Our farmhouse sits on about five acres of ‘yard’. These five acres are much more trouble than the other 25+ acres of ‘pasture’. Why, you ask? Because, they’re encircled by a wooden rail fence. Although the fence is fairly aesthetically pleasing, it has a serious downside. You can easily spot the downside when you notice the sheep’s reaction to it. They don’t wander about inside it. They don’t poke their heads through its gaps and graze on the other side. No! They put their hooves over their mouths in a failed attempt to smother laughter as they run straight through
Oh, my! So, there are some new farmy friends around here. First, meet Nemo. Nemo was adopted by our family twice. First, I brought him home to be a barn cat. I planned on him living outside and helping keep the mouse-y, mole-y, vole-y, icky populations under control. However, Grace claimed him the moment she laid eyes on him. She reminded me that I’d promised she could have a kitten to replace our dear old Killian who passed away this spring. I pointed out the obvious litter box and cat shedding issues, but a promise is a promise. (Liam and
I love being a nurse. Caring for sick children gives my life purpose. My work makes a difference for families on their darkest days. It gives immense satisfaction, opportunities for growth, and an outlet for compassion. —WUUUB-SKRIIIIIIIITCH (That’s the part of the post where that ‘needle on a vinyl record sound’ scrapes across my brain!) Although the above is heartfelt and true, it’s only half the story! Let’s have a Paul Harvey moment, and I’ll tell you the “Rest of the Story”! I have a t-shirt that reads, “Nurses. We can’t fix stupid, but we can sedate it!” Seriously, nursing
If you have livestock, you’ll also have dead stock.–Anonymous One of the reasons I started this blog was to share our weird crazy wonderful life. However, I think it’s only fair if I share the heartbreaking along with the hilarious. I think we get so caught up in the perfect families on Facebook, Instagram, and blogs that we feel their lives have something ours is missing. So, in an effort at providing you with a more realistic view of our life, today were going to touch on a bit of the heartbreaking. I’ve told you before about our small flock
Bear with me, I’m going to be nerdy for just a second. I promise it’s relevant later. Ralph Waldo Emerson has been quoted as saying metaphysics is “a blind man, in a dark room, chasing a black cat which isn’t there.” For today’s post, allow me to go with the spirit of the quote, rather than the letter. I say that’s the definition of futility. After all, I think the futility of metaphysics was Emerson’s point. …I became the definition of futility! We have rabbits. More specifically, we have a breeding trio of rabbits. I like rabbits. They are quiet,
…we bought a jackass in disguise! Each time I feed Finnbar, I sing a parody of Elvis Presley’s “Devil in Disguise”. It goes something like this:
…someone asked a stupid question. I know some amazing teachers. People who want to mold, guide and prepare future generations. I have tremendous respect for those folks, and there are several to whom I owe a great debt. However, we aren’t going to talk about them today. Today, we’re going to talk about Mrs. Wilcox. Mrs. Wilcox taught me important lessons. In the third grade, she taught that, not all teachers love their job, not all women love children, and that in 1979 not everyone had conquered their double-knit polyester addictions. Mrs. Wilcox looked like Dorothy Hamill’s over-worked discontent great-aunt
…I didn’t sound like a lunatic! No, really. (Those of you who have known me since before kids: STOP LAUGHING!) Anyone who is a parent knows the job comes with some surprises. Once you’re a parent, you WILL find yourself saying things that no normal person ever expects to utter. Let’s begin with the sane, but annoying. I’ve cringed to hear things cross my lips that set my teeth on edge as a child. My mother’s voice intoning “Be aware of your surroundings” echoes irritatingly through my childhood memories. Yet, I can’t count the times I’ve said the same words
…The Sheep Kicked the Bucket! We raise a small flock of St. Croix sheep. They’re hair sheep, which means they don’t grow wool and aren’t used for fiber. Some farmers use them for milk, but mostly they’re bred to fill the freezer. There are a lot of advantages to St. Croix as a breed. They’re docile, heat tolerant, and very parasite resistant. This resistance is great, because parasites are a huge concern with sheep. However, they…are…sheep. Which means they have the herd mentality, poor critical thinking, and short-bus IQ’s that come with intrinsic sheepiness. Today’s story begins with a question.
Someone forgot to tell Life there was a plan! You know those days that just don’t work out? Yep, I’ve had a couple of those this week. Nothing terrible or tragic, just a steady stream of irritating and inconvenient. There were some positives too! I’m not really planning to moan or whine; I’m just pointing out that I have days where the plan does NOT cover the contingencies!