Donut Shop Seniors

It's an exciting Friday morning in Brush Colorado! Here we are celebrating my Dad's birthday with all his BFFs!  (at the donut shop)  (on a Friday morning)  Did I mention it was very exciting!  The topic around the table this morning....flies!

For those of you Beetdigger alums the man on the left is "Mr Edson"  our old, biology teacher.  Yeah, he still speaks with me even after the year we had way back in 1980!  I think he is secretly instilling some ideas into Eli's head in order to get revenge from that year. 

It's hard to believe my Dad is.....that old.  He continues to run circles around me daily.  Happy Birthday Pops!  We heart you!

Eli never misses an opportunity to be the center of attention!

Game on!!

When I think about raising the kids I always think about the ridiculous self imposed competitions that invaded our generally happy home.  When it came to Jon and the boys the competitions became, well serious to put it lightly.  It started out with who could eat the most hamburger helper, to who could catch the most pop flys, to who could count backwards from one hundred by sevens - the competition was always present.  Luckily Ashley and I were saved from all but the most serious of competitions where we were forced with bodily harms, to pick a side.

The competitions gradually became more mature - or do I mean more immature - I'm not clear on that.  Anyhow the competitions included shotgunning beer at our famous - or do I mean infamous - tailgaters.  Jon, by the way always lost - or do I mean won - that competition.  Since the boys have become responsible contributing members of society the competitions have been very subdued.  The men - or do I mean boys - always do picks on Sunday morning during football season.  This tradition has been going on since puberty - and I do mean Jon's puberty!  Even when Aaron was going to grad school in Indiana or Tony was on one of his many adventures the boys have never missed a Sunday morning NFL game pick phone call.  For the past few years all has been pretty quiet out here on the plains with no active competition taking place. 

Until tonight.  Jill and Aaron sent us this photo of their garden:

Then we send back the following:



Jon is currently digging up all the catalogs we filed away in order to get a jump on the garden for 2012.  He will spare no expense and only the most exotic seedlings varieties will make the roster.  The couple will make worthy opponents but Jon believes he will prevail. 

Just like the old days - GAME ON!

Thirty Years

I have to say after thirty years there is nothing sexier than a fifty something year old football fanantic getting down on his hands and knees after a 12 hour day at work to ......

.....play tractors with his grandson.  (Sigh)

Muttin bustin 101

I thought the kids had a clear advantage over the sheep until it was MY grandkid on a huge sheep.  Now I'm not so sure.

Only in the country

After figuring out that three billy goats is too many (come to think of it, one billy goat is too many) I gave up and let Jon take one of them to the sale barn.  I couldn't go with him because I think the country folk up there would call the police if they saw me crying and hanging on to the holding pen - and the thing is I don't even like him!  At the same time though I want him to go hang out with another family, that simply won't have him for dinner.

I didn't here anything about the sale of the animal and Jon simply dropped him off, poor thing he didn't know anybody, didn't have any friends.  Anyway a few weeks later, I received a check in the mail along with an invoice.  This was not photo shopped - I simply must share the description.  Apparently it isn't just cattle people that are obssessed with testicles in the country.  (Or more appropriately the lack thereof)

shut the front door!

For all you folks inquiring about the state of our remodel.  That is just what it is , a state.  A constant state of unfinishedness and organized chaos. 

I don't know if you remember but really this spring we just wanted hardwood floors, dark birch hardwood floors to be exact.  A no brainer really until the contractor came and "I think I can move that staircase".  That was beginning of the end, actually since there is no end to the remodeling in sight I will have to say that it is merely the beginning.  The floors are connected to the stairs, that are connected to the kitchen cupboards, that are connected to the old appliances - you see what I'm getting at?

It doesn't help that when I go to Lowe's I transform into a patient with severe ADHD.  I go in to look at interior doors and grab a brochure all about interior doors.  Then something comes over me and I'm off down the tile isle - soon I have tile, grout and adhesive in the cart.  Then I'm off to the outdoor lighting aisle - two new porch lights in the cart.  Finally I go to the exterior door guy, Ryan - who knows me by name to see if the door has arrived.  Okay it isn't there yet, bu that doesn't stop me from buying the primer and paint and brushes I will use when it does arrive.

As far as that last trip to Lowes, I ended up not liking any of the tile - it all went back.  One of the porch lights was broke so it needs reordered.  The door finally came in but I got the wrong kind of paint for it.  It is no wonder that when the front door finally DID arrive Jon told me nothing but went on a secret spy mission to Greeley to pick it up without me knowing.  Can't say I blame him really.

I have learned that if I appeal to Jon's sense of saving money and saving the environment I can talk him into just about anything.  "Think of how much money a new door will save on the heating bill.  Think of how much these new appliances will save on the gas bill".  I have to come up with some way a jacuzzi tub will benefit his pocketbook and I am set for eternity.

So this week new exterior doors, then tile, then trim, then cupboards and the island, then appliance then...........

"shootin the goats"

Eli had to help Poppy and Nana "shoot" the goats yesterday.  Remember, this is still the Cook no-kill hobby farm so when Eli says shoot the goats he means give them a shot.  So armed with a 10cc syringe (with no needle) we doctored the goats this morning.

Let me just explain that when we doctor the little herd it is Jon that rounds up the animals, singles them out, wrestles their stinky butts to the ground while I meander in, pinch the goats skin and gently inject the medication that will prevent three common diseases for the year.  In fact when Jon is done with this chore he is dripping with sweat, covered in manured and smells just a bit like a Billy goat.  (By the way our billy goat smells so bad that Febreze didn't even help.  Yeah I hauled Febreze out to the pasture and doused the nasty creature with it.  He sneezed once and then peed on himself, so I guess that'a not gonna work.)   When I am done with the chores I can go directly to lunch with a friend without even washing my hands.  I don't have any idea why Jon gets all uptight about vaccination day??

So add a toddler to the mix.  Let me add, a toddler that is mesmerized by the complex series of locks and gates that Jon has installed over the past year mostly to keep that nasty billy away from the nannies.    Every time we turned to let a goat out of a gate Eli had it closed, and locked, and chained. At one time he had even wrapped a halter around a gate with the skill of a boy scout aiming for his note tying badge!  Needless to say chores took a bit longer this morning than usual but it was time well spent two of the boys I love! 

Country Campout

It has been years since I have slept in a tent.  Now I remember why.  Last night we pitched the tent as promised to Eli in the front yard for a camp out.  A camp out just a few steps from all the comforts of home ie - the water faucet, the bathroom, the TV.

I resisted my initial thought to unplug the laptop and haul it out to the lawn along with a few of Eli's favorite DVDs.  I mean, it was dark and what were we going to do with a toddler who took a nap at 5:00 p.m. and therefore had a good two hours of awake time left.  We crawled down to the bottom of our sleeping bags and turned on the flashlight and settled in.

My grandson looked up at me with the sad eyes and requested a ghost story.  Oh sweet Jesus!.  This is the same kid who won't walk down to the basement to get a toy if the lights are off, even in the daytime.  Then Ashley informs me I have permission to tell a ghost story as long as it ends with puppies, or cupcakes of hugs.  Okay I get it.  So we spent the next hour telling the most ridiculous stories about skeletons eating Twinkies and bats making friends!  I was never really good at making up stories for my kids.  Jon was the parent with that talent.  These stories last night though, were particularly...lame, and Eli loved it!

Story telling was followed up by finger shadows.  Then a campout snack and then finally we settled down and played a game of quiet and listening.  We took turns listening to the sounds of a quiet country night - a dog barking, the breeze blowing through the trees, Poppy's water fountain running outside.  That was just about it - no sirens, traffic, neighbors, honking...none of that.  It was Friday night on top of it all and the quietness still permeated our tent. 

The campout ended abruptly as Boo and Mike (Eli's cats that I board and I feed) decided to make a flying leap onto the top of the tent and scare the pants off everyone.  Eli laughed nervously along with the rest of us and then he promptly announced that he was going inside to sleep in a real bed.  Ahh, thank you Boo and Mike.

Stop "wining"

One of my dozens of unfinished projects - the vineyard.  I was full steam ahead a couple years ago until the goats got into the yard and had an entire afternoon to feast on the luscious leaves before I noticed anything amiss.  Then it was full steam ahead again until Jack and Cooper found little critters to dig for right at the base of several of the vines. They spent many afternoons last fall chasing and digging and digging and digging.  So there were  nice asymmetrical deep holes in the dirt and entire vines were simply missing.   I was even full steam ahead last years until a nasty crop of grasshoppers arrived to eat everything in their path including the grapes leaves.

Much to my surprise though this spring those vines that did survive all of that were strong and thick.  Careful planning and pruning that initial year has made the surviving plants nearly perfect.  Their thick woody base stretches at a ninety degree angle from the ground until it reaches the first wire where it then reaches out in three direction and producing handfuls of plump round green Frontenac grapes.

So despite my better judgement I ordered new grape vines to replace the ones that were, eaten or stomped on or torn away from the land.  The land on the east side of the house is protected just enough from the elements that the new plants seem to be content and are growing. 

Jon has grown tired of listening to me "wine" about the status of the plants.  He constructed a small fence surrounding the tender new plants so no critters can accidentally find their way to the area.  Then last weekend after spending the weekend in Estes I came home to find a drip system neatly installed in out little vineyard.

My plan?  The first crop of grapes will be harvested next year, stomped the old fashioned way in a big wooden bucket and the first bottle of Cooks No Kill Pinot Grigio will be presented to Aaron and Jill on their wedding day.

Country Humor

 The  Dead Cow  Lecture

First-year  students at the Purdue Vet School were attending  their
first anatomy class with a real dead cow.
They all gathered around the surgery table with the body  covered with
a white   sheet.
The professor started the class by telling them, "In Veterinary
medicine it is necessary to have two important
 qualities as a doctor. The first is that you not be  disgusted by
anything involving the animal’s body."
  For an example, the professor pulled back the sheet,  stuck his
finger in the butt of the cow, withdrew
   it, and stuck his finger in his mouth. "Go ahead and do the same
thing," he told his students.
The students freaked out, hesitated for several minutes, but
eventually took turns sticking a finger in the butt
of the dead cow and sucking on it.
When everyone finished,the Professor looked a them and said,
"The second most important quality is observation.
 I stuck in my  middle finger and sucked on my index finger.
 Now  learn to pay attention. Life's tough but it's even tougher if
you're stupid."

The above was sent to Jon by his brother Steve who lives in Tennessee.  I think BOTH of them could benefit from some therapy!!

I Thought I Lived in the Country!

Last night Jon and I voluntarily, and without any pressure, traveled over 70 miles to attend a barn party.  We passed four barns on our road, probably another 50 barns on Highway 14 and dozens more before we arrived a particular barn iEast of Briggsdale.  Uh, that's Briggsdale, Colorado. 

As Jon drove and drove and drove, I had to keep saying silently to myself..."Life's a journey, not a destination, enjoy the journey not the destination".  I may have lost contact with reality for several miles during that drive through the prairie.  To make matters more complicated it was a celebration of country folk we really didn't know but was hosted by a man that worked for Jon at one time at his parents place.  Can you get anymore random than that?

Focusing on the journey and not whether we were going to run out of gas prior to our arrival, we saw huge herds of antelope jumping pasture fences effortlessly.  We saw a lone hawk resting his talons on an old wooden gait by the roadside.  We even captured a rainbow at the end of the narrow highway.  We turned south on this dirt road and then went east on that dirt road as I started to question the intelligence of our GPS lady droning on the background.  I must admit, though  I actually enjoyed the ride in the truck.  (I have to admit  alsoI was thinking, at least initially - if we get lost then we won't have time to get to a party where I don't know a soul) An additional benefit of course, Jon has to listen to me go on and on about the most random things because he has no escape route at 60 miles per hour! 

The country folk at the barn party were wonderful and welcoming and by the time we left the celebration I felt like we were immediate family.  Not a bad way to spend a Saturday night in the way out there country.

Country Mondays

I haven't posted a blog for the past couple of days BUT it has taken me that long to recover from Monday!

Nowadays I am a "glass have full" kind of person however Monday, truly turned into an exception and at it's conclusion I was ready to transform into an eternal pessimist.  Gone was my mantra - I only have good days and great days. My new mantra is - I only have good days and great days....and Mondays!

I was lured from a deep sleep at 5:45 a.m. by screeching coming from the goat pen.  Yeah, I know you are thinking goats don't screech and usually they don't, that's why it woke me up.  Jon of course was long gone, in fact I have no idea what time he goes to work in the morning but there was no sight of him at 5:45 a.m.  Anyway, I walk out to the pen, in my cowboy boots and my pajamas (I wish I was exaggerating about the wardrobe but I'm not).  I rub the sleep out of my eyes to see one of our Billies in the same pen as the nannies.  Now for all you city types, we REALLY did not want to have babies in the frigid middle of the winter this year.  We talked about breeding them in the fall and having babies in the comfort of the wondrous spring weather.  Of course as I looked at the Billy assaulting my nannies the calender in my head was counting off 150 days.  Crap.

I won't even begin to tell you how much fun it was to try and separate a big, tough, stinky, billy - hot on the trail of "some lovin" from my sweet innocent Nannies.  Add into that mix the dozen sheep who I think that morning just wanted to be part of the drama and it was ridiculous!  Of course no neighbors in site that morning to help out. All of this before coffee!

Next on the list grocery shopping.  Since I had been gone all weekend and Jon apparently has some aversion to grocery carts, the frig was bare.  I head to "Faltart".  I know what you are thinking, but at 7:00 a.m., I thought I could beat some of the ridiculousness.  NOT.  I was too early to pick up photos and the store had no fresh limes - limes for God sake.  I guess Arugula and fresh mozzarella cheese are out.  Seriously what kind of retail grocery store does not have limes.  The checker silently moved my groceries across the scanner.  At no time did she say good morning, thank you, I hate my job, nothing - the entire time.  I was going to ask her where the limes were but  then I decided to engage in an experiment to see if she would even speak at all.  She didn't.

After that underwhelming shopping experience I stopped by my parents and when I left I was pulled over by Brushs' finest.  Okay here's the deal about that.  The Brush Police Department probably receives half of it's revenue by handing out tickets for not coming to a complete stop at a stop sign.  I know this is true because I read the police blotter in the paper.  I know this and yet what do I do?  I don't stop completely at the stop sign, I admit it.  It doesn't change the fact that the country popo, who was going the opposite way whipped around behind me like I had just robbed a liquor store....at gunpoint....and taken hostages.  Seriously where was I going to go?  When he walked up to the window he looked a great deal like Deputy Butterbean (google it) and I though about fleeing - but like where am I going to go.  I am two blocks from my parents house.  So after keeping my mouth shut and taking my citation like a woman I am $45.00 poorer and I will have the honor of having my name posted in the local paper.  AWESOME!

Finally you think unloading groceries and putting them neatly away would be a simple task really.  Foolishly I started mulitasking and put a pot of water on the stove to hard boil eggs I just purchase - I was lucky enough to find eggs at the Faltart.  I set the pot on the back burner, and turned the stove on, however I turned on the front burner.  Now, that normally isn't a big deal except this morning since I was putting away groceries I had a loaf of bread sitting on the front burner.  Before I could smell the smoke my newly purchased loaf of bread was a fireball.

All of this before 10:00 a.m.  Oh nothing else happened in that day - that's because I went back to bed!

Country bike ridin

Poppy, Eli, Tony and Aaron riding bikes on the beach in St. Augustine

Sometimes I wonder if I have even one brain cell actually firing in my head.  Last week I decided to ride my old mountain bike...to Fort Morgan 12 miles from my place.  Okay I really had planned on riding into town and buying stamps a simple task really, right?  I was feeling so good I peddled straight past Brush and up near the Pawnee Power Plant roughly half way between the two towns.  I was still feeling strong despite the fact that I had no water, had not eaten anything for breakfast and needed a new seat on the very old bike.

I peddled on up to and past the beef packing plant and on into Fort Morgan.  By this time I had developed a mental list in my head of what I was going to purchase at the bike store in Fort Morgan.  I needed a water bottle that would fit on the holder I already had.  I needed a bike helmet - yeah I traveled to Fort Morgan without it - stupid I know - especially on these country roads.  There are no bike paths in fact there really isn't even a shoulder on the road.  There is a road....and an irrigation ditch and those are the options.
Anyway I needed a new seat, and I needed some kind of rear view mirror so I can see what color the farm pick up is that is going to run me in to the ditch right before it happens.

I get into Fort Morgan and I have to say I was honestly feeling good, not tired, not sore.  I head to the one and only bike shop in the middle of town.  Despite the fact that it is 10:05 and the sign on the door announces the store hours as OPEN 10-6, the place is dark and still.  I park my bike on the rack in front of the store and I wait.  At 10:20 I call my Mom.  "Is this place still open?  Can you get me their phone number"?  I call the store, no answer and I wait again.  I really wasn't thrilled with riding that bike another 12 miles without a helmet on but at 10:35, and still no signs of life inside the store I gingerly get back on the old bike and head east toward Brush.

As I arrived at the half way point I could feel myself slow down as I pushed the bike into a lower gear.  "Just go slow, you don't have any plans today", I thought to myself.  If I can just make it to Beaver Creek Drive I can get off the bike and walk it the last half mile on the thick gravel road.  Mind you I wasn't sore, wasn't too tired and really wasn't hungry or even thirsty. 

I peddled up the slight incline and slowly turned onto the gravel of Beaver Creek Drive and sighed as I leaned to the right and slowly got off the bike.  I took two maybe three steps.....and down I went.  The world was spinning and instantly I was nauseated.  When I say nauseated I was sick like when I was 16 and the basketball coach made us run wind sprints.  I sat on the side of the road my bike laying in a heap and knew i needed to to get that last half mile under my belt.  I looked down.  I was sitting dead center in a hill of angry red ants.  I pulled myself up and took maybe 10 steps toward home....down again I went.

A truck drove by, I wave like I am sitting here on the side of the road, baking in the now searing sun on my own accord.  Bear in mind that I did have my phone, my stubbornness prevented me from calling anyone.  Seriously?  I look at the closest home.  Can I make it to their garden hose?

Obviously I made it home on my own, I mean you didn't read about an ambulance call to my house in the local newspaper, right?  After some recovery time I called the "bike shop".  I asked for the owner or the manager, thinking I would inform him that his employees weren't working when they should be.  Much to my surprise the owner answered the phone and told me he was working that morning.  He just had to run some little errands before he opened his shop and he told me he strolled into open up about 10:45.  Seriously?  So much for me trying to keep it local.  Uh it won't happen again!

How have you bean?

How have you bean?  I should have titled this post "Stealing Jon's thunder". 

In the spring Jon said "Let's plant the garden today".  I answered, "Today?  It's too windy...or too cold, or too cloudy".  Yes, I think I actually used "too cloudy" as an excuse this year.  I think the garden should be a journey.  Jon thinks the garden should be a savings on groceries.  The fact is I just like to be out there when the weather is nothing short of perfect.  You see, it does create a problem when you live way out here with tornado warnings, hail, constant winds, etc.  I could go on and on.

Early this summer Jon popped up out of bed at 5:00 a.m. (that's what country boys do, they pop out of bed) and said let's go weed the garden.  "Now, Jon?  I mean the mosquitos are still out because there is shade in the garden".  He answered, "We have bug spray in the garden shed."  "That bug spray makes me feel sticky, I can't put that stuff on first thing in the morning". 

You see where I headed with this right?  So on a beautiful but slightly muggy Tuesday morning with the air so still and the sky overhead the most amazing color of blue, I head to the garden with my IPod and my big floppy hat from JCrew.  My fluffy black Jack me follows and the two new kittens climb the big cottonwood above the garden to find a comfortable perch to watch the activity.  My garden gloves are still warm fresh from the dryer and a big jug of ice water sits on the swing ready to ward off any signs of pending dehydration.  Then I start harvesting to the soothing tunes of John Denver.

Jon works on the garden all spring and summer and I jump in and start picking out veges to take pictures of and proudly pass out the excess to family and friends.  Do I feel even a little guilty?  Naw, I'll make Jon fresh sauteeud green beans with bacon and organic cucumber salad for dinner with a bowl of crisp red raspberries for dessert.  He'll get over it soon enough.

Our cup runneth over in many ways out here in the country, particularly in the garden department - so if you are in need of cucumbers or beans especially come on out here.  Bring your own JCrew hat and bucket as you will have to harvest your own veges.....unless the sky is particularly blue and the air is still on any given morning.

The above is a real offer.  I have anticipated pickling and freezing this summer but with the remodel still ongoing I have minimal counter space to work with so please help yourself!

Bidding Cooper Adieu

Since I stopped writing the blog a few months ago one of the biggest changes is the fact that our family is one dog short.  Cooper the bipolar runaway champion counter surfer has gone to live in the mountains.  I say that very matter-of-factly but if truth be told I still feel guilty about it.  Yeah I know, I'm Catholic so the guilt is here for good.

I can't even remember what set me off but one day in June I had had enough and I quick like made a flyer with his picture on it and sent it out to my kids and everyone else I know hoping I could spur a bit of interest.  Now because I don't think I really wanted to get rid of him the flyer read something like:

3 year old neutered Bernese Mountain Dog
spoiled, naughty, high maintenance, a runaway
Dog is accustomed to being indoors and outdoors,
so if you are going to lock him outside or in a kennel
this is not the dog for you

I giggled to myself as I sent the email out and then forgot about it.  I guess I should have added adjectives like rabid, schizophrenic and murderous because that night I received a call from Katie - she was interested in Cooper.  Again I reiterated the naughty, spoiled etc etc.  She wanted to see him, and she was willing to drive from her home in Morrison to do it.  I thought about telling her he bites small children but I kept my mouth shut.

We ended up meeting at the rest stop in Wiggins.  Katie looked normal, she was driving a Landcruiser (don't know if that's a good sign or a bad sign)   She had all her teeth and she didn't have horns or any signs of witchcraft type activity.  When she asked if she could take him home for the weekend I couldn't help myself.  I asked her with a nervous laugh, if she planned to eat Cooper for dinner.  I asked her who would be home with him.  I asked Katie if she had a fence.  I asked her what she did for a living and if she was married.  (She works for Denver Police Department and has a degree in forensic biology and yes, she is married)Then finally I could find no reason to keep Cooper with me.

She took his leash from me and tenderly led my dog to her car.  Cooper stopped and looked at me like, "Mom, take me home, I wanna go with you".  Tears welled up in the corner of my eyes and then driving home the water works began.  I knew I wasn't going to see him again, I knew Katie would take great care of this mutt.  Then at nearly 50 years old..... I called my Mom, and cried.  My Mom appeared later with a cheesecake.  My Mom is the best! 

I am in contact with Katie and Cooper frequently and all is well.  She has sent me photos of Cooper on their acres and acres of land in the mountains and of Cooper laying on her couch and laying on her bed, so I know he is right at home. 

Above is Cooper and his new sister Phoebe

So at the Cook no kill mini farm all is as it should be Jack is back to normal after pouting and feeling lonely for a few days.  We can now leave Jack outside and he won't runaway, we can leave the front door open and there is no dog to bust out at 50 miles an hour.  The baby goats aren't chased until they nearly have a coronary and there is only half the dog hair to sweep up.  Tony has finally started speaking to me again after giving Cooper away....and Jon is PUMPED.

Back to Bloggin...Country Style

After a self imposed vacation from the blog world I decided there are just too many crazy, silly stupid things going on out here on the Eastern plains and I must share with you all.  When I say self imposed vacation what I really mean is that when you have a four year old computer and spotty satellite Internet, sometimes I just couldn't find an extra two hours to post a single blog.  That problem has been solved so here we are, all together again!  Wow many things have happened in the past few months - my Grandmother celebrated her 102nd birthday, the Cooks added a new baby boy - Nathan - to the crew, my nephew became a track champion, Ashley started nursing school and list goes on and on.

Since it is the middle of July and my last update was months ago I guess I should fill you in on what's going on.  First of all I changed both the name and address of the blog.
http://www.gardensgoatsandgrandkids.blogspot.com/

After nearly four years in the country I felt like this was a more appropriate name.

First on the list - the garden.  The garden is green and tall and producing three kinds of lettuce, radishes, corn, squash, and cucumbers already.  We are also enjoying fresh strawberries and raspberries. It is hard to believe we have had zero hail out here this summer.  What we do have however are grasshoppers by the thousands.  In fact a "neighbor" (I use the term loosely because I have never seen this man nor do I have any idea where he resides) came by a couple nights ago and asked if we would be interested in paying for an aerial grasshopper spray.  We said yes, he took our number and we never heard from him again.  Good thing I didn't give him a check, I guess!  Luckily we have a family member in the chemical distribution business - no he doesn't have a meth lab in his basement - he sprays lawns- who was able to access the special spray with grasshoppers in mind, so the garden may survive.  Last year without the spray the pesky bugs ate everything in sight, veges, flowers, grass - everything!

Second on the list - the goats.  The goats are doing great in fact I purchased two more little kids this spring that we bottle fed and just weened last week.  We weened them because I was working and Jon got sick of making their bottles twice a day so when I got home after three days Jon announced to me that it was magically time and they were now eating sweet feed.  Alright Jon, you are the animal guy.  In addition to the eight goats we are also babysitting 12 sheep for the remainder of the summer.  Apparently my husband is now a hay broker as we will be getting free hay for the goats for the winter out of this trade - not too shabby.  With all the rain we have had over the past month, nearly 10 inches, we have plenty for all the animals to eat this summer.  The only problem lies in the fact that even though we technically live in the country we still live within a small community that has old covenants.  The covenants read, the homeowner may only have 2 hoofed animals per acre of land own.  According to my calculations we are several hooves over our limit right now.  Good thing we have great neighbors on all side of us, but we'll see what happens.

Third on the list - the grandkids, or should I say grandkid as in single.  One single grandkid though is enough to keep Poppy and Nana hopping each and everyday.  Eli will be four in December and will be starting preschool this fall.  Where does the time go anyway, he is a constant reminder to stop and enjoy every little moment.  Of course more Eli stories are in the queue so stay posted.  I must of course add Aaron and Jill's engagement to the grandkids sections for obvious reasons!!  They are getting married sometime next summer so you all have a year to get some rest because we will celebrate a year from now.  What a wonderful addition to our family -

More about Jill and Aaron,  Jon's lawnmower lover and my own shenanigans will follow.  Please add your picture to my followers on the new blog!  Enjoy!