Is It Bedtime Yet?

Once upon a time, long, long ago, like every kid I would complain that it was too early to be sent to bed.  "Just a little while longer.  Just five more minutes.  Puleez!"  Yesterday I changed from the icy-cold sheets of summer to the snuggly-soft fleece sheets of winter and as I made the bed, it was all I could do to keep from crawling in right then and there.  Being the grownup that I pretend to be, I restrained myself, but it wasn't easy.  What with the changeable weather of late, I'd left the cotton sheets but complained to myself every night as I added socks and pajama bottoms under my gown and put a heated beanbag between the sheets to thaw my feet.  It's a well-known fact that heat will not turn corners.  Even though the living areas will warm up, the bedroom stays as frigid as an icebox all winter, and winter is upon us.  It barely reached into the low 40s yesterday, and that's just a taste of what's to come.

Bedtime for the girls is now about 4 p.m., and believe me, they are ready to go in for the night.  No "five more minutes" for them.  The reverse sunset was stunning when Bess and I went out to do our chores.  Unfortunately, I missed getting the small herd of deer going down the driveway in the picture above.

In the last rays of sunlight, the chickens were clustered by their door.  No need to ask if they were ready for bed.  They trooped inside like little soldiers to have a snack before perching on their roosts.

All afternoon I imagined how good my bed would feel and you know what?  It was even better.  No extra protection, no extra heat needed.  No shock to the system to open sleepy eyes wide.  No waking up in the night because a foot slid over and hit an iceberg.  The sun isn't up yet and I'm already wondering if it's bedtime yet.

It's All About The Nap

Misty, some light rain, and cold.  The only things warm in the barn were the udders.  The play yard gate was opened and the big coop door was closed.  Not the most pleasant of mornings.  Back at the house, fingers and toes chilled to the bone, I punched up the fire and made a hot drink before settling into my chair.  Bess had gone out with me and was as cold as I and she pushed her way onto the chair so we could warm each other, a living lap rug.  Soon we were snoozing happily, waking only when the fire had died down.  It was a day for piddly chores, consolidating leftover leftovers (like loaves and fishes, they seem to multiply), doing dishes, and keeping the fire stoked.  Another quick nap in the afternoon before putting the girls inside for the night.  Camille called on her way home from town and I warned her about the fog, dense enough that I could barely see the road in front of the pasture.  She called later to say that there had been no fog until she was almost home and that we must be in a low-lying cloud bank.  Yet another turkey sandwich for dinner (five days' worth of turkey and I think I could fly) and yet another nap before bedtime.  It's all about the nap.

Diva

There's one in every bunch.  We all know that one, the one who requires (if not demands) special attention, privileges, favors.  I can't call BF Betty and Jealous Jennie divas because all they ask for is affection.  (Yesterday it was Jennie in the morning and Betty at night.)  However, there is a certain mouse in the barn I've named Diva.  Every morning I squirt milk on two sets of wipes, one on the ledge and the other draped over the wipes bucket, and mice literally come out of the woodwork to sip, crowding each other at the bar.  Diva, however, refuses to drink with the hoi polloi, sitting on her haunches in front of the shovel until I squirt a few streams so that it runs down for her to lap at and then at the pool at the bottom.  She drinks in solitary splendor.  Who would think the barn could be so entertaining?

After all the prep and busyness of the last week, I would have liked nothing more than to sit and be a couch potato yesterday, but it was not to be.  Running short on goat chow and since it was a sunny day, a trip to the feed store was mandatory.  Like it or not, I also had to run into town.  I could make it all in one loop, but Bessie Anne loves to go to what she calls the Cookie Store and I hate to disappoint my little girl.  More rain is due today, so all the feed had to be unloaded and put under cover when we got home.  It amounted to 205 pounds of feed, and I have to admit it's getting harder to drag the bags out of the truck these days.

That done, it was off to town.  There were two stops, one at either end of Placerville, and that meant getting on the freeway.  Yesterday it wasn't so free.  Not only was it the weekend, it was Thanksgiving weekend and opening day for many of the ski resorts, and while nothing like freeways in Los Angeles, the road was packed, some cars still carrying snow on top.  Passing Placerville, the speed limit is 30 mph, but it's only for a short distance and after passing the last stop light, cars leapt out of the gate like race horses.  As for myself, I really didn't mind because Placerville does Christmas proud.  Nearly every post in the fence along the road has a small Christmas tree atop, decorated, I believe, by local organizations and businesses and they do compete.  It's really very pretty and helps the holiday spirit.

It gets dark so very early now, so I had to rush home, unload the truck (again), and tend to barn chores before the girls balked at going into dark stalls.  One last cuddle for Betty and I was done (and done in) for the day.  Oh, right.  Still had groceries to put away.  Sigh.

And, of course, there was Stove to punch up and stoke before settling into my chair.  It was a good day.

Back to Normal

After days of frenetic activity, company, and goat craziness, it's time to get back to normal (whatever "normal" is).  The girls came in in orderly fashion yesterday for a change.  There was one small contretemps when Sheila had an accident on the stand, fortunately the results of which did not flood where I sit.  Either the weather has dampened Tessie's ardor or she's finished her cycle.  Whichever, we're both calmer now.

On Thanksgiving, while Dave was carving the bird, Craig had asked what to do with the wings, etc.  I told him to package them up for the chickens.  "Will they eat that stuff?"  "Oh yeah!"  It wasn't raining when I let the little girls and guy out of the coop yesterday and they ran to the meat like a flock of vultures.  I checked on the way back to the house and they had picked the bones clean in that short time.  There's something ironic about chickens eating turkey, but it's not for me to judge, any more than when Louie the pig ate sausage and bacon and licked his (pork) chops.

The skies opened up and rain fell most of the day.  Harold had driven his forklift under a tarp and caused a waterfall.  His arrival here was delayed while he changed into dry clothes.  (Hard not to laugh.)  Fortunately, Stove had cooperated and the house was warm, and Harold did yeoman's duty with a fork on the leftovers.  Three days later, there is hardly a dent noticeable.  It's off to the freezer with some of that stuff.

We were as back to normal here as we're gonna get.  It was a good day.

T-Day Plus Two

There is a drawback to having a wood stove as the source of heat.  It's necessary to keep a close eye when starting a fire lest it die out or catch on while you're not watching and send flames up into the chimney.  The temperature had plummeted yesterday but I didn't have time to babysit the wood stove, so the house was absolutely frigid when Linda arrived.  How cold was it?  Well, I had reheated all the dishes from Thanksgiving and took them out of the oven piping hot just as Linda arrived.  We filled our plates and took them into the dining room.  Halfway through, the ice-cold plate needed to go into the microwave to heat up again.  It was that cold.

After eating, we went into the living room so I could start a fire and hopefully warm up.  Of course, yesterday was the day the wood would not catch.  Flames would give a glimmer of hope and then die.  Three times I lit the fire.  We did have a nice visit, Linda with the piggy neck warmer on and probably wishing she had gloves.  Naturally, just as it was time for her to leave, the stove started throwing out heat.  Aargh.

Lesson learned, I will light the stove before going down to the barn today.  Harold is coming for late lunch-early dinner (Thanksgiving times three for me).  If this keeps up, I will start sprouting feathers.

At least sunset had a good blaze going last evening.

T-Day Plus One

It was a race to the finish line yesterday.  It started out as one of those "what else can go wrong" mornings when the drain plug to the kitchen sink fell apart.  Of all days, when it seems every dish, pot and pan in the house needs washing.  I got it put back together enough to hold water, so that was okay.

Holidays are one of the few times I wish I didn't have milk goats.  Those chores take such a huge chunk of time.  Wouldn't you know Tessie shouldered out of the barn before Esther and then wouldn't come in to be milked.  My adjoining neighbor has a variety of animals and I think one may be a buck because Tess stood at the pen fence line, inviting her Romeo over for a liaison.  My patience and time were running short so I left her and went back to the house.

One of the last-minute chores is vacuuming.  I'm whipping through the living room and then noticed that nothing was going into the canister.  Oh crum.  There is evidently a blockage in some hose or another, but I'd gotten messages that the Kids were coming up earlier than expected, which was a good thing, but left me no time to fiddle with the vacuum.  The carpet got short shrift, but was at least presentable.

It is such a joy to see trucks and cars and smiling faces arrive.  Craig, my son-in-law whom I adore, is the official turkey baster and he went right to work on the first but certainly not the last baste of the day.  Deb is my right-hand man in the kitchen, keeping me on track and taking over so many chores.  I put together the basics and she makes it happen.  It's been at least five years since I've seen my grandson Brandon and had never met his lady Ashley, so their visit to Dave was at the precisely right time.  The group was almost complete when Clay came.  When Larry arrived, these worker bees took care of many tasks I'd not been able to do (like fixing the leak in the feed room roof and stringing clothesline).  Cam and Honey came so Bessie had her company to enjoy, too.

Does any holiday dinner ever start on time?  Not at my house.  Pies finally in the oven, the group sat down to eat.  My love cup runneth over.  FYI, the Brussels sprouts may become a staple and even replace the green bean casserole.

We broke with our family tradition and watched football during the day just like regular people.  The cards and chips didn't come out until after dinner.  I broke pretty close to even.

For the first time ever, I didn't send everyone home loaded with leftovers because, ta da!, Linda is coming to share the same dinner today.

It was a good, make that best day.

T-Day!

Drinking coffee and trying to get my eyes open enough to get it in gear and get going.  Everything but the turkey and pies was done yesterday.  Now I've got Big Bird to deal with.  I think (hope) this 23-1/2 pounder will fill those empty stomachs.

I wish everyone family, friends, and food to celebrate this day of giving thanks.

Coffee's gone, and so is time.

It's going to be a good day!