Everything went so smoothly yesterday. I couldn't believe how heavy that little generator is, but I got it out of its high cabinet and hauled up on the hand cart to the feed barn after I finished milking. That was a slight technical error in that the goats were done with their breakfast and wanted to help. As I trundled along, one wanted to take the spark plug cap off and another wanted to pull on the starter rope. Another thought it might be fun to ride on the hand cart, too. They were all disappointed that they couldn't come through the gate. I had called Joel for backup, thinking I wouldn't be able to get the generator started without help, but after reading every label on the machine and fiddling with sticking levers, the blessed little booger started right up and purred. I tried to head off Joel and save him the time, but he was already through the gate and so we had a nice chat. The tom turkeys were in the chicken pen again...are they coming for the grain or trying to make time with the girls?
Tim, the shearer, had me worried as seven-thirty rolled around. Is he coming at all? Will it be dark when he gets here? He pulled up as I was just putting my finger on the panic button. A cold beer put a smile on his face, and he was delighted with the little generator...said he needs one just that size. After my struggles of the morning, I felt such a wimp as he picked it up with one hand and carried it down to the barn. I put all the kids to bed, and then brought Poppy out again. This guy is such a pro...he had her sheared, wormed, and gave her a pedicure in less than a half-hour, and then trimmed the hooves on Nineteen and Tessie, too! Poppy seemed to know she was in competent hands, and didn't fight at all. In the past, she's come out looking like she'd had a date with Freddie Kruger, and the shearer looked like he'd gone ten rounds with Mohamed Ali. It was too late to get a picture of Poppy's new look, but she has to feel better. It took two of us to bring her fleece up out of the pen.
I just love a day when everything goes well.
Friday, July 30, 2010
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Guess I shall uncross my fingers now and await Poppy's Pretty Picture! Hey...no feeling like a wimp!! You are a woman "of a certain age"...and even if you WEREN'T of a certain age (and I'm sure you are stronger than most at half that certain age)...God DID give the guys the "generator-pickin'-up" muscles and the "sheep-wrestling" muscles for times just like this! Here's to another teflon day with just the right amount of raisins!
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