Holy ick, I haven’t written in forever.
I’ve had plenty to write about. There’s no lack of excitement in my life unless you’re not a mom and not running a small farmstead and understand what it means to close down a bar, go to an after party, cliff dive, sky dive…anything with the word dive really…then my life may seem a little lackluster to you. But for me…it’s pretty crazy. For one…this happened:
And then this happened….
And then…..this happened…..
I don’t know about the rest of you but for a woman that had rushed to put her kids to bed, ran out of the house without shoes on and drove to her brothers house to catch the finale…I was left with a definite look of “WTF” on my face for a good hour or two. And a thought or ten about speaking to a therapist because I was furious with not knowing which character bit the big one. Lucky me, I know some people. 🙂
So…back to the relevance of reality – eggs and goats. We have them.
My mom made the comment several times that there would be an abrupt turn-around in egg production and the eggs we continually griped about not getting we would soon be buried in. She wasn’t kidding! Even with a much smaller flock of 13 (one rooster and 12 hens), we’re still bringing in 7-9 eggs a night and giving eggs away to family and friends.
And the goats. Well, I did mention something a while back about us thinking we wanted milking goats. One trip to a ramshackle auction house and we returned with four. A Nubian (Little Miss Bliz), two Alpines (Lucky Day and Dusty Bottoms) and what we now realize…is a pygmy goat and aptly named…’Lil Ned. Comment if you know what that’s from. I’m sure many of you do.
Lucky Day, unfortunately, is no longer with us. He was sick with something when we got him and even after putting him on penicillin and keeping him out of the early spring chill, his little body just couldn’t fight. We’re thinking it was pneumonia which is relatively common in kids.
The other three are well and healthy and a great addition to our little hobby farm, if not incredibly noisy. They’re calling right now for their night time bottle before bed. I make every attempt to avoid being seen by them when I get home from work so that I’m not being “yelled” at for the next half hour. Trailer walls are thin. There’s no blocking out that noise!
Our fridge is starting to look much the same way that my parents did when I was growing up and we were running 300 head of sheep. Penicillin on the shelf, vaccines in the door, syringes safely placed WAY out of the reach of little hands that are not trusted, no matter how many times we’ve explained to them why it’s important that they stay away from the needles.
So, here it is! The start of spring, the start of egg collecting, goat raising and gardening that seems to bring out the writer in me. Or at least I’m really hoping it will. I miss writing deeply. I miss that therapy, the release and the euphoria that comes from something as simple as a well-put-together-paragraph. Or even sentence for that matter. I love those moments where you write a sentence, look back at it and think, “Sheer brilliance!! How did I write that??”
However, if you don’t see me posting much it’s because this writer is blissfully busy and happy with her life, her career and more things than I can possibly write in this post. Still no long-term goals, just a hope for long-term happiness.