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.