Red Earth Redhead

A Look Back

2012-02-04T08:53:00.000-08:00

I said goodbye to a friend this week. I met her when she was three days old, and she was all limbs and ears with a wagging tail. I named her Lily. Lily was the sweetest, but dumbest of all of my goats. Her herd-mates recognized her airheadedness, and ranked her last. Or, they were just jealous because she was the prettiest and kept he in the bottom slot (this is what I would tell her anyway). She was always the last to eat, and the first to get her head stuck in the fence. Lily was my most compliant milker. Happy to have a few back scratches and some goat cookies, she would hop in the milk-stand without any fuss. She never fought me, or kicked the milk bucket like her bratty herd-mates.

She seemed a perfect fixture for our little farm. The boys lovingly called her "Lily-goat", fed her cookies out of their little hands, petted and brushed her. It never dawned on me that one day she would just be gone.

I went to feed a few nights back, and all the goats were waiting for me at the fence but one. I knew instantly that it was not good. My sweet girl, who I had bottle fed from birth, was laying dead under the lean-to. It seemed that she had bloated and died. We assume she ate something that she couldn't pass. I screamed "no" and sobbed and sobbed. I'm sure you could hear my wailing a mile away. I blocked the boys at the fence, so they couldn't see her body. I thought that it might be much for a three and four year old to see their pet dead. I did, however, have to explain why mama was sad. Little hands patted my shoulder while I sat and cried in the yard. Barrett summed up the whole event to my husband: "Lily died. Mama cried".

I feel incredible guilt, because I feel like I could have done something to prevent Lily's passing had I been home more in the days preceding her untimely death ( she was only three). We just took over a small business, and I have been gone practically from sun up to sun down. I hadn't done much aside from dump food and water in the goat pen. I wouldn't have noticed if she was showing signs of illness. I will never forgive myself.

I dug through my photos and all I could find were pictures of Lily as a baby. I loved that little goat, and I hope to see her one day again.

A Third Son

2012-02-03T10:26:00.000-08:00

I'm back. I have a lot to update, but I suppose I'll start with the biggest news. I had another baby. In keeping with every other child who has come out of me, he has both red hair and a penis. We named him Axel. NO. We were not listening to Guns n Roses when he was conceived. I don't even like Guns n Roses. Anywho, he was born early in the morning on the day after Christmas. I'll let the pictures tell the rest of the story.

My Name is Mud

2010-03-22T08:49:00.000-07:00

There was all of one mud puddle on our entire property. It's measurements were approximately two by three feet. Who manages to fall in that particular location about three minutes before we are going to go to town with Meemaw? Gunther....of course. Who is not going to let his brother have all the muddy fun? Barrett, who jumps in the puddle immediately after Gunther falls in it.

Who is not amused? Me. Who documents the whole clusterf&%# ? Meemaw.

A Kid (goat babies, not redheaded midgets) Update

2010-03-17T08:06:00.000-07:00

The kids are now two and a half weeks old. Daisy, the doe on the left, is doing well. She is a little on the wild side, though. She is making it increasingly difficult for me to catch her, and cuddle. I am trying to make friends with her via the sweet goodness of raisins.

Elliot, our little billy, is as sweet as honey. We made an unfortunate discovery last week. It seemed that Elliot had/has a broken rib. We weren't sure how it happened. We suspected that the other mama in the pen, Evey who is not his mama, may have hurt him. I have seen her head butt him to get him to go away. It was the next day that I realized that my theory was wrong. I caught Mack, our knucklehead puppy, dragging the billy out of the pen. I am sure that Mack was the one who hurt Elliot. For a short time I thought perhaps Elliot's injuries were more than he could recover from, and we would have to put him down. Not two hours later, he was hobbling around, nursing, and wagging his tail. He spends a lot of time resting now, but is doing well. We are hopeful that he will heal, and lead a happy life.

After the incident with the Mack and Elliot, I made the difficult decision to get Mack a new home. He was just not working out on our little acreage. He was a smart dog, who was bored and many a temptation (remember he murdered a chicken too). A neighbor of ours took him on. Mack will have a job running cattle, which I think will make him happy. The man who took him recently lost his wife, and a new dog to train is a welcome distraction. I can still go see Mack and give him cookies, but I don't have to worry about him threatening my other animals.

Think good thoughts for Elliot. He is still recovering.

Edit: Thanks to my mom for taking pictures of the goats.

You Can't Milk The Dog, Son

2010-03-15T09:46:00.000-07:00

We are in milk! The twins are producing plenty of delicious milk for both the kids, and for our family. We began milking last week, and the girls have been agreeable about the whole thing. Jason even built a milkstand out of some miscellaneous lumber we had sitting around. I must say that milking would be much easier without a couple kids underfoot, but we manage to get it done.

Barrett has been intrigued by the whole process. I imagine a two year old must have a hard time understanding the what hell is going on. I am even struck by how weird it is if I think about it too much. Barrett kept calling the goats' teets "weenie". We corrected him "No, son, those are ninnies". The goats' "ninnies" look nothing like the ninnies he is familiar with (my own breasts)....thank the lawd. So, he thought we we were some sickos who like to put goats on a platform and yank on their weenies.

Dan, our fat coonhound, was the victim of Barrett's confusion. We caught him trying to milk Dan one day. Dan, as sweet as he is, only grumbled and shot Jason and I a look that said: "Please do something about this". We have since explained that Dan has a weenie not a ninny, and it does NOT produce milk. I think Barrett is still confused, but the world is a confusing place....what can you do?

Goat Dude

2010-03-05T11:51:00.000-08:00

If you know this guy, tell him to e-mail me. A man that has a jacket commemorating his second place show-goat NEEDS to be my friend. He was spotted in Oklahoma according to People of Wal-mart. I would love to meet him, and his goat.
Thankyouverymuch.

So...I Took A Month Off

2010-03-03T07:18:00.000-08:00

I abandoned the blogging world for a few weeks. What has been going on this month?
I would love to say that we went on vacation, or something fun. Nope. We were here on the acreage, doing the same stuff as always. I was just lacking motivation to write about it.
Notable events:
---We had two more births. They came as a total surprise. I knew that two of my goats were pregnant, but I figured that I had a few more weeks. I am an inexperienced goat OBGYN, and my EDD was OFF. Evey gave birth to a baby girl on Friday, February 26th to a baby girl, and Jeanette gave birth on Saturday, February 27th to a baby boy. Both kids, and their moms are thriving. We have named the girl Daisy and the boy Elliott.
---- I jabbed myself in the eye with a feed bag the other evening. I tore my cornea pretty bad. I am currently wearing a patch. I have heard all the pirate jokes, so save it.
----The boys have had approximately 869 baby fights. They break something every day.It's been the same ol' stuff.
----I still haven't replaced my funky USB cable for the camera (the boys did something to it), so no new pics. I am hoping my mom will bring her camera over to take some pictures of the new baby goats next week (Puhhhhlease, Ma!?), so I can show everybody.
---- We got ten new hens. They are all babies. I will give them names, and introduce them once I am fairly confident that they will survive....as chicks have a high mortality rate. The last thing I want to do is honor one of my friends by naming a chicken after her, only to have it die a day later. It's bad juju.\

That's about it! I have you missed you, my bloggy friends.

Mack- a-doodle

2010-02-05T07:51:00.000-08:00

Mack the puppy has discontinued his interest in chickens. For that I am thankful. He is actually turning out to be a pleasant little dog. He IS a puppy which means that he is naturally annoying, but nothing can be done about that. We have concluded that he is most likely a burnese mountain dog/ australian shephard mutt. He greatly resembles a burnese mountain dog, though. We have no idea how big he'll get....but we are guessing he'll be around the sixty pound mark (God, don't let him be much bigger than that.) Not that I am adverse to big dogs. Dan is 103 pounds....the thing is that he doesn't move unless he WANTS to move. It can be a problem.

I had forgotten what it is like to have a dog who is THRILLED to be my companion. Jules is my dog, always will be my dog, but she has the attitude of a cat. "I'm going to be taking a nap in here. You can come pet me....or you can not. Doesn't matter." Dan is Jason's baby, he has been since day one. He likes me, but I can poop in my hat if Jason is around. Mack follows me...well, he follows me around like a puppy. I like his companionship. There is nothing like getting up to go to the bathroom at three in the morning and having a little dog be absoluteley ECSTATIC to see that you are up. "Hey! You are up! Yay! Wanna play? Wanna play? Wanna Play?"
My answer is usually: "GO LAY DOWN! You are going to wake a baby."

So....it seems that Mack has found his forever home here on Dammit Farms. He's an accidental acquisition....but so were my kids ;-)

Dammit Farm on Ice

2010-02-03T07:08:00.000-08:00

Thursday, Day one of the ice storm.
9 a.m.--It's slick and icy, the freezing rain continues to fall.
10:20 a.m.---We still have power despite the 1/2 inch of ice coating the power lines. Jason falls off the back of his work truck while prepping the generator. He complains of a sore butt for the next several days.
12:00 p.m. We lose power. We suck it up, as it was expected. Hook the generator to the t.v. and the fridge. Life isn't bad.
7:00 p.m. Hallelujah!! The lights come back on.

Friday, Day two of the ice storm
I wake up, make breakfast, feed animals, blah, blah, blah
12:30 p.m.-- We lose power AGAIN.Meanwhile the snow is falling fast.
1:06 p.m.----I hear Jason scream and walk outside. He is laying by his truck."Did you fall again?"....."Yes!" he answers, a bit irritated....'cause why the hell else would he be laying in the snow? Jason will make noise about his sore behind, and this and that hurts and blah, blah, blah for the rest of the year.
2:00 p.m.----Jason has to go on a call. He takes his work truck, and thus the generator with him. I have to endure a few hours with the kids and no "t.t." as Barrett calls it. Oh...and might I mention that we have well water, which relies on an electric pump to make its way to our house. We have no running water....can't flush the toilet, or do anything.
5:00 p.m.----Jason shows up with a new propane tank. We have a winter wonderland cookout for supper, since we can't use the stove.
6:03 p.m. All of our firewood is frozen together, so Jason brings out the blow-torch to free them.
7:00 p.m.----Jason attempts to connect the generator to the main power input to our house. A neighbor comes to help. A few minutes later our satellite box starts smoking and popping. I frantically unplug everything in sight. I yell to Jason, who is still outside, "Smoke! bad! smoke!"
He turns off the generator. We decide to just stick with our lone chord powering the t.v. and the fridge.
7:45 p.m. We pack every container we have with snow, and bring it in the house to melt. This is how I will water my animals for the next several days.
9:45 p.m. Jason discovers that the chimney to our wood-burning stove (our primary source of heat) has several holes. He Tapes them together....no seriously.

Saturday, Day three of the end of the world as we know it

10:00 a.m.----We slide to town in our "winter chariot", the old Suburban. We must buy new pieces for our chimney. Seeing the damage firsthand does not make me feel positive about our electricity situation. Lines are broken everywhere, and some poles are splintered in the middle, and have fallen over.
1:30 pm.----We eat lunch while in town and try to forget about our troubles at home. I look longingly at the hotel across the street. I fantasize about a hot shower and cable.
3:00 p.m.---We are back on Dammit Farms. In the dark, and silence of snow and no electricity.....still.
4:25 p.m.---Jason talks to someone at the power company. We are given a quote of 7 to 10 days before get power back!!!! I about cry.

Sunday, Day four
12:00 p.m. We get power back! I try to make a a dent in Mount Laundry and Dishes. I make brownies to celebrate our electricity.
3:02 p.m.--- We lose power AGAIN.
3:15 p.m.----- I consider making a noose, but eat half the brownies instead. Fuggit.

Monday, DAY FRIGGIN FIVE
7:30 a.m.----Jason goes to work, leaving me and the boys without the generator. I spend all day trying to entertain them. I make soup on the wood-burning stove.
4:00 p.m.----We go to my mother in law's house, so that we can all bathe. Our cumulative stench was becoming ridiculous.

Tuesday, Day SIX.....Oh come the f&*% on!
8:00 a.m.---Jason leaves with the generator again. I am losing my mind. Barrett points at the t.v. several times during the day. "Ohhhh.....t.t."
9:20 a.m.---- I discover that if I collect the water from the gutters that I can use the water to flush the toilet.JOY!
3:00 p.m.----Jason comes home with a borrowed generator. I won't be left without electricity again.
5:15 p.m.----I come back from feeding the animals and......WE HAVE POWER. I frantically start doing laundry. I figure it will go out at any time.

Wednesday.....
As I type right now, I am still terrified that we will lose power again. I never knew how much running water, and a working oven meant to me until this week. Say a prayer, people. Say a prayer.

Here is a picture I stole off of photobucket that will give you an idea of what this storm did.

The Water Girl

2010-01-25T06:53:00.000-08:00

Winter is here and our outside faucets have been temporarily decommissioned. We have had some bouts of CRAZY cold weather. We have gone days without breaking the freezing mark, and that is RARE in Oklahoma. Jason covered the outside faucets with a standard styrofoam cover, but the puppy ate it. Jason beat the puppy with it (no...not really. He just flailed the fragments of styrofoam around and yelled at the dog while doing so.) Jason bought yet another styrofoam faucet cover, and Mack ate it again. Jason bought yet another cover....and you can guess what happened. Finally the store was out of styrofoam covers, so Jason wrapped the spigot in insulation and taped an old paint bucket over it. Mack has yet to find a way to infiltrate this new-fangled system.

Anyway, our outside faucets are not easily used, so I have been filling the animals' water buckets in the bath tub and hauling them to the back of the property. Let me tell you, if you want some killer arm muscles, just lug around five gallon buckets of water. It's cheaper than a nautilus machine too. Sure you make think you are going to die for the first ten times that you do it, but then after that it isn't THAT bad. Don't f*%# with me......or any of those people you see in National Geographic carrying water up a rocky hillside on their head, or on one of those stick-on-the-back numbers. They will tear you up!

Go to "Funky Town" and Stay There

2010-01-18T07:55:00.000-08:00

This weekend I went to lunch with my mother, and mother in law for their birthdays.One was born on the thirteenth of January 1951 and, the other on the fourteenth of January 1952. Sorry for disclosing your ages, ladies...but I think it is cool that you are exactly one year, and one day apart in age. We had a good time on our outing, and did a little shopping afterwards. My mother had Barrett in her cart. Barrett has figured that I am no fun on shopping trips, and my mother is a walking carnival. So...he chose to ride in my mom's cart.

By the time I got him back he reaked of cotton candy (I am being completely serious), and he had a new toy. This toy is a car that plays "Funky Town" over, and over, and over, as long as you know what button to press. It is not out of character for my mom to buy my kids toys. If she had ten dollars to her name, she would spend $9.89 on her grandkids.She is a generous lady, who loves her grandkids to no end.
The "funky town" car found it's way out of Barrett's reach by Sunday morning. Jason was this --- close to losing his mind. I could not blame him. I gave Barrett his obnoxious car back this morning. I am listening to "Funky Town" as I type.

Won't you take me to funky town?

RIP Jay Reatard

2010-01-14T11:32:00.000-08:00

I heard some sad news that Jay Reatard, whose real name is Jimmy Lee Lindsey, passed away Monday night/ Tuesday morning. He was only twenty nine years old. I am a relatively new Jay Reatard fan. I fell in love with his 09 release, "Watch Me Fall", but he had been making music for over fourteen years. He apparently dropped out after the eighth grade and began sending demos to record companies. His music is not life-changing, or profound, but it makes you want to fling your body around like a maniac. Who doesn't like that? I'll miss you, Jay Reatard.

Electricity

2010-01-12T06:50:00.000-08:00

We have been having some crazy weather here in Oklahoma. It has been frigid cold, and windy....really windy even for Oklahoma standards. We lost power several times over the holidays. Then we started having frequent power surges. One of these surges blew out my wireless router, so I am stuck in my bedroom with the modem. We realized that if we ran the dryer that the surges would stop. We were afraid to turn on our new t.v. otherwise. So...the dryer had to be running in order for us to watch the telly. I told my mother this and she laughed at me. She reminded me of the power system on "Green Acres" in which you could only use certain plugs at once. All the plugs had numbers, but the total of the numbers could never be more than seven. I love that my life is most accurately mirrored by "Green Acres". (eye roll)

The power company came out and said that there wasn't a problem on their end, and we needed to call an electrician. An electrician came out, and tightened a few wires. He said that there was nothing wrong on our end, and that we needed to call the power company. We had him put in a protective outlet for our pretty t.v. while he was here...just in case. Sometime between the electric company blaming our house and the electrician blaming the electric company, the power surges stopped. So...we will just cross our fingers and hope that our luck continues. We have to bury our beloved router, and we are out a few bucks for the electrician. We no longer have to run the dryer in order to watch television, and electrician confirmed that we weren't in danger of our house becoming the victim of an electrical fire. Good news...I guess.

I guess I'll have to get myself to Mr. Drucker's store to see if they have any wireless routers ;-)

Puppy Problems

2010-01-05T06:58:00.000-08:00

You know the saying "No good deed goes unpunished"? Well, for me that seems to be true. Taking in Mack was something that we did only because we were certain that he would end up road kill if we didn't. We were not in the market for a puppy...actually I said that I would NEVER get another puppy...EVER. When a needy animal falls in my lap, I can't help but take them on.

Mack has had a rough time adjusting here. He lived in the wild with his mama without any boundaries or rules until the day Jason snatched him up. Despite his general destructiveness...and a few potty accidents we had been making progress with him. He was becoming more likable once my paper towel bill had gone down, and I wasn't having to yell "drop it" every three minutes.

Mack committed the ultimate of canine crimes, and killed a hen the other day. Most country dogs would receive a bullet to the head the second that this happened. Instead, Jason chased Mack around with the dead chicken and a large stick until we were certain that Mack would NEVER look at poultry again. Wrong. He was busted pestering another hen the next day. So, we are giving Mack one more chance before we find him another home. We are also eliminating his opportunity for poultry murder as much as we can.

Mack, I am rooting for you! Please act right, so we can keep you.

A Jolly Dammit Holiday

2009-12-28T06:55:00.000-08:00

I would love to share some pictures of the kids opening presents, or of the historic blizzard which kept us home-bound all holiday weekend, but I can't. It seems someone has crammed playdough into my USB cable for my camera, and it is not currently functioning. So...I shall blab on without the any visual aids.

I don't know why I bothered to decorate for Christmas this year. A two year old, a one year old, and a puppy all reside at my house, and the mission of each is to spend every waking moment destroying one thing or other. I thought I could get away with putting non-breakable ornaments on the tree. bwahahahahaha. The kids and the puppy had a team effort of removing them from the tree, even climbing a chair to reach the un-reachable ornaments, then flinging them on the floor for the puppy to chew.

I had a foot tall Santa doll perched on the dining table. The kids waited until Christmas day to get him, and break his neck. Jason asked: "What happened to Santa?"
"They broke his neck, but I think I can fix it."
"Did somebody not get what they wanted for Christmas."
A few minutes later Gunther strolled through the living room carrying Santa's dis-embodied head. If I can't repair it, then perhaps I can turn it into a Halloween decoration. Think positive.

Oh, and we strung lights around our porch, but the puppy thought that the bulbs looked like tasty snacks, and broke any lights within his reach. If ANYBODY wants a puppy, I will pay you ten bucks to take him.

To top things off, a blizzard blew in early Christmas Eve. I have been stuck in the house with two bored babies, a destructive puppy, two flatulent hound dogs and an antsy husband. Going outside to feed the animals was a welcome break even in the 63 mph wind gusts and frigid temps.

Our power was on and off for a couple days. We had no power Christmas morning, got it back, then lost it again. It sucked, but at least the kids had plenty of toys to distract them from the fact that we couldn't watch t.v. or eat hot food.

Oh....and Jason got his work truck stuck in a seven foot snow drift on Christmas eve, and had to walk a quarter of a mile in a blizzard to get home. He carried his case of cherry coke, and my case of diet coke the whole way. God bless him! I may have had a breakdown and stabbed someone (most likely a puppy) had I had to endure the holiday without my canned diet crack.

Locked Out

2009-12-21T07:19:00.000-08:00

A few nights ago, I attempted to sneak out to feed the animals. It was almost dark and Jason would be late coming home from work.Usually I would take the kids out with me, but it was bitter cold and we were all recovering from the flu.` I put the kids in front of the t.v. with some snacks, and slid out the door with the baby monitor in hand, so that I might hear any real catastrophes. There is a reason why single mothers don't have hobby farms, it just doesn't work. When I returned from my chores a few minutes later, the side door was locked. I went around to the front door, and it too was locked. Barrett was smiling at me through the window.
"Barrett! Turn the lock. I can't get in." I made turning motions with my hand and pointed at the door.
Barrett laughed.
I kept my eye on the situation through the windows while I filled some water buckets for the animals with the hose. I was hoping that Jason might just drive up at any second, and the problem would be resolved. Gunther was walking around, crying a bit, but he would stop crying when I talked to him through the window. Every time I banged on the door, Barrett would laugh. Oh, and did I mention it was about twenty degrees outside?

I finally came to terms with the fact that Jason was not going to pull up and rescue me. I had to break into my house. I walked around the house, and sized up which window would be easiest to open, or break. Most of the windows have an inner and outer window, and are not easy to breech. I remembered that Dan had broken the inner window in my bedroom recently, while yelling at a plastic bag blowing through the yard.Seriously. So, I would only have to open one window there. I got in pretty easily. Jason had left the ladder out for my convenience.

When I came in, Barrett acted as if I had been out having a fun adventure. Since I had left, he had removed his pants and his diaper. He had also pulled a stool up to the kitchen counter and had turned ON A BURNER. It was fortunate that he had only burned the bottom of my mashed potatoes and not lit the house on fire. He had also dropped some miscellaneous utensils into the the two pans that I had on the stove. I was in the process of cooking dinner when I went out to do my chores. I made sure to turn the stove off, but Barrett seemed sure that I had made a mistake.

Well....you might guess that I will not leave my house without a key ever again.

My 09 Music List

2009-12-14T05:49:00.000-08:00

I have been very excited about this list for weeks. I have been drafting it in my head while vacuuming, or doing dishes. I like to pretend that the world has been holding it's breath, waiting for me to name my top ten favorites songs of 09. In reality, I know that no one really gives a flying f%#* about my opinion. Will that stop me from sharing it? Nope.

1. "Home" by Edward Sharpe and The Magnetic Zeros
2. "Sun Hands" by Local Natives
3. "Compulsion" by Doves
4. "Fangela" by Here We Go Magic
5."All the Kings Men" by Wild Beasts
6. "Ready, Able" by Grizzly Bear
7. "Silver Trembling Hands" by The Flaming Lips
8."Winter Games" by Foreign Born
9. "Shelia" by Atlas Sound
10. "It Ain't Gonna Save Me" by Jat Reatard

As far as albums go, I won't make a list. I will say that my fellow Okies, The Flaming Lips, knocked that ball out of the park this year with "Embryonic". Also, Doves made a wonderful, very listenable album, "Kingdom of Rust". My boys in Grizzly Bear also made another fanfuckintastic album: "Veckatimest".
This was the year of mellow. What I wish for from 2010 are some dancing tunes.

If you have five minutes to kill, you should really watch/listen to this. I promise you won't regret it.

A Good Trade

2009-12-11T06:41:00.000-08:00

Jason sold one of his vehicles. This came only after he had replaced it with a new ride. He drove an old Jeep truck home from the junkyard. After this event he said to me: "It's always interesting when you are driving something out of the junkyard."
I don't think I have ever known anyone else who would EVER say this. It's a phrase unique to Jason.

Here is the junkyard prize.

He traded it for some miscellaneous car part he had no use for....so it was essentially free.
Since Jason had a new "firewood truck", he no longer needed "Super Turd", his old firewood truck, he made the decison to part with Super Turd. I had to hold back my tears (If you can't sense my sarcasm then there is something wrong with you).
Here is our beloved Super Turd, who left us on a trailer a couple weeks ago. I will give Jason credit for making a 200% profit on her.

What did we do with that profit? We bought a 47 inch, glorious, new t.v.!!! My life has been more fulfilling and meaningful for a whole eight days now.

bye bye crappy truck = hello pretty t.v. = happy Audrey

Walking Baby

2009-12-05T06:40:00.000-08:00

I almost forgot....Gunther, or BoBo as he has been dubbed by Barrett, started walking about two weeks ago. Feast your eyes!!

The racket you hear in the background is Dan howling incessantly at a barn cat.

Pilfered Cake is the Tastiest

2009-12-02T06:27:00.000-08:00

My birthday was this past weekend, and my parents were kind enough to get me a cake. They got me a three-layered chocolate cake coated with chocolate shavings to be specific. It was darn tasty.

I left the cake on the counter after cutting a slice for Jason. (Jason and the boys ate waaay more of my cake than I did, and for that I am grateful.) The lovely confection was covered in one of those plastic cake-dome thingies, so I figured it was safe for a bit. When I went to put it back in the fridge a little while later, I noticed that one side of the cake had been vandalized. My first suspect was Dan, our food-obsessed coonhound. Then I thought: "how could Dan get the lid back on?", and I looked down to notice that the stand we use for the dog bowls (it's better to feed big dogs on a raised surface) had been moved across the kitchen. A three-foot tall terrorist had used this tool to make himself about four and a half feet tall, thus big enough to reach a cake, swipe some icing, then replace the lid. If only he hadn't left his "step stool" by the counter he may have gotten away with it. Barrett is only two and a half, and is already a criminal mastermind. I worry about what the future holds...

He's good at looking like he is inncocent, but I don't buy it.

Turkey Romance

2009-11-23T06:04:00.000-08:00

This will be the last time that I post about Mallory, the nutty turkey. You may remember my previous posts about Mallory. She has been gone for a couple weeks now and I have been in denial. I keep thinking she may just show back up. The reality is that there is about a .004% chance of that occurring.

Here is what I want to believe is Mallory's fate, and no one can tell me otherwise:
Turkeys mate in long-term in pairs. We have (had) two females and one tom turkey. Shawn, our resident tom, took to Melissa (Mallory's sister), thus making Mallory the third wheel. Mallory embraced being single, running about the farm doing crazy s#!* like taunting the dogs, and letting two years olds pet her. Then one day she took a walk down to the creek bed.....

Out of the mist appeared a young, roguish tom turkey. He was a wild turkey, not tethered to a hen house, or a five o'clock supper time. He introduced himself as Thor, and complimented Mallory on her plumage. "What's a pretty girl like you doing out here all alone?" asked Thor. Mallory explained that she was misunderstood back on the farm, and that her only friends were a redheaded midget and a noisy hound dog. Thor asked her to come away with him and be "his lady". Mallory obliged. She hopped on the back of Thor's motorcycle...eh...crap, turkeys don't drive motorcycles. She got in his Camaro and drove off, barely glancing back at Dammit Farms.

One day, after many, many months, Mallory will stop by the farm again. She will tell me she's okay and show me her babies. We'll have a cup of tea and talk about the old days, then she'll go back to her life in the wilderness with Thor.

Winter Wheat

2009-11-17T07:43:00.000-08:00

The glorious thing about rural Oklahoma in winter is the vibrant green of winter wheat. After the few trees that we have lose their leaves, the green returns with the fields of winter wheat. It's one of the many things I love about living here. It's hard to get the winter blues when all you see is sunshine and green fields.

Daylight Savings.......why?

2009-11-10T14:45:00.000-08:00

In case you were wondering...neither goats, nor chickens, nor dogs, nor babies understand that there is an arbitrary time change. They can't tell time time. I understand why some rural communities ignore daylight savings altogether. You can't just throw everything's schedule off by an hour, and not have repercussions. My goats unroll the plans for a coupe de' tat if I am ten minutes late with breakfast. If I am an hour late, fires are burning, and they have devised a plan to sacrifice me to their god.

The result from the time change seems to be that every creature on Dammit Farms now has a F*#%&# up schedule. The human children have been particularly cranky and unpredictable. Who suffers the most? Me. I am hallucinating from lack of rest. I found myself standing in the yard this morning, wondering why I had walked out there. I had to go through a mental checklist " feed the chickens? no. I'm not carrying garbage, or anything that needs to be disposed. That's not it. Are the dogs misbehaving? Did I come out to yell at them? mmmm...nope. Waffles! Waffles from the deep freeze! That is why I came outside."

From my understanding daylight savings began during World War One, as a way to optimize productivity in factories, which were mostly lit by the sun. It has little importance now, and actually costs us more than it saves....plus it's a pain in the a$$.

My New Music Fascination

2009-11-06T14:42:00.000-08:00

Why these dudes are rocking 'staches....I have no idea. It negatively afftects their Hottie McNasty status. Is the 'stache in this year? Last year it was the beard. I told Jason that beards were in style according to "Rolling Stone", and he shaved his lumberjack beard the next week:-) Apparently he is too cool for trends.

Jason, don't get pissed at me for writing that.

Anypoop, I love love love this band.

Never Say Never

2009-11-04T10:28:00.000-08:00

I said that I would NEVER get a puppy again after Dan. Dan ruined puppies for me, since he was a complete turd when he was a baby. Why is there a puppy in my house? Well, there was a dog living with her litter under one of Jason's natural gas compressors (he is a compressor mechanic). Only one of the pups lived. Jason had been trying to find a home for the puppy, as well as his mama. There didn't seem to be any takers for either dog. I told Jason that we could take the puppy if he was sure there was no other option.

Jason got a service call for the compressor where the dogs were living on Sunday night. He witnessed the puppy nearly get hit by a truck while trying to follow his mom across the road. Jason couldn't live with himself if were to come back and see the sweet puppy as road kill. SO.....we have a friggin puppy. Jason named him Mack, after the truck that nearly snuffed him out. He is very sweet, and cute. The boys adore him....and I am also falling for him. He is an Australian Shepherd mutt, which ruins our hound theme, but hey.....he fell in our lap.

A Rooster and a Skunk

2009-11-01T09:24:00.000-08:00

Many thanks to Meemaw for making Gunther's skunk costume! Also, a big thanks to my nephew for passing down the rooster costume to his little cousin, Barrett. We had a lot of fun trick or treating. Barrett could hardly carry his sack, it was so full of candy by the end of the night.

Halloween and Meaning

2009-10-31T14:29:00.000-07:00

On this day, three years ago, I found out that I was pregnant with Barrett. It's one of those memories that will live as if it were yesterday FOREVER. I had a cold, and my period was late. I went to Walgreens and bought cold medicine, and a pregnancy test. The checker was a friendly woman, who was dressed as Elvis. I will never forget our conversation.
Elvis lady: I will always remember when I first found out I was pregnant. My breasts were sore, and I thought I had the flu. You know how your breasts get sore when you have the flu?
Me: NOD +SMILE....."my boobs have NEVER been sore with the flu. BUT,my boobs sure are sore now" I think to myself.
Elvis lady: Then I took a pregnacy test and found that I was pregnant.
Me: Well.....this is not exactly planned, but...
Elvis lady: (interrupting me) Oh. Well, you can never plan for it, honey.
Me: It would be okay......but.....

The Elvis lady finishes checking me out.

Elvis Lady: Good luck to you
Me: Thank you.

I sit in my car, and I know that I am pregnant. The test is not is only verification when I get home and it ptactically screams "PREGNANT" moments later. The tears roll from shock, then the tears roll from joy. I am so thankful for my beautiful boy.

Punkins

2009-10-30T09:06:00.000-07:00

We went to a local pumpkin farm yesterday. It had just rained, the field was muddy, the wind was cold, but we had fun. We were the only ones there. An older gentleman with "PAPA" emblazoned on his sweatshirt emerged from his warm house to greet us. "It's a muddy mess out there, but you are welcome to go out. Pick whatever you like, and take as many pictures as you want." So...we did just that.

Gunther was very happy about his pumpkin.

Later my mother in law, or Nana as the kids call her, came over and we carved pumpkins. This is a crummy picture of our end result. Jason took off all week. At the beginning of the week he picked up a spray gun to finish painting our house....as you can see he did not use it. He was too busy watching horror movies that earned a whopping one star, such as "Eaten Alive" made in 1977......boy am I ready for him to go back to work.

Oh, and these are the fancy cows that live at the pumpkin farm. I just liked them. I think Dammit Farms could use a longhorn cow. I don't know what for......but they are cool. No?

Wyatt is a Wild Man

2009-10-26T14:31:00.000-07:00

The Accused

The Crime

Remember that sweet baby goat that was born here in July? That sweet little baby ? Well, Wyatt, our first Dammit Farms birth, has turned into an adorable hellion. Every time I am dumb enough to let him out of his pen, I regret it. I'll look outside to see him standing on the roof of our truck, or eating the cable that connects the satellite to our house. I've talked to Patty, his mama, about getting him under control. She chides him "meh ahhhh ah meccccchhhh ah", and he ignores her. I know how she feels. Barrett ignores me too.

Wyatt's escapades outside of his pen have been stopped for now. He is grounded. He broke the hood to our lawn mower. Jason is not happy. Wyatt was not seen actually breaking the hood to the lawnmower, so I say he is innocent until proven guilty. However, there are no other suspects and he doesn't have an alibi. I think he will not be leaving his confines any time soon.

Gunther is One!

2009-10-21T07:06:00.000-07:00

My sweet little guy is one today. I can't imagine my life without Gunther/Bobo/Gravy/ Wide Glide/ Fat Boy. Yes, he has more nicknames than anyone else in our house. He is a delightful child, and I am lucky to be his mama.

The pictures go in reverse oreder from most recent to oldest. The last one is when he still lived in my belly.

Hobby Farm Reality

2009-10-13T08:08:00.000-07:00

I often read Hobby Farm Home, which is like the rural version of "Home and Garden". It's a beautiful magazine, with lovely pictures of produce and fancy chickens. It would make anyone want to give up their McMansion in the suburbs for a quaint farmhouse in ruralia. It actually holds a lot of information that is pertinent to me and the function of our little acreage. I strive for my home to be like the pictures of opulent country living. However, I/we miss the mark. Our dart is totally off the Hobby Farm Home dart board actually.

There is a major difference in vision versus the reality. They fail to mention several things:

Hobby farms and death go hand in hand. Chickens will be massacred by predators, goats and sheep will fall to mysterious illness.

Renovating a farmhouse is a lifelong project. You will be victim to previous renovators and the wood paneling, and shag carpet that they left behind. There is no way to prepare for all of the house issues you may encounter.

Once you have decided to take on a hobby farm, you are likely stuck there. It's hard to find someone to take on your gazillion chores and do them right. I have attempted to write out instructions for chores, and I think the result was about three typed pages, single spaced. If you hire some hapless teenager to do the job, you know they will stop reading after the third sentence and "wing it".

Finding a snake in your laundry room will be a uninteresting occurrence. Barely worth mentioning to friends and family. This happened last week and my thought was "No biggie. It's not poisonous."

Every insect for miles will see the light on in your kitchen and fling themselves against the window repeatedly.

Field mice will trade the field in a heartbeat for a little nest in the coat closet. Expect to battle a rodent infiltration at least twice a year.

Of course there are a lot of great things about a hobby farm like fresh eggs, and a bunch of animal compainions. It's just a life that lacks glamour.

On another...totally unrelated note: I got my first pair of cowboy boots! I have needed a pair for some time. Jason bought them for me as a sort of early birthday present. Looky!!! Aren't they cute?

Two Babies in A Little Car

2009-10-09T12:08:00.000-07:00

Barrett demands that Gunther rides with him in his Gator. It's about the cutest thing I think that I have ever seen.

Excuse the appearance of our house....it is under construction.

Meteorology School

2009-10-05T12:28:00.000-07:00

What do they do there? Really...I'm asking. Does anybody know? They must just get smashed for years, because they don't have to learn anything. Well, they have to learn how to look like they know what they are doing in front of a green screen. I don't imagine that lesson takes more than a few hours. That leaves many years to master one's "keg stand form".

This is my summary of a forecast from our local news last week:
There is a sixty percent chance of rain on Thursday. This could go up or down. It could be just a scattered shower, or it could rain all day.

What?That doesn't mean anything. I means that: A. It could rain all day long B. It could be totally sunny, and not rain. C. There could be a random storm at any time.
I think that covers everything, except for snow. I'm surprised they didn't throw a 2% chance of snow in there just to be sure they had covered every possible weather incident.

Here is my weekly forecast. It applies to everyone, no matter where you live. Don't waste your time watching the weather.

This week the temps will be between -30 and 102 degrees Fahrenheit. It will be partly cloudy, or mostly sunny. There is a 5% chance of snow, which will increase to 100% if you see white stuff falling from the sky. Hail and sleet are possible, but not guaranteed. There is a 30% chance of rain, but that could go up or down. uhhh....keep your eyes peeled for tornadoes....there is a 1.5% chance your house will be torn from it's foundation and dumped atop the local Wal-mart.

I think KFOR should just put me on their payroll. I can do the weather. I just proved it.

Fall Days

2009-10-01T15:20:00.000-07:00

The weather has been pretty mild lately, and we have been enjoying some outside time. I have been loading the boys in the wagon and walking to the mailbox. Our mailbox is a little less than a mile from our house, so it's a bit of a hike. Dragging two tots is quite a workout in itself. My forearms have been sore this week. Pain is a sign of progress, right?

The kids enjoy the wagon rides, but they can't seem to decide on who gets "shotgun". So, they just whine and climb over one another. I had to tell Gunther "sit on your bottom" about eighteen times during our walk yesterday. I'm lucky that neither of them ended up falling head-first onto the concrete.

I tried to get a shot of the Wichita Mountains, which you can see quite clearly on our walk, but they did not come out at all. I'll have to try again at some other time. It's more impressive in person, anyway.

Biodiesel Factory

2009-09-28T08:09:00.000-07:00

Jason, in his quest to be more like Willie Nelson, is going to start making biodiesel. Willie runs his tour bus on biodiesel, if you didn't know. Anywho, the project is in its beginning stages. He will have to wait until spring when it is warmer to get it going. I know nothing about the biodiesel creation process. I just know that it requires used cooking oil, heat, and these impressive giant barrels (look to the right).

Our main family ride is a diesel F350 with a crew cab. Jason wants to drive for free. He has been looking at diesel mercedes from the 80's for me. I'm not going to comment about that.....but, yes he is serious.

Coming soon: Dammit Farms brand Biodiesel.

Oh, Danny Boy

2009-09-24T09:33:00.000-07:00

Dan drives me insane on a daily basis. He steals food from the kitchen counter, he howls at random things outside, and wakes up babies. He steals my spot on the couch, and refuses to move. The dog is a total food-obsessed turd, but he's a sweet turd, and we love him. Sometimes my frustration with him overwhelms me, and I forget what an important role he plays in our family.

He loves the kids wholeheartedly. I am convinced that he would take a bullet for them. They are HIS babies too...plus they give him food whether they are witting or not. Anyone who gives Dan food is a friend for life. I take comfort in Dan's presence, since I am ALONE in the middle of nowhere much of the time. Few people want to mess with a 100+ pound dog who is REALLY loud and intimidating. Shhhhhh! Don't tell anyone that he is a giant ball of mushy love.

Dan has reinforced his importance the past couple nights. Coyotes have bee coming too close to our property for comfort. They make a pretty big racket to announce their presence. It's an unnerving cackling noise that they make. Considering we keep goats, and chickens, which are both tasty coyote snacks the coyotes pose a threat to us. Fortunately, the coyotes want nothing to do with Dan. We let the dogs out, they howl for a few minutes, the coyotes go away, the dogs come back in. Dan and I were enjoying a granola bar at two a.m. this morning when I heard the coyotes. Dan's ears perked up. "You wanna go get 'em, Dan?" I let him out the door and within a few seconds the coyotes were booking it across our neighbor's wheat field. I rewarded Dan with some of my granola bar. I do love that stupid dog.

Coyotes beware!

100th Post!

2009-09-21T07:46:00.000-07:00

This is my 100th post. I would have reached this mark sooner, but my husband made me delete the posts that did not make him look favorable. I hate censorship. Anyway, I have NOTHING clever to say today, no bird obituaries to post, no baby shenanigans to document. Sooo.....I'm just going to post a little video I shot of me feeding the goats. Sorry if it makes you dizzy. It's not easy holding a camera while be bombarded by four knucklehead goats.
Yes, I feed the animals in my pajamas. No comments about that are necessary :-)

Today's Fridge Adventure

2009-09-18T11:59:00.000-07:00

CHOCOLATE SYRUP

I give up. I swear that I watch my kids. This happened in a matter of a couple minutes. I was trying to put away laundy. I'm off to give my children a bath.

Have You Seen This Turkey? (Edited!)

2009-09-16T10:30:00.001-07:00

The one in front is Mallory....I think.

Mallory is missing! I haven't seen her since yesterday morning. She is my crazy turkey who follows us around. It's really obvious that she is not present. I don't know what happened to her. I suspect she ventured toward the creek yesterday. The air has been cooler, and more predators are on the prowl this time of year. Here is my list of suspects: a bobcat (most likely), coyotes, a raccoon, a stray dog, a snake, a hawk. I hate nature some days. Nature is a vicious, old bitch.

I'm really heartbroken. Barrett loved her too. I would often find him sitting in the yard petting her. I hope that she will return, but it's not likely. I have never had a bird leave for this long and come back. An absence almost always means the worst.

Edit:

Nevermind! That crazy bird showed up in the yard for supper. Where she has been? I have no clue. False alarm! Mallory is still here, and still crazy.

The Terrific Twos

2009-09-14T09:15:00.000-07:00

If I stay positive about Barrett's status as a two year old, then it will seem better, right?

Here is a brief description of his latest antics:

I can no longer take a "normal" picture of him. He contorts his face into this silly "wink/blink" expression every time he sees the camera. He thinks he is funny. Well, he is funny, but I would really like a normal picture of my cute son.
I sat down to enjoy a Klondike bar the other day. I hadn't eaten one in at least ten years. I was thoroughly enjoying it, when Barrett discovered me. He demanded a bite, and I gave in. He then yanked the frozen goodness from my hands and wandered off. Barrett will steal from his mama for a Klondike bar.
He found one of his father's sharpies (bad daddy for leaving it out). Within about two minutes he had drawn all over the couch, the laptop and one of the dogs.
While I was cooking dinner one evening, I was SURE he was watching "Cars" in the living room. Nope. He snuck into my room and had discovered my makeup bag. He smeared his entire face with lipstick, and made sure to paint the sheets while he was at it.
I went to the bathroom on Saturday evening (I know. I know...stupid me!) I came out to find my kids making drawings in a mountain of baking soda on the floor in front of the fridge. This was the second baking soda incident within a month. I had been taping the fridge closed, but I had become lax in my refrigerator security detail. Both Gunther and Barrett were covered. I did my best to document the event. (see pics)
The keys to the lawn mower are missing. Barrett is our prime suspect, but his lips are sealed. We may never know the fate of the keys.

A Bit of a Rant

2009-09-11T10:15:00.000-07:00

I have been thinking a lot about Jaycee Lee Dugard, and her eighteen year hiatus from her family. As a mother, this is extremely horrifying. I look at my sons and wonder what sports they will play, or what kind of girl they will take to the prom. To have all of that time taken from me and from them by a sick piece of crap is about the worst thing I could imagine. The fact that her kidnapper had previously served time, but was freed and able to commit this evil crime, is absolutely depressing.

Jails and prisons are clogged with those convicted of drug related charges. It's easy to get a drug conviction, the evidence is a tangible object. District attorneys, and police do not have to do much work. It's difficult for a judge or jury to deny that that X amount of substance A was found on the defendant's vehicle, home, person, etc. It is my personal belief that many drug offenders would be better off in a rehab environment than in prison. Most western nations have a state run rehabilitation program, but the U.S. doesn't. Addiction is an illness that can be cured. Perhaps if there were a few less addicts in the jail/prison system then we would have more room for child rapists to stay....uh...for FOREVER.

Sex offenders, on the other hand, have not proven to be "rehabilitated". They offend, and offend, and offend. Getting a conviction for a sex offender is much more difficult. It's the victim's word against the defendant's, it's not concrete, and people lie. I have some personal experience with this. I was raped when I was eighteen by a friend of a friend. I went to the police. Even though we had DNA evidence that linked this person to me, and this individual had been previously convicted of a similar violent attack, it would be near impossible to get a conviction. The detectives and the district attorney were very blunt about the fact that I had a snowball's chance in hell of getting him put behind bars. I did what many victims do when faced with the facts, and I dropped the charges. My point is that if someone IS convicted of a sex crime then they probably had a cash of evidence against them and deserve to sit in jail.

I know that the legal system will not likely change any time real soon, but I do hope that this Dugard case shines some light on how flawed our legal system can be. It's sad, but I have little, if any faith in it.

A Cat and Kittens

2009-09-09T16:51:00.000-07:00

The kittens are beginning to venture out from their home. Their mama has moved them from the goat house to a shed which contains a bunch of extra barn tin and junk. I am not so happy about the new location. I put some towels down in the little area where the mama is keeping them, so that they at least have a soft place to lay. The kittens look really good, and healthy. I handle them every day. Barrett is very fond of them too. He cries when it's time to put them back.
Lisa, their mother, becomes a bit concerned over me handling her babies. She's not so sure of me. She will come up and cry at me when it is time for me to feed her, but she is quick to hiss if I offer my hand to sniff. I doubt I will ever pet her.

Lisa is a bit skinny, but we are working on that.

This is the one and only girl, and the only kitten I have named. Meet Jessica.

This is the blond kitten. My mother may take him, or his orange brother, so I haven't named either of them. Jessica will stay on Dammit Farms.

Dog Sitting

2009-09-07T14:19:00.000-07:00

We watched my mother in law's dog for a night this weekend. Rhoadie is an old friend of Dan and Jules, so they generally enjoy their visits. We hadn't watched Rhoadie in some time, and I had forgotten what a neurotic mess he can be. He followed me EVERYWHERE for the time he was here. I said:"Rhoadie go lay down!" about ninety times in a twenty four hour period. Rhoadie has a history of murdering birds, so we wanted to keep him from the poultry. Jason thought the best solution was to tie him to Jules, so he wouldn't get into trouble. Jules was thoroughly pissed off, but I was amused. They couldn't agree on which way to go, so they went nowhere.

Go Ahead. Throw Rocks

2009-09-02T08:06:00.000-07:00

I have a confession to make. I break a cultural taboo on a daily basis. I still nurse my twenty sixth month old child. My initial goal was to nurse for six months, then twelve months, but it just seemed the easiest thing to do was to keep going after that. It seemed really cruel to say "Happy first birthday! No more ninny for you." Also, any parent that has weaned a child from a bottle, or breast, or pacifier will tell you that it doesn't happen without tears. I have avoided weaning mainly because that is how Barrett goes to sleep, and I get little sleep as it is. Further interrupting my six hours of fractured sleep seems a bit crazy. Barrett only really nurses at nap and bed time, so it's not like it's an all-day event.

I had not intention to "extended nurse", and I don't know why I didn't. Everything that I read says that it is a good thing. It improves IQ and social skills, and it also ensures that a picky toddler is still getting SOME nutrition. I think the reason that I didn't consider it was because I fell into the American culture's general view that nursing past twelve months=icky. Even now it is something that I don't usually bring up unless someone asks, like I should feel ashamed or something. The international average for breastfeeding is a little over age three, so I'm normal on an international level. Here in the U.S., where few women manage to nurse past six months, I am a FREAK.

I shave my armpits. I wear makeup when I can. I don't make my own granola. I eat non-organic, processed foods (see I Want Candy post). I'm a pretty normal American mama. I nurse my two year old, and it's fine.

I will add that I plan to begin weaning Barrett after Christmas. He will be two and a half at that time, and I'm hoping that he will be "ready". I looked into child-led weaning and it seems that kids wean themselves as late as age seven! I personally can't keep up with this for that long....so ...uh...yeah, I will wean him by age three AT THE LATEST.

Everybody is Working for the Weekend

2009-08-31T08:47:00.000-07:00

It was a labor filled weekend for us. Jason borrowed a bobcat from one of his friends, and he had to do some dirt work around the house. He also had to move a bunch of random farm equipment around. All of this was accomplished with Barrett sitting in the bobcat cab with him. Nothing like sitting in a two by three box with a two year old!

I mentioned, in passing, that I wanted to grow strawberries next spring. Sometimes I think my husband doesn't listen to me, but I guess he does. I said I wanted to live in the country, and he made it happen. I said I wanted chickens, and he made it happen. I said I wanted goats, and he made it happen. I said I wanted to grow strawberries, and he is working to make it happen. He moved a giant stock tank for me and filled it with dirt. It is going to be my mini strawberry farm come spring.
Looky!

I have been researching how to grow strawberries, and it seems that everything eats them. The tank will prevent ground varmints from getting them. I will also have to put a net over them to prevent air varmints (birds) from getting to them. Did you know that strawberries are the state fruit of Oklahoma? I didn't either.

This is totally unrelated, but every time I walk past this, I chuckle. Apparently Jeepzilla, our giant Jeep Cherokee, had a hard time exiting the barn. I have figured that we have four good car batteries and about eight vehicles that must share these batteries. Jason used the old Vietnam era Jeep to yank out the Cherokee instead of playing "musical batteries". They have been sitting in our side yard, connected by a chain for a few days. ahhhh.....Viva la ruralia!

Wordless Wednesday

2009-08-26T07:07:00.000-07:00

I Want Candy

2009-08-25T06:47:00.000-07:00

So....I'm trying to lose weight, just like ninety percent of women who have had a baby in the past year. I don't want to talk about how much I need to lose versus how much I've lost. It's depressing. If I wasn't breastfeeding, I would just solve the problem with a nice crystal meth habit. Instead, I am trying to eat right and exercise when I can. The weight is coming off, slower than I would like for it to come off, but it's coming off nonetheless.

In general, I eat pretty well. I don't eat fast food, I eat a lot of veggies, blah, blah, blah. I do have ONE problem that is setting me back: my love for candy. I'll find any excuse to buy and consume candy. My main foes are Hershey's bars with almonds, Twix, and the evilest of evil Reese's peanut butter cups. There is a correlation between my candy consumption and my stress level. When the babies are are both crying, the husband is grumpy, and Dammit Farms is more dammity than usual......"I Want Candy" by MC Pee Pants of "Aqua Teen Hunger Force" begins playing in my head.

I dare you to watch and listen. It'll be stuck in your head for life.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UQvLKYu7izQ

That's what I hear in my head while I'm shoveling mini peanut butter cups down my gullet. It's a blissful moment for me.

A Boy and His Turkey

2009-08-21T05:31:00.000-07:00

One of our girl turkeys, Mallory, is a little "off". She tends to follow us around, and just lay on the ground right in my way. She is often my shadow while I am doing chores. I mistook her odd behavior for illness several months ago. I was certain that she would just drop dead at any moment. It turns out that she's just crazy, and not ill.

My mother in law was over the other day. She came in from playing with Barrett outside, and asked: "Is that Turkey hungry or something?"

I immediately knew which bird she was speaking of.
"That's just Mallory. She's not right in the head."

"She kept coming up to us and making noise, then laying down." My mother in law reported.

"Yeah. She does that."

It's difficult to explain a crazy pet turkey to visiting guests.

Mallory follows Barrett around like a puppy. Every once in a while Barrett will stop his play and pet her. It's really sweet actually. Despite the fact that she is CrAzY, Mallory is a very tame and lovable bird. She'll eat out of our hand, and she truly seems to enjoy being petted. The dogs are indifferent to her, and she has no regard for their presence. Dammit Farms is a place where poultry and hound dogs coexist peacefully.

Kittens

2009-08-19T07:51:00.000-07:00

I figured out where my hens are laying! Last night I was trying to find where my silly goat had put her bowl that I give her treats in. I was poking around in her little house, and noticed they were all piled in a nesting box on the wall (Patty's house was used for chickens like seventy years ago). The hens have nesting boxes in their house, but it would be plumb crazy to lay eggs in there. So, I squeezed my giant booty through Patty's little door, and began collecting eggs. It was getting dark, so I couldn't see very well. I looked up from my egg collecting to notice a ball of fur. My first thought was: "Oh, crap. What died in here?" Upon closer inspection, I realized that the fur was breathing and had a tiny pointed ear. It was a kitten!

I went to get my flashlight and returned to the goat house. I was able to determine that there were three kittens, all different colors. There is an orange kitten, a slate colored kitten, and a blond kitten. The tabby, who I call Lisa, had mysteriously appeared a few weeks ago. She had given birth. I wonder if her parents found out she was pregnant and kicked her out? The kittens all look healthy, and mama is fine. They are only a few days old, since their eyes have not opened yet. I was truly shocked to find them.

My hope is to keep them tame, so I can take them to the vet. All of the cats on our property are cats that just came with the farm. I feed them regularly, and some even let me come close to them, but they aren't tame cats. I am from the suburbs, where we fix our cats, take them to get shots, etc. So, I have a hard time swallowing the whole barn cat phenomena for what it is. My goal is to get my two females on the property, Lisa and Lulu, fixed as well as the new kittens. After all, we aren't cat farmers! My mom may take one of the kittens. If she does, then it will live it's life as a pampered house cat. The others will ALWAYS have food, and a warm, dry place to live here on Dammit Farms.

This was the best picture I could get of the kitten wad.

Couch Tater Tot

2009-08-17T06:13:00.000-07:00

Barrett has never really showed much interest in the television, despite my best efforts. He would much rather go outside and play, or break into the refrigerator, dump baking soda all over the place then proceed to roll in it, than sit in front of the tube. No well intentioned parent wants for their child to be a couch potato, however I am desperate to have at least one child who is content and occupied for fifteen minutes (I have already been interrupted three times while typing this to solve the problems of wee redheaded ones. I'm not exaggerating.).

A few days ago the movie "Cars" came on the Disney channel. Barrett was transfixed. He didn't have ANY tantrums for thirty minutes. My husband and I looked at each other, and realized we had the same thought. "We must purchase this movie!" On my next outing, I happily forked over the $14.95 for the DVD. While checking out, I fantasized about Gunther napping, and Barrett sitting quietly for his movie. What would I do with that time? Put away laundry, clean the kitchen counter, update my blog....so many exciting possibilities.

The movie does tend to buy about twenty minutes of Barrett being happy, he won't sit through the whole thing because, well......because he is two. Twenty minutes is better than no minutes, though. Jason put the movie in for him yesterday because he couldn't candle Barrett flinging himself on the floor and screaming anymore. This was the third viewing of the movie in the past two days.
"Have they made a sequel to this yet?" Jason asked.
"I don't think so." I said glumly.
A horrific realization washed over me. Barrett would soon be bored with this movie and it would lose it's hypnotic effect. Or, Jason and I would go completely nuts from watching it over, and over, and over, and over.

Dear Disney,
PLEASE make a sequel to "Cars"!!! Please have it available on DVD by...uh....next week. It's our only hope.

A Horse Nostril

2009-08-14T08:17:00.001-07:00

.....and other images of Dammit Farms in August.

It has been pretty uneventful here lately. That's a good thing, because I do tire of posting chicken obituaries on my blog.

I weaned the goat babies last month. That first day they went without a bottle was no fun. They would cry "ma ma ma ma" every time I walked past their pen. I felt guilty, but I delayed weaning long enough.
Wyatt (our first Dammit Farms birth) is a month old now. He is into everything. He broke the hood of the lawn mower by jumping on it. He darts in and out of the horse pen, which makes his mama, Patty, very nervous. She chides him in goat language "bahhhh me ah ah MAH!", which I think means "Stop it, you little turd."
The horses are still here. We are keeping them until my father in law can find a suitable place to move them. Traveler was very interested in the camera, thus the close-up of his nostril. I love the horses, and don't mind them being here one bit. Traveler is a total brat and knocks over his water trough on a daily basis just to get my attention.
The "baby" goats have a new pen behind the barn. It is much bigger, and has a lot more shade than their old digs. They are adjusting well.
My poultry is thriving. I suspect it's mating season or something, since every time I see Shaun, my tom turkey, he is puffed up and trying to impress a girl.
My chickens are still laying in an undisclosed location. I was happy to find one egg yesterday. I hope it is a "new" egg. I'll let Jason be my guinea pig. (I'm kidding, dear)
My human babies are doing great too. Barrett lives in his "truck truck" we got him for his birthday. Gunther has four teeth now, and is very close to catching up with Barrett in the weight department. Gunther is a chunk.

Redhead Facts

2009-08-12T08:40:00.000-07:00

While I was trying to dig up some true redhead facts. I found this link. It's hilarious. They drummed up a bunch of redheads to go protest the racist Wendy's logo. I LOLed.....for real.

http://improveverywhere.com/2007/07/24/redheads/

Okay.....now for some facts(?)

1. Redheads have more sex. My husband may argue that this is false, but here is the article:
http://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-400779/Redheads-sex-blondes-brunettes.html

2. We require more (20% more than most people) anesthesia to be knocked out. I've never been put under, so I can't attest to this either way. I will say that I get the distinct impression that pain meds affect me differently. After having my two c-sections, I was on percocet for several days, but never experienced the sleepiness most people experience. I was AWAKE an high as a kite. Here is the anesthesia article:
http://www.asahq.org/news/redheads.htm

3. Red hair is a recessive trait. It may appear after several generations of darker hair. (Neither of my parents have red hair, but my redheaded kids have a redheaded mama...obviously)

4. The highest percentage of natural redheads in the world is in Scotland (13%), followed closely by Ireland with 10%. In the US, about 2% of the population are natural redheads.

5. Adults have about 120,000 hairs on their head; redheads have fewer, blondes have more, brunettes have the most.

6. Doctors say that Redheads have heavier than usual bleeding post-partum, which is related to low iron retention. (My OBGYN once claimed that "redheads are bleeders". I thought she was just being silly.....but apparently it's true....and....yeah, my iron gets low easily.)

7.Red hair is said to originate from the Vikings(ie Eric the Red).

8. Redheads are more sensitive to pain. This is somehow related to the lack of melanin in the skin. ( http://www.mindhacks.com/blog/2009/08/redheads_more_sensit.html )

9. Redheads have higher IQs than ANYONE. Okay...that's not a fact, but I like to think that.

10. God made all the good ones redheads, so he can pick them out of the crowd. (Don't ask me for my sources on that one)

Tractor Pulls and Calf Fries

2009-08-10T09:17:00.000-07:00

Fair season has begun in Oklahoma. We attended a local fair on Saturday for two specific reasons: so that Barrett could view the tractor pull, and Jason could stuff his face with calf fries.

I may have mentioned Barrett's fascination with all vehicles. His favorites word is undoubtedly "truck". "Truck" applies to most things with wheels, though. We are still working on "train", "tractor", "car", etc. We were pretty sure that he would be excited to see some "truck truck"s, or tractors. I don't think that I had ever heard of a tractor pull until I moved to Oklahoma. If you have never attended one, I will give you a synopsis of what occurs at a "tractor pull".
1. People show up with their tractors. By people, I mean men between the ages of 52 and 109 who wear wranglers and baseball hats.

2. They mill about, chatting about tractory stuff while complimenting one another on their 1952 John Deere, or 1960 Case (no, mom, there is no such thing as a Hoight-Clagwell like Mr. Douglas has in Green Acres). There is a big division between brands. We are Case people because we have a Case. ....no arguments. The John Deere people look down on Case people, and the Case people think the John Deere people are snobs. There are a lot of subtleties to this tractor stuff. I won't pretend that I understand it.

3. Once the track ( a 200 yard strip of dirt) is prepared, the tractors get in line to begin the "pull". What do they pull? Something called a sled, but it's really a piece of machinery with a weight on it....I think.

4. The tractors take turns pulling the "sled". The point? Uhhhhhhhh.............

Well, Barrett enjoyed it anyway.

Then we got food. Jason gets very excited about this particular fair, because they serve calf fries from the local high school's Agricultural program. Do you want to know what they are? I'm warning you: it's gross!
Calf fries are the harvested testicles from the male calves from when they neuter them. They batter them and fry them. They resemble fried oysters in appearance and texture. Calf fries are a rural Oklahoma delicacy....mmmhmm.....I guess.

Seriously?

2009-08-06T08:10:00.000-07:00

This is my day so far:
Barett woke up in a bad mood at 6:45 this morning. He immediately wanted his shoes, so he could go outside. The raging thunderstorm seemed a small trifle to him, and not a legitimate reason to not leave the house. I told him "no", and he launched into a screaming fit. Once he was over that fit, he proceeded to go steal a toy from his little brother. While I was breaking up the baby fight, the dog stole my toast from the kitchen counter.

I started a pot of coffee. Then I realized that Dan, the dog, had been outside for an awful long time. I vaguely remember unplugging the electric fence last night, because something (it's usually a rabbit that is the culprit) had tripped over the wire, thus dis-engaging it. The fence control thingy was beeping, so I turned it off......then forgot. Dan was on the back of our property harassing a barn cat. I went out to get him, with Gunther tucked under my arm, and dragged him back in the house (oh....did I mention the thunderstorm?). The coffee was brewing into a puddle onto the counter, and then the floor. I hadn't engaged the lid right, and had created a huge mess of "burnt bean water" (I stole the burnt bean water term from one of my sister's friends).

Barrett has also managed to have about sixteen more tantrums since he has been awake. I know why people drug their children. I wouldn't do it, but I do know why.......

Can I just go back to bed? I give up.

Dear Hens,

2009-08-01T11:34:00.000-07:00

I don't so much care that mothering is just "not your thing" and that you just lay eggs any ol' where. Could you girls possibly develop an egg-laying pattern, or something? Lay in the horse pen on Wednesdays, the goat pen on Thursdays, the hen house on weekends, and so forth? You girls used to lay in the hen house more so than not. What was wrong with that? Did that become too boring and predictable?

I do not enjoy this "every day is Easter" theme we have going. I have a lot of things to do. You know those little redheaded things that follow me everywhere? Those are my children. I hatched them, and now I must make sure that they stay alive. You may have noticed that you share your area with many other animals. I am in charge of feeding them all. I do not have time to prancing around with a basket looking for eggs. I'm pretty sure that there is a snake out there who is much better at finding them anyway.

I don't think that I am really asking that much. I do feed you, and look out for your general well-being. I would like a few eggs as payment. Have you seen the conditions that most laying hens live in? It's ugly. They don't get to tramp around the countryside, eating bugs and frolicking in the creek. I'm just sayin.....

Audrey, your loving caretaker who would love to know where the goddam eggs are, because she be hungry.....mmmkay?

Wordless Friday

2009-07-31T08:19:00.000-07:00

I know....I know it's supposed to be "Wordless Wednesday", but I didn't have my act together on Wednesday. You got a problem with that?

1. Lily and Jeanette when they were really little.
2.Barrett, Jason, and Barrett's beloved Gator.

3. Laverne, my lone guinea. She is mean as hell! She chases my rooster around on a daily basis, and attacks any poultry that comes close to her while she's eating.

4. Gunther

5. An extreme close up of Louie

What I Did on My Summer Vacation from the Internet

2009-07-28T09:33:00.000-07:00

I discovered that I am actually a damn good housekeeper if I don't have the call of the computer constantly beckoning me.
I started potty training Barrett. I had low expectations, but he superseded them. He is wearing a DRY pull up right now. Mama so proud!
I found out what happens when you leave a diet coke in the freezer and forget about. I do not dare anyone to try this experiment. I have yet to clean the diet coke icicles hanging from the top of my freezer.
I watched a lot of the History Channel. I may have learned something.
Barrett began his refrigerator obsession. He is currently working on my high-tech duct tape locks. I have approximately ten minutes before he starts sticking his grubby hands in the leftovers.
I got to hang out with my super-cool niece, who is ten. It's so nice to have a girly girl around in this sausage fest. She goes back to Virginia Thursday :-(
We learned that Gunther will move really fast if you hold a spoon full of ice-cream in front of his face.
I became engrossed in the show "Jesse James is a Dead Man". I think it's a side-effect of living with a bunch of boys.

I think that's it.

Lightning

2009-07-21T08:14:00.000-07:00

The ding dongs who installed our internet did not ground our modem. We had some bad lightning storms on Thursday night. Lightning burnt out our modem. .....of course. It will take several days to get someone to drive out to the sticks and fix it for us.

So, my friends, there will be no ME for a few days, or a week. Try not to cry!

He Looks Like You

2009-07-16T06:21:00.000-07:00

Right after I had Barrett, I spoke to my dad on the phone. I told him that the baby "looks like you". I think he thought that I was paying him lip service, but I wasn't. He was several states away, and unable to discern for himself whether the kid looked like him. Barrett STILL looks like my dad more than anyone else. Sometimes he gives me certain looks and my dad is all that I can see. This isn't a bad thing, but maybe it would be if my dad was a jerk, and I didn't enjoy being reminded of him. My dad is a cool dude, he's friendly, and generous, and wonderful, so it's not bad to be reminded of him on an hourly basis. Also, my dad isn't ugly, so it's not so terrible to bare his resemblance. My mother will have you believe that, in the late seventies, every woman on the east coast was beating on his door. She, of course, beat put every woman as the winner of his heart. It's a lovely fable.

My dad came to visit recently and my mom took some shots of the Barrett and my dad hanging out. Aside from their appearance, they also share a love for potato chips and "King of the Hill". The whole potato chip thing is odd. I craved potato chips more than anything else during my pregnancy, and then Barrett made it clear very early that potato chips are his most favorite of all foods. So......these pictures were taken while they were eating potato chips and watching "King of the Hill".......naturally.

*Note the identical expressions in the first picture. They are VERY serious about potato chips.

Birth Announcement

2009-07-14T14:28:00.000-07:00

Patty had her baby late yesterday afternoon. It's a boy! His name is Wyatt. Both mom and baby are well. Patty loves him, and she is proving to be a very good mama.

My Very Own Cakewrecks

2009-07-10T08:00:00.000-07:00

Last year, for Barrett's first birthday, I constructed an elaborate barn cake. It doesn't look like much, but it took me eight hours to complete. At the end of that eight hours, I realized that the barn was REALLY slanted, as though it was on a fault line. The party goers made me feel better by claiming that they had never seen an old barn that was perfectly vertical, so it was "authentic" and not just crappy construction.

For Barrett's second birthday, I scaled back and just made a "normal" cake. I was doing fine until I put my second layer on, and it split into four pieces. Of course this happened at eleven p.m. the night before the party. I thought I was sunk. I kept thinking about all of the episodes of "Ace of Cakes" in which they salvage $3000 cakes that have encountered major catastrophes. The solution I came to was to just flip the entire cake over, so the broken layer was on the bottom.

I am now having major anxiety about having to make a cake for Gunther's first birthday. I have over three months to stress about it. I have no idea what kind of cake I will make, but I'm sure I will find a creative way to goof it up.

Tuesday Night TV Sucks

2009-07-08T05:33:00.000-07:00

Every Tuesday Jason and I have the same conversation.
Jason: What do we watch on Tuesdays?
Me: There is nothing good on Tuesday. This is the night that we watch "America's Funniest Home Videos" for three hours straight.
Jason: Oh yeah.

I had stopped bothering to find anything to watch on Tuesday, and had set a timer for the channel to switch to ABC Family every Tuesday at seven. I was horrified last night when the channel switched and some lame-o teen drama was on. What am I supposed to do now? I think the ABC Family execs have a letter coming their way. I need my weekly dose of people falling off trampolines, and cats making noises that sound like words. Darn.

A Kid and Kids

2009-07-06T09:30:00.000-07:00

Barrett does not have many young human friends, however he is rich in animal friends. He and the baby goats love to play together. Their favorite game is "king of the mountain", which involves them trying to push one another off of the highest surface in the goat pen. It's incredibly cute to witness them all in action.

Many thanks to my mom for the great pics. Barrett found my camera in the diaper bag and it is now in a coma. I have no idea what kind of horrors it experienced, and I will probably never know. I needed a new camera anyway, but it may be a couple weeks.

An Old Friend

2009-07-03T07:06:00.000-07:00

I was uploading pictures from my mom's camera this weekend when I stumbled across this goody taken a year ago. That's Claire, the most beautiful chicken that I have, and ever will own. Claire had a tragic flaw....well actually she had two tragic flaws. 1.) She could not see through her lovely hat of feathers. 2.) She was dumb as dirt.
In the time that I had her, I had to rescue her about 548 times. She would follow the chickens away from the hen house into the pasture and then lose track of her friends and get lost. Her solution was to walk around in circles and make a noise that sounded like: "eat me....eat me...eat me". Soooo....I would come scoop her up and take her back to the hen house.
One time she was gone for two days and I was certain she was gone forever. Then one morning Jason found her nested in the middle of THE ROAD on his way to work.

In the week or so before her disappearance, I had thought that she had wizened up. She would mainly just hang around the hen house, often sitting in the doorway while her friends were away. I began calling her "the gate guard". One Friday afternoon she decided to follow the other chickens down to the creek bed. She never came back. My husband looked for her, only to find a bunch of her feathers. We suspect a bobcat got her.

I guess her beauty came at a cost. I really loved her, though.

Plague to My Brain

2009-07-01T07:20:00.001-07:00

Does anybody remember when Willie Nelson got busted for possession of marijuana and mushrooms a couple years ago? Here is the story in case you don't keep track of Willie and his ups and downs.

Is that not shooting fish in a barrel? Did that hillbilly cop think he was being a hero by busting SEVENTY THREE year old Willie and his buddies? I think any tour bus that got searched would have a whole lot more stuff than what they found on good old Willie's bus....eh...unless it was the Jonas Brothers. I hope that loser cop enjoyed his fifteen minutes of fame by busting Willie Nelson. I'm sure he wasn't clever or interesting enough to find fame any other way, so he had to be the man that brought down Willie Nelson.

Hillbilly cop, Willie has brought joy to millions of people and has raised millions of dollars for charity. What have you done?

Mr. Nelson, If you're reading this, please come visit me!

I love you, Willie!

Barrett is Two Today

2009-06-26T09:16:00.000-07:00

I have heard that once you die, that you are able to re-live moments of your life. Barrett has brought me so many moments worth re-living.

The first time I saw him through the blue sheet (I has a c-section). He looked directly at me with those slate blue eyes, like he had been waiting to meet me.
Holding a nine day old sleeping Barrett, and wondering if there was any way I could be happier.
Carrying a four month old Barrett in the Snugli on his first Halloween. He was dressed as a duck, and everyone smiled and pointed at him. He was the cutest duck ever.
Watching him chase plastic eggs around on his first Easter. He never crawled, but would scoot really fast to catch them, then throw them and giggle.
Watching a fourteen month old Barrett climb up and down a curb at a county fair. He had just mastered walking and he was thrilled with himself. He was wearing denim overalls and a yellow shirt, and yellow shoes. I watched as older couples walked by and smiled at him, remembering a child they had that was once small and now is not.
The day Barrett handed me a bunch of plastic flowers at a junk store. He smiled at me as he did it. It was the first time that it ever dawned on me that this grand, indescribable love that I have for him is returned. He loves me too!
The day he met his brother for the first time. He patted him on the head and smiled at him. He understood that he was his brother, and has shown nothing but love for him.
The day that I yelled at Dan (one of our dogs) and I later found Barrett consoling a sulking Dan in my bedroom. He was kissing him and petting him.
One evening, only a couple weeks ago, when I lifted Barrett to bring him inside after playing, and he was upset. He cried, but he gave in and his body fell limp in my arms. I put my face to the nape of his neck and inhaled. He smelled of grass and baby shampoo, a symbol of the crossroads from babyhood to boyhood.

Happy Birthday, Barrett. I'm so proud to be your mom.

It's Hot!

2009-06-25T06:23:00.000-07:00

How do I know it's hot? My toddler, who would live outside if only we would let him, WANTED to come inside this morning. I brought him out and let him run around while I did my morning chores. Usually it's cool in the morning, even if it is going to be a scorcher later. Not today. It was sticky hot before my rooster even had an opportunity to crow at the sun. Bleccchhh. Barrett took me by the hand and led me to the door. When we came in, I gave him a drink and checked to make sure he didn't have a fever. He didn't have a fever, so I guess he just has more sense than I give him credit for.

Last night I decided to take the boys in the BIG baby pool after dinner. The water was about ninety degrees! Yucky. It was not refreshing at all. I would liken our swim to a warm bath with a few bugs floating in the tub. The outlook for next several days is not much better 100, 102, 100, 99. Dammit. I'll be in my underwear sitting in front of the fan for a while.
Shall we think cold thoughts? It can't hurt.

Date Night

2009-06-22T08:18:00.000-07:00

I had a really great date on Saturday evening. He is about two feet tall with red hair, and blue eyes. He doesn't have a job, or a car, but he was a good date nonetheless.

Jason took Barrett for a ride in the Jeep to go get some parts for another one of his Jeeps. They were gone for about five hours and it was glorious! I haven't been away from Barrett that long since I delivered Gunther. I love the little guy, but it's difficult being responsible for two kids every hour of the day, every day non-stop. I was actually able to get some things done without being interrupted eighty times for various toddler complaints/needs/wants.

A difficult aspect of having more than one child is being able to give each child enough individual attention. I seriously don't understand how people like the Duggars are ever able to know each child as a single, unique person. As it stands right now, Gunther naps frequently and I am able to spend one-on-one time with Barrett on a regular basis. Gunther, however, gets shafted quite often. He is such an easy-going little guy and requires little of me. Barrett is a needy thing, and sucks up a lot of my attention. Part of it is the age, and part of it is a personality difference.

So....I was very pleased to have some quality time with my fat, little man. (No. not Jason, but Gunther). We ate dinner without me having to stop and tell Barrett "no" seventy times. We shared a cheese danish for dessert. We went for a swim in the little pool, and Gunther accompanied me on my evening chores. We read a book and nobody bogarted the book, or turned pages backwards. It was fun. Sometimes I feel like I am so busy and so wrapped up in this or that, that I forget to enjoy my kids for the unique little people they are.

A Skunk Story

2009-06-18T08:09:00.000-07:00

In November a opossum broke into the hen house and killed a hen. So, we reinforced the suspected place of entry and set some live traps to catch any potential chicken assailants. We loaded the traps with cat food and waited. A couple days went by and nothing appeared in the traps. I had almost forgotten about the traps, until the morning we caught a skunk. The skunk is what we call a "non-target animal". The skunk just wanted some cat food, and was not our chicken murderer.

I called Jason. "We trapped a skunk! What should I do?"
Jason: "I'll take care of it when I get home."

The skunk spent the day in the cage. Have you ever seen a skunk close up? They have a sweet little face. I felt bad for the poor thing. I had no idea how to get her out without getting sprayed, though. When Jason came home he made it clear that by "take care of it" he meant shoot it. I would not let that happen. Jason insisted that I free the thing since I don't have a "real job" and it doesn't matter if I am stinky. Jason gave me a tutorial on how to unlatch the cage about fifteen times, but I still didn't get it.

I put on a raincoat. I don't know why, but that seemed the most appropriate thing to wear when doing a late night skunk rescue. The flashlight was out of batteries. Crap. I had to use a wind-up flashlight, which makes a loud noise every time you wind it. A waeee-waeeee-waeeee noise every thirty seconds is not good when you are trying to not startle an animal. I went out to the cage, and attempted to throw a sheet over the cage. I missed. The skunk sprayed because I scared her. Foul number one. I went back inside and told Jason that he had to do it. He went to get his gun, and I went back outside. I stared at the cage and talked to her for about twenty minutes, before I got the nerve to just unlatch the cage. I couldn't unlatch it, took too long, she sprayed again. Foul number two. I stood back again and thought long and hard about the trap tutorials Jason had given me and looked at the cage. I had to wedge a stick in the door once I got it open so she could get out. I leaned down, pulled back the door and shoved the stick in, and then ran.

I came inside. "I did it! I did it!"
Jason: "Oh my god, you stink! Take those clothes off."

I had been downwind of the spray, and was smelling pretty foul. I didn't care, though. My little skunk was free. She probably got run over the next day, but I like to think she is enjoying a long life in the wilderness.

Pitocin for Goats?

2009-06-15T06:19:00.000-07:00

Patty still hasn't had her baby. I can feel movement on her left side, where the kid(s) are, so I believe her baby is fine. Patty is still mobile enough to bust into the chicken house and eat their feed. Her appetite for treats hasn't slowed at all. She hasn't been grazing as much, because she is hugely pregnant and it has been well over ninety degrees for the past few days. Any woman that has endured the late stages of pregnancy during summer can understand this.

Last night I had a dream that we were hosting some lavish party, because we have those all the time ;), and Patty cam into the middle of it and started having her baby. The guests were horrified, but I was excited.

My friend Nora, from That Nora Girl (it's on my blog roll.....I'm too lazy to make a link this morning), was the one to suggest that we get her some goat pitocin. I'm sure if I called one of the country vets out here, and asked them to induce my goat's labor that they would laugh at me.

Getting a "belly pic" of a goat is not that easy, but I tried.

Get Your Own Blog

2009-06-12T06:08:00.000-07:00

This is my suggestion to my mother and my husband. They are both always putting in requests as to what I should write about.

My mother was disappointed that I didn't list her on the "seven things that I love" in my previous post. She was also disappointed that I didn't give her partial credit for the naming of "Dammit Farms". So, I'll set the record straight: I love my mother, and she was the driving creative force behind naming my acreage Dammit Farms. Happy? I'll even post a picture of my lovely mom for you all to view.

Jason thinks that a blog post titled "I am Mean to My Husband" is in order. Uh...take a deep breath. Hold it.....keep holding. Just wait for me to deliver that one. This is how mean I am to my husband: This morning I laid his clothes out for him, I made him ovaltine, and I nuked a piece of pizza for him. Geez, I am a wretched bitch.

Jason will get his "I am Mean to My Husband" post when he lets me post pictures of him. For those that are curious, he looks a lot like this:

Dear Faithful Readers,

If I stop blogging for more than a couple weeks, then call the cops, or Dateline, or something. It's probable that Jason has read this post and has snuffed me out. I'll give one of my friends my blog password, so that they can post my obituary.

Audrey

Awardy Thingy

2009-06-09T11:16:00.000-07:00

One of my mommy blogger friends, Allison, has given me an award. Her blog, The Second Time Around, is one of my favorites to scope out. She has a an October 08 baby boy like me, and she also has a toddler girl (like me...except for the girl part).

Sooo....I'm supposed to list seven things I love, and give the award to seven other bloggers. I'm sure this will go real well, since the last time I gave out awards all of one person claimed it. Those who didn't know who they are, and I know that they are ungrateful turds. Just kidding! I don't want to lose half of my readership today.

1. I love dressing my kids in matching outfits. I figure they will both hate me one day any way, so why not give them ample reasons.

2. I love my goats. They follow me around like I am the messiah, and it makes me happy.

3. I love taking a nap, although it almost never happens anymore.

4. I love pina coladas, and getting caught in the rain.

5. I love frozen pizzas. I count on them for at least one dinner a week.

6. I love Gunther's fat little thighs.

7. I Love Barrett's wild man hair do.

I will not get burned again. Oh, no. This time I am giving the award out to seven DESERVING people. Here they are (in random order....or is it?)

Samantha of Nicko, Sam, and Parker

Rebecca of The Fun Has Just Begun

Jessica of Viva La Vida

Michelle of Let's Monkey Around

Melissa of Austin and Charleigh

Hayley of Welcome to the Mouse House

and last but not least my favorite new blogger: Liz of A Day in the Life of Savannah

Liz, I bet you didn't know that you'd get an award three days into blogging. haha!

Full Hands

2009-06-07T08:56:00.000-07:00

This time last year it became apparent fom my appearance that I was pregnant. Even though I was only five months, I looked like I was eight months along. The same thing happened with my first pregnancy. Before I had my first ultrasound, my in laws had convinced me that I MUST be carrying twins. That was a cruel assumption. For some reason I just carry my babies waaayyy out front. Even my doctor was said "well...you haven't gained THAT much weight" as she looked at my belly with a puzzled look "your uterus just grows OUT". I was asked if I was carrying twins during both pregnancies, and I would smile and say "Nope. Just one big boy." What I really wanted to say: "Yes! I know. I'm a FRIGGIN WHALE!"

In additon to my "twins?" comments that I received, I also heard a lot of "You're going to have your hands full." This was a comment that people made for the sake of wanting to say something while they stared at the huge pregnant woman struggling with a baby/toddler. I couldn't disagree with this comment, as I knew my hands would be full. I viewed Gunther's intended birthday as D-day. I would never accomplish any task once he was born. It has turned out that it (having two kids under two) is not nearly as bad as I had expected. It does tend to take me a lot longer to complete a simple task, such as vacuuming the living room ( 1.5 meltdowns per child is the average in the time it takes me to do this). I don't bathe nearly as much as I would like, since somebody always starts screaming the second I put shampoo in my hair. My house is never really clean, but it turns out that people don't expect your house to be clean when you have two kids under two.

The little turds are totally worth all the hassle.

Oh...and looky! looky! Gunther can drink out of a cup now. Impressive for a 7 month old, no?

A Work of Art

2009-06-05T07:22:00.000-07:00

We have a "mother in law room" attached to our detached garage. It's just a room where we keep our deep freeze. It's where we kept our chickens when they were hatchlings, and where we put our baby goats at night for the first few weeks.

We have recently moved the goats out of the room, but there are a bunch of flies in there. In the past few mornings, a couple purple martins have followed me in to catch flies. I left the door open, so they could naturally eliminate our flies. I left the door open all day yesterday. When I came home from a short trip into town with my mom, I noticed this nest above the door. Crap on a cracker! Why did they decide to build a nest in a place that they have limited access to?

To be fair, my husband had warned me to keep the door closed for this exact reason. Did I listen to him like I never do? nope. Jason, you were right. That was painful to type.

Anywho, the nest is quite an impressive work. They completed it in just a few hours. It's an intricate tangle of grass and hay sealed with dollops of mud. I'm really in awe, and just heartbroken that they can't utilize their major construction effort. I figure the least I could was share their work with the world...eh...I mean my four readers.

Little Shoes

2009-06-03T08:21:00.000-07:00

My mother in law brought over a box of Jason's baby stuff last week. The box contains various baby clothes, some toys, papers and artwork from Jason's early years. I pulled out a little writing sample from 1987 and read it aloud. "If I were President I would fight for democracy and lower taxes, utility bills, and lower tolls on turnpikes."

"I didn't write that." Jason replied.

"You must have. It says your name at the bottom."

Jason just snarled at me.

That's totally like Jason to be concerned about the utility bill. I have no doubt that he wrote it.

Jason wasn't interested in the box at all. I am captivated by its contents. Despite the fact that Jason and I have been together for almost eight years, share two children, two dogs, a house, a bank account, various livestock, and a toilet, he is still an enigma to me. I was hoping that the box would contain a magic decoder ring of sorts that would make me fully understand this man whose life I chose to share. I have had no great revelations from the pile of papers and clothes. I have only been reminded that there is so much that I don't know. I am curious about the twenty one and a half years he lived before he met me. (Some days I am truly curious how he survived that long without me cooking for him and doing his laundry.)

Just when I think I have Jason figured out, he has to throw me a loop. He orders cherry vanilla Dr. peppers from the drive-thru convenience store for months, then WHAM! He has switched to cherry cokes. He IS a mystery.

I am slowly putting together the puzzle that is my husband. Here are a few pieces that came to me via the box:

Twenty some years ago he was a little boy in blue tennis shoes, dragging around his Grover. (Grover was included in the box too. Grover has had a rough life.)

He has always been a skinflint, hence the early concern about utility bills.

He did know his times tables at one point. I found a test proving so. (Why is he always asking me to multiply random numbers off of the top of my head. "What's 43 times 6?")

He has always been a good artist. No, really. He downplays his artistic abilities, but he is still pretty good.

He was a darn good colorer.

While I'm on the topic of baby stuff.......What is up with those horrid stiff, white shoes that we all had as babies? (one that belonged to Jason is in the picture) My mother in law talked about how her babies "walked like Frankenstein" in them. What idiot of a child development expert decided it would be easiest to first walk without the ability to move one's ankle?

Another Baby is Coming!

2009-06-01T06:58:00.000-07:00

It's a goat baby this time. I'm not pregnant. If I were the pregnant one, then I would just begin researching which mental institution would suit me best.
Me on the phone with the psych ward:
"Do you practice lobotomies? mmmmkay. How much Valium do have on the premises? .......Is that enough to just turn me into a happy vegetable?......... mmmmkay......Do you take blue cross blue shield? I'll call you in a few months. Thanks"

Patty's udders have dropped, which is a sign that she will deliver her kid very soon. Sooo...we are keeping a close eye on her, and I am scouring the internet with the hopes of picking up some milk-goat midwifery skills. This is just in time because my baby goats are getting too big to cuddle. Louie knocked me just below the eye with his horn yesterday. I was this __ close to being a total redneck emergency room patient. Have you ever seen the "Appalachian Emergency Room" skit on Saturday Night Live? That would have been me. Of course, I would have changed into a moo-moo and house shoes just for effect. "That little billy goat done reared up and got me in da eye."

When we deliver the kid, you bet I'll be blasting all the details here. Stay tuned.

Clearing Out the Camera

2009-05-29T09:51:00.000-07:00

Trucks and Dogs

2009-05-26T07:40:00.000-07:00

The other morning Barrett and Jason were watching Barrett's decidedly favorite show, "Mickey Mouse Clubhouse". I was in the next room making breakfast, and overheard their conversation.
Barrett: Shoe! Shoe!
Jason: Uh...yes, Barrett, it's a rat in shoes.
Barrett likes to point out whatever he can name, and in this case it was Mickey's shoes. Jason, I might add, has a strong stance against what he calls "the cutefication of rodents".

A few minutes later Jason called out to me: "He really does like this show."
Me: I know he does. I was considering making it the theme to his party.
Jason: What? He likes trucks and dogs. Why do you have to bring Disney into this and make it expensive? Trucks and dogs.

Just out of curiosity, I did some digging around on party supply websites to see if there was in fact a "trucks and dogs" theme for any of their assorted craptastic party wares. NO. However, there are way weirder themes than that. I was hoping that I could find some outrageously priced cake plates, and cups with both trucks and dogs printed on them, solely for the purpose of irritating my husband. Alas....I found none.

In my search for dogs I found a bunch of stuff we these odd looking dogs with giant heads and small bodies. I am very disturbed by these images and most certainly do not want to serve cake on top of them.

Soooo, we are just sticking with a truck theme for Barrett's party.
I couldn't decide whether to go with construction trucks, firetrucks, or monster trucks. I have decided to combine them all. We'll have monster truck plates, bulldozer balloons, firetruck banners. The kid just like trucks, doesn't matter what kind. The adults that attend may think that I have stopped taking my crazy pills, but it's not their party, so I don't care.

Do They All Do That?

2009-05-22T06:13:00.000-07:00

That was the question that I posed to my mother while we were both witnessing my toddler throw himself on the ground in a full-fledged tantrum. My mom thought for a second, and replied: "uh....yes. You all did." By "you all" she meant me and my two sisters. However, she did point out that my oldest sister, Claudia, was the best at flinging herself on the floor, and screaming in the grocery store. Thanks, Claudia, for setting a high standard that neither Mona or I could meet.

I guess it is something ingrained into the toddler psyche. Mama won't let you eat dog food? Fling yourself on the tile and wail like a banshee. That'll show that mean b*%#@.

It's actually a pretty effective means of getting one's way. I ignore Barrett's tantrums at home. If we are in public, and I feel one coming on, I will do whatever I can to stop it. Do you know how much random crap I have purchased in attempts to appease the kid? Fake flowers, two frisbees, toothbrushes that we didn't need (the kid has a toothbrush fetish), countless cheapo little toys. If I added up the tab, it would be enough for a vacation....or a down payment for a yacht. Whatever the price, it's worth it to not have to face the stares of strangers in Wal-Mart while Barrett screams "MAMAMAMAAAAAAAAAAAAA" and rips out his own hair.

I love having a fiery redheaded toddler boy. Good times.

A Dammit Farms Update

2009-05-18T07:16:00.000-07:00

My loving nickname for my little acreage is "Dammit Farms". There are many "dammit" moments here, so it is fitting. Jason is in the process of building a new fence, and I have requested that he make us an archway that reads: "Dammit Farms". His response was that I better learn how to weld. No archway for us until I take some welding lessons...sigh.

Stuff that has happened lately:

Somebody dumped a cat on us. He is a young male and he is all black. I have named him Leeroy, and I am now feeding him as well as our resident barn cat, Lulu.
I am making progress with Lulu. She doesn't run from me anymore. I am hoping to create a relationship with her, so that I can snatch her up and take her to the vet to get spayed.
A skunk got trapped under the hen house one night. Before we could do anything about it, he had freed himself. Before freeing himself he sprayed at least...oh..a DOZEN times. Now my poor birds are living in stench.
All three of my turkeys are sitting on a mountain of chicken eggs in the back of the hen house. They are sitting on the eggs, since my hens are crappy moms and don't care to do so. Those eggs are never going to hatch. I need to find a time when they all leave, so I can remove all the yucky eggs.
The kids, meaning the goat babies, are down to two bottle feedings a day. Hallelujah! I love the little things, but I'll be glad when this whole bottle thing is done. I know now why I breastfeed my human babies: it's not because it's what is best for them, or for bonding, or because I'm a selfless mother. Nope. I do it because washing bottles is a giant, sharp pain in the rear!
We still have yet to get a friend for Patty. For now, I am spending as much time with her so that she doesn't feel like a forgotten little milk goat. She's my sweetie, and I truly enjoy just hanging with her.

Ahhhh....goat milk bottles in the morning.

The Wallpaper Game

2009-05-15T11:31:00.000-07:00

We live in an old farmhouse, as I have mentioned before. We exist in a never-ending renovation project. For some reason, my husband decided to rip down the old wallpaper in a couple rooms, and see what was behind it. It has been a year...and we know what's behind the wallpaper (more wallpaper, and then ancient solid wood walls), however we still haven't put forth the effort to find a new covering for them. Apparently we need to spend more time knowing the history of our walls before we can move forward. Uh...yeah...I'll go with that. Every day, as I sit on the potty, or brush my teeth, I like to play the "wallpaper game". I like to look at the shredded layers of wallpaper and ponder: "What decade was that from? Hmmmm...the 40's. That one is definitely from the seventies. aye caramba!"

I've included some samples, so you too can play the game. It's a blast! I'll give you a hint: the top picture is actually exposed wood, not wallpaper. If you are really good, you can guess the age of our house by these walls. Another hint: I'm pretty sure that the type of tree from which the wood used to build our house is now extinct.

Watch Out, Ladies!

2009-05-12T05:27:00.000-07:00

There is a new rooster in the hen house. His name is Marlon. Marlon is a name that I had on the top of my list each time we were naming the boys. Jason didn't like it because it means "big fish". I tried to explain to him that a Marlin is a big fish and Marlon is French for Merlin. They are totally different names....uh-duh!

Anyway, I wasn't going to give the name Marlon to just any creature. Marlon the rooster is totally deserving of his name. He came to us during a thunderstorm one night. My neighbor, his former owner, snatched him out of a tree where Marlon had nested that evening. We plunked him in the hen house. Marlon was low on the totem pole over at Sam and Kathy's place (our neighbors'). They have several roosters, so he had never "had" any hens as Sam put it. Imagine his delight to wake up as the sole male among many hens. Ohhh...he "has" hens now. My girls are a laying like crazy!

Although I miss Antonio, Marlon is a lot nicer to my hens. Antonio was known to rip feathers out of their butts during the love making process. Marlon gets the job done without any injury. Antonio would just chow down at feeding time. Marlon watches over the hens while they eat and then he will eat once they are done. Marlon is a gentle Romeo, and an expert at strutting. Welcome home, Marlon!

Craft of the Year

2009-05-11T05:14:00.000-07:00

I'm not really a crafty sort. I don't sew or scrapbook, crochet or knit. I do, however, have a creative eye and an excess of diaper boxes. Those things don't just collapse down and disappear. I'm always trying to find a home for them. I didn't realize what a luxury trash/recycling service was until I moved to ruralia.

After drinking about a six cups of coffee to combat my chronic fatigue, I started taking on random projects. I constructed a fort for Barrett out of diaper boxes, random boxes from Sam's Club, and packing tape. It is gorgeous, no?

It lasted for about an hour. Barrett realized that climbing on top of it was way more fun than playing in it. Of course.

Bawoughhhhhhh

2009-05-08T09:49:00.000-07:00

I went to Petsmart with the kids and my mom yesterday. I had to buy overpriced (forty eight flippin dollars and ninety nine freakin cents a bag!) dog food for my overweight (well...Dan is the only overweight one), ungrateful couch-hounds. My mom had to buy cat food, because she is the crazy cat lady. tee-hee. (I love you, mom)

They were about to have an obedience class, so there were a lot of people milling about the store with their puppies in tow. Barrett was very happy about this. Every time he saw a dog he would he would joyfully start howling at them. "Bawoughhhhh" evey time he saw a dog. He was very amused with himself and I was....well I was a bit embarrassed. I tried to distract him by taking him to see the cats for adoption.
"See Barrett, it's a cat." I said as I pointed to a tabby cat curled in her bed.
"caat" he responded. Then he looked up to a husky coming down the aisle. "BA---WOOOOOO"

I got out of there as fast as I could. I'm sure my mom was very proud of her howling grandson. She showed her pride by acting like she wasn't associated with us in any way.

Thanks, Danny Boy, for teaching Barrett your language. I'm sooo happy to have a bilingual son.

What's Tomorrow?

2009-05-04T05:46:00.000-07:00

A. Tuesday
B. A Mexican holiday that Mexicans don't even really celebrate, but Americans use as an excuse to drink Coronas and eat nachos.
C. JULES'S BIRTHDAY!!!
D. All of the above.

The correct answer is D, but you will also receive full credit if you chose C.

My baby girl turns eight tomorrow. May fifth is her functioning birthday, since she was a pound hound. We adopted her on March 5th, 2002, and they said she was ten months old. That would make May 5th her birthday....I guess. Anyway, the old bitch (I can call her a bitch because she is!) is turning eight, and I can't believe it.

Jules (or Gools, as Barrett calls her) came to us because we decided to go "look" at animals at the pound one day. Jason and I weren't even living together at the time. We had no serious intention of adopting a dog. Then...we saw her! She was so sad looking, just laying in her little cage. Jason put his hand down to sniff, she came up, checked him out, realized he didn't have any food, and laid back down. Jason spoke to one of the workers at the pound about wanting a dog that he could put in the truck with him and take anywhere. We were young and mobile at the time. Jason was taking an hour+ drive every weekend to see me in Richmond. The pound employee suggested "the female coonhound". They took her out of the cage for us to visit with her in another room. Her demeanor changed the second she left that little cage. She jumped on my lap and began nipping at the strings on my sweatshirt. She was a happy dog in an unhappy place. I knew once we took her out of that cage that I never wanted her to go back in.

Jason and I left the shelter to "think" before we made any hasty decisions. We never even left the parking lot. He wanted her, and I wanted her even more, so there was nothing to discuss. We took her home that day, after paying her bail. I still thank Jason for paying the fifty dollars to get my baby out of puppy jail. They almost didn't let us take her that day, because she was evidence in an animal cruelty case. She and her litter mates had been starved by whatever moron owned her, and the moron was facing charges. I'm glad.

She was sooo skinny when we first got her. I was embarrassed to walk her. I wanted to wear a t-shirt with "I didn't do this to her. I just adopted her." emblazoned on it. Anyway, she hasn't missed a meal since. She is a healthy beauty today.

We still refer to Jules as our "first born", since she was the first acquisition to our family. There were times that I'm sure that Jason and I would have broken up, but we didn't because neither of us wanted to lose Jules. Thank you, Jules.

Happy Birthday, Jules. We love you and wish that you share many, many more birthdays with us.

A Dose of Adorable

2009-05-01T05:40:00.000-07:00

I have nothing to say today. I know, it's shocking. I'll let Gunther and his rubber duck do the talking.

Hey, Beck!

2009-04-28T05:51:00.000-07:00

Beck, I know you read my blog, because all the cool cats read it. I think you should come over and hang out for a couple days. You need a break from the hustle and bustle of fame, and your busy career. No one will know who you are out here in rural Oklahoma. You'd be hard pressed to find a citizen of my county under the age of seventy. Their world is still shaking from the crazy sound of that John Denver kid. Bruce Springsteen could bite them on the ass and they would press charges. Everyone would just think you were some hippie passing through.

Not sold? Here is a list of fun things we could do:

1. You can bring your kids and they can play with my kids. Your daughter and my oldest son are about the same age.
2. You and your family can pet baby goats, horses, and an old pregnant goat. You can also chase chickens and turkeys if you enjoy that kind of thing. My toddler seems to think it's a blast.
3. I can teach you some awesome new dance moves, and maybe you can teach me some of yours.
4. We can discuss why many Beck fans were not crazy about Midnite Vultures and why they are so WRONG.
5. I can make you a big homecooked meal. Are you a vegetarian? You look like a vegetarian. I'll make my famous vegetarian "badass burritos". If you're not a veggie, then you and my husband (he's a big carnivore) can grill steaks together.
6. We can invite your friends The Flaming Lips over for a bonfire. They live in Oklahoma too. (Bet ya'll didn't know the coolest band on the planet is from Oklahoma)
7. You can tune my guitar.
8. We can watch paternity tests on Maury.
9. I can help you with some new song lyrics. I came up with a hit called: "If You Throw it on the Floor, You Don't Get Any More" just last week. I'll offer my lyrical skills for free.
10. You can try to explain to me why Sonic Youth is sooo great. I just don't get it.

ummmmm........If that doesn't make you want to load up the fam and head to Oklahoma, then I don't know what will persuade you.

I even spent five minutes digging up a flattering picture of you on photobucket. See!

Dead Goat, New Goat, Red Goat, Blue Goat

2009-04-25T08:40:00.000-07:00

One of our rescue goats, Selma, passed away almost two weeks ago. I was too sad to even mention it. She was an elderly girl, and it was a risk we took when we adopted her. She had scours (diarrhea) one morning and we called the vet, gave her electrolytes, kept an eye on her. By five o'clock she had gone to sleep in her little house. We didn't have enough time to save her. My natural instinct is to feel guilty, but I know in my heart of hearts that it was just her time to go. She didn't get loaded onto a slaughter truck, packed in filth with dozens of other goats. Her little goat soul transcended from a peaceful place to an even more peaceful place.

Jason took on the task of removing her remains, which I'm sure was an unpleasant process. I didn't want to see her void of life. I saw, by accident, her body loaded into a truck bed headed out the back gate. The pink collar, that I had lovingly chose for her, was no longer around her neck.

Goodbye, Selma. We loved you. I looked forward to seeing you, to pushing you out of the way so I could get in the gate. We didn't know you long, but you let us know you were a sweet girl who loved cookies and back scratches. You had a crush on my husband, but I can't blame you, he is a good guy. I hope you're happily eating grass in an infinite field of green.

This bites. I'm seriously considering starting another blog just for animal obituaries.
Who put the hex on us? No....seriously, who did it? Nothing else seems to make sense. How can so much bad luck come to our little farm?

We are going to get another goat from rescue, another doe to keep Patty company. She was being starved, thus was seized and placed in rescue. She is currently nursing a buck kid, so we get a bonus goat! We were supposed to get her today, but she has pink eye and we have to wait for it to clear up before we can collect her. Once again....why can't anything ever go smoothly?I swear that I have an ex-boyfriend somewhere that has taken up the practice of voodoo!

Blind by Age Two

2009-04-23T08:38:00.000-07:00

Yes, that is my child sitting approximately 1.57 inches away from the television screen.

We have an ottoman on wheels that he rolls up to the t.v. and sits upon. He peeled himself away from the screen to smile for the camera.

Did they prove that sitting too close to the t.v. and loss of vision have no correlation? Is the verdict still out?

I don't guess it matters much, since he doesn't sit in one spot for more that twenty five seconds anyway. He lost interest in the t.v. and began jumping off the ottoman immediately after I took the picture. It's a good thing we have another kid, we'll be lucky if this one makes it to age twelve.

Michael or Miguel?

2009-04-22T06:17:00.001-07:00

This is the driver to Barrett's little people dump truck. It said on the package that his name is Michael. Jason always calls him Manuel, because...well...because he doesn't look like a "Michael". I corrected Jason and told him that Miguel is actually Spanish for Michael.

I'm not sure that Miguel is actually hispanic. When I was taking this picture I was thinking he looks Native American......or is he Pakistani? Hmmmmm....the possibilities are endless. I have noticed that a lot of toys have this indefinite race thing going on. That's fine. It's politically correct...I guess. Some of us are on the extreme end of the skin color spectrum, because we are African American or Caucasian. I guess these middle of the road toys are supposed to make everyone happy.

I certainly want my kids to be accepting of everone (My two main parenting schticks is that I want them to be accepting and generous). So, no I don't want all of their toys to be lily white. I just think it's funny how the toy companies decided that this non-descript race would be offensive to none and appealing to all.

Oh...sorry the picture is so blurry. My camera didn't want to focus on Jorge...eh...Miguel...whatever his name is.

Blue Eyes Crying in the Rain

2009-04-20T05:46:00.000-07:00

Genetics are a funny thing. Unexpected outcomes reveal themselves in the delivery room. An example of this is the fact that I have red hair and no one else in my family does. My mom is a raven haired beauty and my dad has dark blond hair. My grandmother, who had always wanted redheaded children, was pleasantly surprised when I was born.

Gunther has VERY blue eyes and they don't seem to be changing at all. This is odd, since I have brown eyes and Jason has hazel eyes. Yes! He is Jason's child. He looks just like Jason, but with red hair and blue eyes. One of Jason's friends asked me if the Schwan's man had blue eyes the other day. He was joking.....BUT let me say this: If I was giving the Schwan's man an extra "tip", wouldn't we at least be getting some free ice cream out of the deal? A frozen pizza perhaps?

I know that there is a chance that Gunther's eyes will still change, and that would be fine. I do love his steely-blue eyes (I also love Barrett's lovely mossy-brown eyes). Jason always sings "Blue Eyes Crying in the Rain" by Willie Nelson to him. I think it's the sweetest thing. The other day we were in the car and "Blue Eyes Crying in the Rain" came on. "Gunther! It's your song." Jason exclaimed as he cranked up the volume.

My mom mentioned that my Pop-pop had blue eyes. I like to think that Gunther's blue eyes are Pop-pop's genes surfacing. I loved my Pop-pop. He died when I was seven, but I have fond memories of him. I like being able to look at my son and think of him. I would like for my son to have his qualities, aside from appearance. I hope that the blue eyes are accompanied by Pop-pop's kindness, and his loving, accepting nature.

Mommy Blog Award

2009-04-16T10:21:00.000-07:00

Jennifer ( http://bravingboyhood.blogspot.com/ ) who also has an October 08 kid, and is a mom to all boys has nominated me for a "Mom of the Year" blog award.

There are a few stipulations of the award:

Admit one thing you feel awful about involving being a mom. Get it off your shoulders. Once you've written it down, you are No Longer allowed to feel bad. It's over with, it's in the past. Remember, you're a good mom!

Barrett is in the beginning stages of the terrible two's (he is 21 months), and I am not handling it well. I bribe him with dum-dums on a daily basis. I'm not consistent with time-outs. I'm really just hoping that he will miraculously become a rational being by....umm....tomorrow.

Remind yourself you are a good mom, list seven things you love about your kids, you love doing with your kids, or that your kids love about you. These are the things to remind yourself everyday that you Rock!

1. I love how animated Barrett can be. We just make faces at one another and laugh for minutes straight.

2. I love that Gunther ALWAYS wakes up smiling and cooing. I have to check on him several times in the morning, because he never announces that he is awake. He just hangs out and looks around until I come get him.

3. I love dancing with Barrett. We both love music.

4. I love how Gunther "flirts" with me as Jason calls it. He smiles and makes eyes at me even if someone else is holding him.

5. Both boys love when I dance around and act silly, or make up stupid songs.

6. I love watching the boys interact. Barrett gives Gunther kisses on the head, and shows him toys. Gunther just watches Barrett and laughs.

7. I love watching them both sleep, kissing them on the head, and breathing them in.

Send this to five other Mom's of the year that deserve credit for being great moms and remind them that they are the best moms they can be!! Remember to send them a note to let them know you've selected them, and add a link to the person who nominated you.

Nicole --- http://bissell-kids.blogspot.com/

Gentri -- http://whatarelittleboysmadeof.blogspot.com/

Nora -- http://thatnoragirl.blogspot.com/

Iluska -- http://becomingamama.blogspot.com/

Melissa -- http://austinandcharleigh.blogspot.com/

Kinda Wordless Wednesday

2009-04-15T07:43:00.000-07:00

A bunch of my blogger friends do wordless Wednesdays. I can't keep my trap shut.

1. Dolly, Barrett's horse. She is such a sweet girl, and beautiful too.

2. I found this the other day when I was picking up Barrett's toys. It's his cow driving his front-end loader. I found it funny.

3.The "milk goat express"--It's an old horse trailer that Jason got a bargain on.

4. Louie, our only buck kid. He is a character.

5. All of the baby goats: Louie, Lily (white), Jeanette, and Evey (Jeanette and Evey are twins).

6. Lily! I'm trying to figure out how to get that darn ear tag off of my Nubian princess.

How to Send a Hard-drive to Heaven

2009-04-10T14:30:00.000-07:00

Let us use it for a few weeks.

Jason's laptop went phlltttt this week. I called the Dell hotline and gave them the diagnostic code, expecting that they would tell me some magic formula to revive it. "Press ctrl-alt-7 and then pick it up and shake it, then press f5. It should restore all function." I was given no such remedy. Instead I was told that the hard drive was f*^$ed and that the only thing to do was replace the hard drive. No, she didn't say f#&*ed that would be unprofessional, but she wanted to say that, I could hear it in her voice.

We're trading the laptop in next week (It's Jason's company computer, so it's their problem). Until then....I may not post much...or at all. Don't cry, my faithful reader. Yes, I have one follower! I rock!

In other news...........
my goat collection grew today. We have four bitty baby goats. I'm going to try and find a way to get some pictures up, because they are darn cute! I have to bottle feed them three times a day. I'm finally finding a use for all those darn baby bottles that my booby-head kids refuse.

A Goat in a Sweater and Other Stuff

2009-04-05T16:00:00.000-07:00

I am immensely grateful to the rescue organization that we adopted two goats from yesterday. The goats are absolute dolls! Having tame goats is like having two very friendly dogs that don't bark. The add on Craig's list said that they "would take all the love and cookies you could give". It was the truth. I am completely and utterly in love. They are older girls (five and seven), but they will finish out their years here with us. We are so happy to give them a loving home, especially since the alternative was a slaughter truck.

They were named Patty and Keeta, but we weren't fond of the name Keeta, so now they are Patty and Selma (just like Marge's sisters on "The Simpsons"). They are adapting to their new home and are working on their roommate relationship. As it stands right now Selma is trying to establish dominance over Patty, since Selma is older. Selma is being a bit of a b*&#@ to Patty, and won't let her in their little house. We are hoping the situation will iron itself out soon. I put a sweater on Patty this morning, since it was so windy and cold and her roommate was not sharing her room.

I'm really hoping some crime was committed at 7:30 this morning, so I will be interrogated.

Detective: "Where were you at seven thirty a.m. on April fifth?"

Me: "I was putting a sweater on my goat."

Detective: "Of course. There will be no further questioning."

[In the pictures Selma is eating "forbidden" sticks through a fence that is protecting a tree within their enclosure. Selma was not giving me any good shots, so I settled for that. Patty is sporting the sweater :-)]

IQ Test

2009-04-03T05:54:00.000-07:00

I keep seeing these offers to take a free IQ test on yahoo. They always have a picture of Oprah, or Obama with their IQ underneath them, challenging you to beat their score. I took one of these goofy tests four-ish years ago and the results have plagued my relationship (now marriage) ever since. For the record, I don’t think these tests are very accurate. Anyway, my score was pretty high and when I was finished it gave me this goofy certificate to print out that said I officially had a high IQ. It looked legitimate when the ink hit paper; it said my name and plainly stated that I had a high IQ underneath. To be obnoxious, I decided to put it on the fridge.

Later that same day Jason and I had a spat about something or other. He told me “you just think you are sooo smart and you know everything.” I didn’t even respond, or mention the fact that I now had official documentation proving my genius. He had yet to notice the certificate on the fridge. I went to work (I was bartending at night), and hoped he would find that silly certificate.

He found it! He used the url at the top of the printout to go and take the same test. What was his score? A full thirty points less than my score! He printed out his test, and I later found it in a pile by the computer. He never mentioned the test to me. Later when I brought up the test he claimed that he “wasn’t trying” when he took it. Who takes an IQ test and doesn’t try?

Now every time Jason has the nerve to say “you think you are sooo smart”, I reply: “Well, actually…..” (I’m always interrupted there)
“I DON’T CARE ABOUT THAT STUPID IQ TEST! I told you I wasn’t trying.”

Jason is, in reality, a very smart man. He married me, didn’t he? He is much smarter than I am about a lot of things (Jeeps, livestock, wind direction, weapons, mythology, fast food, dog breeds……not multiplication tables, though). I just happen to be a better test taker. He has a wealth of knowledge about a lot of useful stuff…no, really. This doesn’t change the fact that I will ALWAYS use that test as leverage, mainly because it irritates him so much. Isn’t that what we are supposed to do to our mates? Irritate the bejesus out of them?
(Jason, I know you read this sometimes.I love you!)

A Fond Farewell to a Friend

2009-04-01T07:28:00.000-07:00

.......or foe. I'm still not certain which you were, Antonio.

This is the last picture ever taken of Antonio, my ornery little rooster. He was moving too fast for my camera, hence the blurriness (maybe someone will buy me a better camera for mother's day.....nudge, nudge). He was at the threshold of the chicken house and he was threatening to attack me. Ahhh, memories.

I saw my "Antonio stick" laying in front of my chicken house yesterday. It was the stick I used to hold off his attacks until he realized who I was (the food and water lady). It made me incredibly sad that I no longer need it.

On mild fall evenings I would open the bedroom window. It would become apparent that my decision to leave the window open was a bad idea when a little, feathered someone would start incessantly crowing at four a.m. Laying there, I thought: "Dammmit, Antonio! The sun is not even thinking about rising for another two and a half hours." There were several times that he made so much noise at night, that I walked out to the chicken house, because I was certain that something was trying to murder the chickens. I would shine the flashlight in the hen house to illuminate a bunch of annoyed looking hens and turkeys (I swear that if poultry can look annoyed, they most certainly did). I'm honestly shocked that a turkey didn't just "take him out" because he was going crazy from sleep deprivation.

He didn't just crow at night, or in the morning. His crowing was pretty much an all day event. The silence now is a constant reminder of his absence. I never thought that I would mourn this hard over a chicken.

Antonio, I hope you are in that big chicken house in the sky making a terrible racket! I'll see you one day, and you will probably try to attack me. Then you'll realize..."Oh, it's the lady that always has food. She's pretty cool."

I Heart Peggy Hill

2009-03-30T14:05:00.000-07:00

So, I had a bout of insomnia this week. This is a cruel thing, since I have two babies and never get enough sleep anyway. At three in the morning, both kids were sound asleep and where was I? Watching "King of the Hill" on Adult Swim. My mind was full, and I was too antsy to sleep. Three nights in a row "King of the Hill" was my only friend. I watch this show every afternoon with Barrett, since we both enjoy it. Of course I was thrilled to get an extra dose at an ungodly hour.

We watch all the animated shows here: "The Simpsons", "Southpark", "King of the Hill", "Aqua Teen Hunger Force", "Robot Chicken" and my husband watches "Family Guy", but I hate it! In one "Southpark" episode they suggested that the writers for "Family Guy" are actually manatee and I suspect they are right. I'm sorry to alienate any of my three readers, but "Family Guy" is just not that clever. It's not!

Why do I love "King of the Hill"? I love it, because Peggy Hill is the best television character ever created. She's a substitute Spanish teacher who can hardly speak Spanish. She does things like write a paper for her thirteen year old son, and then get angry because he received a "b". Peggy Hill's claim to fame is that she is the state boggle champion. She is constantly seeking acceptance, only to be disappointed. I relate to her awkwardness.

My favorite episode is when she gets the job as the "helpful hints" columnist in the local paper. The first hint that she comes up with is to mix bleach and ammonia to make a stronger cleaner (Ammonia and bleach yield toxic chlorine gas, in case you didn't know). She figures out what she has done after the paper has gone to print. The next morning she decides to go buy and steal all of the papers, so that no one can read her mistake. Oh, that Peggy!

Peggy's witty sayings:
"They're always in the last place you look, because once you find them, there's no reason to keep looking."
"Would you please tell Boomhauer that Swiss cheese is not Mehican, it is American."
"My rose-colored glasses are off and the world looks flesh-colored and unappealing."
(Peggy's rejected ideas for "musings":) - Lots of cookies will make you fat. - Thank goodness for plexiglass. - Sunburn, too much of a good thing. - Nothing is dirt cheap, because dirt is free. - Give a donkey the chance and he will bite you in the ass.

Enough said.

Hard Lessons Learned

2009-03-23T07:32:00.000-07:00

Some days I wonder if I am cut out for country life. Today is one of those days. I was thrilled about the arrival of my goats. I woke up yesterday morning and had the tingle in my stomach like it was Christmas day. I went outside to see them as soon as I could. Although, they weren't really thrilled to see me, since they are wild. I sat outside the shed where they had decided to hide and talked to them. They seemed to kind of enjoy me speaking to them, but they showed no signs of wanting to come out and see me.

Later in the day Jason comes in and reports that one of the goats has escaped.
Me: "What? How?"
Jason: "I don't know"
Jason spent three hours driving through the nearby creek bed and the surrounding pastures. No sign of her. We removed a fraction of a 2 by 4 hanging from a post that we assumed the goat jumped onto, then onto the roof of their living quarters, and then to freedom. We figured that this would eliminate the possibility of the other goat escaping.

We went to town and bought sweet feed, hoping to attract our wayward goat back to its new home. I was hopeful. When we returned home, the second goat was gone too.
Me: "Are you sure she is gone, Jason?"
Jason: "Yes, I am sure."

Less than twenty-four hours since I had gotten the goats and they were gone. Their pen consisted of five-foot "cow panels" about the best fencing that money can buy. They still escaped. The pen where they were being held at the place from which we purchased them was not nearly as well constructed, or as tall as the confines we had made for them. So, we were falsely confident that they couldn't leave.

It turns out that the goats had been allowed to roam free on 160 acres. They only came up to their former owner's home to eat at night. They were never handled, except to be moved. They were only penned to be sold...to morons like us. From what I have read....... a bit too late, you can't keep a goat unless it wants to be kept. The tame goats are bottle-fed from the beginning and identify their owners as family. These goats were wild as hell. They will not likely come back. I have hope that they will assimilate into a nearby cattle heard, so that they will survive. It's a terrible thought, but a lone goat is no match for a coyote pack.

I feel responsible for them. I feel terrible that they got out, and that I failed at keeping them safe. Fortunately they escaped before I had time to become emotionally bonded to them. We will only by newborn goats from now on. I am still getting some baby goats within the next couple weeks. I have a twinge of hope that my wild goats will be returned, as every farmer within twenty miles has been made aware of their existence.

Antonio, my beloved rooster, has been missing since Saturday. The ornery little turd went down to the creek bed (beyond our property) and has not been seen or heard since. He is too dumb to run from anything. He used to challenge my 100 pound dog, so I fear the worst for him. All of my other poultry is accounted for, but not him. It's not as much fun collecting eggs without having to fight off his attacks with a stick. I miss him.

The only reason that I agreed to move to the middle of nowhere, without a Target, or Kohl's within a reasonable drive was because I was promised lots of animals. I wouldn't care if my chickens stopped laying eggs tomorrow. They are my pets. I wouldn't care if we never yielded as much as a drop of goat's milk. I would just like to have a goat that I could call my friend. We have lived on our property for almost a year, and we are still learning a lot about having a hobby farm. Even though I am down about the loss of my goats and my rooster, the farm lives on. My bevy of hens are still in the yard eating bugs. My elusive barn cat is still lurking....somewhere. My dogs are still hunting mice in the woodpile. The horses are still soliciting me for treats. I hope that one day Jason and I will sit around and laugh about our first year on our little acreage and all the things that went wrong.

Got Goat??

2009-03-21T18:50:00.000-07:00

I DO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Meet Carmen (front), and Rosie. They are my two new babies.