A Sinking Feeling

You never know what you'll get out of a field trip, and what memories you will retain. I'll remember the doors closing on the elevator and the laughter as I warned our packed group of twenty-three, "Don't anyone fart." (That was for the benefit of the boys.) I realized that I missed scuba diving, a wistful feeling, something I've not done in years. The name "Major Archibald Butt", whose crew must have had to call him "Major Butt". I wondered if his son was "Harry".

Still, it is somber experience to see the artifacts of the Titanic and realize, that although it was just a plate or toothbrush, some person that lived and died on that boat had used it. Some placards talked about how children were separated from parents, put in another boat. How terrifying. And of course, the heart wrenching separation of husband and wife.

Speaking of separation, I found this in the barn. No body was found.

The starlings are back. One seems to have misplaced his leg. Each night, they gather in the barn or get up into the heat lamp of the chicken coop. Each morning, they fly out the barn door, or run stupidly into the rafters of the barn.

A glacier has formed on our metal barn roof and has begun to slowly move. Icicles hanging down have turned inward on the barn as a result of the weight of the snow. The snow threatens the barn with its sharp points.

Snowy afternoon

Snow Cold

Children nowadays don't get the opportunity to do as much meaningful work as their forefathers did: chopping wood, gathering eggs, naturally feeling an integral part of the success and survival of the family. It's good for a boy to carry wood.

I've taught a friend of mine a little too well that duct tape can be used in almost any situation. Knowing that we rarely get enough snow to warrant buying snow pants or snow boots, she didn't, thereby ensuring that we'd get loads of it. It's her fault that my property is now two feet under. Her boy, pictured above, loves, as boys do, to play in the snow. It is very cold and when the pants get wet, it is colder still. What to do? Buy snow pants? Of course, if she did, the snow would immediately disappear. Duct tape! She took a pair of old sweat pants and covered them with duct tape. Instant redneck, hillbilly snow pants! They worked great. I'm a bad influence.

Notes to self:

If the forecast is for lots of snow, buy hay and chicken feed BEFORE it snows.

Happy Birthday to dh. You'll never catch up to me, though! Love you!

Louise the Lettuce Thief

Yesterday, I heard a collective gasp from behind me. "SHE HAS THE NEW FACEBOOK!" my daughters protested. "No fair!"

Truthfully, I couldn't tell the difference until they pointed out that my many unanswered notices were now at the top or something. I don't pay attention anymore. Facebook changes its "look" more than apparently some women change their bras. (If you are that woman, I don't know you.) I usually only check it once a day, so I'm not sure how I rated this special treatment. Some people are just blessed that way.

Notes:
I've figured out how to fix my problem with scheduled posts !!! Yes! Now I more consistently blog.

Somehow, Aunt Mary (bantam hen) got locked out of the barn today, perhaps as early as noon. If so, the eggs may have gotten too cold. They're not due until Ash Wednesday. If they don't hatch we'll have to try again. Dh says Aunt Rita NEVER would have left the nest to eat. Fail! Lauren feels badly, but dh says no, it was Aunt Mary's fault.

As you saw in the video, Louise really likes lettuce. She steals it from the scraps for the chickens. I guess she needs more greens in her diet.

Expecting 3 -4 inches of snow tonight. Stupid groundhog.

In Which I Make a Total Fool of Myself

My hands shook a bit as I took the syringe and jabbed it into the breast of the chicken. I tried to depress the plunger, but couldn't get it to budge.

"Mom, I don't think you even got it through the skin," Lauren observed. Sure enough, it was just through the feathers and pushing on the skin. Chicken skin is tough.

I pinched the chest skin and carefully inserted the needle. The syringe held enough of a drug to sedate a 1200 pound horse, left from Bay's fatal colic. I never got to use it on him. Surely, if it would sedate a horse, it would euthanize a chicken. I needed to dispose of the drug safely, and I needed to put this chicken out of her misery. Using the drug, I could kill two birds with one stone. (Sorry, it was an unavoidable pun.)

I was, in fact, a little nervous using it, having heard about a man who almost lost a finger after accidentally injecting himself. But still, the syringe would not work. I pulled it out. Dang. The needle was bent. Plan B. Remove the needle and push the liquid down her throat.

Removing the needle, I pried open her beak, and the liquid leaked out (I never could get the plunger to move). I'm not sure how much the chicken got, but a couple of cc's went on my hand. As I washed my hand, I looked over at the chicken. Absolutely no effect. I decided to go down to the house to wash up better. While walking, I began to wonder to myself if I could in fact absorb some of the sedative myself through skin. And I began to panic.

At the house, I began to feel a bit weird, like one does shortly before passing out. What had I done? My hands tingled. We should go to the emergency room, I decided, just in case. My mouth was dry, my throat felt tight. My heart pounded. As we drove, I finally had the foresight to call the equine vet. He laughed. Laughed! He'd had this stuff on him many times, and as long as I had promptly washed it, I would be fine.

I told dh to pull over to the Stuff Mart and get me a bottle of water. While he went in, I practiced my old scuba diving techniques of calming myself and controlling my heart and breathing. I had just freaked myself out. I drank the water, and after taking two years off dh's life, I was okay. We turned around and went home.

Lauren and dh later reminded me that I had two Excedrin in my system to fight a terrible sinus headache, and I'd already told both it had made me a bit dizzy and shaky. My slight cold had made my throat sore all week. It wasn't the horse drug. Still, it was a stupid thing to do. Headlines: Woman dies trying to kill a chicken.

In case you are wondering about the poor chicken in my account of "poor me", she had septic peritonitis, I think. She hadn't layed in years, and wasn't egg bound. She smelled like death. By yesterday, her eyes were closed, and she was not eating, hardly moving, but surprisingly her head was alert. Hard to euthanize something that still seems aware. But I think she was in pain.

So, today, at the advice of my cousin-in-law, I bought a can of starter fluid (after showing my ID - cough). It's made of ether. I sprayed the whole can in a plastic container with a lid and put in my sad chicken. Internet sources said she'd be asleep three minutes later, dead in thirty. FIFTEEN minutes later, the chicken sat looking around when I peeked. Will nothing kill the chicken??? I carried the container down to the house to shorten my distance to checking on her, perhaps stirring up the ether, which tends to sink and perhaps wasn't reaching her beak. She started dozing. And now, she is at the big coop in the sky. May she rest in peace.

Cauna lived at least six, maybe seven years and delighted us with double yolked eggs now and again that were the biggest eggs I've ever seen in my life from a chicken, and I thank her for that.

Notes:
My studies on how to humanely kill a chicken also revealed that I was indeed responsible for a chickie death. The chickie had lopped off its toe somehow, and thinking to clean it, I sprayed first aid spray on it which contains benzocaine, lethal to chickens. I didn't know. Well, that also might be a way to dispatch a chicken.

It is Super Bowl Sunday. I am going to play Scrabble with the girls and if you want to know my favorite team, you'll first have to tell me who is playing.

A Hidden World

8 a.m. this morning

"Mom, did you know that there are more dust mites in a house than people on the whole planet?" William mused while we drove one day. (In my house, I believe it.) This comes from watching science shows on TV rather than Spongebob. "They eat nothing but skin cells. Do you think they get tired of eating only skin cells?"

Honestly, that is something I had never contemplated: the boring diet of the lowly dust mite.

"Perhaps," I ventured, "each person's skin has a different taste for variety. And maybe different places on the body have a different taste."

As soon as I said that, I knew I'd headed down the wrong cart path.
"Yeah, like smelly armpit skin! How about skin from corns on feet? Or, how about butt skin?" Okay, time to redirect the conversation as we discussed the color of mites, how many legs, why they have so many legs, if you could see them with the naked eye, how long they live.........

Notes:
Lauren's audition at a college was canceled yesterday. Snow. See photo.
Anna was hoping to go to art class today. See photo.

I finally made sour sourdough. The secret seems to be not to rush. It takes more than one day to let the starter work.

Note to self: when making Tortilla Soup, diced jalapenos are not the same thing as diced green chilis. HOT!

Through the Looking Glass

From the fish's perspective.

Lauren has been multi-tasking lately, preparing for college auditions, school work, and a multitude of other activities. I knew it had taken a toll when she asked me if I knew where the "pole huncher" was. (Hole puncher, in case you are also on overload.) Laughing at dinner, Anna said, "That just sounds wrong!" William picked up on our mirth and began talking, "It's like you hunch your pole. Get it?" He did not, and thought our mirth was a direct result of what he was saying, rather than the fact he had no idea how what he was saying sounded. He kept at it, moving the words around to see the comedic effect, all the while not understanding why we were laughing. Finally, we got control and told him to STOP!

This reminds me of hearing that recently, the girls watched the movie Aladdin with William. After, they told me how much they enjoyed seeing it now, realizing how much had gone over their heads when they had watched it as children.

Notes:
Lauren and I are supposed to go to a music school audition tomorrow. They are expecting, however, 8-12 inches of snow. I'm not quite used to driving under such conditions.

Here, it is raining. The sound of it on the tin roof of the barn is very comforting. The horses stay in, munch their hay and stay out of the cold. The chickens keep them company.

Ah, trip cancelled. I will read to William and enjoy the rain.

Change the World with Facebook

Thousands of teens are spending brain cells this week searching the bandwidths for photos of famous people who they resemble. I first heard it from my teens who said they were, I thought, looking for a doppelwanger. They fell down laughing. Not a doppelwanger, they said. A doppelganger. How was I to know? Do I speak German? Anna again had to fall to the ground when I mistakenly referred to one photo of "Keith Ledger". What? Oh, yeah, Heath. Do I spend my days memorizing celebrity names? No. Anyway, I feel like Snape, and some mornings, look like him, too. Not exactly a flattering profile photo.

Recently, the Facebook craze was posting your bra color. If only we could get all this thought and brain power directed to world peace or writing music or doing HOMEWORK! Okay, I've just lost all my young adult readers, so I'll let you go laugh at the old lady.

BTW, doppelwanger is a real word having something to do with wallets or something really dirty, which is what my daughters said it sounded like.

"Ain't No Thing But a Chicken Wing"

"The capstone on my grave will say I was downed by a slimy green turd," complained dh at dinner tonight. His complaint was the "presents" left by our free-ranged chickens who roost in the barn. The world is their toilet, and they often leave droppings on the concrete. All of us who do barn chores know the heart dropping feeling of our feet slipping out from under us, only to catch ourselves but wrenching our backs in the process. I guess you had to be there, but we all bonded with our mutual bad luck of nearly cracking our skulls, nearly killed by a chicken.

Perhaps I could solve this problem, I mused. Lester Rooster has turned mean. I mean, really mean. He hadn't been, up until the day he ran up Lauren's back as she bent to fill the food dish. Surprised her a bit. After that day, he began attacking everyone, meaning me and Lauren. Except for a little concern for my eyes, I'm not afraid of him. In fact, I'm pretty good at catching him by his legs as he leaps up. Hanging him by his legs, his hen came to attack me in his defense. SO, Lester has to go. I'm sure someone wants Chicken-n-Dumplin's for Sunday dinner (don't tell William).

If Lester goes, Simon Peter (Rooster) can have the coop with all the hens but the bantams, who can have the smaller chicken tractor. Voila! No attacks by the rooster, and no cracked skulls on the concrete.

I must also find a home for Judas, the silkie rooster who is supposed to be a silkie hen. Judas is too small to let out with the other chickens, and is lonely. How do we know? Lauren reports he thinks her black glove is a bantam hen, if you know what I mean. Time to find him a home. Or maybe he can have the black bantams I have as his girls, but no babies! I don't need more chickens!

Aunt Rita's sister, who I guess should be Aunt Mary (since my Aunt Rita's sister was Mary and this hen is my hen Aunt Rita's sister), is sitting on 9 full sized eggs for a friend of mine. One week down, two to go.

And Cauna hangs in there, a very old chicken with a swollen abdomen. My Internet search indicated that she could die any day, but found a reference to a hen who lived with this condition for 3 years! Please, no. Not much to do though. I guess in the wild, the 'possums would have taken care of her.

Epitaph for a chicken farmer:

Here he lies,
Now he's dead,
Slipped on a chicken turd
And cracked his head.

I guess I better do something about the chickens.

Wilson lives in a jar on my kitchen counter top. I have to remember to feed him (her?) every two weeks or so, but lately it has been daily as I try to discover the secret of the sour in sourdough. Wilson is my sourdough starter, named for the volleyball "friend" in the movie "Castaway" with Tom Hanks. (My girls named it.)

I'm up five extra pounds trying to capture the true sour taste. Although the starter works and produces marvelous loaves of bread, only one so far was actually sour enough for me and I'm not sure what I did that time.

My sister accused me of sending her anthrax through the mail, because when I ordered Wilson, who is free of charge for a self-addressed stamped envelope, I put an envelope in for her as well. I thought it would at least come with some explanation. Rather, it came with a baggie of white powder and a sticker with the website, prompting her phone call. She'd recognized my handwriting, so if I do indeed decide to send a less benign mailing, I'll have to cut the letters out of a magazine and paste them on the envelope.

Wilson has an impressive genealogy, tracing his roots back to the Oregon Trail. You can order free Wilson online to make your own starter. Yet, there doesn't seem to be much difference between him and the sourdough starter that I made myself last year from wild yeast in the air. I'll keep trying, but in the meantime, that sour smell in my house? It isn't from old dishrags. It's just Wilson.

Notes
That old hen is still alive. Amazing. She's looking pitiful though.
Lester the Rooster has turned mean. Anyone want him to eat?

New Math

Dh looked over William's math page from yesterday. It was about grouping single digits that combine to make 10 for quick addition. "Very interesting," he said. "I use this way of adding up my golf score." Good, I am at least teaching the boy something he can actually use later in life.

William bought with his allowance a kit to make a Star Wars ship. It snaps together and says that it is good for kids 8+. Both of William's engineer parents have looked at it and have shaken our heads. It's going to require a graduate degree.

We are expecting snow. On Tuesday, I had heard that by Thursday night, we would have NINE inches. A run was made on bread and milk at the grocery. By yesterday, we heard that it would be 1 - 3 inches starting this morning. This morning, 1 - 3 inches are expected to arrive after sundown. What delayed the weather? Did it find a better place to be? Get blown off course? No matter, I'm happy it got lost, although William is already lining up his sled. Myself, I'll be driving pretty much all day tomorrow. I'm hoping that the weather gets lost again.

Notes
Expecting the farrier this morning. The horses hooves do not grow much during the winter, so hopefully, this visit will hold them for awhile. It's expensive - $30 per horse, $20 per mini - but I do enjoy hearing how the horses hooves look, and the farrier generally has all the neighborhood news.

Notes of All Sorts

Cauna, our Americauna and oldest chicken, suddenly doesn't look too good. I think the very cold weather is difficult for the old ones. She has a heat lamp, but still.

Speaking of cold, I'd just about congratulated myself on surviving the worst of the cold, and it returned. It is 29 degrees F here today. Again, I put on layers upon layers. The horses are waiting at 5 p.m., asking to be let in already.

Even though it is cold, we've put nine eggs under our broody hen. They are to go to a friend who wants more chickens. The hen purred and gurgled, she was so pleased to be gifted with the eggs. How many will hatch?

February will be a busy season for us, as Lauren auditions at several colleges in preparation for going to college next fall for piano performance. My "brain worms" of classical piano music are alive and well.

Self-Portrait by Anna

Regional Gold Key Winner
Scholastic Art and Writing Competition
by Anna
Painted with a brayer roller

Fickle

(Left: Louise, Anna's cat)

We learn a lot about life through art and music. For example, Anna recently entered the regional Scholastic Art and Writing Contest. She was awarded a Gold Key and two Silver. Interestingly, the Gold was awarded to an edgy self-portrait painted with a small roller. The more realistic paintings, such as her painting of the horses, "Clouds Over July", got Silver. We've heard back that the judges of the paintings this year were looking for "edgy".

We've experienced this before. Her painting, "Temptation", a portrait of William got only third place in a small county art show with only four paintings in it. Yet, in the Kentucky State Fair, it was Supreme Grand Champion, first in the whole Commonwealth.

We have learned:

• Be true to yourself, paint (or live) the way you need to
• Be happy with your efforts if you've been true to yourself
  
• The opinions of others say more about them and what they seek than it does about you or your work
• Be humble, even if you win - it was that person's opinion that day
• If you didn't win today, you may win tomorrow
• The more you enter contests, the more likely it is that you will win one day. In other words, you can't win if you don't try

Why the cat photo? Well, judges are like cats. You just never know what they are thinking.
And if I've not said before, I am very proud of my daughters. They are passionate about who they want to be and how they want to live. A parent can't ask for more.

Notes:
I bought salad tongs. Just saying, in case you are over for dinner and I serve salad. The desecrated tongs are now on top of the bathroom cabinet for our next "event".

My spirits were lifting this weekend. My husband made a delicious dinner, I cleaned up my desk, the weather was mild, in the 50s. I allowed myself to be thinking winter was on the way out. It is snowing.

"One man's trash....."

William was in a very excited state this morning. "Look at what I found at the dump!" He pulled out a dull pocket knife with four implements.

Dump? I had sent him with his dad to the recycle center, not the dump. The idea is to dispose of trash, not pick up more trash to bring home. Well, it seems that someone had "recycled" a number of metal objects. A pipe wrench, a few tools, and oh, joy! Toenail and fingernail clippers! William had scooped those up, too. I recoiled. I'm going to start buying hydrogen peroxide by the case. I guess at the rate things like that are going down the toilet, it does help to have a few extra.

I am thinking he's about the Tom Sawyer or Dennis the Menace age with a pocketful of dead frogs, marbles, cool rocks and petrified insects. I have trained him to put those things in our "natural history museum", an old glass octagon shaped end table where we keep bird eggs, snake skins, dried lizards and such. I'm sure you have your own collection.

Notes:
Watched Star Trek last night, which explains how I came to have Vulcan children.

Live Long and Prosper

Marriage Insurance

My dh and I sometimes lament over our house purchase fifteen years ago. It's not that we don't enjoy where we live. We do. I shared with him that friends that visit always remark how much they like our house. But of course, they are only commenting on the surface view. We are aware of all the underlying problems. But, I told dh, I see this house as marriage insurance. In this economy, we could never sell it with all the things we'd need to fix, and we couldn't afford another residence should he decide to trade me in for two twenties (or is it twenty-fives, now?)

Ah, the problems, though. Our plumbing, we found out sometime after we moved in and signed all those forms with blood, is aged. Not only, it was plumbed with piping that is typically used in trailer parks. And, the septic system was limping along, as evidenced by a verdent green patch of grass at the bottom of the hill.

And there is the issue of the incredible foresight of the plumber who put the overflow for this system in the garage. For some unknown reason or perhaps because of our recent deep freeze for weeks, the pipes blew out a wad of toilet paper in the garage followed by a washing machine load of water. That seemed to fix the problem, and we've been eyeing the relief valve pipe with caution. What caused the back up then?

Today, while I was on the phone, my son came to me with one half of the toilet paper holder, the spring hanging out the end where the other half should be. Now, why he was touching it at all was a mystery, for as I've spelled out here before NO ONE, I say, NO ONE, ever takes that spring thing off and puts the toilet paper roll on the holder. Yet, here he'd removed it, and dropped the other half in the toilet bowl. The now full toilet bowl if you know what I mean.

I knew that I could not flush it, for it was needed and besides, I've not yet heard the end of the time I flushed the toenail clippers rather than retrieve them from a full toilet. (Do you see the pattern here?) So, I got our pair of salad tongs and William said, "I'll do it! I'll do it!" and he fished it out and threw it in the sink. Do you think if I hold them over an open flame it will fully sanitize the vision of him using them in the toilet? Will anyone ever eat salad at my house again?

I suppose we should start a sinking fund to replace the whole system. The black ooze on the other side of the lateral lines isn't Texas gold. Dh put black plastic over the area last summer. Looked like a Kentucky slip-n-slide. Gotta good barn though. Maybe we ought to move in there with the horses.

Notes:
A friend has emailed that she'd like to use our incubator bantam hen to hatch some eggs. She's bringing them over this weekend from her own hens that are aged two.

Mud. That sums up just about everything.

Why Johnny Can't Read

It's no secret that schooling is generally more geared to girls than boys. I think I've discovered the secret to fixing that. We need to design materials that are more interesting to boys. For example,
in the car recently, William asked a question that had never occurred to me, "Why do your fingers make a noise when you snap them?" Friction, slapping fingers, and other odd ideas lead to a broad discussion of the source of the noise of other bodily functions. You can imagine. Do I need to spell it out?

Early readers (books) are all sugar and spice. I think I could become a best selling children's book author by writing books which contain many references to bodily noises and emissions. Not convinced? The first word Lauren could read and write was "zoo". William's was "fart", which we find written in various and sundry places around the house. Case closed.

Humidity or Humility

At dinner one night this week, I mentioned that you can tell when the humidity is very low in the winter.
William and I had gone to McDonald's hat day for lunch because we had coupons for buy one Big
Mac, get one free. You know when the humidity is low when you try to open your mouth wide
enough to bite a Big Mac and your lips crack. Everyone started laughing a bit, but then the Mickey Mouse laughing started, you know the kind when you can't quit, and you start crying, and your little kids start asking, "Mom, what's wrong, are you okay?" What brought that on?

It started when dh threw in the comment, "like a cat's butt". I started laughing.

"When have you last kissed a cat's butt?" The image of that is what caused a
good deal of mirth around the table.

It seems I had forgotten the story (and he hadn't) about the mom who found that her son
had been using the Chapstick on the cat's butt because it was "chapped".

Notes:

I have a black bantam hen that has gone broody. I wonder if I can rent her out as an incubator?
I won't allow her to sit on eggs because I don't want any chicks. We could still have another
month or two of bad weather. I stole the one egg she had, and she now gives me dirty looks
when she sees me.

Thanks to all that commented on Anna's painting here and on Facebook. This painting
got a Silver regional Award this week from the Scholastic Art and Writing Contest.
The judges this year were looking more for "edgy", not realistic, but Anna had submitted
a self-portrait that was painted with a roller, rather than a brush. That one, that got a Gold.
With art, you never know what the judge is looking for. Myself, I want the painting back, but
it will be hanging in the show for a month along with the self-portrait and

another painting that got a silver as well.

The college application process continues with Lauren. Choosing music as a field of study
makes the whole process grueling, but we are starting to see some fruit. A letter yesterday
awarded her an academic scholarship to a school she's not yet even auditioned. Though it
isn't likely to be the school she will choose, it is good to see that things are moving in the
right direction.

PS There is something wrong with Blogger today. The text wrap isn't working, sorry
about the formatting.

Clouds Over July

Anna's most recently finished painting.
These are our neighbor's horses and field.

We are down to one computer again between me, Lauren, and William. Given that Lauren and William do schoolwork online, you know where that leaves me: staring at the screen of an old computer that works so slowly, I can see the liquid crystals arranging themselves on the screen. I'm going to send that one out to a friend to see if it can be revived.

It is finally warming here a little, a twenty degree difference! That still leaves us in the forties during the day. This melts the snow, which runs down our blacktopped driveway, and when the sun goes down, it freezes. Ask me how I know. Ask the egg that I was carrying. Oh, that's right, you can't since it is now broken.

Last night, Simon Peter the Rooster was all bloody on his head and neck. No apparent serious injuries were visible. I wondered if we'd had a varmit intruder, but everyone else appeared okay. Had he tried to get into Judas' cage (Silkie rooster)? No, Judas was okay. Before shutting up the big coop, I peeked inside and sure enough, Lester was a bit bloody, too, although he clearly won this one. Evidently, they were fighting through the wire cage. If it continues, Simon Peter won't crow three times.

Later today: I will post Anna's recently finished painting. We are going to try to get the image on note cards and sell them to raise money for Haiti.

Feline Hyperesthesia Syndrome

My cat is schizophrenic. Or, at least, he has the feline equivalent of it. A Google study yesterday turned up evidence that he most of the symptoms of feline hyperesthesia syndrome, for which there is no cure, only drug treatment or holistic care. He doesn't overgroom or self-mutilate, but has all the other symptoms.

We've long wondered about this cat, who would seek affection, rubbing against human or horse legs, only to turn and attack if the human (or horse) returned the affection, leaving the humans greatly confused. It progressed to unprovoked aggression, pissing him off by merely having the audacity to walk past him. Was he afraid?

Outside, he would be sitting by you and suddenly, madly dash off and run up a tree, run down, dash across the yard. I thought it was playfulness.

Petting was allowed on his head, but no one, NO ONE, was allowed to touch the back of this cat. He would hiss, and vocalize if you even looked like you were thinking about it. His recent back pain is symptomatic of this condition as well, it seems, as is the twitching skin near his tail. I found one expert online, a Dr. Dodson, that says anesthesia can be a trigger, which explains why this cat went from being very nice before neutering, to being a mean one after. The cat becomes hypersensitive also to being touched, particularly on the back.

The prognosis is not great, as it can continue to escalate to seizures. I guess I owe the neighbor a mental apology, for I'd blamed him and his son for poorly socializing the cat as a kitten. Yet, it seems that the cat has a progressive neurological disease. And, it's easier to forgive the cat for his behavior when I know he can't help it.

On Being Old

Photo left: Using Rigid Wrap, the girls make a "death mask" on me. It comes off in one piece minutes later. I'll explain it's relevance in a moment.

Over dinner, our family discussed one of the choices of essay questions that Anna could have chosen (but didn't) for a summer program she hopes to attend: What one person - modern or from another era - would you choose to travel with you on a cross-country road trip.

We discussed that these type of questions are often designed to test your creativity. The answers of most people are quite predictable and Jesus wins most every poll. He would be my first choice as well, as not only do I have many questions, I assume he'd make sure we'd have a safe trip and I'd become a better person. But then, nine out of ten people are going to pick him, and just for discussion sake, we moved on to who next? Again, typical answers are Einstein, Leonardo da Vinci, and so on.

Having just watched Groundhog Day again, I though Bill Murray would be fun, but maybe get us in trouble. George Clooney would be pleasing on the eye and seems to have a sense of humor. A few Googling phrases hit on John Travolta. He is a pilot, has his own jet, a sense of humor, and money. Could be fun. No, Anna said, "his time has passed". I could hear the air hissing out of my tires. He can't be much older than me. Okay, he's about six years older, not much. Is my time is passed? Well, I certainly do have days when I think time is running out.

At least my facial features are preserved now. (See photo.) Who would you like to cross the country with?

Notes:
My kids are calling me. Not as in "hey Mom where are you" but as in "I call Mom at 8 o'clock tonight". My time may have passed but I am still in great demand.

Williamisms: Mom, do you think I could be a dentist when I grow up?
Me: Certainly.
Wm: But I'm not going to talk like my [pediatric] dentist.
Me: What do you mean?
Wm: Well, she said (uses syrupy, sing-song voice) "Okay, now I'm going to give your tooth a little huggggg" and then (now changes to aggressive voice) she grabs my tooth and twists it HARD and yanked it out. I didn't know what she meant.

Hugs and Kisses

Roxie is the black mini and Chiron (aka "Chi")
is the one trying to give you a kiss on this chilly FREEZING!!! morning.

Which got me to thinking about "F" words. The other day, my husband asked if I had a book for him to read. I gave him the Time Traveler's Wife, which had already been read by my two teenage daughters before I got to it. I was telling him I was somewhat aghast at the amount of sex in the book, and the use of the "F" word not knowing William was listening in. BIG, big mistake. He spent the rest of the evening following me around asking what the F word is and why I won't tell him what it is.

I have Googled "It's colder than...." sayings but thought you'd like to add your own. Be clean - it's Sunday.

Cool! Today is 01/10/10.

The Birds

With days, weeks of subfreezing temperatures, the birds have become desperate. Yesterday, crows the size of my bantam hens were trying somehow to eat out of the bird feeder. I have been trying to video the large flock of European starlings that are getting in the chicken coop, but Daisy has learned that if she runs outside to the coop, it bursts suddenly with a flurry of feathers and this is enormously satisfying to a beagle-labrador mix. I had to sneak outside without her to get this video, which doesn't even show the large flock that flew off as they saw me walking up the driveway:

Note to Kim: I'm betting you won't be coming over to stick your head in the coop!
Tomorrow, a video of the miniature horses enjoying the snow.

Notes:
Lazarus has been found and by my count, has used three of his nine lives. He was laying in the garage, which has a cat door and is always open for him to use. I brought him inside, but he is moving very slowly and carefully. We can determine no injury, and he can walk, eat and use the litter box, but is obviously tender on his back. I had suspected frostbite, but his pads are all pink and don't seem tender. We will baby him a few days. I'm always slower to take this half-feral cat to the vet, as it traumatizes him so greatly and he goes completely, hissing feral. I will see how he is doing by Monday.

William has somehow gotten the idea that he'd like a parakeet or some other bird to have as a pet. He wants a bird to hold. I told him he had a whole yard full of them - chickens. Go hold a chicken, I tell him. Evidently, that's not the same thing but I'm holding my ground on this one. So William's now adopted the stupid red cardinal that yes, is still butting it's head against a bedroom window. We've taped the outline of a hawk there, but it is too stupid to take the hint.

Stay warm! Looking forward to a twenty degree change by Wednesday! A heat wave in the 40s!

Woe is My Piano

Lauren had a joke this past week: What do you call a musician without a significant other? (Answer: homeless.) This week, the joke is on her: What do you call a pianist without a piano?

Shortly before Christmas, I received a present: news that our grand piano was so heavy in the action, it threatened Lauren's very wrist ligaments. Two musicians tried it. Yes, it was serious. A piano emergency. I tried to understand how this happened so quickly. We'd had it tuned only two weeks before. The weather? Age? I could not understand. Yet, as a non-musician, I had no recourse and we called our tuner.

He brought a tray of copper weights and gasped as he set them on the keys. He could fix it, but the friction had built up so much, he was going to have to take it with him. Luckily, that meant just the keyboard, which comes out. A week he said and $300. I had expected the $300 but a week! Lauren plays daily for hours in preparation for her auditions in February at several colleges. The timing could not be worse, though we have been generously offered piano time at both a dear friend's house and at her piano instructor's house.

And then it snowed......and snowed. So I drove.....and drove. Pet sitting, piano. pet sitting. It is very pretty. The semi on the highway gave my heart a bit of a flutter but....

We got several inches of snow and a possibility for more tomorrow. William tested it: good for sledding, not good for snowmen. Of course, just plain sliding with friends is not enough. You have to get "air" as a friend put it. William is in the orange cap.

Notes:

I've not seen Lazarus (red tabby cat) since it started snowing. While he's a mean cuss, I don't wish him dead. More proof that he's cheating on us with another family.

My sister gave me a silkie chicken egg, which hatched out Judas (so named because he betrayed me by being a rooster). She says she doesn't take returns. Not only that, she offered me a silkie hen to keep him company. I started considering, could I manage? That might be nice. And then she told me that the hen was named "Precious". She was fine, her top and bottom beak just didn't quite line up. That's what I need - a chicken who needs orthodontia. Here I thought she was bein' nice.

Back to Work

After taking a break from my computer, somewhat induced by my computers (3 of them!) taking a break from me by breaking, it is difficult to know where to start. We have replaced one laptop, given the desktop a quick funeral, and repaired one laptop. To give you an idea of the age of the desktop, it came loaded with Windows Millennium.

Snow is falling outside gently onto ground already frozen by weeks of temperatures below freezing. Our high each day doesn't break 30 F. I have learned to dress in many layers and that in doing so, you can actually get hot while shoveling manure and carrying hay. With the reduced daylight, it seems that I no sooner put the horses out and do stalls, then it is time to go out and reverse the process. The horses stand at the gate wondering what is taking me so long.

I feel sorry for the chickens, who must go outside in their bare feet. I wonder if they make little booties for chickens? They stand, holding one foot up, then the other, fluffing all their feathers trying to warm themselves. Mostly, they get back in their coop to roost under their heat lamp. Small wild birds have discovered their free-choice food and heated water bowl, and the chickens do not seem to mind their company. The wild birds, however, have found they can go in the side of the coop where the heat lamp sits and warm themselves. This is puts them directly over the chickens, however, who emerge each day coated in bird crap. They don't seem to notice.

The winter snow advisory told us to expect 3 to 5 inches of snow. In Kentucky, that causes a great deal of excitement and could, if it happens, shut down the city. Our county schools are indeed already closed and there is less than an inch out there now. At Wal-Mart yesterday, there was more joviality than I observed before Christmas. People were laying in a store of frozen pizza, soda pop, milk and donuts and so on; you know, the necessities. In case they might have a week off to watch TV and eat. Kids were excited for a snow day, because they had been back to school all of two days.

The weather has not had a good effect on my own appearance. Putting on stocking caps and having the frigid wind at my face, I look in the mirror and see Snape looking back at me. I am looking forward to spring.

Mr. Fox

Saturday night, we thought we'd take in a movie as a family. Without consulting William, we decided to go see Mr. Fox. It had gotten good reviews and was suitable for all ages. It was animated, but nowadays, some animated films are amazing.

William complained. He did NOT want to see Mr. Fox. Why did we have to see that? He wanted to have a say blah blah yada yada..... Being adults and having the money and keys to the car, we used our advantage. EITHER - you come with us to Mr. Fox OR you don't see a movie. We were offering a free movie to him and we had heard he would surely like the movie.

About half-way through the movie, he asked what time it was. I was right there with him, and vowed to include him in all future movie choices.

Notes:
Had a very nice horse ride on Saturday with dh. He tried the new horse, which we are keeping for my sister. His name is Okie, and we are in the position for the first time of having a horse that knows more than we do. He's had a lot of training. But all of our riding has more or less been English - and he is a neck-reining Western horse. New things to learn!

Last night, I went to turn out the barn lights, and after shutting the doors, paused. It was a bit cloudy, obscuring the meteor shower. But I listened. So quiet. Then, I could hear the highway two miles from us. I wish I could hear what it might have sounded like to live here before cars and planes. I tried to imagine. I heard a dog bark. Maybe animal sounds? Would too much quiet bother me? I became aware that my ears were ringing a bit in the quiet, likely reverberating still from constant sound. I think our world has lost something in not occasionally having complete silence.

Privacy

I could not help but be amused with the arrival of dh's Golf Digest, covered with photos of President Obama and Tiger Woods: "10 Tips Obama Can Take from Tiger". What horrid timing! In tip #10, it says "Tiger never does anything that would make him look ridiculous". Oops! How about telling the media you just had a little fender bender at 2:30 in the morning because you couldn't sleep and your wife, instead of say, trying the door locks or breaking out a less expensive side window, breaks out the back window and hauls your sorry rear out the back. We were supposed to buy that? Amusing.

Does he have a right to privacy? Interesting question, because he thinks it doesn't affect us. Truth is, in today's world, he visits my home as much as some people I know in real life. My son looks up to him, and worried over his accident. He has hurt a "community", not just his family. He has let people down - but then perhaps it is our fault for thinking that the wealth, fame and power were incidental to his character.

Gingerbread Houses

Just in case you are preparing for Christmas by making gingerbread houses, you might want to read why I will not be making one. I still remember laughing with my mother-in-law over this. Fun times. You can also read why it is amazing I even associate with my sister.

Blocked for Content

Somehow, Windows downloaded a family safety filter to my computer. I don't know when or how it happened, but I wouldn't have deliberately added it. It decides if the web pages are family friendly or not. My own blog was blocked for content! It must have been those posts on big (chicken) breasts that elicited all those hits. Perhaps it was the post on sexy hooker shoes?

And fellow bloggers, I could tell you that a few of you are blocked as well, naughty as you are. I need to get the blasted thing removed, but that takes time to figure out where it is stored. For now, I disable it each time I turn on the computer.

Speaking of content, I find it most interesting that the entry on my blog most read was not written by me, but by Lauren. It is about how music has been changed by technology. Many people, especially in Great Britain, Germany and other European countries, go directly to this article. I wonder if they know each other, these readers, or if it is linked somewhere from someone else's blog. Just curious. And a little ego deflated. It does point to the type of writing that can get a lot of attention, other than big breasts that is.

As for technology, I've become an old fuddy-duddy already. Don't get me wrong, I love learning new things and though we have our moments, I love computers. But recently, I was asked if I'd like an iTouch for Christmas. Many friends extolled the virtues of this device. Yet, I cannot help but think it is one more thing to keep track of, one more thing to figure out and no time in which to do that. And my purse only has one pocket for my phone. I'd have to turn this purse in for a new one and I haven't even had it for five years yet.

I think I'll stick to just my ordinary cell phone for now. Go ahead, tell me how much you love your iPhone or iTouch. I know you want to.

Cold

I congratulated myself on my ability to handle the cold, the horse chores, the schedule. God must have thought me too proud and sent the wind. NOW it is cold. Now, the wind rips through your layers of clothing so that you can fully feel. So, y'all have to suffer now the cold because I was too proud of myself. I'm not anymore, so maybe He'll take it back.

My Town Monday: Kentucky Fried Good?

This appeared on the wires the same day that PETA sought permission to put a five and a half foot statue (see photo left) on a corner of downtown Louisville, protesting KFC's treatment of chickens:

In a state where horses are a mainstay of the cultural and economic lifeblood, the new top perch for chickens in the pecking order of Kentucky agriculture once seemed unlikely. Kentucky's slumping horse industry appears on pace to be overtaken by poultry farming as the king of the state's agricultural sector, economists said Thursday. In a state where horses are a mainstay of the cultural and economic lifeblood, the new top perch for chickens in the pecking order of Kentucky agriculture once seemed unlikely.

That both articles appeared in the same week should not be dismissed as coincidence. It is unlikely that Louisville will give the permit, given that KFC headquarters there and provides a number of local jobs.

The change in the state's leading industry to date, horses, was indicated in our state motto: "Unbridled Spirit". Given the decline of the industry and the rise of the chicken, I propose that the motto be changed to "Unruffled Feathers" or perhaps combine the two for "Horse Feathers".

What do you think? Should PETA be allowed to display its chicken statue?

For more posts about towns about the world, visit My Town Monday.

Notes:

Got our first snow today. William insisted on sledding, though he slid more on grass than the white stuff.

Decided that Jack the Cat looks so bad because he's so old, he can't clean his coat especially on his far backside. So I took a comb to him and removed a whole catful of hair.

Judas, who betrayed me by being a boy, crowed today for the first time.

Poopy Farts

My kids always say I'm crude, so I'll just lay it on the line and tell you about it. I have nothing to lose. My horse, Etta, has the poopy farts. It's so bad, that she's decorated the walls of her stall, and I'll not describe that in detail in case you are having this blog with your morning coffee and toast. I've not seen a horse have this problem before, but it is of concern because of her lack of extra fat and the coming winter. Yes, I know, we all wish we could eat all we want and not gain weight, but in a horse, this is a problem. And, would you be willing to have poopy farts to achieve this? I thought not.

So, I've begun an investigation as to the cause, starting, of course, with Google. And yes, there is information about it on the net, and you my friend, are about to learn a horse thing you might not otherwise know. You can entrance friends with your newfound knowledge at cocktail parties.

Etta arrived thin. I thought perhaps it was because she's had eight babies in her sixteen years and Arabians tend to be thin. I increased her senior horse feed, and for awhile this helped put on weight. But, more recently, she seems a bit down and off of her hay. Sad because Quid left? Possible, but combined with her digestive problem, it is something more.

I talked to the vet, who asked for a sample. How much, I asked? Several "apples". He said one over-zealous horse owner delivered to him a garbage bag full of manure for a fecal test. While the test for parasites is being run, I'm going to give her QuestPlus wormer. Though recently wormed with ivermectin, it doesn't get tapeworms. Rule that out. Evidently, she could be the type of horse that bimonthly worming doesn't effectively relive her of parasites.

It could be that she has an imbalance in her gut. After investigating the parasite problem, we'll move on to a probiotic or enzyme supplement, though reviews on their effectiveness is mixed. And if that doesn't work, it may be that she has irritable bowel syndrome. In a horse. yeah.

I'm thinking about taping paper to the walls and selling the results as "horse paintings". It could be a trend. Think I'm off-base? Our local zoo sells elephant poop at a premium for gardening. I'll add the artistic flair to it and make a mint!

Notes:
I've named the smallest of my bantam black hens "Aunt Rita", after my 90+ year old great-aunt. My family laughed at me, but one night in the barn, the hen turned to look at me. With her jet black "hair" and curled head feathers, hunched a bit, she reminded me of my Aunt Rita. I don't know why, I told you I'm losing it!

My brains feel like scrambled eggs these days. I'm waiting for the big mistake, the thing I forgot I was supposed to do. After the big push to get all the college applications completed for Lauren by December 1st, I now realize that it is Christmas season. We've not even set up the Advent wreath yet, and we're already up to two candles by tomorrow.

The kids have asked when we will set up the Christmas tree. I had a good excuse on this one - I buy from my good friend, Becky, whose tree farm wasn't open until today. But then, after getting the tree, I have to dare to open the closet under the steps in the basement where ornaments live in the off season. I think a good deal of monsters live there, too, chaos monsters, and that's why I fear opening the door.

It is fearsome cold here. Last night, we went to our town's "light up" celebration, ate at the Irish Pub while watching the train outside roll through the town only 30 feet from our table. It is always an interesting experience. We strolled the Main Street, all the while stamping our feet, drinking hot chocolate, and proclaiming it cold. Darting into antique shops and book stores might have helped, except that William had on enough clothes that he "looked like a tick about to pop". As a result, he was overheated in the stores and has no patience for antique shopping anyway.

By the time I returned home and gave the horses a brush, put on their blankets and threw them hay, my bumm was so cold that I had to go stand in the shower to warm up. I dream of silk underwear, and before you think I'm feisty for an old lady, I'm thinking of the kind that is rated like horse blankets for the cold.

I leave you with this short video on how to dress your child in the winter. The movie, A Christmas Story, is a real scream.

Teaching William

It may be that it will take me twenty years from now to fully educate William. He'll be leaving home about the time I'm ready to go to one (a nursing home, that is). Why would I say that? Well, every problem, every learning experience requires not only reading the question, but discussing all the possibilities.

One program we use is Explode the Code Online to learn basic reading skills. I recently sent them some feedback:

My feed back is about the questions in which he must answer yes or no. Perhaps it is my son, who not only tries to read the question, but also analyze the drawing that accompanies the question, and all the possibilities that might occur.

For example, is a grasshopper fine if it rests all day? The answer is yes, but my son wonders if the grasshopper is sick, for it might otherwise be eating and hopping, not resting.

Will a robin nest in a wastebasket? After explaining what a wastbasket is (we use "garbage can"), he said it wasn't possible to know if a robin had ever done that. They don't usually, but it doesn't mean they won't.

He doesn't know what a cream puff is. Is there no other more common word you could use, like perhaps ice cream?

Also, he'd like you to know that your horse drawing is not of a horse that has "trotted", but rather the horse is cantering. Comes from owning horses. You obviously don't.

I email them about once a week with such observations. I'm sure they appreciate me as their customer. I didn't tell them how William thinks a little less of them because they don't know that we send Valentimes, not Valentines, in February.

Dh says we are raising William to be royalty. Why? Well, he's taking piano lessons, art, fencing, and horseback riding. And of course, he has a princely name.

Notes:
One counselor form I must fill out for Lauren asks me to write why we chose to homeschool. So far, I've come up with "because I didn't know any better".

Cyber Schmyber

So today was Cyber Monday, the day that millions across America sat at their desks and got paid to do their Christmas shopping. See what I miss not having a job? Or at least a paying job. My job today was college and career counselor as we put the finishing touches on Lauren's college applications. Each one was a bit different, required a little something extra.

The most difficult, yet interesting, question for me, the homeschool teacher/counselor/mom is that I am to write the reason I decided to homeschool this child and my homeschooling philosophy in 1500 characters (characters, mind you, not words) or less. Well, I could write a book, and do - right here on the old blog. Think I could just send them a link?

Notes:
Jorgen and new horse, Okie, fought the two times they've been together. I decided a new strategy was needed. I put copious amounts of hay about the field, half a bale. I put Jorgen out first to pick his pile. He began eating. I then added in Okie, who of course HAD to eat from Jorgen's pile, just to see if he'd be allowed. Surprisingly, he was. Etta then went out and that caused a momentary stir as Jorgen wasn't too happy that she's so promiscuous as to hang around the new guy after such a short time. Anyway, it's all about the food, evidently, for they behaved all day until the food was gone and it was time to come in for grain.

A cold wind is blowing. Can I survive? I'm thinking this way and it isn't even January yet. It is going to be a long winter.

Happy Thanksgiving - But Not You Mr. 'Possum

I grabbed the two chickens by the tail and threw them into the yard, accompanied by the sound of what can only be called chickens screaming. Trying to remove them from the coop in the dark, I was fearful of getting bitten by the young opposum hiding in the corner. Rabies shots are not on my Christmas list.

It was later than normal chore time, having returned from a wonderful dinner at my sister's house two hours away. I would not have noticed it, except that Daisy (our Beagle-Dor, half Beagle, half Lab) was scratching at the edge of coop, something she doesn't normally do. So, I opened the hatch and looked in to see the wee wicked thing hissing at me. After removing the two chickens sitting there, apparently unaware of the danger, I took them to the barn and caged them. Though opposums won't normally kill a full-sized and healthy chicken, the two chickens in question were bantams.

So, tomorrow, I need to secure that coop. The bottom of the housing section hasn't any wire on it. With a dirt floor, somehow the 'possum squeezed under. Likely, he was after the bits of feed left over (chickens are messy eaters), but he may have been after his own Thanksgiving dinner.

Up and Over

Etta seemed a little unsure when I released her into the pasture with Okie. After touching noses, they both began walking about together, picking at what little grass remains. Two white horses, I shook my head. Lots of grooming. After assuring myself they were going to behave, I walked back to the barn and retrieved Jorgen.

Jorgen is a boss horse, a small pony with a big stallion attitude. Yet, he'd nosed Okie under the fence since Sunday with no apparent fireworks. I thought I'd see what would happen. He immediately made a jack#ss of himself, braying like a donkey and backing up to Okie. Both gave a good accounting of their ability to kick each other's rear. I sighed, caught Jorgen, and leaving Okie with Etta, put him on the other side of the electric wire.

All was well most of the day. The minis joined Etta and Okie, as Jorgen could only look on. In the basement doing bills, I didn't notice that it had grown dark, and with the darkness, Jorgen's insecurity grew. As I headed to the barn, I could hear, but not see, horses braying and running.

Sure enough, Jorgen was in chasing poor Okie. No harm was done, except both got a good workout and couldn't be fed for awhile. I checked the fence, and it was on and in good shape - meaning Jorgen had jumped it. Not the first time - he's a jumper, and at 12 h 3, he's jumped a four board fence - we saw him do it. So, I guess tomorrow, Jorgen will get the girl, so he'll not feel the need to jump the fence. Horse socialization is so interesting.

Changing of the Guard

I let the tears run down the inside of my throat. I wish I could explain to her why I was leaving her, why we were taking her away from her friends. After loading, Quid called to Etta, and my foolish human brain heard words in the whinny.

Quid: I'm over here! They've loaded me in the trailer. Etta! Etta!
Etta: Don't leave me! Don't leave! Come back!
Quid: It's moving, Etta! Help! Bye! Don't forget me!

If only I could explain, tell her that I was thinking only of her welfare, that we still cared!

Now, fool that I am, my eyes tear up just reading back my own imaginings. Truth is, Quid was very happy the moment she realized where she was going. She walked into the stall, and promptly checked out the food bin. Lauren stopped by yesterday, and Quid was in the biggest field, figuring out who was to be her new buddy.

Because of Lauren's heavy schedule and varied interests, Quid was languishing in the field, and for a horse like her, that isn't fair. Quid likes to run, and compete. I've seen her rear at a starting line, anxious to go. She is going to be ridden by one of the finest international games riders for the next year. I look forward to seeing her back to having a job and getting to run full out. Still, she's the finest horse we've ever owned in many ways. We still own her, but I had to do the right thing and let her go for awhile. It seems to be my season of letting go.

And where God closes one door....The stall door opened for Okie, my sister's horse who needed a place to stay for awhile. He's a big quarter horse who will be a fine ride for dh. He has a gentle disposition and is fitting in fine. He's been separated by an electric fence from Jorgen and Etta, until they all get to know each other. The minis, however, have abandoned protocol, crossed under the fence and spent the day with him. I'll try to post a photo tomorrow.

A blonde woman and her fiance just got married. They were really poor so she went to church and prayed. "God, I need to win the lottery. My husband and I really need the money. Please!" So she went home that evening and watched to see if she won the lottery. She didn't. So she went back to church to pray again. "Please, God, we really need the money. Please." She went back home and again, she did not win the lottery. She went back to church and she said, "God, why won't you let me win the lottery?" A big, booming voice said, "Lady, you need to buy a lottery ticket to win the lottery!"


Likely, if you have an email address, you've seen this joke. Well, I'm here to tell you that God doesn't always even expect you to buy the ticket. You know why I know? You got it - I won lottery money without buying a ticket! Now, it was only $32, but that's pretty good considering that I never buy lottery tickets, scratch-offs, bug-offs, or any type of state rip-offs. How did I win?

I was one fall day out weed-eating a patch that is down in a deep ditch near the road. We often just let it grow up there - no one can see it much, it is at the outlet of a culvert pipe that sometimes in a hard rain sends through a lot of water to our creek, and the vegetation holds the soil. But, about once a year, we'll beat it back. Often, while doing this chore, one has to pick up a good deal of trash that trashy people throw out their car windows. I noticed a lottery ticket of some kind in the weeds, but didn't bother to pick it up, weed-eating, weed-eating.....And then, my weed-eater hit the folded ticket, and money flew into the air! I killed the power, and looked to see. A twenty, two fives and two ones, $32! Unfortunately, the twenty was rent in two, and the remaining money was moldy and not in good shape.

However, the bank was willing to take the old money, and give me new. I won the lottery (or at least one of the games) without buying a ticket! My lucky day. Wish I could win a million like that. There was no way to know who had lost this money to return it, and before you say it was yours, I've already spent it. Also found in the weeds was a small binder which had last names in columns and notations of $3 or so in the far right column. Likely a "bookie" lost it. I left it by the road to see if it was claimed, and it did disappear one day and we noticed someone had, unasked, completely weed-eated (is that a word?) the area and removed all the brush. We don't know who. Was it a kind neighbor? Or was someone looking for their lottery ticket?

Notes:
Etta had her stitches removed yesterday and had her first few hours outside. She is still very afraid of the fence.

Okie arrives tomorrow - my sister's horse who will live with us for awhile.

Bought winter wheat yesterday. We need to seed around the small arena we built. Winter wheat will hold the soil until the grass can come in during warmer weather.

We were in Northern Ohio, I think I told you. Were very interested that they had all their fall colors, leaves still, while here - only the oak trees cling to their brown leaves. It looks like winter here already with naked trees. Yet, it is warmer and sunnier. Why is that?

LOL

Last night, dh read one of Lauren's essays for a college application. It was a well written account of her three week visit to Japan, and the difficulties in learning a new culture quickly. He suggested, however, that she remove the paragraph in which she described the complexities of the Japanese toilet. We laughed and laughed as he asked us to envision an admission officer reading the essay, "As I sat there, it suddenly dawned on me that I didn’t know how to flush the contraption!" * Did we really want the person deciding her fate to have a mental image of her sitting on a toilet? Maybe not. We laughed again. (I might or might not have originally suggested adding that as a memorable bit of her trip, make her stand out a little, eh?)

* (There are many buttons on these $4000 toilets that accomplish various tasks, such as spraying you with water and blow drying your bumm. No, really.)

We spent this past weekend visiting colleges and family, a four day road trip. We now have until December 1st to finish all the applications. Sleep is overrated anyway. The weather in northern Ohio was unreal - warm, beautiful weather. It should have been icy cold blown by winds, raining. Perhaps it was the area's attempt to get Lauren to think what a beautiful place it would be to attend college. It worked.

Coincidences

• I stopped by Debra's place in Peninsula, Ohio but should have called ahead. She wasn't there, but I did meet her husband, see her art in person and buy a mug that I use for my daily coffee. Next visit, I'll have to tell her I'm coming! Funny thing is, I've passed her place many, many years on the way to visit family. What a coincidence.
• My friend and hairdresser lives two miles from me. She told me she was going out of town. Oh, me, too! Same exact days. Where, she asked? Oh, you'll not know it, small town. Not only did she know it, she was going to visit her sister right down the street from where I'd be. Just a few miles. Little did we know we had that connection.
  

Notes
Etta is healing nicely. Should I take the stitches out tomorrow? She would really, really like to go outside.

It is dark here. Winter approaches.

Quid (POA horse) is going to go into training. Awaiting new arrival of "Okie", my sister's horse who will live with us for awhile. Can't have an empty stall, after all.

Disaster Strikes

I knew as it was happening that it was going to be bad, one of those slow motion train wrecks that you can only stand by and watch. Because of the new small arena construction in the front pasture, our horses were in the back. I had all the stalls readied, but no grain out and the minis were put away. So, I decided to let the horses out to walk up to the barn themselves. We do that all the time from the front pasture and the horses sedately walk to their individual stalls.

Well, this night, Etta balked at crossing the electric wire fence, the first I'd noticed that she was very afraid of it. Normally, she comes out a metal gate, no electric involved. Jorgen and Quid had already crossed past me, where I held the handle of the wire. Etta bolted past me and ran as only an Arabian can when spooked. She took off to the barn, up the driveway. Half-way up, she fell. I could do nothing, but follow. By the time I got to the barn, everyone was in their stalls.

Etta had several abrasions, but one bad four inch impact cut, needing stitches. The vet was called and stapled her together. It's been two days now, and I'm watching for infection, as one edge could not be sewn, missing skin as it was. She's confined now to her stall, and not all that happy about it, although she has the fat minis as company most of the day. I only let them out for about four hours a day. They are what we call "easy keepers", meaning they get fat just looking at grass.

Notes:
I have decided to call the big rooster with black and red feathers "Lester" after his forefathers. Wm is superstitious about naming chickens after previously killed chickens, for fear they'll suffer the same fate. But he's a rooster. And I have two more.

The other rooster I name "Peter" after hearing the story of Peter denying Jesus at Sunday school, and the white silkie rooster shall be Judas, for he betrayed me by being a rooster instead of a hen.

Dissed

I was having a bad day. I'd gone to have the tires balanced and rotated, and of course, they told me that the tires were so badly worn, I needed a new set. I told them I'd return another day. THEN, they told me that they were running a free "DNA test" on the cars that came in, and Eugene the Van could use a transmission and power steering fluid change.

"Oh, my van has a DNR," I replied, using their "cutesy" use of medical terminology. The man looked at me blankly. "It has 200,000 miles on it," I explained. "Do Not Resuscitate." He laughed, and admitted that with that many miles, stirring things up by changing fluids could cause more problems than solving them.

Then, at Wal-Mart, the computer at self-checkout would take neither of my credit cards. "Card not accepted," she said in a scolding tone. Knowing they were recently paid, I turned to the clerk. "Is your machine not working?"

"Oh," she said. "It wants me to see your photo ID."

Now, as much money as I drop in that place and as frequent, it ought to greet me by name and I jokingly told her so.

"Yes, but it doesn't know what credit card you are using."

Sure - it doesn't know anything about me - what brand toilet paper I use, where I live, how often I'm there, whether I use 1% or skim milk. I always use the same card. I was dissed by the Wal-Mart computer.

Dh wisely pointed out that maybe, they were making sure it was me to protect me and my card. That made me feel better. Maybe Wal-Mart's got my back. Right.

Notes:
William found a magnifying glass, not very powerful, but powerful enough to get a little smoke from some dried leaves. This gave me the idea to burn our American flag that was in shreds. I had to pour gasoline on it to light it, and found that it burned down to bubbling goo. It melted. I wonder what it was made of?

November is proving to be mild. Dare I wish for a mild winter?

I was on the phone when William called me from the bathroom with an emergency. He'd dropped the fingernail clippers into the toilet while using it. Given the circumstances, I wasn't going in after them (they only cost $1), but we've had enough problems with the lines that he knew to ask before flushing. If you want to know, it didn't seem to have caused any problems - yet. And why did he have clippers near the toilet? He's learning to multi-task. Why am I writing this? He doesn't yet read my blog.

Lazy

The teen girl, who attends public school, asked if I'd be offended if she asked me a question about homeschooling. When I told her to go ahead, she asked if my teen daughters could wear their pajamas all day. (I've heard this same question before.) When I replied that they could (though aside to you, they don't), she replied, "COOL!"

I find this amusing because just the other day, I'd been to a local retail store, and in front of me was an older teen wearing her flannel jammy pants and fuzzy slippers entering the store with her mother! Could not the mother be bothered to say, "For goodness sakes, throw on some clothes or stay home". (Or threaten to wear her flannel jammies which should elicit enough teen embarrassment of mom to get her to change.)

Notes:
The horses winter coats are growing nicely.

What would happen if...?

William question of the day:

Wm: What would happen if the earth stopped spinning?
Me: We'd all die.
Wm: Why would we all die?
Me: (making it up as I go along) Well, only one side would face the sun, and that would mess up plants growing and eventually, all the plants and animals would die and we'd have no food.
Wm: Even the cows would die?
Me: Even the cows.
Wm: Does the moon rotate?
Me: Don't know, I'll Google it.

So this is a wonderful reason to homeschool, I learn all kinds of things. For example, if the earth was to stop rotating suddenly, the earth would stop, but the atmosphere would not, meaning winds in the range of 1100 miles per hour for the world's greatest hurricane. And if it slowly stopped spinning, well read for yourself. And yes, the moon does rotate.

Of course, the recent harvest moon had us talking about the cause of the overly large red moon both at home and dh's work, where he learned that it is an optical illusion. On this website, it said that one way that you can trick your mind out of the moon illusion is to bend over at the waist and look at the moon upside down through your legs. I suggested to dh that management could use the same technique on employees to test morale. Substitute "happy employees" for moon. Maybe it wouldn't change the view of management, but it might lift morale.

Question of the evening: What would happen if the earth split suddenly in two? (I haven't researched this one - have at it.)

Notes:
Work began today to grade our front pasture for a small arena to also be used as a dry lot.

The small chick born the other day suffered an amputation of the toe (cause unknown) which proved to be fatal.

H1N1 seems to scare more people than the health care plan.

Ka-Boom

Today, I took William, two of his friends and Lauren to see Doktor Kaboom. On the way there, the aroma in the car changed as suddenly as it only can with three small boys enclosed there. And of course, the discussion quickly degenerated into "who did it".

Boy 1: I didn't do it. (big goofy grin)
Boy 2: I think mom or Lauren did it. (you can guess correctly this was William)
Boy 3: (Sniff, sniff, smile) I think it smells good. Smells like bacon!

We were entering downtown Louisville, and so it is entirely possible that we'd just passed the Fischer meat packing plant where they do indeed make bacon. I can only hope.

Notes:
My schedule is PACKED, and just when I think I have a moment to enjoy the fall weather, something comes to fill that time. Which is why I leave you now, with just this short blog today.

Johnny Depp and Brad Pitt All Rolled Into One

Quote of the Day

Heard at our house from an unnamed adult who is not me: "Move your head, I can't see in the pumpkin." Said pumpkin is the traditional plastic trick-or-treat plastic pumpkin.

Apple Head

Anna's gone over to the Mac Notebook Pro side. It gave her a big head. She think's her computer is better than ours. She's right.

William says the only Mac he wants is a "Big Mac".

Trying on a Different Style

Self-Portrait
by Anna
Oil on Gesso
Using a "brayer" (print-making tool)

Notes:
Would someone please inform the animals that the time has changed? No one told them.

Lurking

The night is peaceful. Bats fly overhead, chickens chuckle soft sounds as they settle, and horses make low calling sounds to me, encouraging me to their feed. It was later than I normally do the chores yesterday evening, fully dark. As I emerged from the lights of the garage into the semi-darkness of the driveway, I heard a tremendous crashing in the woods, of something either caught, terribly frightened of me, or both.

I stood still and wondered if the minis had wandered into the woods, which they rarely if ever do, and gotten caught on a vine or the rolled wire fence. As much as I love the peaceful night, I wasn't about to go into the unlit woods to encounter whatever it was that thrashed there. Finally, I heard steps. It had escaped whatever held it there, and I could hear it carefully walking away.

Proceeding to the barn, I found the minis in with the larger ponies. Likely, it had been a deer. A herd of six does were across the street just this week, eyes glowing in our headlights. There must be a bumper crop of deer this year. Carcasses litter the roadsides all over, and I'm guessing body shops are doing a very good business.

I measured the miniature horses for weight in preparation for worming them. Perhaps I can use Roxie for an exercise ball, so round she is getting. Two hundred fifty pounds! Interestingly, Chiron is not so round, yet they eat exactly the same food and are turned out for the same length of time. Both seem to have about the same energy level. Similarly, our newest horse, Etta, is thin but is getting more food than our other two ponies who are fat.

The minis are now on a restricted diet, much to their dismay. They are only turned out on our luscious lawn for half the day. Had I more time, I'd start walking them around the "loop", our 2 mile walk, but for now, I'm still in the college visit mode.

Conversations with William in the car:

Why are those people selling wood? Where did they get that wood? Why doesn't wet wood burn? Why doesn't water burn? Will rubber burn? Will gasoline explode? What if I took a fishing pole and hung a lit match from it over our house, filled the house with gasoline, and stood far away and then let the match fall, would the house explode? What if I took gasoline and poured it all over our driveway and lit it? What is gasoline made out of? How do they make it? What are the ingredients? What if I mixed water with gasoline, would it still burn? What makes things burn? Why does rubber make smoke when it burns? ....Conversation finally ended due to arrival at our destination but fully convincing me why I needed a degree in Chemical Engineering - to answer the questions of a seven year old boy.
(And as a side note, I will be hiding all of our matches.)

Show Me the Money

I suppose I didn't expect the FAFSA form to tell me that our family was eligible for financial aid. We're not wealthy, but we make ends meet most months. FAFSA is the Free Application for Federal Student Aid. Still, it amuses me to find out what "they" think our family can pay out of pocket for our first college student. It doesn't (or at least the estimate form, I can't fill out the real form until January, I think) ask any pertinent questions like:

• How much do you spend in horse feed each month?
• What were your library fines in June?
• HOW OLD is your van?? (Are you nuts?)
• How many sizes of gym shoes did your son go through last year?

And then, they could provide some cost savings ideas:

• Would it be possible for you to live in your car while financing your daughter's education?
• Have you applied to third shift Walmart yet?
• Could you sell your dishwasher and wash your dishes in the creek?
• What is the average temperature in your house? Please lower it 15 degrees in the winter to save on heating bills.
  

I have learned also that it is to our advantage to not own anything but our house, our cars, our retirement accounts. Our daughter must not own anything. Were I to get a job, after I pay taxes, the amount I earned would go against us and the little bit of loans we qualify for would disappear. So, I will look for little scholarships here and hope that Lauren's piano talent will be recognized.

Notes:
The silkie chickie is a rooster, as he attacks when you try to pick him up. Once he gets over the initial shock of one's hand, however, he will perch on you like a parrot.

Renee asked me via Facebook how I get our hens to sit on eggs. Well, Renee, they are bantams, and bantams like to sit on eggs. In fact, it can be a problem. We have one hen right now sitting on four dud eggs, and she has for some time. I feed her where she sits, but she waits in vain.

I showed up for a 10 o'clock class yesterday at 10:30, thinking I was on time. The 10:30 class is on Thursday, not Tuesday. I'm losing it!

Someday, I hope to become organized. It amuses me to no end that people that aren't often at my house will make a comment to a mutual friend, "she is so organized". I try not to snort. I put on a good show to the outside world.

At home? I think of the other day when dh brought in my meat tenderizer hammer which he found in the yard. Or perhaps the day when I looked over to see William using the sweater shaver (you know, the little thing that takes the pilings off your sweater?) on a banana. My eyebrows are getting out of shape for want of tweezers, which likely have been used in some bug dissection.

I visualize some secret hiding place in my house where, if I could locate it, I might find all the cordless phone sets, a few remote controls, my tweezers, about a dozen or more finger nail clippers, every blasted ink pen I've ever bought, and loads and loads of clear tape. What would you want to find if you located the secret hiding place in your house?

And if you wonder why I'm posting at 1 a.m., if I'm going to keep up this blog, that's when I have quiet and time to write. My current job is to scour the Internet for scholarship opportunities for my up and coming college students. I spent some precious minutes filling out a form for the Optimist Club, only to find that their "submit" button seems to not work. Optimistically, I kept trying to submit, but after several tries, I gave up. I wonder if that was a test I failed? Perhaps I should have kept trying - optimistically.

What Used to Be My Blog

Possible reasons I abandoned my poor blog:

• I've been abducted by aliens.
• I've gotten the swine flu and now live in the barn.
• I've lost my mind.
• Every moment of my day is consumed with college searches, visits and filling out forms.
• I have no free time.

Well, if you've guessed number one, please come get me. Life inside this space ship is exhausting. And I don't think I've gotten swine flu - yet, but it is all around our community. I think I have lost my mind, so if you find it, please return it to me. And the last two are definitely true.

I will try to regain my footing and post again, as my mom says she hasn't anything to read during lunch. My sister says she keeps up with me by what "used to be my blog". Ouch!

William quote of the day:

"I really like our Church. You know why? 1. It has good value and 2. It doesn't take long to get there."

Notes:
My nephew called me yesterday to inquire as to how long a pumpkin lasts after you carve it. I am now the great pumpkin expert! My answer was what he wanted to hear - go ahead and carve it!

Punished by Rewards

Bribing with food is not recommended by people who don't have young children and aren't over-scheduled. Knowing better, I still told William that if he came with me immediately without complaining so that I could get to the post office in time to mail an urgent package, that I would buy him an ice cream on the way home.

After mailing the package and on our way home, I heard a familiar refrain: "I'm hungry." I asked is he wanted the promised ice-cream cone or something "more substantial".

"More substantial, please," he replied. Long pause. "What does that mean: 'stantial?"

William and I began our study of religion that day by discussing the number of Sacraments.

"I know already. Seven," he said confidently. Surprised because I help in another classroom and not his Sunday school class. Our class hadn't yet covered this. I asked if he could name any.

"Well, there is Marriage. Baptism. Then, there is the one where you have to follow the rules."

I was puzzled. Follow the rules?

"Yes, you know, like Father Mark must follow the rules."

Oh, Holy Orders.

Any others?

"Yes, Annoying of the Sick. But I don't know why they use that word: annoying."

Notes:
About a year after our built, insulation began flaking off and hanging in sheets inside of it. It has taken us about two years total, but today, they will take off the roof, replace the insulation and put the metal roof back on again. It seems that it was a bad batch of insulation.