Backwater Blues

There are days I feel that I am in the world, but not of it, more of an observer than a participant.  When loved ones are in crisis and what I want most is to enfold them in my arms, distance and circumstance make me feel far removed.  The SoCal Kid begins his round of tests today and all I can do is offer long-distance support as I did when his brother had surgery some months back.  Clay, my "fifth son," has two moms:  his "original manufacturer" mother and me, his "after-market" mama.  His OM is also in the hospital now and we are all holding the good thought for her and for Clay.  And so it goes.

Here in my alternate universe, Inga and I are back on track.  Now it is Tessie who wants to play the Catch Me If You Can game.  She's not a serious runner and since she has always worn a necklace (collar), if I'm sneaky and approach without looking directly at her, I can snag her and walk her back to the barn.  It's my feeling that the girls get bored and devise these little games for amusement; theirs, not mine.

A friend who also raises goats and I were chatting online the other day about preparations for the holidays.  I mentioned that Craig ("fourth son") has developed an allergy to walnuts and some recipes have to be altered so I don't unintentionally do him in.  She has family members with the same problem and said, "We, too, make bull and steer cookies."  That's a farm joke (I won't explain it) that had me falling off my chair laughing.

Waking in the middle of the night to one of Pearl's hourly "all's well" announcements, for a groggy moment I thought I'd left lights on in the living room, the moon was that bright.

My own little world here at Farview is, for the most part, serene.  I wouldn't change it and there is no other place I'd want to live.  It's only that there are times I'd like to reach out and really hold a hand.