ll empty your cart for you.” And he proceeded to TAKE ALL OF MY STUFF OUT OF MY CART WHILE I CHATTED ON THE PHONE.

No, I take that back. He really did say that, but there is no way in hell that I would let the story be told like that. First, I winced, like he had just right-hooked me. Because it was that shocking. I mean, here he is ENCOURAGING people to be rude. And being so nice about it!! So I hung up the phone immediately, of course, and told him that I should be paying attention to my shopping, and that if folks couldn’t take 2 minutes to go through the grocery line without the phone jammed into their ear canal, then perhaps they needed to rethink their priorities. And that instead of offering to help them unload their carts, that next time he suggest that they stop talking and pay attention to what they are doing. And I took my own stuff out of my own cart.

He looked at me a little puzzled. And with a sort-of grin on his face. I’m not sure what he was thinking—like, “Yeah, that’s what I think, too, but I can’t tell that to customers” or “This woman has just escaped from the home, and she is completely loony and unfit to be roaming in public” or even, “Jeez, I tried to help her out and she’s lecturing me on how not to be nice.”

Anyway, had I worn my overalls, he probably would have just looked at me and understood.

Home Alone

So this summer, both kids will be home, at least part time. L will go to daycare on the days they go swimming, and he has football camp and band lessons…

But today there was nothing. Just the two of them, the dogs, cats and a list of chores. One was to clean the back porch, which involves sweeping it and neatening up the boots/shoes out there.

Remember last year, when I got the frantic call from M that Bub’s head was stuck in the jar?

Well, I had a dentist appointment this morning, and called B in advance to tell him to be listening for the kids to call—if they called my phone I would not be able to answer, being in the dentist chair and all. They know to call him if they need something and can’t get ahold of me.

Sure enough, the phone vibrated three times while I was in the chair, and I was wondering what crisis could possibly have occurred that would warrant three calls in less than 30 minutes—that B couldn’t handle! Immediately I checked the multitude of voicemails left for me, to find out that there was a snake in the house! Come to find out, it was only on the back porch, which is technically not in the house. But it had slithered down to the basement to hunt for mice. I hope it ate its fill and slithered back out again. M said it was about 3 feet long.

L did not have to clean the back porch, he got out of that chore for the week.

I have won the award twice now for the best reasons to pack up and go home early;

1. My cat’s head is stuck in a peanut butter jar
2. There is a snake in my house and it’s holding my children hostage.

What next?

Autism Speaks

Click Here to see an amazing movie about autism. It will open your eyes to the lives of those who care for children with disabilities. I am so lucky, M is mostly self-sufficient.

When one has a child, that naturally comes with hopes, dreams and expectations. Whether it will happen or not, we dream about that baby girl's walk down the aisle on her wedding day, dressing her for prom, cheering her on before her first job interview. We think about our little boy's sports, band concerts, what will he be when he grows up?

When one has a child with a disability, those dreams are replaced by hopes that he or she will walk, talk or feed themselves. We read others' Christmas letters and hear all about how Johnny is captain of the football team. We consider that they might not understand our excitement for our child's final ability to control their bladder at age 12, or reaching the bare minimum of grade level performance on a standardized test, or even going to Target without a meltdown. For us, those are causes to celebrate.

It's good that we don't take those things for granted. Nobody should, really. But they do. And because our situation is not the norm, it is such an incredible struggle. As parents and people, we have dreams for OUR lives as well as our children's lives. Yes, we want them to succeed, and we'll be there to do whatever it takes to help them succeed, but for some parents it means abandoning their own dreams and desires. That's NOT what we "signed up for" when we became parents. Or at least that's not what we thought we signed up for.

Yes, we signed up for whatever it demands. But who rubs their very pregnant tummy and thinks about the possiblity that their baby will be developmentally delayed and will require constant supervision, requiring them to choose between working and staying home permanently to care for their child? Who considers the birth of their baby to be the end of their own lives as they know it? Yes, we put our immediate dreams on hold, and yes our kids come first. But what if your life is never yours again? What if your sole purpose in life is to be your child's caregiver? Not just a cheerleader, a guide, an encourager, a teacher-- a diaper-changer for life, a seeing-eye dog, sleeping with one eye open because your child can unlock doors and run away in the night.

If that's the case, you grieve. You grieve for the child you were supposed to have. You grieve for the life you were supposed to have. You have to. If you don't, you aren't human. Your grief has to propel you into doing superhuman things, but if you don't ever stop to say, "THIS SUCKS AND IT'S NOT FAIR" then you are not only doing yourself a disservice, but doing your child the same.

There's no answer. There's not a judgment. It is what it is. This little video will give you a glimpse of what life looks like when it's not your own.

Spring!

Click on the photo to watch a slideshow of my photos. They're good! (Nothing like a strategically place zinnia... sorry B!)

My To-Do Hell

This weekend’s to-do list:

Finish the goat pens
Rototill the garden
Set plants in the garden
Landscape a small piece of ground around the Terre d’Esprit sign
Purchase various plants for planters and areas around our steps and the sign
Plant above plants
Fix the engine on our rototiller
Clean the house
Do the laundry
Make treats for church on Sunday
Shave Rocky (he sheds so badly in the summer)
Build a chute for Joe Llama
Put Joe Llama in the chute and shear him
Finish a newsletter I am working on for an organization to which I belong
Send my friend her baby gift (the baby will practically be driving by the time he receives his gift—which I have, I just haven’t sent.

I crossed out those items which are done, and the ones that

What a weekend it’s been. We got up at 0-dark-thirty yesterday morning and worked all day long. It was one of those days, however…

We have a rototiller that we got for free. It wasn’t working, and while I know NOTHING about small engine repair—let me rephrase that: while I KNEW nothing about small engine repair, I decided that it was worth a try. And it may well be worth my try.

I thought perhaps the gas line might be clogged. So I removed the gas tank and cleared the line with B’s handy air compressor. It did start up, but didn’t stay running. After several unsuccessful attempts at adjusting the carburetor, I had two thoughts:

1. we are wasting time fixing this Barbie-sized rototiller and we should just rent one, since I have an approximately 10 x 20’ garden plot planned, and this will take 2 weeks to till
2. maybe the rototiller needs a spark plug, and we could get it running with a spark plug

So B went to the TrueValu and rented a rototiller and bought a spark plug. The rototiller was half as big as my car—and good thing, too, since I had never done this before. And the little one would have been as effective as me out there with a garden trowel trying to dig up the 100 year old established grass carpet.

As it was, rotilling out there really made me closer to God. You know, as in, I WAS SCREAMING HIS NAME!!! If you have never had the experience of rototilling, I would NOT recommend it. Well, I would recommend it if you would like to find out how weak you are by being dragged around by a machine that has a mind of its own. Then the next day you are reminded how weak you are by how your muscles are moaning. I have slathered my entire back and arms in BenGay for the past two evenings, and I am still in screaming pain. People, you will be taking Advil for a week if you try this at home.

Am I painting the picture here of a pleasant experience? It was hellish, let me tell you!!

As I was doing it, I asked L to bring me several loads of compost from the manure pile (the manure we brought out when we first moved in is beautiful black dirt now!). He complained with every load. You would have thought I had tied him to the tiller and dragged him around. It was really endearing, since I was living my own personal hell trying to command the stupid rototiller. But we got it done.

B is one of those men who does not have a problem with women being independent. If I have a crazy idea, he is usually supportive, and he lets me do it myself. He doesn’t usually try and step in to help if I struggle, since he knows that I think it’s important for me to do my own thing. I see some men that can’t stand for the women they love to struggle, so they will “rescue” them every time. And I seriously do appreciate that about B. I think some men try to be chivalrous, but he respects me and lets me do my own thing. But Saturday, he asked me if I wanted him to do it. And I practically begged him to. He finished off the last pass while I went to whimper in private while ensuring my arms were still connected to my body (since they felt like they had been ripped off).

Let me rephrase this, if I haven’t been clear. This rototilling process, it kicked my butt.

We finished tilling the garden, but the day was young! We went down to Winterset and bought some lunch, took the tiller back, and spent too much money on plants and seeds for this new garden.

We came back home and B went into the barn to work on Ernie’s pen. I was still struggling with my limbs, but L and I tore out some grass to make way for some flowers around the Terre d’Esprit sign. It’s a really steep slope there, and it’s terrifying to drive the lawnmower down such a steep incline. So we decided to plant flowers around it. We put roundup on the foliage that was there, and tore out a section of grass and put landscaping bricks in. There is also a large hole on the other side of the driveway where it appears a tree stump had been removed, and last time I mowed I got the mower stuck in it. So we filled it with good compost and lily bulbs. I also bought a cool Zinnia and planted it in a planter for the new table on my front porch. It goes with the new patio set we bought.

But wait, there’s more! We came in after the animal chores, about 7:00, and enjoyed the sunset on the front porch. B went to the store, where he proceeded to purchase all of the ingredients for me to make snacks for Sunday’s church service. We are in charge of treats every Sunday this month. So I made brownies, lemon bars and cherry cheesecake bites. We didn’t get to bed until about 12:30 (B was stargazing while I was baking), and got up bright and early for church.

I figured that since I had been doing a lot of calling upon God’s name on Saturday, that we really didn’t need to go to church Sunday. But we had to bring the treats. After service we had a road cleanup. I was actually thankful that I was able to stay behind and clean up the dishes from the morning snack/coffee, but B and the kids decided to go on the 2-mile walk.

We came home and went back into the barn, where we got busy on Ernie’s pen. I will have to take pictures when the pens are done—B has crafted them like a master. He plans the construction so carefully—trying to anticipate where any weak spots may be, or how the animal could get out or get hurt. He also tries to anticipate how our use for them might change, in case we might need to add more pens, make them smaller or larger, etc. He uses bolts and screws that can be removed or moved if necessary.

We stopped and took a supper break, but worked on the pens until 10:30 pm, and then went to bed. Needless to say, I am exhausted, and I am cursing that noon meeting I have today, since it will be next to impossible to stay awake…

No rest for the weary, though. Today I will stop on my way home and pick up another board that we will need to finish the job. Hopefully we can get the pens done this week.

Because…

Next weekend we are visiting two goat farms in Iowa, with the intent to add to our herd! We will then have plenty of room to allow for our new additions.

I will post photos I took this weekend…

Disgusted with myself. :(

I really, really, really did something dumb. Something that eats away at my gut every time I think about it-- which is often today.

I missed the deadline for filing the papers for L to show Cindi at the fair. : (

Just typing it makes me want to burst into tears.

I have no real good excuse. Lots of reasons-- we have been so sick on and off lately, I went down to the extension office and actually picked up the form the week before last, and dug out all of the registration paperwork to fill it out. It was ready to go. But then last week I had my meeting, so I was out of town. And I announced to the entire house that I would be making it a priority to take it down in person yesterday. (My announcement was in hopes that nobody would let me forget.)

M got sick yesterday-- the school nurse called and said she was vomiting in class, in the nurse's office, pretty much any and everywhere. So I left work in a hurry, and early, to pick her up and kept her comfortable all afternoon. And, as I felt like I might be coming down with it, I slept.

And slept through the deadline of 5:00 pm.

I am just so gutted over it. I have let L and Cindi down.

B took it down this morning, just in case. Not a chance-- a big sign on the door noting that there will be no exceptions, and they were all due yesterday. I can't blame them, I deal with that all the time in my work. But it is still so, so sad for us.

Ugh, I just feel so terrible.

Iowa

I am not an Iowa native. But after living in England for 3 years, I didn’t think that coming to Iowa would be that much of a culture shock.

And it really wasn’t.

Iowa is a great place, and nothing that I am saying here is really disparaging the great state, it’s just pointing out the differences.

And there are some differences.

They say things differently in Iowa. Like there is a town called Madrid. No, NOT like Madrid, Spain. Madrid, Spain is pronounced kind of like Muh-DRID. No, in Iowa it’s like MA-drid. Kind of rhymes with “rabid.” And there is a town called Laurens. I would say it like the possessive of a girl—that’s Lauren’s book. NO, not in Iowa! You say it like Luh-RENZ. And the town of Peru? It’s PEE-roo. What’s up with that?

There is also the May day thing. Do you celebrate May day? Here you make a basket for your friends, and secretly leave it for them. We have made them for the neighbors and leave them hanging on their mailboxes or their doorknobs.

Beggar’s Night is also a local tradition. They don’t have Halloween or trick-or-treating (well, they DO, but they don’t call it that). Here kids go from door to door, dressed up in costumes, around Halloween time, but they have to tell a joke. If the joke is worthy of candy, then they get the loot. So while you ensure your kid is all decked out and in costume before he goes out, you also ensure that your kid has his joke ready.

Do you know what a kaibo is? It’s a port-a-potty. Um yeah, took me a while to figure that one out. Our realtor mentioned something about a kaibo at our construction site. I was thinking, “I don’t remember discussing that upgrade with the builder! I hope it’s included.” I had no idea it wasn’t some sort of lighting package or fancy insulation… Some people also call it a Bob, but I don’t know if it’s an Iowa thing or not. Kaibo is definitely Iowa.

There is also the typical vocabulary of the Midwest, but to me that is not unique to Iowa. I grew up saying groceries go in a sack or you drink pop, etc.

But we sure never peed in a kaibo.

Reflecting

I’ve been quite reflective lately. April 22 was the 2nd anniversary of our move to Terre d’Esprit, and I have been thinking a lot about how we have changed. I mentioned that to Eileen yesterday, and she asked me how I felt that I have changed. I gushed for nearly the entire hour.

Remember the mouse post? The one where I found mouse poo in my kitchen drawers? And I freaked out? Now, mind you, I still don’t have much in my kitchen drawers (and what is in there is either washed first before using, or contained in mouseproof containers), but I feel like people have lived in that house for 85 years, and for probably over 80 of those years have been shared with generations of mice. I am relatively certain that nobody’s obituary has listed anything to do with mice as the cause of death.

I have always loved horses, and as a child I dreamt about having my own. Never did I think that I would be running a veritable breeding operation of livestock of any sort. Major and Lady have been busy lately, and hopefully this will be the first and last heat cycle this summer. The past few days Major has not come when I called him for his “dinner” and to come in for the evening, so I have had to go take the lead rope down to the bottom of the pasture and get him. I led Lady first, figuring that he would follow. I hadn’t counted on the fact that having him follow her puts in him in a very opportunistic position, no pun intended. I had to avoid being stampeded the past two evenings as they came into the barn. Let me tell you, it’s a little uncomfortable being around 2200 collective pounds of horny horseflesh. As I said, I hope the job gets done. But never, never did I mention myself on the other end of a leadrope while a mare was getting bred.

While I would never have considered myself superficial, I think that I have been just as interested in fashion and trends as the next person. I still admit to scanning the front covers of the tabloids as I stand in line at the supermarket checkout. I do watch “What Not to Wear” (and vigilantly check for hidden cameras when I go out to the barn in the morning). In the past I have been enticed by the cool toys the neighbors have had. Now, however, I take most of my pleasure from simple things. I have never been interested in, or any good at, photography. I can’t believe that it is me taking some of the pictures that I have taken at Terre d’Esprit. Truthfully, I just look through the lens and the photo takes itself. Nature yells and I just turn my head and snap the camera. It really isn’t my doing. What IS my doing, however, is the listening. I am not a good listener, and I think I have really turned into an excellent listener in the past couple of years. We look at the stars, we hang out in the hammock. And I wear clothes that don’t match out to the barn. I wear yellow rubber boots that look ridiculous with most things. And flannel, plaid jackets. And I don’t care.

Things are much more simpler, and I am finally starting to follow suit. I think we’ve used our good china once in the past couple of years. And you know, that is fine. I love it, and I keep it for good (which I said I’d never do), but it does convey a sense of complication, of pomp and circumstance, fussiness and frilliness. I don’t have an issue with that—and have loved that in the past—but I am seeking something simpler. Our meals are uncomplicated—things like cheese soup and pasta, lots of grilled food. Our everyday dishes are plain white—perfect for the job.

It’s not that I don’t like the fuss, or the complication, or the effort of those things. On the contrary—I love to cook a gourmet meal. I love to get dressed up and go out. I love a clean house, and to have all of the laundry/dishes/cleaning done. But I used to try to do that every day. So if you came over and “caught” me off guard, you might find me cooking a gourmet meal. Or you would catch me with a spotless house. Or you would never see me with messy hair or in my pajamas.

Now, if you come over, you’ll likely catch me in my pajamas, or sweatpants, or some other unmatching outfit. If you come over for dinner, you might get stuck helping cook it. And it likely won’t be gourmet. And we’ll serve it on the white dishes. You’ll have to overlook the mass of veterinary supplies that are stored in a bin on my hoosier. You’ll have to avert your eyes at my full laundry basket in the mud room, or the baskets of clean clothes stored in my bedroom. Or the smelly barn shoes on the back porch. And you’ll definitely have to look away from the dust that has settled on my furniture. Or, you could always write me a sweet message in it!

But I am so much less complicated myself. I can’t believe how liberating it is. No pretense, much easier to enjoy the moment when it’s not tainted with expectation.

It’s peaceful—truly full of peace.

What is it about gravel roads?

People do weird things on gravel roads.

I am sitting here in the relative dark, watching out my window. Of course, we notice every car that passes, and a farm implement’s passing is cause for running to the window to see who is out and about today. If we’re really lucky, they’ll stop and say hello.

I am watching a car stopped in the middle of the road. It backed up, and then stopped. Someone got out (using the binoculars, I was able to discern that it was a woman). She went onto the roadside for something—Mushrooms? Marijuana? Lost diamond ring? Needle in a haystack?

We’ve had people drive by slowly to take photos. The llama in the paddock is also cause for gaping. I know that as summer gets closer, there will be more tourists, since we are near one of “The Bridges.” (That movie is getting older and older, though, and soon it will be forgotten!)

It just seems like folks do things on gravel roads that they wouldn’t do on a paved road.

Business is Booming!

And we don't even have a product yet.

Okay, it's not booming, but B has had some inquiries at work about buying market kids. He wears his "Wear d'Esprit" to work, so a lot of people know he has meat goats.

Now I don't know whether to hope for girl or boy kids next spring. Oh wait, I guess I'm putting the cart before the goat-- we need to get some DOES around here to breed Wolfie to! I never do anything in the right order.

We have been busy in the barn this weekend. B is working on a new pen for Ernie, and has constructed a beautiful pen for Wolfie. He is also going to put in a third pen, which we will use for a future goat, or for now, an extra pen. It will be so nice to have more space.

I will take pictures when it's done!

Other than that, it's just business as usual. These days it's all about sex and poop. Major and his new Lady are honeymooning and enjoying themselves, and everyone else is making a lot of poop for me to clean. ; )

All’s well here at the equine honeymoon hotel!

Yesterday M came to take Don Pecos and bring a mare for Major to breed. I have mixed feelings about this. On the one hand, Major is a stud, and he hasn’t bred any mares for over a year, so what’s the point in keeping him intact? He’d be much happier a gelding if he was not used for breeding. On the other hand, he is difficult to deal with when mares are around. He and Pecos did well together, being just two blokes, and he was so much kinder. He didn’t bite, and he was very agreeable. He would do his dozing in the cross ties as we doted over his mane, tail and coat. It was fun to be with him.

So yesterday Lady arrived, and apparently she is a problem breeder, so we plan to keep her around for a couple of months to ensure that she settles. M didn’t even know if/when she was in estrus. Well, I can tell you that she is definitely in estrus. What luck to bring her at that time. Major is acting very stud-like, and covered her yesterday when they were hardly even out of the barn. He covered her at least three times yesterday, and when I let them out this morning, another two times before they even got down to the bottom of the pasture to eat grass.

The poor guy hasn’t had any for a year, so I guess that’s understandable.

We’ll see how long the bliss continues. With any luck she’ll settle on the first estrus, and we’ll have fewer hormones around this place.

Cursed!!

I owe you a big apology. I have been very neglectful of my blogging! It's not because I have nothing to say (you should know me better than that!). It's not because I haven't had time. I have actually been SICK, as have the others in my house. The kids have just had the run-of-the-mill colds. But I initially had a sinus infection, which turned into the mumps. Then I was well during the time that I had my meeting for work. I managed to get through that just fine and healthy. But just after the meeting, about 2 days later, B ended up with strep throat. He spent last weekend in bed with a fever and feeling very sick. He recovered at the end of the weekend, just in time for me to come down with a cold Sunday night. I now have bronchitis and have been off work most of the week.

When we're not sick, we're catching up on all of the things that are neglected when we are sick.

I promise to do everything I can to get better and to be back posting my nonsense soon.

Hope you all are well.

Magic Johnson Wants Autistic Hoops Hero In Movie

Makes my heart sing!!

KCCI.com - Sports - Magic Johnson Wants Autistic Hoops Hero In Movie: "Magic Johnson Wants Autistic Hoops Hero In Movie

GREECE, N.Y. -- J-Mac and Earvin 'Magic' Johnson have a movie to make. Then it'll be time for some one-on-one.

Former NBA star Earvin 'Magic' Johnson was at a suburban Rochester, N.Y., high school Wednesday morning to announce a movie based on the exploits of Jason McElwain -- the autistic teen better known as J-Mac.

In February, the 17-year-old senior at Greece Athena High School hit six three-pointers and finished with 20 points in just four minutes in his only appearance in a varsity basketball game.

His heroics captured the nation's attention, and there was immediate talk of a Hollywood movie about J-Mac.

Johnson made that official. He said he'll co-produce a film on what he called J-Mac's 'amazing story.'

The former Los Angeles Lakers great said J-Mac said he could beat him in a game of one-on-one. Johnson said after the movie is made, they'll return to J-Mac's home court and see if that's true.

As for who gets to play him in the movie, J-Mac said he doesn't care, 'as long as he's good.'"

The Life of the Food Lady

Goat Quiz

Can you pass it?

http://www2.luresext.edu/goats/goat_quiz.htm

Don't feel bad if you can't-- B and I didn't do as well as we should have. However, there are some dairy goat questions thrown in there to bring down our score!

It comes in threes

I am having a particularly despondent week. Sunday evening, my friend Ami called with news about baby Landon. He was born a month early, and his lungs weren’t developed enough to breathe on his own. So he has been in the NICU since he was born. Ami hasn’t even held him yet. He has tubes coming out of him—his nose, arm, mouth, and umbilical cord. How sad—what was so joyous, turned into something that is so worrisome. She has high hopes that he will come home soon, but was told that it could be as late as the end of April.

I then found out that my aunt has lung cancer. She isn’t even 50 years old, and she has a son in high school. She had a biopsy yesterday, and will know a prognosis in the next few days. It doesn’t look good.

I came to work on Monday to an email from my former pastor’s daughter. Their family is so precious to us, we see them every chance we get, and the time we spend together is just so fun-filled. It turns out that her sister (his other daughter) has a brain tumor. She is 25, has a 2 year old son, and she is expecting another baby August 1. She had surgery yesterday, and they removed the tumor. They are awaiting the pathology report, but the surgeon feels strongly that it was cancerous. My pastor’s family has already gone through an extremely difficult year. I don’t want to get into the details, but it has moved me to tears many times. They don’t need this also.

Please, if you pray, pray for my friends and family.

Friend Facts

A friend sent me this, and I was surprised to learn, even after knowing her for a long time, that she lived a few years in Kuala Lumpur. Very cool!

This week, I am busy-- It's Lent, extra church services, I'm still playing catch up from being sick (I had the mumps!), and I have a conference that begins 2 weeks from today. Attendance at that conference is at 200% right now-- and there is still plenty of time to add more attendees. That is good-- my client wants to grow their meeting, but that puts an incredible amount of stress upon me. So, for now, I will copy and paste this.

Are you surprised by anything?

What are your answers?

Below are things that you might not know about me. Read on and then
share yours.

Four jobs I have had in my life:

1. delivery driver (I delivered new vans to car dealers)
2. cook at a nursing home
3. assistant manager of a clothing store
4. teacher of English as a Second Language

Four movies I would watch over and over:

1. Top Gun
2. Office Space
3. The Notebook
4. Birdcage

Four places I have lived:

1. Chicago, IL
2. Biloxi, MS
3. West Row, Suffolk, England
4. Gilbert, AZ

Four TV shows I love to watch:

1. ER
2. Sex and the City (when it was on HBO)
3. What Not to Wear (though you'd never know it to look at my
wardrobe)
4. Late Night with Conan O’Brien
(these are all a stretch, since I watch hardly any TV)

Four places I have been on vacation:

1. Paris
2. London
3. Cancun, Mexico
4. New York City


Four websites I visit daily:

1. Yahoo News
2. Homesteading Today
3. Weather Underground
4. Dooce.com

Four of my favorite foods:

1. pretzels
2. steak
3. cherry cheesecake
4. my mother-in-law’s white cake with white frosting, drizzled with chocolate

Four places I would rather be right now:

1. Paris
2. Bermuda
3. in the barn
4. on the couch, under the quilt, with a drink in one hand and a
remote control in the other, surrounded by cats and a handsome man