Mr. Tumnis

Goats have a different type of hoof than horses. 

This is apparant in several ways but the most striking

is watching them run the course of rocks surrounding my perennial garden.

Oh, and climb on the VAN, which they can now manage.

Not that I allow it.

It takes a minute though when every day they manage

to advance to new heights, directions and feats.

I wish some of my children were as open to trying new foods and these kids.

I was home gardening (weeding) by myself this weekend.

It was such a lovely night. The day itself was close to blissful in many ways.

What a serene way to spend the last hours of sunlight

I walked out with Lily to spray the horses.

The frogs began their symphony as I lit a campfire.

Lily ran to the goat pen so I let them out and they all followed me

to the garden and proceeded to remind me of The Toddler years.

I felt like I was running a daycare between yelling at Lily to STOP DIGGING

and concocting a prison wall around the perennials that I know the goats will eat.

Another interesting facts about goats

is that they do not have top teeth.

They do have a row of fishlike bottom teeth that get sharper toward the back.

Their teeth are harmless to fingers, etc. but can become irritating

when used on human hair and clothing. My tankini top to be specific.

I buy one piece or tankini tops to wear with shorts while gardening

and I buy them in volume from resale stores.

I do NOT try them on first and I do wash them with bleach before wearing.

I believe that everything is machine washable, yes even shoes, rollerblades,

purses, backpacks, anything that is bought resale.

That is what the delicate cycle is for. And bleach of course.

 I take seriously that talk from the Dr. about getting my vitamin D

and wearing my tankini is my way showing patient compliency

and teaching my girls modesty.

At several points during the evening Goat A, shall we call him,

would wander up behind me and begin nibbling on my nylon/spandex

tankini top which didn't concern me since I buy them in bulk and all.

 On a hot pre-summer evening though, with limited alone time,

even I have limits on my patience. 

Mine ran out when said goat came out of nowhere

and lurched himself onto my back, clingling as if he has

Larryboy suction cups on his goat hooves.

Suddenly I was not the owner of lovely animals on a fantastic weekend eve,

but the frantic helper of a preschool class, whose teacher just called in sick.

 I used my Love and Logic knowledge,

fed them their bottles, herded them to their stall,

and said "GOOD NIGHT"

then went back to enjoy my garden, illuminated by solar lights,

until Lily ate another toad.

I'm not sure if she eats them or just touches them with her mouth

but the first time she presented with foaming mouth

I was certain we should have her tested for rabies

and call poison control immediately. That is what happens when I Google something.

Any possibilities become ALL of my possibilities.

We have learned to spray her mouth out or give her a bath to stop

the wretching, foaming, salivating cough that is the by product

of whatever toads emit when frightened.

Oh, what a night.

My kinda fun

The guys all went backpacking for the weekend

so last Saturday, the girls and I loaded the horses

and headed out to the local trails.

Francesca was planning to backpack originally

so the plan was for AJ and I to go out riding.

 With the change plans,

I became the low paid paparazzi.

On foot.

 I won't complain though

as the weather was on the upper end of warm

and the smell of horses is oh so therapeutic.

 Another advantage is having these pics to see that

the girls saddles are not fitting properly.

 We even ran into some friends.

It was a good workout for everyone.



Test

After spending 20 minutes on a somewhat lenghty post

sharing the names of the new "kids"

and ignoring many error messeges,

I pushed publish only to fnd that my post was gone.

Not in drafts. Not anywhere.

So, quickly I will post  pic of each goat and his name,

as a way of testing blogger

and someone post back what piece of literature the name is from.

GO!

Aragorn

Aslan

No googling the names either,

They are simple.



More James Kids

Baby goats are so darn cute,

watching them is almost as therapeutic

as riding a horse.

We drove so far and wide for these adorable things,

we could have made it Kentucky for the derby

in the same amount of time.

As an aside,

goat country does not boast coffee shops

but miles of gorgeous, virgin woods and hilly roads.

We brought a plastic tub with and when they finally fell asleep,

we covered it with a blanket and made a fast dash into Wendy's

for a quick restroom break.

 Then, an hour later stopped at a rest area

to give them theirs.

One thing I have learned already

is that imitating a goat, something that most people do to get them to sing

their precious little "Baaaaaa",

is really a skill to learn and be honed.

I think I can make the sound,

until they do it and I realize how foolish I sound.

They are bottle babies and as such,

they need hand fed 4 times per day.

That is actuallly one of the best times;

just like bonding with a baby.

I'm glad my kids will now remember

feeding other kids with a bottle.

The goat pen evolves a bit every day.

For now they sleep in a stall at night.

Last night though, due to the storms,

they slept in the mudroom in Lily's dog crate.

Don't tell my sister.

She might faint.

I think I found my voice

My friend gave me this journal

for my birthday.

(I fashioned the ribbon around it, not her.

it served as my "lock".

You see, locking journals are only to be found

with Justin Biebers face on the front)

I have gone a long, long time

without writing.

Really writing.

I have been able to blog

(and let us get real, this is a little history for us to look back

someday and remember a few particular moments.)

I am not a blogger.

For goodness sakes, I have 3 followers.
I can sign a card or and give suggestions on homework
and do timed writing of silly sorts with Adrianna.
But writing has eluded me.
I have eluded myself.

Sometimes when you have given up,

quit looking, trying, wanting, wondering,

things have a way of settling just right.

On their own.

That's how it was with my voice.
Thank goodness that was not the only journal
she has given me.

I searched around locally for a writing desk
as had some birthday money and knew that's what it was destined for.
I looked online for ideas.
What I wanted was something really simple.
With a lock.

I sketched out (as well as a toddler can)

my idea and my husband whipped it up

seemingly overnight.

He even routered a strong sentiment in the bottom of the drawer.

In script.

It has a tiny magnet underneath, upon which the key can hang.

Pretty clever, but you know I cannot keep it there.

Because now you know.
And my voice found me.