Goat in a Sweater

Five Stitches

It was a weird day yesterday -
I got my feelings hurt by a text message - and unfortunately it tainted most of my afternoon.

I got paid and then went to H*me Dep*t to get replacement boards for the bridge and insulation for the attic above the bedroom ( there is NO insulation up there now - just the ceiling panels and then the roof and it is a bit chilly to be without insulation). I had already stopped to get wheat straw bales that I use to line the outside of the dog pen for the winter - good insulation and wind break for them - and for $20 I can also reuse it in my garden next year.

Got home and emptied things out of the van with the ever-helpful Jake - then took Josh over to football practice and went to W*&mart to get Jakes birthday present - it is cool - but I can't post until next Wednesday because none of us can keep a secret more than about a minute.

Well, the evening was winding down - Jacob had to do a biome project - and was busy loading Shrek cupcake liners to substitute as grass. Right about then Ringo woke up and I took him outside. It was brisk and I spent a few minutes petting Matilda until she rolled over on her bag, lolling out her tongue. Went inside and microwaved the milk for Ringo while he rounded about my feet trying to climb up my leg to get to the milk.

When I took the cup out of the microwave, something went wrong and the next ting I knew I had that sensation that I was about to have stitches in my finger. The handle on the cup broke off and sliced my pinkie finger about three inches down. Stupid Chaco Canyon cup.

The frenzy that ensued as I tried to talk everyone out of taking me to the ER, the rounding put of the goat and kitten and bringing the dogs in and getting the boys hurriedly to bed was something straight from keystone Cops - the endorphins working in my system and the finger numb we tried to regain control.

I am now the proud owner of five black stitches and about a pound of gauze wrap on my right hand.

The good news is that I am off DISH DUTY for the next ten days - the ER got me in and stitched including an X-Ray in about 2 hours and with the exception of one poopy nurse, everyone else was fabulous. Made me proud to work here.

For the record there are no pictures because I went to the ER with NO makeup ( it was 10:30 after all) dirty farm jeans and a sweater that was splashed by Coke Zero just moments before I left the house. Not a photo op by any stretch. I googled pictures - but they grossed me out, so I'll save you that pain.

Hope a restful weekend is in store for you and me BOTH!

For Burb... and every other person who has to use a public potty during the day

Bathroom Rules: ( not suggestions, RULES)

1. Do not speak to other people who are trying to use the restroom
2. If you came to do Number 2, try to find another restroom that has only one toilet
3. Put paper down on the seat - trust me, you want to
4. If you hear a funny noise, don't laugh, instead pretend like you didn't hear anything
5. Pick up any paper you dropped on the floor and put it in the toilet
6. Flush the toilet when you are done - using your foot is best
7. Wash your hands - use the paper towel to turn off the faucet
8. If someone was making funny noises, turn the water all the way up to drown out the noise
9. Do not start a conversation with others washing thier hands, smile politely
10. Use a paper towel to open the door to the restroom - DO NOT touch the handle


Burb and YoJ have both posted about people who talk to them while in the restroom - don't these people have parents? It is hard enough to pee in a room with a stranger - or a co worker, let alone pee while having a conversation. (Mothers of multiple children are exempt from this altruism, we are used to a crowded room when we try to pee).

Liberty's Miracle...

Last weekend, my girl, Lora, called me. She has been without internet access for a bit, so she didn't know the story yet about how we lost the boys.

She called because her foal, Liberty, who was about 18 months, had contracted West Nile Virus. It was heartbreaking - and the vet bills were mounting. She was so sad about her baby being sick - and having to stand there and watch it. The poor foal was so weak she could not stand - but she was rolling across the field to get to more grazing area. Lora recounted how she couldn't really do anything but stand there and speak soothingly with tears down her face. She didn't expect the foal to live, but asked if we could say a prayer. We did.

Sunday morning she went out - and her foal was up walking around, still a bit weak, but there was a definite transformation. The vet told her he had only heard of one other horse getting West Nile and living through it - and that is was nothing short of a miracle.

So for all those moments when I wonder if He is paying attention - if He hears me at all - there are moments like this - where you know that something happened which defied logic and science and can only be explained by divine intervention.

Being a Farmer

I went to a private school in Indianapolis - where most of the kids whose parents owned banks - or huge construction firms - or had houses next to the Pacers and Colts went to school. It was suburban... but there was always a part of me that liked the dirt - putting my hands in and watching things grow. We had a bitty garden growing up where Mom planted carrots and radishes and some tomatoes. ( I digress and say that I put up the tomatoes you brought me, Mom, and they made a lovely aromatic sauce - nothing beats homemade tomato sauce)

I am a Gemini - and though I don't put a lot of credence in astrology - I definitely have two personas inside - the well educated, well bred one that likes fine jewelry and nice things and is madly in love with every advertisement from Coldwater Creek...and the other one, the Earth Mother who went to Kroger with wet hair braided in cargo shorts and a tie dye shirt Sunday afternoon to pick up groceries and wheat straw. The dichotomy is tough to reconcile - as I sit in my silk shirt and heels, checking my dark pink nails to make sure the polish isn't chipped from feeding and watering the ducks last night before I go into a patient room.

I found Yahoo! Groups of late - and joined one for Wholisic goats (natural therapies) and also one for Organic Homestead Farmers. I have learned a lot and am finding definition for who/what category I fit in. In reading the posts, I guess that is what we are, homestead farmers. I have a "goat garden" - for cold weather there are cabbages, turnips, chives, parsley and some spinach planted to help feed them through the winter. Rabbits to provide fertilizer ( and cuteness) to the garden, goats to help tame the weeds and maybe provide milk, ducks for tick and mosquito control - and eggs in a month or so, Kitten Bob who will help with those water bugs and the mice in the attic, and Matilda (who has decided the baby goat, Ringo, is her baby as evidenced by breaking into his pen yesterday to lick him nearly to death) yes, Matilda who has shown her Australian Shepherd genes by beign able to birng escaped goats back to us without ever showing a fang.

The picture up above is Navajo - mother earth and father sky- my friends gave me this sandpainting when I left the reservation... maybe they knew already who and what I was. It hangs in our bedroom.

Funny that it is not the life in envisioned back in college - or high school - or even ten years ago.

But it is a good life, and a healthy life and on most days it just doesn't get any better. The weather is winter now, so tonight we are cooking up brats - beer and smoked - and some brown rice pasta slathered in butter and olive oil...maybe some cauliflower and broccoli - finished off with an apple pear crisp...

Yep, it's a good life.

Ill Winds

I got a call from my folks last night, seems that while they were on vacation the police came looking for me at their house.

Now I will readily admit that while the Ogre was interfering with my life, there were two - count em two warrants for my arrest - both for failure to appear in court. The first one was for a check that bounced when he cleared out my accounts - I paid it - but it was still turned into the prosecutors office - when they sent me a letter - the Ogre kept it -hoping I would get arrested. Luckily I found out about it and took care of it .

The other one I found out about on a moving day when the police came and arrested me. There had been a judgment against me on a bill left over form the 90's when Jake had brain surgery - something I didn't even know about. When I didn't show up at court ( again the notice being sent to the Ogre) they issued a warrant. Trying to stay within the law, I had stopped by the Sheriff's office to file a complaint that the Ogre kept violating the no-contact order - they came by to get me about a half hour later - and as usual, he didn't get arrested.

Given this bit of recent history, you can imagine that I am not in a hurry to see what the police are after. I did a little digging, though, and it looks like the little Japanese women that my daughter was in a wreck with are suing the Ogre and Bear. He wanted to make sure these papers got served (jerk) so they are trying to reach us through my folks.

I hate that they get tied up in this - I hate that I still feel like I have to hide may address and come upon things second or third-hand - instead of getting information right from the source.

Most of all, I HATE that the Ogre gets to stay in Lafayette, doesn't get arrested when he breaks the law, and seems to always have some advantage when it comes to the legal system. Most of all on the HATE list is that he just won't go away - time goes by but thoughts of him - or dealing with him, or threats of him continue to seep into my life.

When my mom called me last night - I also checked the obituary pages, hoping against hope that finally he was gone and my nightmare was over...

Wouldntcha like to be a Loner, too....

Here is the test.

Apparently I am 55% Loner - weird

"You're a happy medium on the loner scale. You enjoy socializing, but you also have your moods when you'd rather be alone. Social interaction is important for forming human bonds, getting support and affirming your own personal identity. (As Charles Augustin Sainte-Beauve said, "Tell me who admires and loves you, and I will tell you who you are.") But it's equally important to do things for yourself, have time to reflect and explore the world in your own way. In fact, doing things on your own makes you a stronger, more interesting person. Whether or not you consciously aspired to this state of harmony between independence and human bonding, you seem to have achieved it!"

I am off work tosay - get to goof off -since i am teaching on Saturday. Well relatively goof off - I have to move the animal pens today . Pictures to follow - since I also have to send the pictures to a rescue group here in town that has MORE ducks they want to send us! woo hoo!

Why we don't eat Venison

I saw this gem at Idgie's Place today, trying to catch up, and I reminded me... (cue the going back in time music)

When I was 21, Bear was just a baby and we lived on the outskirts of Bloomington in a house that was owned by Joe's parents. There was no central heat and half the time we couldn't' afford to pay the electricity bill, so we often cooked and heated the house with the wood stove.

Joe had been gone with his buddies for a couple of days. This was not unusual, and being a young wife I didn't know I was entitled to ask where he had been. Bear was in the swing in the kitchen and I was finishing up some dishes with my back to the door when he came in.

He said hello and I leaned down to wipe my hands on a dishtowel. Before I could turn around, there was a THUNK on the counter beside me. I looked over and there was the hind leg of a deer - fur and hoof intact - from hoof to hip.

He nonchalantly said they had been deer hunting and brought this back for me to clean, then walked into the other room to get a shower.

I went to a private Catholic high school in the suburbs. Meat comes under cellophane.

I did clean the leg, made stew and then froze the rest - but the smell lingered in my nostrils and to this day the smell of venison reminds me of the unpleasant task of butchering the leg for the first time.

The Future of the Herd

Last night after work we drove back out to Rusty's farm to look at baby goats. We will be getting three more to complete the herd and we wanted to look around to pick out some guys.

He was polite - but I could sense an air of caution, especially since we had lost three babies over the course of the last month and a half. He asked me a lot of questions - and I asked him a lot of things too. It was a chance for both of us to see that the other was okay - and that no harm was done intentionally - that things with our boys just happened badly.

He has dozens of babies, many of whom are spoken for since they are pedigreed and show quality animals. We picked out a golden one who looked like Norbert, then a pair of twins who have roan backsides and dark chocolate brown head and shoulders, like Paul. Odds are they will be called John and George.

They were born the end of September - so they are not quite a month old yet - and they are not weaned. I was so surprised at how large they were - and it drove home to me how very small the boys were - too small to be away from their mom, I think. To avoid anymore trauma - we will be taking them when they are two months old right before Thanksgiving. It was a good visit - and included a moment where I got to see the boy's mother, and tell her I was so sad about her kids.

This weekend I am starting to built a bigger shelter and increasing the grazing area and the dream seems back on track.

Oh yea, and Ringo slept inside, yet again, wrapped in a fleece blanket. He is doing great and drank the milk greedily both last night and this morning - also quite a change from before.

Cannot think of anything appropriate to call this...

This is Ringo - and Justin curled up this morning when I left for work.

Paul and Ringo

Last year, when we were packing furiously trying to escape Indiana, we had the Beatles playing in the background.

Last evening when we dropped off the boys at football, we headed to Loganville - oddly enough my parents are from Logansport - and Loganville has the same "flavor" small town, homestead farms, quaint little place.

We pulled into Kevin's house and were greeted by a cloud of white fur - when he and his wife adopted the first Pyrenese, they fell in love - and now several litters of puppies later, they have a whole pack - there were at least 8 dogs - maybe more - and they were so soft and so friendly.

We walked across the yard, passing the pond full of Muscovy ducks and geese and over to his herd of goats. There were about a dozen kids the same age as Bubba and Little Bit, then there were also some older whethers ( neutered males). He introduced us to the Kennedy Brothers, and a slew of other goats. Each baby we picked up was spoken for, then a little one came through the herd, being moved aside by the larger kids. He looked like one of those Chinese Crested Dogs - mostly wrinkled black skin and a little bit of curly hair on his head and back. He had a white star on his forehead. " I don't know what we are going to do about that one - he is the runt and isn't getting to the feed, the others push him out of the way. We had to hold the mother down and separated her to get him fed - so he needs to go somewhere that he can be bottle fed. " Yep, he came home with us - we took pictures.

Paul he said was very friendly, but he had been born with a curly coat much to the dismay of the breeder. A curly coat is a "fault" in show goats and indicated some questionable parentage. So of course we decided right away on Paul. After about five minutes of thinking what to name the bitty one - we decided on Ringo Star - he has ringlets and a star on his forehead - and his brother is Paul - so maybe we can name the forthcoming twins John and George.

Paul liked the pen, he warmed up to Sheba and he is very affectionate. Justin introduced them by telling Sheba that we brought her a nice gay man to snuggle up to. They liked each other just fine, and I found them curled up together in the pen this morning.

Ringo on the other hand, was not going to sleep alone - he wanted no part of the kennel or the heat lamp and made sure we heard his protest ( yea, so did people in China) So wrapped in a towel, he slept on my lap until midnight - then I traded duty with Bear. This morning Ringo was wrapped in a fleece blanket, sleeping in with Bear and when I left, he was handed off to Justin, still in the fleece blanket. Not sure how I feel about having a goat sleeping in my bed while I am gone....
But they have been just the therapy I needed - something to keep my busy until enough time passes and I don't' have to feel sad about the boys anymore.

I did talk to the vet, he was horrified that the dosage was too high and he wanted to make it right. He will be buying us another pair of twins from the same herd Little Bit and Bubba came from as well as covering vet services for us for awhile in compensation. He must have apologized a dozen times. The world is right again.

Pampered Chef - off label uses

Came home yesterday to find these two guys in a plastic "critter keeper". Jake found babies - couldn't have been more than four inches long - and put them in the keeper. Jake used his head, not knowing what whether they were poisonous or not, he used my wooden tongs from Pampered Chef - you know the ones you can use in the toaster to get your bagel out if it is stuck - and picked them up with the tongs.

After consulting the Reader's Digest Animals of North America - and my venomous Animals and Plants guide, we determined, they were harmless and needed to be released.We let them go in the front yard so that Matilda wouldn't eat them.

Lost Enough to Let Myself Be Led

Thanks to all of you who commented and sent encouragement. It has been a really tough couple of weeks - car wreck, Justin losing his job, and now the loss of the goats. Taza is right, though, if I had been asked to take them, knowing it would only be for a five weeks, I would have agreed. But my God, how do people who lose their kids survive? I thought I was pretty strong, but I seriously want to just sit alone and cry - I keep looking outside thinking I hear them, it is awful, like a nightmare I cannot come out of.

Today I just feel .... lost.

So I am doing the only thing I know - drinking from the well. I have long been a fan of Rich Mullins - he did a lot of work with the Navajo at Saint Michaels near Gallup - and it was his testimony about that place that led me to move there. ( Ironically, just the thought of going for my annual visit makes me feel better) There is a Rich Mullins song - heard it yesterday and I thought I would share the lyrics with you.

Hard to Get
Rich Mullins Psalm 77:7-13, Isaiah 53:4, Isaiah 55:8-9 Matthew 5:4, Matthew 6:11, Luke 22:41-45 Romans 7:18-19, Romans 7:24-25

You who live in heaven Hear the prayers of those of us who live on earth
Who are afraid of being left by those we love And who get hardened by the hurt
Do you remember when You lived down here where we all scrape
To find the faith to ask for daily bread
Did You forget about us after You had flown away
Well I memorized every word You said

Still I'm so scared, I'm holding my breath
While You're up there just playing hard to get

You who live in radiance Hear the prayers of those of us who live in skin
We have a love that's not as patient as Yours was Still we do love now and then
Did You ever know loneliness Did You ever know need
Do You remember just how long a night can get?
When You were barely holding on And Your friends fall asleep
And don't see the blood that's running in Your sweat

Will those who mourn be left uncomforted
While You're up there just playing hard to get?

And I know you bore our sorrows And I know you feel our pain
And I know it would not hurt any less Even if it could be explained
And I know that I am only lashing out At the One who loves me most
And after I figured this, somehow All I really need to know

Is if You who live in eternity Hear the prayers of those of us who live in time
We can't see what's ahead And we can not get free of what we've left behind
I'm reeling from these voices that keep screaming in my ears
All the words of shame and doubt, blame and regret

I can't see how You're leading me unless You've led me here
Where I'm lost enough to let myself be led
And so You've been here all along I guess
It's just Your ways and You are just plain hard to get

May the road rise up to meet you, May His face shine down upon you and keep you safe.

The difference in a decimal point

I apologize in advance - this is sad, and I am hoping that writing about it will help my heal... but it doesn't feel like it yet.

I have spent the past two weeks worrying and checking and giving injections and making vet trips for our two baby goats, Bubba and Little Bit. By Thursday of last week they were looking much better - and short of a little congestion in the upper part of the lungs, they were nearly back to normal. Justin posted pictures of them that were taken that day - and they looked great.

I followed the directions I had been given by the vet to wait until they were feeling better and then worm them. If they have worms, it can tax the immune system, making it harder for the pneumonia to clear up. Thursday night I gave them both the wormer - Friday morning they were barely breathing and by Saturday evening both goats were gone.

When we got them to the vet on Friday - we discovered that the first vet who sent home the wormer used the wrong type - and worse, that he gave us 1.5 ml instead of 0.15 ml - my babies got 10 times the normal dose and it poisoned them to death.

I had no way of knowing - and unfortunately, I thought the wormer was benign - I have looked up all the other medicines they are taking on the Purdue Vet school site - but not the wormer. I think I typed that hoping it would help me feel absolved - but I don't yet.

I was really angry with God for taking them - for letting me love them so much and then taking them away so soon, But we came to an understanding during Mass, at least if they were only to be on this earth a short time, they were with people who loved them and cared for them. Little consolation - but being angry with God is like being angry with my husband - he loves me and takes care of me over and over again - I need him and Him way to much to stay angry.

Last night I buried them in the yard, with a peach tree to mark the spot. I cannot begin to describe how heartbreaking this is...

Ready for a Do-Over

First thing this morning, after noting that the goats looked better last night I found Little Bit lethargic and as soon as I picked him up he was crying. This is what he looked like yesterday - hard to believe. I left him in Justin's capable hands- but no mother wants to hand her kids off to someone else when they are sick - no matter how capable.

Then I went to clean out the Prizm and turn it over to the insurance company - and I ripped the seam in my pants
This shift in Karma happened yesterday - I dropped the bridge I was building yesterday while trying to get it across the creek - and I have a bruise the size of Montana on my shoulders.

Then after working on some things outside, I went in to start working - there is always so much to do. I got two rooms done, cooked dinner, put away the dishes, washed the rugs - then was ready to settle in, fold laundry and watch a bit of TV. Comcast came by yesterday and turned off my cable - even though I sent them an electronic payment - and called them two days in a row - stupid. Spent 45 mninutes on the phone with Comcast trying to get things straightened out.

Sleep did not come quickly

I feel like I was hit by a Mack Truck - and I have to finish getting the house cleaned up. Ibuprofen has made it tolerable - but I really need a nap.

I am leaving work at noon - stopping for chocolate - then heading home to get ready for the weekend. TGIF.

Genetics don't mean squat

See the guy right in the middle by the "v" for vistor? That's my dad.

Now take a look at Josh - yep, the family resmeblence still amazes me since I am adopted and don't share any genetics at all with my family.

Oh yea, the rascal on his shoulder is Kitten Bob.

Requiem for the Prizm

After 9/11 there were a number of car companies that offered zero percent financing - I had a Jeep Cherokee and a big car payment - so Dad and Mom helped me get the financing for a new car with zero percent.

Ever the granola-head - it was important that the car get good gas mileage - so we picked a Chevy Prizm. The car has had some minor porblems along the way - but overall it has been a good car.

At nearly forty miles to the gallon,the Prizm has been to Dallas, Albuquerque, Tsaile Arizona, Kansas City MO, Chicago, and a hundred backroads in Indiana.

In April- the engine was replaced under warranty
In May - the tire blew out while Bear was driving and the car was totalled
In July I got the car back after investing a bit of my own money
In September Justin got T-boned
In October, the insurance company has again totalled the car

Two totallings later, I think it is a hint - so
Yesterday we went to see a minivan that my sister in law told us about - and we will pick it up on Friday. I hate to see the Prizm go - maybe I'll even consider buying another one down the line...but for now, dear Prizm who has served the family well - thanks and I hope some nice kid with a knack for body work picks you up.

Crossing my fingers

First and foremost - I think my folks are REALLY coming to see us this weekend. We have been here 13 months and with the chemo they couldn't come down to visit - or for the wedding - or for anything - so FINALLY they are coming on Saturday. I am SO excited to show them around. We have a brunch planned for Sunday afternoon for my family - and Justin's family to finally meet. OF course this was great planning because if they don't all like each other, it is too late now because I am keeping him - he's the good husband. I have Friday afternoon off so I'll have some time to get things taken care of at the house just in time for company . I am sure that Scruffy - pictured with my folks - will just love Kitten Bob - who is currently terrorizing the parakeets.




Second - we moved boxes out of the room where my folks are going to sleep - thought they's prefer a bed to the pile of boxes for sleeping- and I am keenly aware of my age. We got it done fast, but now I need more Ibuprofen

Third -things for Jerra have been much better - her post yesterday confirmed her resilience. Do you ever look at your kids and think - wow I must have done something right because this is a great kid. Yep, I think that all the time.

Fourth - the condition of the goats is guarded - but after five days of antibiotics and all the alternative medicine I know to provide, they are eating heartily and have been more active - though the lungs still sound yucky ( yep that's a medical term) Hopefully they will continue to heal and get back to being healthy.

Melvin and Gus: Playing at Being Grown Up

Having children does not make you a grown up
Being able to seduce women/men does not make you a grown up
Lying to people and keeping love at bay certainly does not make you a grown up
Abandoning your friends for a piece of ass does not make you a grown up

We all choose our paths in this life -we can choose light or darkness. Sometimes the choices we make effect other people more deeply than we realize. Real grown-ups know when they have been a jerk and apologize accordingly.

My daughter has some friends who, over the past year, have encouraged her to grow away from her family, proclaiming themselves as her family. They are Lost Boys, in search of something to fill up the soul, but they are searching in the wrong places. Sadly enough, a couple of these guys are genuinely likeable - but they have shown their true colors. It appears they are "family" as long as it means they might be able to talk my daughter into sleeping with them - and now that a girlfriend has entered into the mix - they are willing to give up her friendship.

So Gus and Melvin - here is what I really want to say - I'm angry that you made poor choices - even angrier that you hurt my daughter - but she loves you and the things that have made you precious to her, have made you precious to me as well. Stop basing your life and your friendships on when you are going to have sex again- your life is passing you by and you are missing it. You are intelligent, handsome men with a lot to offer the right girl - but you are pissing away the opportunities presented to you by spending time with the wrong girl. A life based on lies is no kind of life at all - the thrill will wear off - and you will find yourself truly alone. Don't settle for someone who professes to love you - but really just wants to own you. Don't settle for sex instead of love. Hold out for someone who can see who you really are - someone who has a good heart - someone who will love your friends because they are a part of who you are.

Each day we have the opportunity to be a better person- and we shouldn't waste it.

Stolen from YoJ - who borrowed it already

The name of the town where you grew up-





The name of the town where you live now-( I cheated, this is our house)













Your name-











Your Grandmother's name










Your favorite food-






Your favorite drink-








Your favorite song-














Your favorite smell

Clarification...

I stole/borrowed this from Maggie's Farm--- as a life long Catholic I just couldn't resist....why did y'all think we have so many kids?

Oh yes, and we did go to church this Sunday...but we did sleep in until 10.

Irresponsible

I just needed to vent momentarily about the guy who sold us our baby goats. Yes, they are cute at two weeks old - but they were not ready to be weaned from their mother. They had an eye infection - and I never could get them to take a bottle. One of them got an infection at the site where his horns had been removed and died peacefully in the night, but it was preventable ( I called the breeder and described the symptoms, he told me not to worry as long as the goat was eating - uh, he was wrong). He breeds goats, he judges them for national shows - he should have known better.

I took the boys to the vet this weekend - and he confirmed what I had already assumed - they have virtually no maternal antibodies left - so fighting off any infection is going to be tough. He finally gave me some tetramyacin for their eyes - something I asked about two weeks ago - and now miraculously, their eyes are clearing up. The downside is that both goats have pneumonia. Last week I crushed up oral antibiotics twice a day - this week, injections - two goats - twice a day. They have to come in at night and I am putting them under a heat lamp to help keep them warm and dry. I have been giving them raspberry leaves to increase their Vitamin C intake as well as treating their eyes twice a day. Both boys have Vicks Vapor rub on thier chests to ease the congestion. The vet was honest with me saying, "Well, you know what you're up against. I'll be surprised it they make it".

I bought goat gatorade for their water pail - and they are drinking it - and with each does of antibiotics I am also giving them Nutridrench - which was EXPENSIVE - but has multivitamins and sugars - and at this point I will buy whatever it takes to keep them breathing.

Just pisses me off that the breeder could have saved everyone a lot of money and heartache if he had just allowed them to stay with their mamma a couple of more weeks - then they would be healthy - and he still could have had his money.

Little Bit

Here are my bitty goats...that is a normal size dog food bowl - Little Bit is 4 pounds and five weeks today!

Bubba and Little Bit

Saturday Morning Vet Visit

You know it's gonna be a good day

When you leave the house getting to kiss goodbye your naked husband in your bed

When the kids have the day off and I get to go to work

When the gal in the cafeteria makes a killer ham and cheese omelet for my breakfast

When you get on the elevator in the hospital - and have to hold the door because the therapy dogs are getting onboard...Golden retriever, yellow lab, black lab, poodle cross, shepherd cross and a herd of woman with leashes


When my biggest problem is whether to have almond crusted fish or shrimp for lunch

When the hospital is full - but not overflowing - and I have work to do

When the little grandma lady says she really learned a lot and appreciated you coming by....

Back to Reality

Well, I finished typing the previous post - and as I got up, one of my co-workers surprised me with a visit. Amazing how God sends people to you just at the moment you need a swift kick.

We are the same age- she is a breast cancer survivor, three years and counting, and she's missing her right breast. She confirmed that my problem indeed is perimenopause - who needs doctors when you have seasoned nurses around.

There was a patient in the ICU about two weeks ago. She didn't have a name, only a number on her door, which usually means the person is involved in something criminal - domestic violence, assault - somethign where the perpetrator shouldn't be able to find them easily. I noticed her because despite the bandage to her head, she was pretty - her auburn hair amplified the bruising on her face. I wanted to post soemthign about hte experience because I kept thinking about her for days...but couldnt' think of what to say. Being a survivor of domestic violence, I assumed that was why she was here. I was right, kind of.

My co-worker told me a story about her neighbor. She belonged to an online support group that also met in person on occasion, for widows and widowers. She went to a dance with this group, accompanied by a couple of her friends. All these ladies are in their 60s. As they pulled into her driveway after the dance, her friend was shot point blank in the head. The gunman then shot her friend three times, once in the head and twice in the chest. The third friend escaped in the fray and called the police. The gunman had been chatting online with the woman, then somehow traced her IP address and found out where she lived. He followed her that night had put nails on the friends driveway to pop her tires.

She was the woman I saw in the ICU - with the auburn hair and the bruises.

I felt better, though I had bypassed the fries. Went upstairs to see a couple more patients - the last of whom was a 28 year old man - very handsome, muscular African American man - who had HIV and now diabetes and renal failure.

Yea, never mind my whining - I've got nothing to bitch about.

The attack of premenopause

I am having another day. Be forwarned, I feel whiny - and expect that this will sound atypically whiny. I have never been one to have PMS, but all of a sudden, I am finding I am on the verge of tears or yelling for at least two days each month - frankly I could live without that. I'll be forty in June, and I guess it is time - they say you start menopause when your mom does - but I'm adopted, so like a million other genetic things - I have no idea when that might be. My muscles hurt and I can't get comfortable to sleep soundly, my body just feels puffy - even though I am trying to eat healthy - knowing I am under a lot of stress right now. Being ever the Loner - I set up an appointment with a GYN next week to check my hormone levels to see why I feel like such a ragin' B!#ch - then want to cry.

Work is at an all time high - I saw more patients in the last four weeks than I did in 8 weeks over the summer. I worked 8 hours of overtime. I found out how much my husband weighs - and I weigh more - now I need Prozac. My folks are coming- and I am so excited - but also keenly aware that I have some clean up work to do before I show them the house I am so proud of. Mostly, I just need some time away from the two jobs that start at 7 and don't seem to end until after 10:30 every night.

We have this ongoing "joke" that only one of us can be out of sorts at a time - and Justin lost his job so right now, it is my turn to be in sorts - but I really don't feel like it.

I am going to stop typing right now - go to the cafeteria and get fries and a Coke Zero - palliative coping I know, but I have had about enough. Why doesn't the blasted cafeteria carry Ben & Jerry's!!!!

I could use some good mom advice

Ear Wax Boy as he was dubbed by our buddy Suburbite, is 14 and handsome - he has such a soft heart and I think he comes across as a "tortured artist" type at school. Unfortunately, the chicks dig him.

This presents a number of problems, not the least of which is the CONSTANT onslaught of phone calls from girls every evening. Mom, if you're reading this, you know how abhorrent that is. I don't care how old-school is sounds, girls don't need to call boys. If he was interested in a girl, he would do the calling.

Problems: Son is caught up in pubescent girl drama all afternoon;
homework is suffering;
he has no time to himself and is fairly cranky;
he has a lot of years left in school and doesn't need the distraction of GIRLS to complicate things right now;
he gets very emotionally attached, like his mother, and will get his heart broken repeatedly or worse, will end up "going with" a girl who likes him a LOT more than he likes her, breaking her heart.

Potential solutions:
1. Forbid girls from calling the house and intervene by saying as much when they call - this makes it my fault, not his
2. Limit time on the phone to an hour a night before football practice
3. Make Josh wear a mask and weird clothes so the girls will change their minds
4. Just leave things as they are

What to do.....What to do....

(All of a sudden it is clear to me that NOT having been a teenaged Hottie myself was really a blessing)

Goat herder

Well, again this morning I went out, the baby goats are just bleating their little heads off - until I go get the phone to post - then they are quiet as church mice. When I bring the phone back inside - you guessed it - they started up again.

At that moment I realized they are definitely Loners and have acquired my children's sense of humor.

Sheba - our Boer goat kid - has decided that she likes duck feed much better than goat feed. Great - so now the ducks are eating the expensive feed with the oats and hard wheat and molasses - she in turn is eating the cracked corn. Not the sharpest tool in the drawer.

In other news, I perfected southwest eggrolls last night - served them with chili- found a great recipe that was just shredded beef, white corn kernels, black beans and taco seasoning plus about a teaspoon of sugar - they were really yummy.

Sara Evans was on the radio this morning - and when she described what she cooks - I discovered that I am a low-country cook - with the exception of greens because I just don't know how to make them well. Glad to fit in a category.

I am in love with a man in a kilt.

That sounds odd, even to me.

Ever since I was a little girl, watching the St Patrick’s parade and the Gordon Pipers with their Black Watch Plaid, kilts and bagpipes – the thunder of the drums and the sound of the pipes – the kilt was something magical. Something is inherently masculine about it. The Scots and Irishmen who marched in the parades were big – especially by normal Celtic standards. Booming men who strutted about and towered over me in strange plaids and fur hats, dark beards. The realization that the Silkie-coloring of the men playing the pipes was beyond appealing has come with adulthood – it stirs something. It is as though something magical came from the dark depths of the waters – Vikings maybe – and left a strain of men from the Isles with that wild look that is more mythical creature than man. The deep soulful eyes, like those of a seal, that seem to see right into your soul, the wild dark hair, the pale skin, the freckles dancing defiantly across the strong face.

Maybe I have spent too much time reading historical fiction, tales of brave Scotsmen fighting against all odds for honor, for their homes, for their families. Love you, Steph – but that damned Gabaldon woman has interfered with my perception of what a man should be - the kilt and strong attitude are nearly necessities. Of course I think he is more "Roger" than "Jamie". These men lived in the lands my family came from hundreds of years ago – fields and glens and ridges with lovely gutteral names I cannot prounounce. Maybe that explains the way the pipes move me to tears every time I hear them. (For the record, even during Amazing Grace at the wedding, though there was no way I was going to admit it at the time!) Maybe it was knowing that the pipes were a way to celebrate the love of our family year after year – the commitment to get together every St Patrick’s day to celebrate our heritage and our legacy.

I have pictures, beautiful pictures, of a handsome, kilted man with formal coat and silver buttons. The picture is burned in my mind and the familiarity is hard to escape - hard to separate dream from reality. I am in love with a man in a kilt - so I did what any sensible woman would do - I married him. The kilt is still draped over the Pappasan chair in our room - just in case.

Edited and reposted from August 31st, 2004

I stole this picture - I am unrepentant

Well, that'll wake you up.

Dear Electric Company and/or the Person Who Knocked out our Power

While I realize that knocking out power at 1am this morning was probably not intentional, it caused me to wake up from the deliciously dead sleep I fell into at 11 last night. Further, it awakened my daughter who was compelled to start scanning our backyard with a 1000 candle searchlight - thus alerting me that someone else was up and forcing me to get out of bed.

On a side note - thank you to the candles and matches who so dutifully stayed where they were supposed to be so that the house was illuminated swiftly. Also thanks to Wal-Mart for the hurricane candle holders they had on sale two weeks ago - I lit the tea lights and went back to sleep.

Turning the power back on with a loud crack at 4:24am was an equally impolite measure - awakening me again after I had finally fallen asleep some time after 2. No one's alarm went off this morning and I rushed out of bed at 7:24 only to find that Jake had already missed the bus before we even woke up.

I am too old to only get 2 - 4 hours of sleep in a row each night - please try not to wake me again tonight because I am feeling a wee bit cranky from the lack of sleep. Generally, you provide good service and keep the floodlights shining in the back yard so that I can check my baby goats whenever I want, but last night was an off night.

Sincerely,

Breath of Snow and Ashes

My book came last week - only got through the first seven chapters - football got in the way a bit... I know that it is nearly blasphemy to say such a thing.

I just want to thank Diana Gabaldon for yet another excellent adventure - it is like a family reunion every time I read her book - I have missed my friends Jamie and Claire.

And more importantly, thanks to Steph for directing me... To the books, to the husband and soon to auntie-hood!


In other news, I took the goats to the vet - an hour away but it was worth it - he is great and forewarned me that since they were weaned so early they will have some trouble with their immune systems. Little Bit is on antibiotics for the next week, which he is taking like a real sport - amoxicillin and molasses - what a combo!

The trip also yielded Bob. You guessed it - the vet had a pen with Free Kittens ( yea, I know they aren't really free) and this cute guy with green eyes kept attacking my hand, so I brought him home.

I hadn't named him, and Bear came home and asked what his name was, I said I didn't know. She replied that she would call him Bob - and the name stuck. Cute little rascal - he is only about 4 weeks old and can't even weight half a pound yet. Nothing steals your heart faster tahn a little baby curled up on your lap - the goats and the kitten - just melt me every time.

I know, pictures are forthcoming.