In which we become Those People

It started way back when we first got our bottle lamb, Millie. Sweet, tiny Millie. At first, she was so terrified of us that we played a bit of cat-and-mouse with her, and then (when she realized we were now her sole source of food) she could not get enough of us. We knew she needed a friend when she would throw her little body against the door whenever we went inside the house, yelling at us to either LET HER IN or COME BACK OUT! These are your options, people!

So, we went to a sale barn and bought another lamb. This lamb was slightly older, knock-kneed, and a bit on the jumpy side. It took a long time for her to warm up to us, but Millie thought she had died and gone to Heaven. A FRIEND who did not abandon her by going into the large brick structure!

Molly, the sale barn lamb, was also a bit craftier than our innocent Millie, and figured out quickly how to excape from the pesky fenced-in area. Over and over we would have to chase her back in. Finally, she taught her cohort how to do the same, and the war began. Apparently, electric fences are not the way to keep animals with 4 inches of thick wool caged up. (Oh, that's a nice little massage...Look Millie! I'm on the other side! With the GREENER grass!)

One day, our electric fence shorted out and a hole burned through one of the ropes, leaving it useless. Again, since our sheep were extremely docile and not too interested in people, it wasn't a big deal. They just roamed at leisure and ate the various grass patches on our property. Imagine a nice green oasis in the middle of a desert- they didn't have a big desire to stray far.

Then Molly died. We think she overate...but we don't know for sure. One day she was fine, three days later she was gone. This sent Millie into a bit of a tailspin. Sure, the cows are company...but certainly they are not sheep. So, each time we come outside, she leaps and bounds and wriggles, excited as can be out to see us. She pushes her head inside the van as we're loading the kids up, ready to hop in with us if only we wouldn't be so STINGY with the whole "no sheep in the van thing." On the way to the mailbox, we always have a pal to follow us.

Yes. She had, in fact, become our sheep-dog.
***********
But then, it happened.
We got a call from the local co-op saying that a Christmas Angel was sending us 100 bushels of corn and would we like to have it delivered.
Of course we would.
As soon as the truck pulled up, I started to get nervous. Here was Millie, my sheep leaping and bounding out to visit the truck.
The driver stepped out to greet me. "Don't worry, she's really harmless." I say, offering a nervous laugh and swatting her away from his leg, where she was sniffing and licking his pants.
"Oh, down at my property I have a goat like this."
Phew. At least he doesn't think we are crazy.
Long story short, he ends up getting this 15 ton feed truck stuck in a soft spot on the side of our house trying to deliver this corn. Yes, I said STUCK in my SIDE YARD because of some sink hole we had no idea about until we put 15 tons of pressure on it. He hooked up chains, tried to drive out on plywood, and 30 minutes later came over to me and said "Do you know any neighbors around here?"
Groan. Kind of.
"We might need one of them to bring a tractor over and pull me out."
I started calling around to the few farmers I knew and eventually got hold of the neighbor straight south of us, who both farms corn/beans and has a cattle feed lot. He agreed to be right over. Oh my.
I started to search frantically for a way to lock up Millie. Perhaps back behind the old fence? Or maybe in the chicken coop yard. Or maybe even in the machine shed. But all of the doors were frozen open. There was nothing I could do. She followed me dutifully as I searched, bouncing sideways and leaping in circles, her excitement barely contained "lookee! lookee! Visitors! DO YOU SEE THEM?" Yes. I did indeed see them.
He soon arrived with his tractor, and again my sheep bounded over to greet him. "Don't worry, she's harmless." I managed to squeak. He pushes her head away from nibbling on his shoe and says "Is that a pet?"

Now, it's one thing if a guy from a town many miles away thinks we are a strange kind of folk. But this was my NEIGHBOR. My neighbor who raises cattle for a living. Probably? He doesn't have a small cow that follows him to the mailbox. I could hear the stories being told at the local diner about that crazy Washingtonian couple who moved out here. "Have you seen their *snicker* pet?"

Anyhow, when I unmelted from my puddle and explained that she was a bottle lamb that no longer had another sheep to keep her company, he just smiled. Then he asked "What's her name?"

Busted. Millie. He grinned a knowing smile, thinking "suuuure she's not a pet." Eyeing the harness that was thankfully/mortifyingly still on her from this experience. Thankfully: I could hold her back from sniffing at our visitors...Mortifyingly because, hello? A harness on a sheep?

For my kids and for my friends, I am glad we have really manageable animals. That I can go in the cow pen or our sheep can be running around and not do anything more than sniff Ryan. In those ways, it's really nice ot have a petting-zoo hobby farm. But I don't really think it gains a lot of respect from the local cattle-men.

For the record: We do know. We do know that barnyard animals belong behind fences. Someday they might actually be there. I also know that I should not be out doing chores in my fuzzy blue bathrobe, even if our closest neighbor IS 3 miles away. But I just needed a few eggs.

Later edited to add: Sheep and cows are currently effectively locked up in a pen. Still, no recent visits from the cattle-farming neighbor.

Perspective

"Mom? Can you draw a bunny for me?"

"Um...."

"Pleeeeeze?"

"ok:"

"Ooooooh! THATS a nice bunny!"

"Thank you, Ryan."

So, in retrospect, when he says dinner is de-LI-cious! I need to take this particular instance into account.

Farmwife Feats of WONDER!

Our chickens have started laying once again. Oh, they would give us eggs over the winter, sure. But now that the days are a bit longer, the ladies are a bit happier and they are a-layin like all get out. Nowadays we can plan on about 10-12 per day.

Last fall, this was a bit overwhelming. I would almost groan as Phil walked in the door with the basket of eggs. Oh, not e-lev-en! Our fridge was full of cartons, then bowls of eggs. Out of necessity, they were placed higgledly-piggeldly on the shelves, and multiple fights...no, discussions were had on the dates, which were newer, which were older. How long had these been here? WHY WAS THERE NO ROOM FOR REAL FOOD?

Thankfully, we started talking to people about these eggs, and OH my did they respond with cartons. During their winter hiatus, we had received and stored nearly 40 egg cartons. Now, I can grab a carton, write the date collected on the top, and stack them neatly in the fridge to be used or given away.

Also, I have been collecting many recipes that call for eggs. No wonder farm families ate so well, THEY HAD NO OPTION. If you wanted to use 4 gallons of milk one gallon of cream and 80 eggs per week you had better get a-baking.

And, so, here is my Farmwife Feat of the Day: I used 51 eggs this morning.
Two loaves of bread- 4 eggs
2 Lemon Meringue pies: 12 eggs
Raisin Bread French Toast: 3 eggs
2 egg casseroles - 20 eggs
1 dozen given to neighbors: 12 eggs

Considering this used up 5 days worth of eggs, I'm pretty pleased with myself. Now, where's that dairy cow? Bring it on, I say.

For the Boeing Guys

Ok, not really. But I'm sure they will get an earfull of this new updated version of twinkle twinkle little star. After the first video, I thought it would be neat to sit the kids in the same chair as they grow up, singing the same song. Already you can see changes in Ryan- he can say "s" now (not "twinkle twinkle little dar..."

You might also note that David is much more active than last appearance.He doesn't quite understand/ like the whole "sitting for the camera" thing. It might just be me, but the first few times I watched this it made me laugh out loud. I love the over dramatization of Ryan and, well, the end. I love the end.



Here you go:

Also, I was able to inadvertently get a great shot of David's two front teeth.

Cold Shoulder

Just a head's up- for some reason some comments have been randomly deleted or not showing up at all. This is not my doing- I don't delete anyone's comments. SO if this has happened to you, please know that I am not just giving you the cold shoulder or something- there is probably just some glitch with Blogger. Sorry! I love you all and really, really enjoy your comments...Don't let the system discourage you =)

Frigid

What you can't see:

*blowing snow swirling around at amazing speeds, obstructing views of the road, buildings, etc.

*7 degree temps with negative something windchill

*my disappointment at the weather, which was so warm yesterday and today is just...terrible!

*seed catalogs spread out on our dining room table as we peruse, dream, and plan for warmer days ahead.

Ryan's Alien. He actually had this guy "talking" to a toy giraffe. "You havin fun? You go school? Yep? That's cool!"
Later that morning he drug a chair across the kitchen, helped himself to two plates and a fork, pulled the chair to the other side of the kitchen, climbed up and cut two pieces of lemon pie- one for each plate. When I found him, he was carefully balancing two plates on his way out to see me (one for me, one for mom). At least he is thinking of others...

Imagine this picture coupled with a high-pitched squeal. SO excited!!!

The boys spent the better part of half an hour like this - David sitting up and watching Ryan set out his train.
About to cry...attempt to comfort...
If you were to hold David when he is ready to fall asleep and he is trying to grab your long hair and PULL REALLY HARD this is what it would look like from your point of view.

I have been a bit tardy/sporadic in posting pictures of my growing boys...hope this helps.