I’ve been madly nesting lately – must be sympathetic nesting for my pregnant goats. Poor Melina is getting so big that she’s been taking these long deep sleeping naps during the day with a look of sheer exhaustion on her face. It’s hard to image she’s got over a month still to go. I’ve been organizing and cooking and cleaning. There’s so much to do.

I’m hoping that my first batch of day-old chicks will arrive on Tuesday, so today I gathered all of the equipment and supplies I would need for their arrival. Tomorrow I will prepare my usual spot in my basement for them to grow and feather out before I move them out into what I now refer to as my “brooder” coop.



While I was at it I figured I’d gather up all of the equipment and supplies I would need for delivering the baby goats. I’ve been re-reading books on what to expect during the delivery and hope that I am prepared for anything.



Then while I was at it I figured I’d check out my long-ignored soap making equipment to see what I needed to re-stock while I had the time. I’m going to try my hand at making goat’s milk soap. It has been a few years since my last venture into soap making, so all of the oils will need to be replaced.



While I was foraging around in the basement cabinets I came across a bunch of slabs of ready-made soap base in all kinds of fun varieties: Honey, Olive Oil, Translucent Oatmeal, Shea Butter, and Avocado Cucumber. So I’ve spent the day melting them down, adding scents and other things and making bars from them.



And on Friday I put up a batch of home-made ketchup. I had these great jars just waiting to be used, and it came out great. Then I had to design a label. Years ago I had attempted to make hot sauce. This wasn’t particularly successful as it separated while sitting in the jar so it wasn’t very ‘attractive’, but I had used Evan’s picture on the label. Maia, of course, remembered this, so as soon as I mentioned “label” she said it was her turn. I obliged. I had this goofy picture of her from a few weeks ago where she was wearing an afro wig I had (from an old Halloween costume) and a mustache, so it worked perfectly for what I had in mind.


So lest you think I’ve been sitting around eating bon-bon’s all weekend. I’ve been busy!

I leave tomorrow for Texas with my 13-year old daughter, India. Amanda is flying down from Lexington to meet us in San Antonio as they are both on their spring break now.

It will be a whirlwind tour; we’ll spend 3 days in San Antonio, one day in Austin (where Amanda will visit U.T. Austin’s Nursing School as a possibility for graduate school), then on to a night in Fredericksburg and back to San Antonio with part of Wednesday there again before we head back home late Wednesday night.

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We are all looking forward to the trip. I have never been to Texas before and it has been on my “short list” of things to do. There’s going to be quite a bit of driving, which I don’t mind at all; it gives me more opportunities for photos I wouldn’t otherwise get.

I’ll be posting from the road assuming I have internet access everywhere I go, which is only questionable in the Fredericksburg area.

See y’all later.

Twenty one years ago today I gave birth to Amanda.

When I did a post on “My 10 Favorite Things” a few months ago I knew that she would notice that she was not on that list. She of course brought it up the first visit home from school after that post. I knew when I was writing that post that Amanda required her own list.

I was 27 years old and Mike and I had been married about a year and a half when she was born.

Just to end the curiosity, here’s our wedding photo.

After 40 hours of labor and less than 24 hours after delivery they sent me home with this beautiful little bundle of joy. I had absolutely no idea what to do with her. Unfortunately becoming a new mom doesn’t come with an instruction manual.

 

I’m deaf in one ear, so I sleep with ‘my good ear down’. It’s very quiet that way — like wearing those Bose headphones — but it’s not very good for allowing an exhausted new mom to hear her baby crying. Mike had to poke me awake when she started crying, and that first night I ended up sleeping on the floor of her bedroom since I was then so worried that I wouldn’t hear her when she needed me. She slept in a moses basket propped between two kitchen chairs next to my bed after that night for the next few weeks.

Mike literally went to work the day after I brought her home from the hospital and from then on it was trial by fire.

You can take all the lamaze classes or new parenting classes or read every book on the subject, but nothing really prepares you for the reality of being a new mom. I learned from my mistakes and she survived. I had my own parenting philosophies.

I nursed her exclusively and learned the hard way to introduce a bottle of formula early. I waited too long to do this and therefore she would not drink formula. Period. Ever. My nipples cracked and bled. I can now say however, after nursing four children on them, that my nipples are officially bulletproof. You could probably hang bowling balls from them and it wouldn’t hurt. I also nursed her way past what was appropriate or acceptable.

She was my life then when she was young. Mike and I barely had two nickels to rub together. He worked constantly (he was, and still is, in the film business and was working on the original “Law & Order”, which had just been put on the air). If I had some freelance job to do as a food stylist or doing some consulting on teaching people how to use their Mac’s, she came along. She came everywhere with me and did everything with me and was extremely attached to me; just ask anybody that had to watch her cry when we were separated. She cried like we’d cut her arm off.

I love all of my children desperately. And I love them all differently. I’m not saying that I love Amanda more than I love my other three children, but I have lived 8 more years with her than I’ve had with any of my other children. We also went through a lot together. We went through a divorce together. We went through a new marriage and transitioning to that new life together. We have always been extremely close.

When I decided to divorce Mike I was so very fortunate to get a job as a graphic designer for a very small firm in Stamford. My terrific boss allowed me to come to work after Amanda got on the bus every day and I left in time to be there every afternoon when she got off the bus. I worked from home late into the night to compensate for this. When Amanda was sick or had a day off that I didn’t, he allowed me to bring her to work with me and she would quietly play in the corner drawing, or use an extra computer to do something on that.

Being a parent is the hardest job you’ll ever have. We made it through the teenage years and we still love each other.You always try to improve on the mistakes you feel were made in your own childhood. Who knows if we succeed. Amanda has done a few things that have almost broken my heart with pain. But she’s done a lot more things that have almost burst my heart with pride.

So no, I didn’t mention Amanda in my Top Ten list because she deserved one of her own.

My Top 10 Favorite Things About Amanda

1. She still cries every time she leaves me to go back to school.
2. That she still would rather go on vacation with her mom for Spring Break than go away with her friends.
3. The way she smells me or pets me when we’re standing in line somewhere.
4. The way she looks in her glasses
5. How quirky she is and how she embraces that in herself
6. How hard she works in school and how well she does and what a great nurse she is going to be
7. How she visits her grandparents frequently when she’s home
7. How she sends me silly pictures of her cat
9. That she loves to go on long drives to take pictures with me and is always up for a road trip
10. How open and honestly we communicate. She’s one of my best friends.

Happy birthday baby.

This is a picture of my butt.


Now there’s nothing extraordinary about my butt. What is extraordinary about this picture of my butt is that they are wearing size 8 jeans. I haven’t seen a pair of size 8 jeans in awhile now.

To celebrate fitting my fat ass into a pair of size 8 jeans again I bought this pair of butt-kicking new cowboy boots.





I love them!

Yeehah!

Since I decided to post “A Cowboy Prayer” for my photo today, I figured I’d stick with that cowboy/girl theme here.

I’m a competitive person. I don’t like to lose or do poorly on things. I hate to fail. For instance, this class I took this past weekend on learning how to spin yarn was hard for me. It’s hard to spin yarn. People work for years at it before they’re good at it. Even knowing that, and feeling at the end like I’d done a pretty good job, I always feel like I can do better.

I’m fortunate in my life that I get to do things I do well and love doing so generally speaking (except for not having enough time to do it all) I’m pretty happy.

The first time I “worked” cows was in Wyoming with my friend Terry probably 6 years ago. She explained to me that trying to work a cow is like trying to hold water in your hands; they just slip away. Now I don’t think cows are the smartest animals on the planet. Generally speaking I think they’re probably on the lower end of the brain chain, but when you’re trying to catch one or make it do something it doesn’t want to do — they may as well be Albert Einstein.

I stunk the first time I worked cows, and I still suck at it 6 years later. However, I love it. That first time Terry put me on cows at the end I said (well, practically screamed), “That was so much f…..ing fun!”. She still laughs about it and has told that story over and over to people. Something about it just appeals to me. The frustration. The concentration. The unpredictability. The excitement.

Now Terry’s another story. She grew up on a ranch and if I can ever ride or work cows one quarter as well as she does I’ll die a happy lady. This is what Terry looks like when she’s working cows.

This is my friend Randy working a cow.

Now before I show you this I’ll start with something pretty. Like the sunrise on the morning I was headed to compete in my first rodeo this year.

Now it’s gonna get ugly.

This is what I look like when I’m working a cow.

But, every year I get a little better.

But I still suck.

This is Terry’s face when she’s trying to teach me. It’s a good thing she loves me. Plus she teaches riding for a living so she’s used to idiots like me. She is looking at me like she’s saying to herself “What is that stupid girl doing?”

I can’t even show you a picture of Randy trying to teach me. He’s deaf in one ear. I’m deaf in one ear. We’re screaming at each other and he gets very frustrated. He’s extremely patient with me though.

At the end of the day though after my very first rodeo our team came home with first place in the novice team penning. I assure you it had nothing to do with me.

And when I stop being able to laugh at myself at the end of the day, I’ll stop trying.

Can somebody please add another 24 hours to the daily clock? I simply can’t get it all done in the time allotted in a mere 24 hours.


And I don’t know where you might live when you read this, but if you’re in Connecticut like I am, can somebody please explain to me what the hell happened to the weather pattern this year? We barely recover from a storm when another one hits.

I feel like my children have been on vacation since December 18th with an occasional day of school thrown in here and there. Truly. Even the kids are starting to dread having another snow day! Of course my mood might have something to do with that – another day home with Mom who’s grumpy because school was cancelled (again) and stressed (because I’m not nearly as productive with three of them around than I am without them) and I have so much to do.

Now my real job is a being a full-time mom. That’s what I consider my ‘primary’ job to be. However, I have a very full and busy life when my kids are in school doing the things that make me happy, which allows me to be a good and happy mom looking forward to being with my children at the end of every day.

The bloom is off the rose on that one for sure right now.

My therapist said a few weeks ago that “creative thoughts explode like popcorn in my head” and I can’t control it. It’s who I am. On any given day I think of at least one new thing I want to try – some idea for something; whether it be to cook or to create. Some days I think of three or four new things. It’s part of my scanner personality I guess.

The one highlight of my day today though was being interviewed by Niman Ranch. They had sent out a survey to people that had bought their products online, and I was chosen to be a part of the survey. I pursued the woman in charge of the scheduling though as I not only am a big fan of Niman Ranch and their philosophy’s and food, but thought I might actually have something to add that may be worthwhile because fair and humane farming is something that I feel so strongly about. Bill Niman is one of the ‘founding father’s’ of the fair and humane farming movement. They were primarily trying to figure out how to best get their food and philosophy “out there” to the general public. I don’t know whether anything I said was worthwhile to them in the least, but we had an interesting and lively discussion and feel every small step we can take to educate consumers about this the closer we’ll be to a healthier life with happier animals.

Hopefully tomorrow will be be a better day. It’s not looking good though. I can hear the rain/sleep pelting the windows as I write this (at 1:50 a.m.) and they’re saying it could be a pretty major ice storm by morning.

On Friday morning my sister and I will fly down to Atlanta and then drive 3 hours or so to westernmost North Carolina to the John C. Campbell Folk School. We’ve both been receiving their catalogs for a few years now and have talked and talked about going together to take a class. I finally called her about 6 months ago and said “Let’s just do it – let’s pick a weekend and go.” So we did. We are really excited to be going and I’m hoping to find lots of great picture-taking opportunities on the drive there.

Most of their classes are week-long events, but they do offer a pretty wide variety of courses over weekends.

I will be taking “Introduction to Spinning” which will teach me how to evaluate a fleece in terms of spinning, wash, dry, pick, card, and spin. I’ll start spinning on a drop spindle and graduate to a spinning wheel. I’ve always wanted to learn how to do this. In fact I have a garbage bag full of fleece that my farrier in Wyoming sheered off his sheep that I can practice with once I get home.





My sister will be taking “Basic Bowls and Beyond” which will teach her woodturning on a lathe. This is something that I have just learned myself and will post about soon. My son, Evan, and I have been turning pens like crazy. It’s tons of fun.


Anyway, she’ll learn about wood selection and blank preparation. Get experienced in tool sharpening, tool use on the lathe, and other studio equipment. Techniques for turning bowls safely and efficiently, texturing and finishing. How fun! It’s totally out of her normal range of art (she’s a polymer clay artist), so I can’t wait to see what she makes!


I figure learning how to spin wool will be my excuse to add some sheep to the flock and get rid of the lawnmower!




I’ll be back on Sunday night and will post about my adventures there next week.

I went to a memorial service today for a friend of mine that passed away last week of cancer. He was a lovely man. Although I only knew him for a couple of years, I always loved being in his company. He was soft-spoken and always remembered your name. One of those people you couldn’t wait to hear speak, as he always seemed to have something wise, meaningful or insightful to say. He was a deep man.

His family did an amazing job planning the service, as it, unlike many funerals I have been to, seemed to be so personal. You could tell, that he was a part of the planning as the service was deeply personal. The first hymn we sang was “Amazing Grace”. Now this may sound rote for many funeral services, but when singing it at his service, the words seemed written just for him.

Amazing grace! How sweet the sound
That saved a wretch like me!
I once was lost, but now am found;
Was blind, but now I see.

He described himself as a wretch all the time! At least he claimed that he used to be one. He certainly wasn’t anymore; not the man I came to know.

‘Twas grace that taught my heart to fear,
And grace my fears relieved;
How precious did that grace appear
The hour I first believed.

A decorated vietnam green beret veteran who (we were told by everyone who spoke at the service) had a very difficult and challenging life that included alcoholic parents. He got sober probably around the time that I did, and I’m sure, like I have, he had changed for the better because of it. His son said as much; how proud he was of his father for breaking the cycle of alcoholism.

He was diagnosed this summer and was told he didn’t have long. He made it six months. He died at home surrounded by his wife, daughter and son.

Yea, when this flesh and heart shall fail,
And mortal life shall cease,
I shall possess, within the veil,
A life of joy and peace.

Both his daughter and son spoke at the service. Their thoughts, while quite different in style, were equally touching and very moving.

The second hymn was “I Sing a Song of the Saints of God”. Part of the hymn included these words:

They lived not only in ages past;

there are hundreds of thousands still.

The world is bright with the joyous saints

who love to do Jesus’ will.

You can meet them in school, on the street, in the store,

in church, by the sea, in the house next door;

they are saints of God, whether rich or poor,

and I mean to be one too.

I saw him just before I went away for the summer and he came and sat next to me on the curb where I was sitting. We sat and chatted for some time. I wonder now if he already knew, because it wasn’t long after that he announced to his illness to his friends. I saw him several times this fall, each time looking more ill and frail.

The service ended with all singing” Joyful, joyful we adore thee”. I know I adored him.

There were probably 200 people or more at his service. but for many in attendance I think the hymns and words had a deeper meaning that just words in a hymnal.

I never would have met him if we didn’t share the same disease. I have all sorts of wonderful people in my own life that I never would know under any other circumstances than for the disease we share. Thankfully, that disease is not the one he died from. He never complained. Never seemed to feel sorry for himself. He was thankful for the what God had given him and the life he had.

I’ve always liked to think of Heaven as it was written in the book by Alice Sebold called The Lovely Bones; someplace where my friend could look down from and see all of his family and friends gathered there today to pay tribute to him. He would have been touched at how many new friends he has made in the past few years. How loved he was. How he changed us by allowing us into his life.

He died with dignity and grace.