My Lap, My Life

Currently, this is my View From Farview Farm.  I've become a lap magnet.  Sometimes Bessie Anne's need to be with me is overwhelming, and Celeste is taking her cue from Bess.  At times, it's Bess on my lap and Celeste at the side, but they take turns.  Ralph is generally off doing Ralph things.  When this photo was taken, he was having a high old time with the tear strip from a package of tortillas.  (He's easy to amuse.)  On occasion, he will pile on and find whatever lap space is available, usually on Celeste's head.

Bessie Anne's gimpy legs make it difficult for her to negotiate the stairs, but given her need to be with me, yesterday we both went down to tackle The Project again.  The cats are not allowed into the shop area; too many nooks, crannies, and hidey holes and I'd never find them when ready to leave.  My plan to switch batteries and drills is working.  Or, to be honest, it would work if I didn't wimp out.  I never dreamed the process would consume so much time and energy.  "Go slow," the man said.  There isn't any choice but to go slow.  Drill, dip.  Drill, dip.  One hole punched (switch drills) and one in progress before my hand cramped and legs and back were screaming, "Quit!"  Among the multitude of tools and trash in the shop, I identified a drill press.  I've never used a drill press, but it's possible it might make the job easier.  My assignment for today is to find online instructions.  I continue to hold out hope for The Project.  If I give Bess a beginning boost, she can usually make it up the rest of the stairs on her own and we emerged at the top like bats from a cave.

Tree Guy knows trees, but he doesn't know goats.  He put the "protection" fence too close to the one critical mulberry tree I'd wanted to shade the barn.  The girls have learned to stand on the square wire to lean over to reach the sapling and have chewed off beginner branches and nibbled on the trunk bark.  Yesterday they hadn't the decency to wait until I'd left the pen.  Sheila and Tessie were tag-teaming on the tree and I was yelling like some demented thing.  "Bad goat!  Bad goat!"  I'm sure Robert, who was working at his winery, got his chuckle for the day.

There are days when I'm happy to see the sun go down and know that the trials and tribulations are over for the day, that day, anyhow.  I went into the house and made a lap.