My dearest friend, Eleanor's husband Edward (who is 70) was carrying a nearly frozen calf to the calf barn when he slipped on ice and fell, hitting his head hard enough that it bounced. He refused to go to the doctor; yesterday, he started having coordination issues. Today, he couldn't tie his shoes. Eleanor insisted that he see the doctor. In short, he has blood on the brain and has been taken by ambulance to the teaching hospital two hours from here. The doctor told Ed as the EMTs loaded him, "You could die today."
We are waiting to hear the news. The family is with them while we sit here praying. Won't you? Thanks.
Update: Ed has surgery in the morning at 7. The doctor there repeated the other's words: "You could die today." He will stay in ICU until after the procedure. Thanks for your prayers!
Thursday, January 27, 2011
Wednesday, January 26, 2011
I Can't Put My Arms Down
Getting dressed to go to the barn is one of those tasks that I dread. I start out with what I have on --- usually sweat pants, turtle neck, and wool socks. On goes the insulated red coveralls -- well, mostly red. I confess. Even when I wash them, there are still stains on the knees where I get on them to do things in the barn or to reach an egg that is Just This Much Out of Reach.
Then, the "Go For A Hike" sweatshirt gets pulled over top -- complete with stains from muddy hooves that were trimmed and won't wash out and sleeves a little too long and rolled up. It is too big, but it is perfect over my coveralls.
Next, I struggle to reach down to pull on my 4" top barn boots. These I love because they are warm and Stay Tied... My other boots didn't and I was forever falling over the laces.
Add to this ensemble a handwoven cotton muffler, made by Evelyn, to keep my neck snug and dry. It has to be put on BEFORE the coat and AFTER the sweatshirt so that it won't flop out every time I bend over. I have been tangled up by the neck with goats and fences. I don't recommend this!
Next, a quilted jacket that I bought about 18 years ago is pulled on. It fit better then, but most of the buttons still close, so I am happy about that. It has a certain barn funk that no amount of washing will get out. In fact, the Mister suggests that I wash all my barn clothes "separate." I think the buck smell stays with them even in the wash...
On my head goes one of three kinds of hats, depending on the weather -- either a hand knit "Dairy Queen" hat (pattern: Elizabeth Zimmerman); a store boughten hat a neighbor gave me which is very frilly and not at all me, but the goats like it; or a Winnie-the-Pooh ski band. Sometimes, it is a combination of two of these. My head looks rather like a cotton swab if I wear the boughten hat and ski band, but no one cares. The goats are only after me for my grain and not my looks.
Spare gloves go into the pocket with my wonderful Case knife the Mister gave me for a birthday a few years ago (how many women ask for a pocket knife, btw?). I usually end up with terribly wet gloves for some reason during the winter, so I need at least two pair each feeding.
Heavy red fur lined leather gloves go on the hands. They are a little too big, I have small hands, but are perfect because I can wear knit gloves under them for extra warmth.
By this time, I have to sit down and rest. The heck of it is, I have on so many clothes that if I get on my knees in the barn, I have to crawl to the knee wall so I can pull myself up. Once I fell in the yard and had to roll down the hill to the duck house so I could pull myself up on the door. I so get the "I've fallen and can't get up" commercial. The worst thing is that I know the goats giggle at my attire. And heaven help me if I have to use the potty after getting dressed.
When will spring come??
Then, the "Go For A Hike" sweatshirt gets pulled over top -- complete with stains from muddy hooves that were trimmed and won't wash out and sleeves a little too long and rolled up. It is too big, but it is perfect over my coveralls.
Next, I struggle to reach down to pull on my 4" top barn boots. These I love because they are warm and Stay Tied... My other boots didn't and I was forever falling over the laces.
Add to this ensemble a handwoven cotton muffler, made by Evelyn, to keep my neck snug and dry. It has to be put on BEFORE the coat and AFTER the sweatshirt so that it won't flop out every time I bend over. I have been tangled up by the neck with goats and fences. I don't recommend this!
Next, a quilted jacket that I bought about 18 years ago is pulled on. It fit better then, but most of the buttons still close, so I am happy about that. It has a certain barn funk that no amount of washing will get out. In fact, the Mister suggests that I wash all my barn clothes "separate." I think the buck smell stays with them even in the wash...
On my head goes one of three kinds of hats, depending on the weather -- either a hand knit "Dairy Queen" hat (pattern: Elizabeth Zimmerman); a store boughten hat a neighbor gave me which is very frilly and not at all me, but the goats like it; or a Winnie-the-Pooh ski band. Sometimes, it is a combination of two of these. My head looks rather like a cotton swab if I wear the boughten hat and ski band, but no one cares. The goats are only after me for my grain and not my looks.
Spare gloves go into the pocket with my wonderful Case knife the Mister gave me for a birthday a few years ago (how many women ask for a pocket knife, btw?). I usually end up with terribly wet gloves for some reason during the winter, so I need at least two pair each feeding.
Heavy red fur lined leather gloves go on the hands. They are a little too big, I have small hands, but are perfect because I can wear knit gloves under them for extra warmth.
By this time, I have to sit down and rest. The heck of it is, I have on so many clothes that if I get on my knees in the barn, I have to crawl to the knee wall so I can pull myself up. Once I fell in the yard and had to roll down the hill to the duck house so I could pull myself up on the door. I so get the "I've fallen and can't get up" commercial. The worst thing is that I know the goats giggle at my attire. And heaven help me if I have to use the potty after getting dressed.
When will spring come??
Tuesday, January 25, 2011
I love a joke...
A man walked into work on Monday with a black eye. His boss asked what happened.
The man said, "I was sitting behind a big woman at church. When we stood up to sing hymns, I noticed that her dress was caught in her crack, so I pulled it out. She turned around and glared at me."
"Where did you get the shiner?" the boss asked.
"Well," the man said, "I figured she didn't want it out, so I pushed it back in."
Isn't laughter the best medicine?
The man said, "I was sitting behind a big woman at church. When we stood up to sing hymns, I noticed that her dress was caught in her crack, so I pulled it out. She turned around and glared at me."
"Where did you get the shiner?" the boss asked.
"Well," the man said, "I figured she didn't want it out, so I pushed it back in."
Isn't laughter the best medicine?
Monday, January 24, 2011
Tuckered Out
Hopefully all the sins have been found out in the barn and there will be no more kids this year.... unless Clarice has one in the oven and isn't showing it yet. I hope not.
Final tally:
Does: 5 (Lilac, Layla, Apple, Mollie, and Mara)
Buck: 3 (Charlie, Chuck, and Abe)
Pictures to come. I'm pooped...
Note to self: Talk to the does about responsible behavior whilst the Woman is gone.... just say "nooooooo..."
Final tally:
Does: 5 (Lilac, Layla, Apple, Mollie, and Mara)
Buck: 3 (Charlie, Chuck, and Abe)
Pictures to come. I'm pooped...
Note to self: Talk to the does about responsible behavior whilst the Woman is gone.... just say "nooooooo..."
Sunday, January 23, 2011
First Day Musings -- Seven-Year-Old Wisdom
The past three weeks have been a blur of weather, babies, back to work, delays, cancellations, water issues, and both parents sick (Daddy has Bell's palsy and pneumonia; Mother has bronchitis). I don't know if I am coming or going. I even forget the names of the most simple things like "glass" or "plate." Or "Matty." In short, I am dead dog tired.
We had arranged to have friends to dinner on Friday, but I was just too tired to do it so we shifted to Saturday. It was a simple dinner that could cook unsupervised while I was taking care of Mary and checking babies -- corn pudding, roast w/ potatoes, onions, celery, spelt biscuits and, for dessert, chocolate chip cookies. When our friends arrived, I was still in barn clothes and getting the biscuits in the oven. I rushed around to get the biscuits in; we went to see the babies; and then, came in for dinner.
While we were eating, our seven-year-old Princess, Miss Corrie, said, "Let's have a tea party with our cookies, Matty!" She was so excited and it was such a simple thing...
"Yes," I replied. "Let's do!"
I pulled out a collector Lennox Winnie-the-Pooh tea pot, four collector mugs, and a silver plate on which I placed a paper doily. The children put the cookies very artistically on the plate while I brewed some Candy Cane Lane tea and scooped up honey for our sweetening. We came to the living room, lit some candles, and giggled and gossiped as we nibbled cookies and sipped our tea.
It was perfect.
Later, as I cleaned up our dinner and tea party, I reflected on our evening. It dawned on me that special moments are those we create in the spaces while we are creating big moments. There was nothing difficult in our tea party... a few cookies, some tea, some pretty dishes... dishes, btw, that I have never used, but decided last night that I was tired of 'saving'.
Joy comes from learning to make the ordinary less ordinary. It comes from finding the beautiful in the moment and not waiting for complicated plans to come together. It is a tea party with two darling children, Winnie-the-Pooh, chocolate chip cookies, and Candy Cane Lane tea.
We had arranged to have friends to dinner on Friday, but I was just too tired to do it so we shifted to Saturday. It was a simple dinner that could cook unsupervised while I was taking care of Mary and checking babies -- corn pudding, roast w/ potatoes, onions, celery, spelt biscuits and, for dessert, chocolate chip cookies. When our friends arrived, I was still in barn clothes and getting the biscuits in the oven. I rushed around to get the biscuits in; we went to see the babies; and then, came in for dinner.
While we were eating, our seven-year-old Princess, Miss Corrie, said, "Let's have a tea party with our cookies, Matty!" She was so excited and it was such a simple thing...
"Yes," I replied. "Let's do!"
I pulled out a collector Lennox Winnie-the-Pooh tea pot, four collector mugs, and a silver plate on which I placed a paper doily. The children put the cookies very artistically on the plate while I brewed some Candy Cane Lane tea and scooped up honey for our sweetening. We came to the living room, lit some candles, and giggled and gossiped as we nibbled cookies and sipped our tea.
It was perfect.
Later, as I cleaned up our dinner and tea party, I reflected on our evening. It dawned on me that special moments are those we create in the spaces while we are creating big moments. There was nothing difficult in our tea party... a few cookies, some tea, some pretty dishes... dishes, btw, that I have never used, but decided last night that I was tired of 'saving'.
Joy comes from learning to make the ordinary less ordinary. It comes from finding the beautiful in the moment and not waiting for complicated plans to come together. It is a tea party with two darling children, Winnie-the-Pooh, chocolate chip cookies, and Candy Cane Lane tea.
Thursday, January 20, 2011
Suck it up
Conversation overheard in the barn last night...
Annabell, our resident drama queen: I am in LABOR; it HURTS. I am suffering like no one else has in the history of the world! This is terrible!
Mia, the resident midwife: Go lie down and breath. It will be faster that way.
Annabell, charging out the stall door and turning to the does in the loafing yard: Look at me! Look! I am dying here! It isn't my fault! Oh My Goodness! I am dying...
Me: Annabell, you are shaming yourself. Get back in the barn and have these babies.
Annabell: Isn't anyone listening? I am dying, I tell you! I can't stand this! No one told me it was going to be like this.
Mia: Lie down and breath, for crying out loud. I'm a pygmy and I don't carry on like you do. Breath!
Annabell: You don't understand. I hurt more than you do because it is ME!
Mia: Breath. Suck it up and shut up.
Annabell: OH MY GOSH! This can't be happening!
Mia said nothing. She was done.
So was I.
We have another doe and buck --- Apple and Abe. Pictures to come...
Annabell, our resident drama queen: I am in LABOR; it HURTS. I am suffering like no one else has in the history of the world! This is terrible!
Mia, the resident midwife: Go lie down and breath. It will be faster that way.
Annabell, charging out the stall door and turning to the does in the loafing yard: Look at me! Look! I am dying here! It isn't my fault! Oh My Goodness! I am dying...
Me: Annabell, you are shaming yourself. Get back in the barn and have these babies.
Annabell: Isn't anyone listening? I am dying, I tell you! I can't stand this! No one told me it was going to be like this.
Mia: Lie down and breath, for crying out loud. I'm a pygmy and I don't carry on like you do. Breath!
Annabell: You don't understand. I hurt more than you do because it is ME!
Mia: Breath. Suck it up and shut up.
Annabell: OH MY GOSH! This can't be happening!
Mia said nothing. She was done.
So was I.
We have another doe and buck --- Apple and Abe. Pictures to come...
Monday, January 17, 2011
Career Choice
Mary had to have a C-section tonight; she has a darling little doe that she refuses to nurse. We are keeping her in and watching both of 'em. I welcome any advice to get her to settle down with her wee one. I am worried sick.
In the meantime....
Teaching English was the RIGHT choice for me. I didn't throw up, pass out, or cry. However, as we stood there with our feet soaked in blood (all but the vet had left for the day so I helped the vet and the Mister handed her sutures), I realized that teaching English is a good thing. For the next few years, when I think of quitting, I am going to remember tonight. That should do it.
Baby count:
Does: 2
Bucks: Nada! Hooray!
UPDATE: Went out to the barn and collected all the drainage from Mary and wiped it on the baby (bleh) and then squirted Mary's milk all over the baby. She started cleaning, nudging, and whispering to her. I think she is going to be okay now. Sigh. What a relief! Thanks, Tonia! Did I mention it is SNOWING again?
In the meantime....
Teaching English was the RIGHT choice for me. I didn't throw up, pass out, or cry. However, as we stood there with our feet soaked in blood (all but the vet had left for the day so I helped the vet and the Mister handed her sutures), I realized that teaching English is a good thing. For the next few years, when I think of quitting, I am going to remember tonight. That should do it.
Baby count:
Does: 2
Bucks: Nada! Hooray!
UPDATE: Went out to the barn and collected all the drainage from Mary and wiped it on the baby (bleh) and then squirted Mary's milk all over the baby. She started cleaning, nudging, and whispering to her. I think she is going to be okay now. Sigh. What a relief! Thanks, Tonia! Did I mention it is SNOWING again?
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