Oops

Well, I guess I planted my chickens to early this year.

Last night it got below freezing and we had to move the chics inside.

To the bathtub.

After thinking about it a little, I now seem to remember that we usually get our chicks around Easter.

When is Easter anyway?

I need to check my calender.

The weather report last night that said it was going to get below freezing and possibly snow. Of course I didn't believe it, but at the same time I didn't want to find frozen chicken in the henhouse when I woke up this morning.

It was to late to set them up in the garage so we did what anyone would do and that was to set up a nursery in the bathtub.

Really, when you think about it, who doesn't like a warm tub on a cold night.

So I had a tub full of chickens and Bart the Border Collie who made it his job to secure the perimeter and make sure the chickens stayed in the tub all night long.

I don't think he slept a wink and if he did it was only with one eye closed, and he kept letting me know he was on the job by cold nosing my arm whenever it fell out from under the blankets.

I had to keep telling him they were supposed to be in there and that he needed to get some rest, but obviously there was a lack of understanding on his part and an unwillingness to to let the event go unsupervised.

The Beagle and Pooter on the other hand had no problems sleeping and of course the Baby Buddy could care less.

I'm sure he was out cold dreaming about herding the pig though an unfenced grassy meadow.

It's still cold enough that I think I'll keep the chics in another day or so.

I'm just wondering, do you think you could house train a chicken?

Well, the weather report was right (how often does that happen) and here's a picture of what was in store for us when we woke up this morning...

That's Wyatt and the Baby Buddy heading down to the pond hoping to find it had frozen over during the night. Before long all the dogs except Pooter joined them on their journey and they all came back soaking wet.

Trust me when I tell you that nothing wakes you up in the morning like the smell of three wet dogs.

Well, maybe the sound of chickens in the bathroom.

Chic Day

We got our baby chics on Saturday!

So cute.

Here's the deal though...

If #6 was here I would have said, "Will you please go move the heat lamp and unload the six bags of feed from the truck and we'll go."

And then he would have moved the lamp , unloaded the truck and we would have gone.

Here's how it went instead.

I went down to the henhouse to move the heat lamp that was clipped to the ceiling beam on the hen side, to the brooding side where the chicks were going.

I had considered buying a new clamp lamp at Fred Meyer earlier that morning but decided I already had two and that was enough.

Idiot.

So, the lamp was clamped to the beam and then secured with a wood screw on either side.

I suppose 6 thought that maybe the hens might have a party that could possibly involve hens swinging from the "chandeliers" and didn't want to take any unnecessary risk.

I can't unclamp the lamp because ever since I had the second surgery on my right shoulder I've suffered from John McCaine syndrome which leaves me unable to raise my arm above my head.

*Note to self: Rule out career as carpenter, painter or porn star*

I call for Wyatt to bring me a milk crate to stand on to get a better angle on secured clamp, but worry about what 500 pounds could do to a flimsy plastic crate.

Decide to take my chances.

Stand on crate, reach the clamp lamp but not strong enough to unclamp over woodscrews.

Yell for Wyatt to bring criss crossy screwdriver.

Wait for Wyatt to pet the goats, throw a stick for the dog, shoot his bow and arrow, kick rocks, find screwdriver, throw stick two more times for the dog, shoot bow and arrow into the camellia tree, find a stick to poke at the camellia tree to get arrow back, forget that I need the screwdriver thats in his pocket until I start yelling at him while still standing on the milk crate while getting sick to my stomach because I'm afraid of heights.

Unscrew the woodscrews securing the clamp lamp and move it to the brooding room.

I know your wondering why I didn't just use the other lamp and here's the reason.

It had a bulb already screwed in that had broken so I couldn't get the metal screwy part out.

Now it's time to unload the six bags of feed from the truck.

Keep in mind I weigh five hundred pounds and have the John McCaine shoulder.

I start up the riding lawn mower and try to remember how to back up.

After some time remember that I just push my foot the opposite way of forward.

Drive down to the front pasture to get the wagon.

Struggle with trying to figure out how to hook up the wagon.

Wyatt gets in the wagon and we drive back up to the truck to load the feed to drive around to the feed room and the henhouse.

Wyatt gets on other side of feed bags in the truck and pushes while I try to pull, grab, duck and throw.

Repeatedly incorrectly load feed trying to figure out the last bag loaded, first bag unloaded system.

Wyatt steps in a hole that the dog dug in the yard and hyper extends his knee.

I get to rest and catch my breath while I comfort Wyatt and reassure him he will be ok because we don't have good insurance anymore and I can't afford to take him to the hospital.

Get back on the lawn mower and take off as the wagon pitches back and the pin goes flying into the bushes.

Gimpy and I look for the pin.

Find the pin, secure the wagon and reload all the feed to the front and have Gimpy sit on top so the weight holds the stupid wagon down.

Drive around to the feed room, unload four of the six bags eight times until the right bags have been unloaded and moved inside.

Ask Wyatt AKA Gimpy to limp over and open the gate and NOT let the dogs in the pasture.

Wyatt opens the gate and lets the dogs in the pasture.

Catch the border collie that won't listen because he's to busy herding the pig.

Unload the feed into the henhouse.

Have Wyatt open the gate to let me out and NOT let the dogs in pasture.

Wyatt opens the gate, lets the dog in the pasture, yells at the dog, I yell at Wyatt for yelling at the dog while the dog herds the pig.

Catch dog, carry dog out of pasture.

Wyatt gets back in the wagon because the pin flys out every time I go over a bump.

Wonder why anyone would have a stupid wagon when you can't even use it without the pin flying out.

Later find out I'm supposed to put a pin in the pin to hold it in.

Whatever.

I miss #6.

Anyway, we finally got everything ready and made it to the Chicken Farm and got our chicks!

Aren't they cute!

The sun is out and so am I!

Off to spend the day with my Mom.

If anything interesting happens (which I doubt it will) I'll post an update later.

Ciao'

Catching Up

Oh my Gawd, has it really been since Wyatt's Birthday that I posted?

How does that even happen?

How does someone that doesn't have a job get to busy to blog?

I don't get it.

Heres a quick run down...

I have been making soap soap soap and have my Etsy site up and going again which is really exciting because I haven't had anything listed there since my rugs last summer.

Go check it out.

The TrailerParks Farm

Wait, not yet, I have more to tell you.

Lets see, I think it was two weekends ago my friend Kenna and her two boys came for a visit and it was GREAT!

Kenna's oldest boy is Wyatt's very best friend in the whole world ever, so you can imagine how happy they were, and her other son Ian who's three.

So, not only was it fabulous that she came, but her Mom came to town with her to see her forever friends that hadn't all been together in forever.

I'm not even kidding you, these five fabulous ladies with incredible stories of knowing each other for thirty some years and having babies and husbands and lives and now those babies are having babies and husbands and lives.

Amazing.

So fun.

#6 is doing pretty well in Iraq, but I can tell he's super homesick.

Wendy is doing really well in school and surprised us with a casserole Monday night and it was even good!

Who knew she could cook anything other than Spaghetti-O's and Top Ramen.

We've been getting our brooding room ready, it's time for baby chics!

I've been trying to decide what to get this year.

No more turkeys.

Maybe a bunch of ducks and a few chickens.

I still want a yak.

I need to go start dinner, homemade mac-n-cheese night.

Mmmmm.

Chow

First Day of Eleven

Well, we had quite a time yesterday!

We went to a matinee showing of Percy Jackson and WOW, what a show.

I had a hard time getting into the million dollar movie groove at first, I mean get real, $38.00 for a matinee, popcorn and soda?????

Really.

Really?

Whatever.

But I couldn't let my cheap flag fly because it was after all the kids birthday.

The movie was fantastic, we both really enjoyed it and since we don't really ever go to the cinema I forget how great the sound is, and the big screen.... Wow.

After the show we went to Target and looked around for different things to spend his birth anniversary cash on, but it turned out he already had ALL the Bionicles that are out this year.

Except one.

The one that we couldn't find in any other store so we ordered on line. The one he's still waiting for the UPS man to deliver.

The very same one that he found at Target yesterday.

The red and golden whatever guy.

It was an emotional departure from the store knowing the redgoldenwhateverguy wouldn't be delivered for a few more days, but here he was, sitting on the shelf, staring him in the face and he had to leave him behind.

We found out at that moment how hard it was to be eleven.

Anyway, we made our way out of the big red dot store with nothing more than a BIG bag of jerky and some sweedish fish that Wyatt consumed as we headed for the Golden Arches where he then made short work out of a TEN piece chicken select meal with a large fry.

He assured me that eleven year olds tend to eat more than ten year olds, and since he sounded like he knew what he was talking about, I believed him.

Then we wheeled into the grocery store where we picked up a small round white cake that his best friends Mother who works in the bakery lovingly decorated for him and a side of ice cream.

It turned out that Wyatt's ever expanding eleven year old belly was quickly reaching capacity and needed a bit of a rest before cutting into the cake that now sat on the table taunting him.

So we made some birthday soap.

He chose orange and blue for the colors and orange spice and bergamot for the scents.

Smells great, looks... Interesting.

By 8:00pm he was ready for his cake.

He thought.

He ate it.

The whole piece.

He was S. I. C. K. for the rest of the night and into the morning.

His cousin Ingrid called but we couldn't get to the phone because he was holding down the toilet and I was securing a cool rag to his forehead.

He was still a little unsteady this morning and when I asked him if he wanted a piece of cake for breakfast he acted as though I was somehow being offensive towards him.

What a way to start a new year.

In a food coma.

That's my boy.

Big Day

Today is the day!

The eleventh anniversary of my favorite son Wyatt and the third anniversary of the blog!

Wow, time flies when your busy living life.

Today Wyatt and I are celebrating his big day by skipping school, taking in an afternoon matinee, hitting up Target to spend some birthday cash and swinging by the bakery for some cake.

It should turn out to be a great day!

He sure has turned out to be a fun unexpected surprise in my life.

I mean really, who plans their kids fifteen years apart, but in our case, it's really paid off.

Yesterday my blog friend JMP came over and we made soap!

How fun was that?

So fun!

I felt kinda weird because I have four dogs and a house that smells like four dogs, but I think she might of been ok with that.

I think she and the beagle may have started up some sort of cosmic love affair.

He stared at her the whole time she was here and really, I think she was a little tempted to sneak him off the farm.

later in the day we went to town and picked up Gwendolyn Louise who was in very good spirits and even forked over a twenty for her little brothers birthday.

We picked up a half price leftover Valentines pizza from Pappa Murphys and came home and watched UP again, which if you follow me on facebook you know I have issues with.

Really, an old man and a little boy floating around to foreign lands in an old house.

Don't you think the kids mom would be freaking out just a little?

Anyway, then we watched some Grammy highlights and can I just say this... ILOVEPINKSGRAMMYPERFORMENCE.

Then Jesse came out to pick up Wendy and brought Molly the newly rear leg impaired dog.

It made my belly oogy to see her with just three legs and I need to quit talking about it because I'm feeling oogy just thinking about it.

So sad.

Then we watched this weeks episode of Hoarders and called it a day.

I need to go get in the shower so we can make like bananas and split.

What A Great Day!

Our tax return money came in this morning and I was able to pay all our bills, place a great order with my favorite soap supplier and still stash away enough to hold us over until the first paycheck rolls in from Iraq!

Iraq...
I hear from #6 via email a few times a day and so far so good. Remember, he isn't in the military, he's over there working for KBR as a truck driver and right now he's at Camp Anaconda which is supposedly the primo spot to be. Swimming pools, cinemas, etc...
I know the hardest part is being away from home and all the comforts that we all take for granted like your favorite chair, watching American Idol on DVR without commercials and snacking on Cheetos and Little Debbie Cakes till your almost sick to your stomach.
I for one would make it about thirty-seven minutes before having a comfort and convenience meltdown.
I'm not high maintenance, but I don't do well "roughing it" either. I am SO stuck in my ways.
It's kind of like I'm one of those crazy old cat ladies, except I'm not old and I don't have any cats.
I don't know how I segwayed into all about me. I was telling you about #6.
So anyway, he says that he has met some great people, his accommodations are comfortable and the food is o.k.
Steak and lobster for dinner Wednesday night.
O.k?
Whatever.
I had Hamburger Helper for dinner Wednesday night.

Thats what I consider "o.k."
As it turns out, I'm still really mad at him and when I think about what he did I still want to punch him in the face, but I do miss him.
Isn't that dumb?

Soap...
I placed a big order this morning for some new fragrance oils and dyes.
I am SO excited!!
My blog buddy JMP is coming over on Monday to soap with me and Wendy is going to be here too so that will be REALLY fun. Wendy is one of those people thats fun to laugh at, not with, so a good time is pretty much always guaranteed when shes around, unless of course she's going through a head up her ass phase in which case she's just guaranteed to be a real downer.
And then the next week my friend Kenna is coming to visit from Washington with her two boys, one of whom is Wyatt's best friend in the whole entire wide world and we are going to soap together too!
Kenna taught me how to make soap when I was up North for Christmas, so my addiction is all her fault.
But anyway, she's bringing all her suds stuff and we're going to soap all weekend AND celebrate Wyatt's birthday.

Wyatt wants a paintball gun for his birthday.
Any tips?

Knock Knock...

It happened again.
Early this morning there was a knock at the door and I just assumed it was the neighbor Erik letting me know he brought the garbage cans in.
Wrong.
It was John.
WTH.
What is going on here?
This poor old sick friend of my Grampy's who's cousin wife left him for some guy she hooked up with on facebook has chosen my shoulder on which to cry and during the early hours of the morning I might add.
I was right in the middle of getting Wyatt fed and washed and out the door for school and here comes Old John limping in the door.
Don't get me wrong, I am NOT an unsympathetic person.
Far from it.
I feel very bad for this man, but aside from listening to him
(which I would prefer doing sometime after 9:00AM)
I'm not sure what I can do.
I get the feeling he is wanting to move in with us because his soon to be ex cousin wife is trying to sell the house and make a little cash before the bank takes it over and his stepdaughter niece and her lover are trying to conceive a child together so John is feeling a little like the third wheel at their place right now.
I mean really, an old man is the last thing I need. I already have four dogs and a kid in the house, can you imagine me being able to find ANY quiet time during the day to watch my stories if I had a senior citizen in the house too?
The place would smell like dirty socks and Ben Gay in no time, which I guess is better than wet dog and dead sheep, but still...
I feel like I should be doing whatever I can to help this man, but I don't want to.
Does that make me a bad person?

Just Another Day...

I told you that two of my ewes died.
What I didn't tell you was that I can't dig a hole to put them in.

~FYI~
The following story may gross you out.

My dogs keep going out to the pet cemetery in the pasture to roll in the wet stinky wool of their departed Friends. Then they come running back to the house trying to get in to share the dead sheep stink with me. Between the four of them (dogs, not dead sheep) I have gone through almost an entire Costco size bottle of Febreeze. I wish I could use my new tomato soap on them (dogs not sheep,) but it has to sit for another week or so first, and really it wouldn't even do any good because they would just go back out and do it again.
So instead I just get to enjoy the wet and woolly dead sheep funk that has permeated my entire house, and trust me, the smell is worse than you're even thinking it is, even if you're thinking it's really bad.
It's worse.
I told you it was gross story.

My Grampy's friend John came over yesterday (morning before 7:00AM) for a visit.
He was recently diagnosed with late stage prostate cancer and just after hearing the news, his wife left him and later that week their house went into foreclosure.
Anyway, John moved out of state to live with his wife's daughter who is also his niece
(long story)
but is still within driving distance of his doctors office so he can continue with his radiation and chemotherapy treatment even though his cousin wife took him off her insurance.
The moral of the this story...
Lifes a bitch, then you marry one and then you die.

Pick Your Family

I forgot to tell you yesterday that along with Wyatt's birthday, the three year anniversary of the blog is coming up.
February 16, 2007 was the first post.
It's fun looking back on those old posts, and some of them even make my eyes a little wet because I started the blog to keep my family up to date with how our grandparents were doing.

Looking back I also see how really whitetrash we are.
If you had to compare your family to a t.v family who would you be most like?
The Conners, The Simpsons, The Ingalls or The Griffins?
I think we would be most like the Conners with a little bit of The Griswolds mixed in.
There would be a different dad instead of different kids in every episode.

I forgot to take the garbage out and I need to go fold the laundry.
Ciao'

I have to make this quick because the equine manicurist is due to arrive at my house in roughly an hour 15 minutes.

#6 arrived safely in Iraq yesterday. He said it was a long flight and he couldn't sleep on the plane so I'm sure he's good-n-tired.

He should be the one blogging instead of me, but he has terrible grammar and that would drive me crazy so I guess he should just stick to sending photos home.

Don't you HATE it when someone ends a sentence with a preposition?

ARRRGGGHHH!

Great game last night.

I guess.

I don't know Jack about football.

I cleaned my oven and went to Costco yesterday and after dinner I made fresh coffee soap.

Here's a picture just in case you missed it on facebook.

This afternoon I'm going to make some tomato soap.
It takes the stink off.

Wyatt got a hair cut yesterday so the option of him joining a boy band is officially off the table.

His Birthday is on the 16th.

Any party ideas?

He wants a paintball gun.

Maybe I'll take him paintballing.

Is that a word?

Paintballing?

My Sister and her family are going on a ski vacation at the end of this week, maybe I should just have her take Wyatt along.

That would be a great gift for both of us :)

I need to go on a diet, I'm wearing my fat girl underpants again.

Yakety Yak

Ahhhh.... It must be the fifth of the month.

I can always tell when it's the fifth because the gate on my driveway turns into a revolving door.

A revolving door manned by my extremely obnoxious dogs.

The fifth of the month is rent day, the day all the trailerpark folk meander down to make their monthly donation to the farm and it's upkeep.

The day my dogs all go a little horse.

Speaking of little horses, the farrier comes on Monday to do the donkeys feet and I'm crossing my fingers he will decide to buy the "modular home" that's for sale up there.

How great would that be.

I could have the best manicured donkeys in Beavercreek.

I was telling you the other day about my sheep that are dropping like flies, but did I tell you what I decided to replace the sheep with?

Yak.

I have been doing my research, and not only have I learned that they don't talk back, but you can use their yak hair to make stuff.

I could make yak hats, yak blankets, yak slippers, yak scarves, yak rugs, yak mittens, if I really wanted, I could probably even make yak soap!

I think I'll stick to yak hats.

So, if you hear of anyone trying to offload a yak, I'm the girl to call.

Not Really Like Little House

I got alot done yesterday, kind of made up for the day before.
I don't have anything exciting to post today, so I'll just tell you a story.

It was 1977 and we were living a comfortable suburban life in a nice home on the Willamette River just outside of Portland Oregon.

My father was an insurance adjuster and my mother stayed home, but was far from being your average homemaker.
~My crazy mother is a topic for another day~
We lived in a small friendly neighborhood where everybody knew everybody else and the kids all played and rode bikes until it was time to come in for dinner.
Sounds good huh?

I guess it was to good to last.

My sister and I had an idea that there was trouble in paradise as our Mom had moved out of the house a time or two, but the big surprise would come wrapped in the decision that our parents made to save the marriage by moving to a small Island in Washington State.

The plan was to build a log cabin on five acres in the woods, and really the only hitch in that plan was that we were not a family of builders.
My Dad built a boat in the garage once, but it wasn't a houseboat.
After doing some research our parents bought a house that would be delivered on a truck and put together like Lincoln Logs.
Once it was figured out what we were going to live in, the question was where would we live while we built it.
Somehow it was decided that living in tents would be a good idea.
We had one large wall tent where our parents slept and then each of us girls had a tent of our own.
We hauled water in jugs, used an outhouse enclosed by trees and showered and did laundry at the trailerpark in town.
There was no power, no generator and no t.v, but about halfway through the summer we had a telephone installed.
It hung on a tree.

As fall started to turn cold and the house wasn't ready for us to move into we packed up again and moved to town.
My Mom and Dad, the three of us girls and two dogs moved into a one bedroom one bathroom apartment.
To this day I'm not sure which was worse, the apartment or the tents.
At least in the apartment we didn't have to drive anywhere to shower and we could turn on a light.
We ended up moving into the house by Christmas, but even then we only had wood stoves for heat AND for cooking, we had to climb a ladder to get to our bedrooms that were separated by sheets hanging from the ceiling and our phone was still on a tree.

It wasn't too long before my parents ended up divorcing.
My Dad left the Island and moved into a nice apartment in the city with running water, electricity and an indoor phone.
My Mom stayed in that house in the woods for a few more years and then sold it and moved onto a boat.
Of course there was a LOT more life packed in to those years then what I have just told you, these are just some of the highlights ; )

Please Hold

Ummm, so yeah, I didn't get the cupboards done yesterday.

Or the rug shampooed.

But, I did take care of the barnyard menagerie, talked on the phone all day, took care of some insurance stuff, did the dishes, got dressed, made soap and made dinner.

I know it doesn't sound like much, but I'll tell ya... It wears me out.

I have decided I am the family switchboard.

Mind you, I'm ok with that job, I love my family and EVERYONE else that calls too, but holy ring a ding ding, my phones are wearing out.

Between the phone and facebook, how's a girl supposed to get anything done?

So today I need to take Wyatt's project to school, do some grocery shopping, get the old crock pot from the barn and re-batch some soap, VACUUM, and do a load of laundry.

I think I'll reroute my calls through Ernestine today.

One Ringy dingy.....

Lovin From The Oven

I'm not blogging this morning because I'm cleaning out my kitchen cupboards and shampooing the rug.

But, before I go I have to tell you something.

Last night, Maria over at ~ Ramblings from the foothills ~ pointed me in the direction of

~ The Southern Plate ~.

Let me just say this...

O.M.G.

Last night I made...

And...

You HAVE to go check out her blog, AND she is just now publishing a cookbook that I will FOR SURE be buying.

The macncheese is under her 20 best of 2009 and the dessert is chocolate cobbler.

These are her photos so you know it when you see it!