Didn't Omar Khayyam say, "A loaf of bread, a hunk of cheese, and thou"? Oh, no; that was wine, not cheese. I'm about bread and cheesed out, having spent yesterday on two more pounds of chevre and another four (smaller) loaves of the staff of life, with a quick trip to the feed store while the dough was rising. My daughter, more knowledgeable than I about such matters, convinced me by text and then phone that I priced the bread too low, and Emmy agreed. Okay, I'll up it.
The morning had an inauspicious start yesterday. I heard Poppy bellowing as I walked into the pen. I was early, so she couldn't be complaining about slow service. My clue to Poppy's unhappy yelling was when Sheila poked her head over the chain link gate to the barn. Oh crum. How did Sheila get out of her stall and then slam the door on poor Poppy? Poppy can't bear to be without her roommate. Leaving the mystery to be solved another time, I had to milk Sheila first, leaving Inga to wait and throwing off the whole sequence. The girls go into a tizzy if their routine is interrupted. Going back for Inga, I had to use a rope to guide her, and we had a disagreement about which way to go. I ended up losing a chunk of hide from my arm, but she went up on the stand. The other girls milled about, not sure about this change in The Plan. Squint made his raid on the grain and got doused again.
I've got a day trip planned today and so will get a reprieve from bread and milk duty. (To be continued.)