Two Things

I realize that it's been a little quiet around here the last few days. But you'll understand in a minute.


First, I will show you this:




Weird.



Now, I will show you this:

Muskles

I just finished mucking out the goat barn.

And I use the term "I" very loosely, here.

After 45 minutes, 2 1/2 loads, and great drops of sweat, I was getting tired and cranky. And I had a looooong way to go. I yelled at my poor, sweet, innocent, faithful milkers. I think I hurt their feelings. They only wanted to help. Or at least see what I was doing and stand right in front of the wheelbarrow and beg me to scratch their ears. (I tried letting them out to roam while I worked, but they only wanted to eat my raspberries plants.)

So I yelled at them. I immediately regretted it, and contemplated throwing in the towel. I would just have to work on it more tomorrow.

Jonah apparently heard me yell, and went and told Daddy that "Mama needs help!"

Then my knight in shining armor appeared to rescue me.

I protested feebly, but he used his great strength and hoisted the gate off the hinges to make it easier to get the wheelbarrow through, tied up the naughtiest of the two goats and started shoveling. Shovel, haul. Shovel, haul. I lifted a few forkfuls of manure, too, and I told him how sweet it was of him to let me feel useful. But mainly I basked in his brawn and the job was done in 20 minutes.

Just like that.

I just batted my eyelashes at him as he doffed his cap and rode off into the sunset.

Um... maybe that was a bit of a mixed analogy...

DIY Flu Shot!

Love Muffins

This morning, since Nathan had already had breakfast and left for his day's work, there was no hurry on breakfast. So Jonah and I decided that muffins would be a fun breakfast project.

The recipe for these yummy morning treats? As follows:

Joy of Cooking's basic muffins, with the addition of some apples, walnuts, and oats.

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Some prepared muffin tins, including the fun little mini-muffin tin from Grandma
(Jonah's favorite!)

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Careful counting

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Plenty of spit

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Cinnamon sugar

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Adorable, pudgy, and slightly unsteady little hands

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More spit

=

A yummy breakfast!

Okaaaaay... so maybe there are a few more ingredients, but those are the essential, and oft-forgotten components.

Five Stages of Grief; Insomnia Edition

I miss Sleep. I really do. We used to have good times, Sleep and I.

1. Denial
"Hm. Sure am tired this morning... I really should get to bed earlier. Maybe I woke up sore because my neck is out. Maybe I should see the chiropractor."

2. Anger
This morning, as I lay in bed awake again at some unearthly hour, I thought about getting up and vacuuming. I thought about turning on the light and reading. But I was too mad. I was angry. I just wanted some sleep, drat it! I won't give It the satisfaction of actually using this awake time when I SHOULD BE SLEEPING! Raffa-muffa-sniga-frigga! I thought about getting out my Reflexology book or my Homeopathy book to try to find a solution, but I was too mad. So I didn't. I just continued to lay there and seethe. (And that sure helped, let me tell you. Huff.)

3. Bargaining
This is where I'm at now. Drinking games, baby! I'll take a bottle of something cheap --whiskey, rum, vodka; doesn't matter. Anything'll do.-- to bed with me and every time I roll over, I take a shot! Be out in no time, I tell ya.

4. Depression
Okay, so I might be a little depressed about it as well.

5. Acceptance
This is where I remember my Dad being. He'd just get up and read all night long. He got lots of reading done that way. It was just what he did.

I may be there sooner than I thought. So instead of an "empty chair," I'll sit there and look at my empty pillow...

Old Fashioned

No, it's not sitting there as a rusty relic of the past. It's sitting there in that hay field because it was just recently used.

I just love this neighborhood.




(ETA: Dad suggested that I mention this machine's use. The Amish around here pull it around a hay field with horses for loading their hay wagons. You'd be amazed at how fast they can clear a field, as well as how much hay they can get on a wagon!)

Composing

It started as a simple song about a pig...

And turned into a wild and crazy song about "Roosta Boosta"...

And I just have no idea what it all means.