Sunday, February 28, 2010

Birthdays Wishes

Hello my friends and bloggin` buddies!

You know, life has a very funny way of helping us along in sad times. One of the key ways I happen to think is providing us with friends and family. I wanted to say thank you to everyone who passed along condolences on the passing of our cat Susie. Your kindness was truly warming and I am touched deeply by how much love and understanding each of you passed our way.

Another manner this old life has of helping us along is to make sure we keep moving on, taking time to grieve then nudging us along the path. Such is the way it has to be. We lose, we lament and we carry on. Bean will be missed and I`ll pass along some reminiscences soon but as I mentioned earlier our lives must move on.

Today is Miss Yodeling`s fourteenth birthday. Actually her birthday is February 29th but since that only comes once every four years, we celebrate on the 28th. We like to tease her about being the tallest three year old we`ve ever seen! *Winks devilishly*Of course, when you live life at Hobbit height everyone seems lanky, even your own child!

We`ll be celebrating her special day later this afternoon down at her grandmother`s since our driveway is passable only with four-wheel drive thanks to the near foot of snow that we got. Gifts will be given, cake and ice cream will be eaten and family and her friends will help be festive.

As I contemplated this day approaching, and did the shopping for a fourteen year old young lady, it came to me that this really cannot be. How can this little girl be a young woman already?! Didn`t I just bring her home from the hospital? Wasn`t it just yesterday we rode to town and after looking down at the sleeping doll in her car seat I asked my husband how he and I could have made something so beautiful? How did my little girl grow from a chubby cheeked toddler into a woman on the cusp of a life filled with promise? It surely happened far too quickly for her mother, and her father also I`m sure.

Perhaps my mood was more reflective over the past couple of days, I truly cannot say, but I would like to pass a virtual birthday missive to her.

I`d like to share this poem I wrote a while back with you all, in honor of my daughter`s birthday. It was penned with her in mind. Also since it is my job as her mother to make her blush and groan I`d like to share some pictures of her. Actually she should be grateful I didn`t pull out the REALLY embarrassing one of her washing dishes when she was three! I`ll save that for the first boyfriend.





Monarchs & Milkweed Pods


*~*~*

Take my hand dear child of mine
And let us walk this Earth

Your fingers small inside my palm
Your laughter full of mirth

The monarch dances from your touch
Amid the milkweed pods

My precious one of four years old
I thank the stars and Gods

For pouting lips and golden locks
For chubby little thighs

For walks in fall with you my child
T`is true how fast time flies





*~*~*

Take my hand dear child of mine
And let us walk this Earth

For three and ten years now we stroll
These walks are growing dearth

Your thoughts but touch upon the pods
That hold the monarchs weight

For womanhood waits just beyond
I cannot make you wait

To venture into your own life
And leave your mother poor

So now I'll cling onto your hand
For just a short time more

*~*~*

Take my hand dear child of mine
And let us walk this Earth

I gaze upon you in your gown
Thirty years from your birth

Your happiness upon this day
Shines brightly in your eyes

Your face is veiled yet still I see
A touch of butterflies

Memories rich in autumn glory
The milkweed pods SO clear

I weep a mothers tears of joy
And long to keep you near

*~*~*

Take my hand dear child of mine
My soul slips from this Earth

My life has been a rich full one
Each day a day of worth

I look at you and see your tears
Your children at your side

My daughter do not weep for me
Your family is my pride

I am alone, your father gone
I feel him now nearby

Please do know that I love you so
This monarch now must fly.






Happy birthday honey.

Love,

Mom & Dad


(Sorry about the size of the scanned pictures, especially that last one of Miss Yodeling riding her dad`s shoulders after a day of kite flying. She was perhaps two at the time. )

Thursday, February 25, 2010

A very gray morning......

I have a bit of sad news to relay from the hillside farm today.

Last night my dear old calico cat Susie, who we always called Bean for some unknown reason, passed away in her sleep. The old girl was nineteen and had been failing for quite some time as you may recall me mentioning. She did seem to rally for a month or two, but I suppose it was just her time last night.

She went peacefully which is what we all hope for. After Mr. Yodeling comes home from work we`ll bury her in our little spot beneath some shade trees. There she can sleep with some of the other beloved animals we`ve had over the years.



I`ll admit I`ve been contemplating how to go about penning this, there are just too many stories to relay when you`ve had a pet for nineteen years. Also, since it`s so fresh I`ll readily admit it`s kind of tough to find the proper words. So perhaps for today, I`ll simply post up some pictures of her and allow myself time to heal a bit before trying to pass along a story or two. I know you all will understand.


For now, I`ll borrow someone else`s words. This always brings me comfort when I lose a beloved pet, I`m sure it has others as well.




*~*~*~*



The Rainbow Bridge story

Just this side of heaven is a place called Rainbow Bridge. When an animal dies that has been especially close to someone here, that pet goes to Rainbow Bridge.

There are meadows and hills for all of our special friends so they can run and play together. There is plenty of food, water and sunshine, and our friends are warm and comfortable. All the animals who had been ill and old are restored to health and vigour; those who were hurt or maimed are made whole and strong again, just as we remember them in our dreams of days and times gone by.

The animals are happy and content, except for one small thing; they each miss someone very special to them, who had to be left behind.

They all run and play together, but the day comes when one suddenly stops and looks into the distance. His bright eyes are intent; His eager body quivers. Suddenly he begins to run from the group, flying over the green grass, his legs carrying him faster and faster. You have been spotted, and when you and your special friend finally meet, you cling together in joyous reunion, never to be parted again.

The happy kisses rain upon your face; your hands again caress the beloved head, and you look once more into the trusting eyes of your pet, so long gone from your life but never absent from your heart.

Then you cross Rainbow Bridge together

.... Author unknown

*~*~*~*~*


Run and play in the warm sun Bean, we`ll see each other one day and cross the bridge together.

Wednesday, February 24, 2010

One Liners-2/24





"Let`s watch her ponder why her mopwater is so hairy BEFORE she even starts! Tee-hee-hee."



As always anyone who wishes to play along can do so! Just add your own one-liners in your replies!

Sunday, February 21, 2010

That`s fowl!- Turtle

*Sits back and sips coffee while readers try to make heads or tails out of header*

Yup, you read that correctly. That`s Fowl-Turtle. Now I know you good folks are sitting there, scratching your heads and muttering things like….. ‘Did she finally fall down and crack her coconut?’ ‘Has the woman mistakenly drifted into some parallel universe where turtles are poultry?’ may be asked. ‘Well they do come from eggs,’ someone may point out. ‘But they have no feathers. They are not poultry and that yodeling goatherder has gone loopy!’ yet another of you may state.

Rest assured I am not loopy * ignores snickering daughter*nor am I in a parallel universe. I`m still here on the hill in Pennsylvania and am firmly grasping my faculties and my Nubian mug, which kind of makes typing hard…I`ll explain and all will be clear as glass. I hope. *Grins*

Many years ago, or ten to be precise, we had moved to our merry little farm. Of course it wasn`t a farm then, just a bunch of acres with a house and three wanna-be farmers. This situation had to be rectified! How could we have acres and not one farm critter?! As our first spring here approached we decided to become poultry owners first.



Mister had been raised with chickens and every other animal one could imagine coming from a family with five siblings, and he knew what was what. We bought an incubator and an egg turner and went about like street urchins begging for hatching eggs from our friends and neighbors.

‘Please sir, may I have some fertile eggs?’ *Spoken in Cockney accent although none of us are British*

Perhaps our neighbors and friends took pity on us, or perhaps they couldn`t stand our terrible Cockney accents, but soon our incubator was filled. As we began to wait the twenty-one days for chicken eggs to hatch we got ourselves a brood box made and plunked it down in our living room. Yee-Haw, chickens in the house! On a side there have been turkeys, pheasants, ducks and at one time a merganser duckling someone brought to us that we handed over to a wildlife rescue also in that box.

Miss Yodeling was perhaps five at the time, and we spent every day checking the magic box as we call the incubators. Put in an egg and in three weeks, Viola! By magic a chicken appears! Just call me David Copperfield. Or mayhap best not, he may take offense.

When the first ever batch began to hatch I can recall clearly my daughter and I eating our lunch back in our bedroom, so we wouldn`t miss the hatching. She had a little blue stool she used to stand on to brush her teeth, the white stool hadn`t yet been romanced by a tom turkey but was outside. Now do keep in mind we were very much the novice`s when it came to incubating eggs as this tale plays out. *Smiles sheepishly*

I had left the incubator and the pipped eggs to carry our lunch dishes out to the kitchen. Suddenly a squeal of unfettered joy came from my bedroom.

“Mother! Mother! One just broked out!”

Why she shouted mother to this day I don`t know, she never called me mother, always mom. She does now on occasion when I do something that causes her teenage self embarrassment but it has that huff that only teenage girls can do SO well. She must have been so excited the formal form just exploded from her is all I can guess. I dropped the dishes and dashed back and low and behold there laid a wet, tiny chick on the wire grid. Over the course of the next several hours quite a few more hatched out but that first chick, well, it just seemed to her and me that it was not quite right.

It would keep falling over and lying on its back, kicking its legs and peeping as loudly as it could. Being beginner`s we would lift the lid and put the chick back on its feet. We now know better, and do not open the incubator only once a day to remove dried chicks.

“Mom,” Miss Yodeling said with hands on hips, “That chicks like a turtle on its back all the time!”

And so, we had a chicken named Turtle. Since she was the only one in the entire hatch that looked the way she did, she was easy to pick out. It turned out that Turtle was an Americana, or an Easter-egger, those that lay those beautiful green eggs.

Now Turtle was that one chicken that seemed to be more dog or cat than chicken. As she grew she never seemed to forget that we were mama hen. She would always be there to leap onto a lap no matter where a person would sit.



Chair, swing or step it didn`t matter. If you sat down outside, you had Turtle in your lap! And there she would stay, napping contentedly and muttering soft clucks as she dozed. Many a time I would peek out the kitchen window and see Miss Yodeling sitting on her swing with Turtle on her thighs, the chicken not seeming to mind being swung back and forth or having her ears talked off.

We had the pleasure of Turtle`s company for over eight years until she passed. To this day when any of us begin to talk about our chickens, Turtle is always mentioned with fondness. She was a delightful hen who gave us many, many years of enjoyment and tasty farm fresh eggs. And she may have had one of the most unique monikers on this farm!


Although there was Mr. & Mrs. Tookie-Bird, the guinea hens we once had…..

Thursday, February 18, 2010

He shoots! He scores!!!!!

Did you ever laugh so hard about something so silly you couldn`t breathe properly??




I`ll admit I`m very susceptible to gasping silly attacks, they seem to strike me without warning and over the most random things! I`ve rolled off my daughter`s bed over a video game character`s inability to pick up a dropped sword. Yes, the things that tickle my fancy are sometimes hard to explain to those who are regarding me with an arched brow.

I had to pass this along to y`all since I found it to be riotous to the point of nearly collapsing to the kitchen floor. It may even help shed some light on the odd tilt my mental wheels seem to run on.

Last Saturday Mister Yodeling and I had the joy of taking our yellow lab Poe to the vet`s for her yearly boosters. Poe dislikes the vet, her office, the air surrounding her office and the very clouds that blow over said office. Anxiety thy name is Poe. She shakes and shivers and whines and cries. Then we go inside and it escalates proportionately the longer we have to wait.

By the time we have to drag her into the consultation room the poor dog has herself worked into a fine and nervous tizzy. Needless to say we usually don`t linger and chat with our good doctor of veterinary medicine but this time we did. I think I`ve mentioned Poe`s hip dysplasia in the story I penned about her a bit ago. This winter seemed to be a particularly bad one for her so it was decided to try giving her some different medication on a 2 week trial basis.

Now you and I have all heard that saying about dumb animals, and there are some that are pretty dim bulbs *Stares at turkeys*but this dog, she is smarter than she should be. Much smarter than Mister and I wish she were at times. Poe has always been a persnickety dog, turning her nose up to people food that our other two inhale without chewing. She also has an amazing ability to eat whatever the pill or aspirin may be in and yet leaves the ‘hiding chunk’ behind. With her oral skills she should be a politician. Feral! Behave!

Perhaps today was just one of those days, I truly don`t know. It was a long one for sure. Mister Yodeling`s workplace is having a few down days so we were up and outside by 7:30 AM to begin processing four wethers from last year’s kidding season. We got the first half of the butchering done, grabbed a very fast lunch then ran to Wal-Mart for groceries and to do some birthday shopping for Miss Yodeling, who`s special day is the end of this month. Back home, evening chores and supper.

By the time dinner was over tonight I was tired and slipping dangerously close to becoming slap-happy, a sure sign of fatigue for me as my family can attest to if asked. Now since we got the new doggie meds Mister has been hiding Poe`s half a Deramaxx into a small ball of whatever he`s eating for dinner. With the other two dogs circling like sharks she usually hurries his special offering down. Tonight Mister forgot her dinner pill offering.

“No worries,” he said,” I`ll fool her.”

“Good luck with that,” I muttered as I began to wash the dishes.

The simple trick, which he should have known wouldn`t work since it never has before, turned into something that would have made the Three Stooges proud.*Pauses and counts family members then shrugs*

First thing he attempted was wadding the pill half in some stale chicken bread. She spit the chunk of bread and the half a pill to the floor. There was a mad rush to dive on the soggy bread so the other two canine piranha don`t eat it. Then the old ‘Slather the bread with peanut butter’ ruse was attempted. She smacked and licked and ran into the living room to spit the pill onto the carpet. Not to be dissuaded my hubby then tugged out the ‘Slide pill into a chunk of hot dog’ trick. The same trick Harry Houdini attempted to use on his dog, who also caught the medicated wiener in the air then expectorated it to Houdini`s linoleum. (Okay, I made that up but it could have happened!)

Needless to say once the ketchup came out to make the next chunk of hot dog more enticing Poe was having none of it. Mister tossed the well-condimented wiener skyward, Poe cocked a brow, the chunk hit the floor, the two wrong canine`s dashed for it. Poe was making a break for the living room and in the flail of twelve dog feet and two sized- ten man feet the chunk of hot dog was kicked like a soccer ball beneath the coat closet in my kitchen. The look of exasperation on my dear hubby`s face pushed me firmly onto the Main Street of Loopyville, which is the next county over from Margaritaville but less salty.

“Weiner…….soccer,” I roared with my head lying on my soapy hands by the kitchen sink.


Man oh day, I guess I had best turn in early tonight huh? Weiner soccer! *Snickers like a wooly goose*

Tuesday, February 16, 2010

From Feral`s Front Porch-2/16

Signs, signs, everywhere a sign to quote Five Man Electrical Band!


There have been 2 signs of the lengthening days I happened to be lucky enough to catch since yesterday. One was the gobble of a wild turkey when I was out and about doing morning chores. He was gobbling in responce to our`s gobbling and man oh day did Mr. Yodeling`s eyes light up when I told him about it!

The second sign of spring coming soon is this yearly ritual...



Yup, that`s a gander fight! My oldest pair Jack and Diane have already began seperating off from the others, and Jack lets no-one near her, especially his upstart son Lennie as we can see!

Just wanted to share a couple of indicators since as I sip my coffee and type this, more snow is falling outside. Spring is coming, the critters tell me so! =)

Saturday, February 13, 2010

Ella Mae`s Curtain`s

(A Fictional Valentine from me to you)

*~*~*~*






Ella Mae Dupree was seventy-three years old. Her round face bore the wrinkles of many a day beneath the sun as a farm wife`s face would. She wore round glasses upon her round face, and her hair was always drawn up into a round bun, the auburn tresses of her youth now vibrant glowing silver. Everyday Ella Mae would pull a sensible cotton dress on, today`s was red with small white flowers, her once slim build now tending to be more rounded than it had when she and Everett were sparking.

Ella Mae Dupree had been widowed for close to twenty years. In all that time since her husband of fifty-two years had passed she had never thought of ever witnessing love again, but she had. Oh yes she had! This morning, she took extra time with her hair and the pins that helped hold the bun in place. Today Mister Bee, her old black and white cat, got his breakfast a wee bit early. Today she made sure her support hose were not sagging around her ankles.

Ella Mae Dupree moved about her kitchen with purpose this morning. She had a special cake to bake for a special man. Today was a special day. It was February 14th, Valentine` s Day. After sipping at her coffee and finishing her toast and two firmly fried eggs she pattered out to the living room to peek through her curtains.

Ella Mae Dupree said to her cat, “Not yet,” as Mister Bee napped in the bright winter sun that fell across the back of her sofa. Mister Bee wriggled a black ear, yawned and then tucked his black nose back under his black tail to resume his nap. She made a mental note to come back to the front parlor and check through her curtains every thirty minutes.

Ella Mae Dupree did NOT want to miss the arrival she had been so looking forward to. Into her large kitchen she went and pulled her favorite apron from the hooks beside the mud room door. The round woman began to gather her ingredients. Eggs, flour, sugar, spices, shortening-all that was required to bake a cake from scratch she settled on the top of her long kitchen table. She turned her round face to peek at the clock then began to stir her batter.

Ella Mae Dupree stirred and stirred, the wooden spoon whipping the ingredients thoroughly in the blue mixing bowl she had bought at that yard sale. She raised her round face to peek at the clock on the wall. Then she poured the snowy white batter into two thin, well greased cake pans. She checked the fire in the old stove and decided all was well. Using her yellow and white gingham apron she opened the door and slipped the pans into the oven, then set the timer. Then she pattered back out to peek through her parlor curtains once more.

Ella Mae Dupree said to her cat, “Not yet,” as Mister Bee napped on. The tip of his black tail flickered in response. The round woman with the round glasses sat down for a spell to rest her feet as the oven baked her creation to golden perfection. Coming up slowly when the timer rang out she pattered back into the cheery kitchen to remove the twin cakes with care. Settling them to two round racks to cool, she then set into making the icing for this special treat.

Ella Mae Dupree whipped and stirred and added and drizzled until the icing of purest white suited her. She lifted her round face to peek at the round clock. Her back reminded her of her age then and so while the cakes cooled a trifle more she rested her feet again. During this foot break she sipped at more coffee and paged through the latest magazine that had come in the post. Her hand came up to check her bun as she looked at the pictures on the glossy page.

Ella Mae Dupree then looked at the round clock. Her blue eyes grew round when she saw the time. Coming to her feet she pushed her kitchen chair in and laid a tender, wrinkled hand to the top of a round cake. They were cool enough she was glad to find. Now she took one cake and tapped it gently from the pan. It fell free with ease. Her hands cradled the soft round cake as if it was a babe, and then ever so carefully she laid in on her best round platter. Now the fun part would begin! With a touch that came with years of baking she began to apply the icing to the bottom half of the cake. Granted her hands shook now, more so than when she had baked for Everett, but they got the job done. Repeating the process with the second cake was trickier but she managed it.

Ella Mae Dupree lifted her round face, now speckled with flour and white icing, to peek at the round clock. Noting the time she hurried the best her old, aching hands would allow. The rich, smooth icing flowed onto the tiered cake. Using a carrot peeler she then began to shave small strips of dark, rich chocolate from two thick bars she had bought last time she had been to town. This part took longest but she enjoyed the artistic part of the decorating, always had. When she had the chocolate shaving complete she straightened and her back cracked like a green oak log in a fire. She pattered back out to her parlor and peeked through the curtains.

Ella Mae Dupree said, “Not yet,” to Mister Bee. The old tom cracked a gold eye open then rolled to his black back in the glorious February sun. She figured she may as well clean up her mess and so pattered back into the kitchen to wash her cookware. She stopped beside the hutch to admire her work, rubbing at the knuckles of her right hand with her left. It was one of her best she is pleased to admit before she pattered over to place the high glass cover over the work of baked beauty gingerly. The twin sinks are filled close to over-flowing when she begins. The hot water felt good on her swollen joints. Soon the drainer was heaped up like that leaning tower she and Everett had always talked about seeing. Four boys had come along and they had never gotten to see that tower, but that was okay she thinks.

Ella Mae Dupree turned with as much speed as a woman her age has when her front door opened and the small set of bells her daughter-in-law had given her for Christmas three years past rang out. She took a good long breath and dried her hands on her apron. She felt as giddy as a school girl and her excitement lit up her time weathered face as she turned around to look upon her guests.

Ella Mae Dupree heard, “Look who`s here Grandma!” Her grandson smiled as he entered her kitchen, his wife at his side. Lord but he looked just like Everett she thought as the strapping man walked over to her and handed her the small bundle all swaddled in a soft blue afghan. The same one she had made for her now grown grandson she saw. “Laura insisted we bring him here first before we went home,” he stated.

Ella Mae Dupree brought the babe closer, her eyes were full of them cataracts now, and she gazed down upon the round red face of her newest great-grandson. A tear formed in the corner of her eye as she peered down at the sleeping lad held to her round breast. She lifted her round damp eyes and peeked at her grandson through her round spectacles then looked at his wife.

Ella Mae Dupree then said, “I spent the last four years watching you two courting across the road. Looks to me like I should have been paying closer attention to what you two were doing on that front swing,” she teased. Her grandson gasped, “Grandma!” His wife laughed softly.” Man, I guess we better buy you some thicker curtains,” the man added with red cheeks.

“No need. I seen love growing through those old curtains just like my mother did when your grandpa lived there. Seeing love grow, well that`s something I never thought to ever see again. So you just leave them curtains be so that you can watch this here boy find love someday. Right Everett?” Ella Mae Dupree asked of the babe with the round face.


Happy Valentine`s Day

Feral

Thursday, February 11, 2010

Sweet Friends Award

Indeed I have been blessed with some sweet friends!




This award was given to me by that radiant greyhound lover Houndstooth over on her blog Tails and Tales. The rules that go along with this award are that you have to display the award on your blog, list ten things you enjoy doing and do one of them and list ten other blogs to share the award with.

Since it`s been awhile since we`ve heard from her I thought I would let Lu-Lu, the tortoiseshell terror, list ten things she enjoys doing. * Sneaks off snickering with romance novel to draw bath while cat types*

*~*~*~*

Hello fans of fabulous felines!

Finally I get my paws on the keyboard! Since she knows how clever and humorous I am she asked me to list ten things I enjoy doing. I was more than pleased to do so in the off chance some poor little kitten should need guidance in how to maintain a feline code of conduct, since we cats only do what we like to do. Unlike dogs, who will leap about to please their humans. Ugh. So for the young kitties here are my top ten favorite things to do!

1-Sleep all day on mans pillow ensuring he gets cat hair in his inner ear canal.

2-Play all night when the humans are trying to sleep.

3-Investigate all high places in house, including refrigerator top, then knock things from high places.

4-Lay in the hallway at night and attack sleepy humans as they go to the bathroom.

5-Eat Kit-N-Kaboodle and ONLY Kit-N-Kaboodle.

6-Torment sleeping dogs despite that old human adage about leaving them lie.

7-Go in and out repeatedly at 4 A.M. until someone uses my name as a sentence enhancer.

8-Chase the old cat until someone uses my name as a sentence enhancer.

9-Supervise yodeling goatherder`s bath time.

10-Dig in my cat box until litter covers carpet or someone uses my name as a sentence enhancer.


Those are some of my favorite past-times and here are some of the human ladies favorite blogs. I hope you enjoyed my list and that you enjoy the blogs she has picked out to share this award with. I see quite a few with dogs in the titles and I have to wonder why more cat`s don`t blog. I`ll ponder that while I nap until dark.

Yours in mischief-

Lu-Lu

*~*~*~*


Postcards from Arizona

Small Farm Girl

The Pugs Strike Back

From my front porch in the mountains

The Simple Life

Granny`s Best

For the love of dogs

Laura`s Homestead Adventures

Flat Creek Farm

Spring Lake Farm


Thanks to Houndstooth once again for the award and for explaining the procedure for links to this classic goatherder! I hope the above links work and that they will take you to new blogs that I enjoy and new friends to make along the way!

Tuesday, February 9, 2010

Splish, Splash-I have some odd baths

*Breaks into jitterbug dance to Barry Darin*

Ahem. Sorry. Sometimes I just can`t control myself. Actually this entry doesn`t really have anything to do with that fab-O fifties singing star but it will center on some rather odd things that occur when I indulge myself. I will admit freely that I am one of those women who LOVE a long, hot bubble bath. For a half hour I can cloister myself in the tub and let the trials and tribulations of daily life evaporate.



If I can work it, a spicy romance novel will accompany me but I skip the candles. My luck I`d have the house set on fire, or at the very least my spicy romance novel. Then I`d have to extinguish the flaming romance novel in the tub thereby missing the pivotal, and spicy, love scene and have small, charred bits of paper stuck to my delicate areas. So yeah, no candles.

Lately though some strange occurrences have been happening as I lounge in the tub, things that don`t seem to occur when Mister Yodeling will indulge in a scalding hot bath after a long day out working in the cold, cold Pennsylvania air. Curious isn`t it? It get`s curiouser folks and solks.

Since this is a family type blog I`ll spare y`all any shots of a yodeling goatherder in the tub. I`ll just use some foamy type images and call it good. Okay, here`s what happens….

First I`ll gather my accoutrements-clean jammies and slippers, spicy romance novel (Can`t forget that!)Also my borrowed pair of wool socks to keep my wee yodeling toes warm. Do not listen to the hubby, they were borrowed and not stolen. I`ll give them back to him in May.

I announce I am entering the Calgon Zone and unless aliens land in the goat pasture or Ryan Reynolds pulls up I am NOT to be disturbed. Grunts from family drift down the hall and with their grunts I enter the bathroom and close the door. I should mention we have a funky closure on our bathroom door. It doesn`t close tightly and a good shove can open the portal into the Calgon Zone.

With the water now filling the bathtub I`ll drop in a dollop of bath bubbles and admire my soon to be respite as the foam rises. Once it reaches the desired depth, one that is adequate to cover a goatherder yet not rush over the side of the tub, I`ll slip into the water. Ahhhhhhhhhh, splendor indeed! Soon I will be up to my chin in bubbles and reading with greed about some handsome vampire warrior or a muscular werewolf….. *Drifts off momentarily*

About this time the odd occurrences start to begin. It starts with this strange scratching sound at the door. Ever so light it is, yet I can hear it. I`ll peek around the wall, well squint actually since my spectacles are on the counter, and spy something. There beneath the door, in a gap of perhaps an inch will be a tortoiseshell paw attempting to latch onto, or into, something. I ignore the paw and the scritch-scritch-scritch sound upon the door. This continues for some time along with the squeak of the paw`s owner. Yet I can still ignore it.

Without warning suddenly the bathroom door will fly open, the nice warm steam I`ve gathered in the room so I won`t be cold when I get out is gone, and there will be our black lab Trinity, tail wagging with glee at having found her mama. *Sighs*

Once the entryway is opened Lu-Lu hurries in. I swear cats have the force and use it on dogs.

‘Open the door dumb dog,’ the feline Jedi master commands with a wave of her paw.

Now at this point in the bathing ritual I will glare at the dog that is now lapping at the bar of lavender soap I laid on the side of the tub. (I know! Who the HECK wants to lick soap!? She`s odd as a cod.) Now Trinity is all squirrelly and in such a state of doggie euphoria about her discovery of the lost one known as mother, she grabs one slipper from the floor and dashes out the door.

“Hey!!! Someone want to grab my slipper!?” I`ll shout out.

I think I hear someone grunt a reply, sound is distorted in the Calgon Zone. Trinity races back in to take the mate to the first slipper and then streaks back out. I`ll then look at, or squint, at the cat who is sitting on the counter on top of my clean pajamas staring at me intently. It`s one of those disconcerting stares too, those ones that make you wonder if you sprouted a second head or something!

“What are you looking at?!” I`ll ask.

She says nothing just stares at me with those devilish cat eyes, then reaches over to knock my wool socks to the floor. She smirks, I just know she does, and Trinity runs back in to steal my socks. This is quite a feat since she already has two slippers dangling from her mouth.



Off she goes with zeal! I toss Lu-Lu my most scathing look and she then bats down whatever may happen to be on the counter…..deodorant, perfume, it matters not. Back comes Trinity with two slippers and two socks in her jowls, tail going like a helicopter propeller, and the dog then tries to ‘help’ by adding whatever lays on the floor to the huge mouthful she already has.

Safe to say by this time my bubbles have all popped, my skin is goose-fleshed; my book has been slammed down to the tub surround with attitude and my relaxing soak has been nullified and replaced with mild agitation. Yet there sits Lu-Lu, smug and snickering to herself and still staring at me.

‘Bring it,’ her expression says as I rise from the water with gusto.

Off she goes like a shot from a gun leaving me wrapped in my Ironman towel (Yes I am the Queen Supreme of Geek) and very far from being anywhere NEAR placid. What I have to wonder is why this occurs only with me? Mister Yodeling never has Jedi cats or delirious dogs with footwear fetishes ruining his baths.


Maybe I should shower from now on.

Sunday, February 7, 2010

One Liners-2/7




Feline Russian Roulette

Thursday, February 4, 2010

Ready to meet some meat goats?

Come on in, pour yourselves a cup of joe and warm up!


If the weather in your neck of the woods has been anything like ours here in north central PA I`ll toss another log into the wood stove, because you`ll be half froze! Nothing worse than half-frozen bloggin` buddies I always say. This past weekend was so cold and so brutal we spent most of it indoors doing whatever we could to stay warm and keep ourselves from going loopy, loopier in my case, with severe cabin fever. Sunday afternoon we did have a great time and despite the wind rushing off an iceberg (They do exist in Pennsylvania, they`re just harder to spot behind all the cows)I thought I`d share with y`all.



As you all are well aware we here on the hillside farm raise dairy goats. The prima donnas of the caprine world as I have been known to call them among other things that are not permissible to reprint due to the G rating of this blog. But there are others out there who raise goats for meat and so this fine frigid day our little band of yodeling goatherders set off to go visit our friends who have boar goats, and hug their newborn kids. And chat. And hug newborn kids some more. And visit inside while the guys visit outside. (Why? I do not know. Must be some sort of manly thing. Who am I to venture to try to understand?) And hug newborn kids a little more!



I have to admit once I laid eyes on the wee ones it made me anxious for ours to be born, but we have about 6 weeks yet. *Sighs longingly* Our friends, who are also members of our 4-H group, breed their does earlier than we do here. Being animals raised for market they have set rules to adhere to for their goats to be eligible for our local fair and the livestock sale. Their kids must be born after January 1st and have to weigh at LEAST fifty pounds by the first of August.

I put that least up there in upper case because I cannot imagine being able to get one of my gangly dairy goats kids up to fifty pounds or over in 8 months. I suppose it would be possible but the amount of feed it would take to bulk up my dairy kids that fast; well…..Miss Yodeling would be leading this tomato with stick legs around the show ring! That`s quite an image isn`t it??



As you can see from the pictures from our buddies Mister, Mrs., Miss and Master Boar Lover, their goats are much stockier and well muscled than my dairy goats are, or will ever hope to be! My buck Anakin WISHES he had the girth across his chest their does do! *Ignores ribald comment from Anakin about the lovely Boar ladies ample chests*

As it stood Sunday when we were visiting and shivering, they had most of their kidding done with just a few more does left to go. Obviously this one poor gal was VERY close to her due date! By the time I have this posted hopefully she has delivered! My ankles were swelling just looking at the width of her. Sympathy pains can skip species, just ask any woman who has carried an eight pound plus child to full term, you never forget those last few weeks! I think my lower lumbar just twanged in commiseration.




Miss Yodeling and Miss Boar Lover have been very close girlfriends since way back in the early days of elementary school. Every year at fair they help each other with their goats in the ring and throughout the week with their animals are at the fairgrounds. It works out well since the dairy show is usually on a Monday and the non-dairy is on the following Tuesday. Friends surely do make the day seem so much brighter!



On that note I`d like to thank the Boar Lover family for allowing this horde of picture-snapping yodeling goatherders to come over for a few hours! It was a very enjoyable caprine filled day that I am so pleased to be able to share with you all!

I think I feel the need to hug a goat kid coming on again!! *Runs down to barn to give pep talk to girls*

Tuesday, February 2, 2010