It's a.......

Yep. It's another boy for me. I'm so excited for Barrett to have a little brother to beat up. Everyone, say a prayer for me. Two boys that close = trouble.
Oh, and the baby is looking great and healthy too.

Baby Pool Stud

It got hot early this year, so Barrett and I have been spending a lot of time in the pool. Thanks to a certain little cousin for the hand-me-down swim trunks. Oh...and that guy in the pic isn't my husband...he's the pool boy.

Farm Living

We are moved into the new house. Well, the house isn't new, but it's new to us. We moved into an old farmhouse, and we're not certain how old it is. We do know that the octogenarian farmer down the road says it has been there as a long as he can remember. We also know that boulders hold up two corners of the house. So.....it's really old. It's a work in progress. I describe it as a little "Green Acres", which irritates my husband, but it is the truth. You know how Lisa Douglas would open her closet and be outside? It's not that bad, but we do have some "rustic" exposed wood walls.



I am the proud owner of 14 chickens (we had 15, but one died), and 12 guineas. We got them all as babies. The chickens are getting big, and it seems that we may have a disproportionate number of roosters. This is bad because we wanted a bunch of laying hens, and also because roosters don't always get along. I'm going to start an amateur cock-fighting league for some extra cash.



I'm hoping that the guineas put a dent in the trillions of ticks on our property. They are cute little docile things right now. They let me pick them up and cuddle them. They'll look like martian chickens when they get big. (see pic)



Dan has Spent the past three weeks engaged in World War III with a groundhog, which has resulted in numerous massive hole in the yard. When he's not digging, he's laying in the grass, panting, waiting for the groundhog to emerge. He has a lot less time for other mischief since he has found this new obsession. He comes in at night filthy and tired, not wanting to get in the trash or steal food from the baby's high chair. I'm willing to accept the potentially ankle-breaking craters in exchange for the complacent canine.

I'm Not Dead!!

I'll be back online soon. I miss everyone from bbc soo much. I'll be back to blogging about nothing soon.

Falling Off the Grid

Today I called the satellite company to tell them that we are moving, and we need our service transferred. "Mam, What's your new address?" I tried to explain to her that our house is in a really rural area and that our address is not "normal". Our address actually reads something like on E. 1290 rd. between 1370 rd. and 1380 rd.....not anything like 4253 Maple st..

"Mam, I need your address in order to transfer your service!" The woman was irritable.

"I know that this is frustrating for you, because it is frustrating for me. That is our address! I know that someone from your company has been there before because there is a satellite on the house." It took some time for her to believe that the crazy series of streets and numbers I was giving her was a location.

This is the beginning of falling off of the grid. We have to put in an application to even receive mail. Yes...we are isolated! There are nice things about being isolated, though. On Sunday we did some work on the house, and I sat and nursed Barrett on the porch without even worrying that a car might pass. I watched as four red-tailed hawks spent the evening diving into the neighboring fields. I could see so far that I saw a storm brew on the horizon and then dance around us. It is very lovely there, and so quiet. The coyotes howl at night, which is eerie and beautiful at once. I'm actually looking forward to our isolation. Dan can howl his head off twenty four hours a day for weeks straight and it won't bother a soul, except me.

*That picture is the google-earth image of our house. You can see that the barn (the structure to the rear) is actually much larger than our house. There are also some little chicken houses and such, which I am going to fill with laying hens!

Oh..and I have to mention that the biggest bobcat ever (I could prove that this is true if only I could convince him to step on a scale, which is unlikely) regularly pisses in our garage. We saw him leaving the premises as we pulled up on Sunday morning. Jason is convinced that the bobcat is part mountain lion, which I seriously doubt. That mofo is huge, though.

Our bobcat would eat this bobcat for a snack.

Nausea, Oh Nausea....Rock On!!

Beck released a song called "Nausea"while I was in the early stages of my first pregnancy. It was my theme song for a few weeks. Lately that same song has been spinning through my head. I hate the first trimester. I hate it. I don't feel like doing anything. Every small task is suddenly some huge feat. Every night I try to convince my husband to bring dinner home, so I don't have to cook. All I feel like eating is buttered noodles or French toast, which I'm certain my husband doesn't want to eat. I'm tempted to cook a meal of just what I feel like eating, so that he'll give in to my pleas to bring home a pizza. Perhaps a meal consisting of cheese-toast and raw carrots will convince him that driving fifteen miles out of his way to pick up dinner is worth the effort. I typically love to cook, but I am currently grossed out by everything in my kitchen. When I get hungry, I sit and think of different foods until the thought of something doesn't make me feel like vomiting. Spaghetti? blcch. Nachos? eww. Yogurt? no way. Rice? maybe. Eventually I come up with something resembling a meal. Usually the meal is pretty abstract, so I have to make "normal" food for my husband. This means that I have to make two meals and spend even more time in the place I hate most right now, which is the kitchen.

This is what I have to say to my husband:
Jason,
I'm carrying your little leech of a baby, and her invasion of my body is making me ill. I'm tired all of the time, I have no motivation, and I think most everything under the sun is disgusting. Please help me out!! Get me a dang grilled cheese from Sonic and you can get whatever your heart desires (probably some massive burger with an excessive amount of accouterments such as chili and/or bacon). I promise I'll be normal again in a couple weeks, and the sight of raw macaroni won't send me into a case of the woozies, and I will cook normal (if not delicious) food again.
Love,
Your adoring wife who is carrying your second gorgeous baby

Barrett is 9 Months Old

My little monkey is nine months old today. We didn't do much to celebrate. He crawled around looking for choking hazards. We went for a brief walk, since it was pretty nice out today. He fought valiantly against his naps, and then finally gave in. It was an average day.

I did wonder what I guess every parent wonders as their children reach milestones. How did you get so big so fast?
A year ago he was just a flutter in my tummy. Now he's pulling himself up on the couch and stealing the remote control. Where does time go?

Since I am the last human on earth that doesn't have a digital camera, I'll have to wait to get some pictures developed on disk to show the wild monkey.