I've not posted for a month. Meanwhile I sold all 12 of the sheep fleeces we shore in June online to handspinners. The people who bought them actually seem happy with them! It feels good to finally make a little money back from the farm. There is an awfully long way to go yet to break even though! Now I can't wait to shear the Angora goats and 3 lambs this fall.
New kittens were born in late July to one of the cats I have been fostering for a teenage girl. Zoe, the kitty, was a young mother, and 3 of the 5 in the litter died the day they were born. The two that are left are feisty, playful little creatures. A white one with orange tabby spots is a boy. We have been calling him Butterscotch. The black one is a girl. She has white frosted tipped fuzzy hair and white only on the tips of her paws. I want to call her Frosty, but my daughter feels very strongly that Frosty is a boy's name. Zoe is getting spayed next month, and the other two will get fixed if we still have them at 6 months.
Our new puppie, Pete, has killed 2 chickens and a duck so far. The duck was my favorite, and I'm very sad. I think the neighbors think we are beating Pete. We do yell at him, but he lets out terrible protests and screams if he doesn't get his way, without even being yelled at. It sounds like he's been kicked or hurt in some physical way. One day I was feeding the chickens, and I told him not to follow me, shutting the gate behind me, and he whelped and hollered as if I'd kicked him! I don't know how to get him to stop doing this. Also, he is very intelligent, and he's figured out that sometimes if he's caught, that means he's going to get put on the chain, or go to the basement. So he doesn't want to be even pet unless he thinks we are too busy to restrain him in any way. I give him doggie treats when he comes to me, no matter how mad I am at him, and I carry him to the chain gently and make sure he feels loved when he's on it. But he does NOT like it, and he says so very loudly. I have been through obedience training with a few dogs, and have worked with him a little. He does better than some other dogs I've had, so long as I'm paying attention to him. The first few times on the choke chain, he rolled and hollered, but after he figured out we were playing school, and watched my other two dogs cooperate (my cocker spaniel LOVES school), he decided to try paying attention instead of trying to get free. I have never, ever had a puppy that acted so abused, and it is very unnerving.
I've been working a long stretch of night shifts for the full time night shift nurse's vacation. The stretch is finally finished, and I have a week off next week. My body is still recovering. I think I have developed a mild ulcer from the caffeine and soda. Last night I had to leave Farm Bureau meeting early because I had a wave of nausea that you get like when you have diarrhea; only there was no diarrhea, and I was hard put to even pass any gas. The nausea wouldn't go away, and it didn't feel like anything a Tums would help. And I had a couple of dizzy spells, just sitting there. I lied and told them I felt fine when they asked. I did tell an honest truth - that the kids had started school, and I had a bunch of papers to fill out before going to bed. The nausea was gone by the time I got home. It was the second time it had happened during the day.
There is so much I want to get done this week!
Thursday, August 25, 2005
Wednesday, July 13, 2005
It is hot. Hurricane Dennis was supposed to bring rain. And it did, for a little while. But when my husband went to check the corn he cultivated the last few days, he ran his finger through the dirt, and 1/2 inch down, the soil was DRY.
West of here there has been rain since yesterday. It just doesn't make sense. The last 2 years there was so much rain, you couldn't get the hay cut. This year, even the late farmers got their first cut in by the 4th of July, and now the grass is turning brown. And it is hot. And Hurricane Dennis is swirling out over the midwest, out west of us, north of us.
I tried to sleep tonight, but I woke up and couldn't sleep. Our cat - yes, I'll call her our cat now - is due to have kittens any day. We kept her and a male for a teenage girl. I should have gotten her spayed. I had permission. But I thought, maybe they'll take her back before I need to do that. She was only 9 months old. But if I spend the money, I will keep her. And the llama is due to have her baby too, any time. But her teets have not started filling with milk yet, so it will be another month, maybe.
Today I got a lot done. I dug a yucca out of someone's yard for them, and brought it home and planted it. My mother wanted me to take an ornamental mullen from the retirement home she lives at while I was in digging mode. The director wanted it out. So I brought that home too. Its leaves are like lambs ears. I picked up my drycleaning. I picked up a handwritten geneology I had put onto CD from Staples. I paid a couple of bills. I bought chicken food and goat wormer.
Then my husband and I took a walk looking for locust trees to cut for posts for a chicken house. To buy 4 treated posts will cost $100, and that is just absurd. If the colonists could get by without Lowes, so can we! We found some trees, but then the storm moved in - Dennis - just long enough to take up the rest of the daylight and burst our locust post bubbles.
I was tired, but I answered my emails. I went to bed, and fell asleep, and then became fitful, and then just woke up. I'm still tired. The dishes aren't done, and the blackberries we picked yesterday are still in the fridge. Maybe I'll get up early tomorrow and make cobbler. Maybe.
West of here there has been rain since yesterday. It just doesn't make sense. The last 2 years there was so much rain, you couldn't get the hay cut. This year, even the late farmers got their first cut in by the 4th of July, and now the grass is turning brown. And it is hot. And Hurricane Dennis is swirling out over the midwest, out west of us, north of us.
I tried to sleep tonight, but I woke up and couldn't sleep. Our cat - yes, I'll call her our cat now - is due to have kittens any day. We kept her and a male for a teenage girl. I should have gotten her spayed. I had permission. But I thought, maybe they'll take her back before I need to do that. She was only 9 months old. But if I spend the money, I will keep her. And the llama is due to have her baby too, any time. But her teets have not started filling with milk yet, so it will be another month, maybe.
Today I got a lot done. I dug a yucca out of someone's yard for them, and brought it home and planted it. My mother wanted me to take an ornamental mullen from the retirement home she lives at while I was in digging mode. The director wanted it out. So I brought that home too. Its leaves are like lambs ears. I picked up my drycleaning. I picked up a handwritten geneology I had put onto CD from Staples. I paid a couple of bills. I bought chicken food and goat wormer.
Then my husband and I took a walk looking for locust trees to cut for posts for a chicken house. To buy 4 treated posts will cost $100, and that is just absurd. If the colonists could get by without Lowes, so can we! We found some trees, but then the storm moved in - Dennis - just long enough to take up the rest of the daylight and burst our locust post bubbles.
I was tired, but I answered my emails. I went to bed, and fell asleep, and then became fitful, and then just woke up. I'm still tired. The dishes aren't done, and the blackberries we picked yesterday are still in the fridge. Maybe I'll get up early tomorrow and make cobbler. Maybe.
Saturday, June 18, 2005
Deep Aches
I forget. Even though I do it every year, I still forget. I forget what it is like to really ache. We put 250 bales of hay in the barn on Wednesday. It was unusually easy this year - maybe because the weather was a little cooler, in the 70's. I don't know. Last year, after loading one hay wagon, unloading it into the barn was about all I could handle. On Wednesday, we loaded and unloaded 4 wagon loads - just the two of us - just my husband and I. It was TOO easy.
It is Saturday, and my legs, thighs and buttocks still ache. It isn't just sore muscles. They ache deeply, hardly noticeable, but in a way that you can't get rid of, no matter how much I stretch, or how I lay or sit. And sleep....when I lay down, I am instantly ASLEEP.
Most people don't understand this ache. They have no clue what it feels like. After all, I even forget it from one year to the next.
Right now, my son is talking my head off, and I can't concentrate, and every time I hit the apostrophe key, the word search for the web page pops up, and I can't type until I delete it. It must be some kind of virus. So I'm getting frustrated, and I'm going to go. He's still talking.
It is Saturday, and my legs, thighs and buttocks still ache. It isn't just sore muscles. They ache deeply, hardly noticeable, but in a way that you can't get rid of, no matter how much I stretch, or how I lay or sit. And sleep....when I lay down, I am instantly ASLEEP.
Most people don't understand this ache. They have no clue what it feels like. After all, I even forget it from one year to the next.
Right now, my son is talking my head off, and I can't concentrate, and every time I hit the apostrophe key, the word search for the web page pops up, and I can't type until I delete it. It must be some kind of virus. So I'm getting frustrated, and I'm going to go. He's still talking.
Thursday, June 02, 2005
Money
How many ways can people find to get your money? Must I work all my life, enslaved, to simply exist? There is a certain amount of work involved in existance. Sometimes there is more than work involved. But as I drove down the boulevards in Scottsdale, AZ last week, and saw all the green oasis in the hot, dry desert; as I toured Taliesen West; as I viewed the part of the tour where Phoenix had grown right up to Taliesen's gate...I couldn't help but wonder, "How the hell do so many people have THAT much money!"
I work. I sacrifice. Who is going to work the floor at the hospital on Memorial Day? On Christmas? During graduations and company parties? There is nearly always an unfair trade-off. Who gets to live, and who has to serve? Who gets to be slave?
I have had some wonderful moments these past few weeks - the days during which my oldest son has come of age to leave high school. But they were definitely peppered with the yang in the ying/yang. They were bittersweet.
Letting go of the bitter is so, so hard, because it feels like it belongs there. If I take in only the sweet, the bitter will build up and hide and wham me from behind some unexpected moment. So I must acknowledge it as it exists; try to savour it as part of the flavor.
If those people can be millionaires - hundreds and thousands of people - so can I. If the neighbor can buy up lots of land in the area, so can I. The question becomes, "Should I?" For years I have chosen to exist as a facilitator. To be an ego takes sacrifice of a sort I'm not sure I desire. That sacrifice is being visible; being responsible. If it were my desired path, I'd have taken it a long time ago. It is impossible to consider all factors in any situation, because one doesn't have access to all the factors. One only has one's conscience, and one's subconscious wisdom to follow.
A lot of people in this world who have money, don't have many scruples. Everyone is somehow superior, in their own heads - intellectually, physically, financially - and I get so weary of the "in your face," sit-com style wit so many people exist by. Even psychologists try to psychoanalize themselves into superiority.
God, how many people out there are obsessed with another way to get your MONEY! They are in my email! They are in my Krogers card! I'm about ready to shut it all off. There is a new order arising out of all of this, and it isn't Amish. It is the order of "Get out of my life." It hasn't quite formed cohesive denominations enough to be called a religion yet. Well, it isn't even based on God.
Can I just fly on a fricking airplane somewhere without having to save a bunch of mileage points, and get junk in my email box, and phone calls from credit card companies, PLEASE??? Can't it just be that simple??????? I quit clipping coupons years ago. How many jillions of dollars could be saved if people would stop pandering?
My lawn is too tall. There are dishes in my sink. My bills aren't paid. The dog needs brushed. The sheep need shorn. But everyone else has THEIR days off they want. My children have done what THEY want to do. Okay, I'm overextended, and everyone else gets my money. What do I do now? Shrug like Atlas? I think I'll just be a bitch, and tell everyone to get the hell off of my back.
I work. I sacrifice. Who is going to work the floor at the hospital on Memorial Day? On Christmas? During graduations and company parties? There is nearly always an unfair trade-off. Who gets to live, and who has to serve? Who gets to be slave?
I have had some wonderful moments these past few weeks - the days during which my oldest son has come of age to leave high school. But they were definitely peppered with the yang in the ying/yang. They were bittersweet.
Letting go of the bitter is so, so hard, because it feels like it belongs there. If I take in only the sweet, the bitter will build up and hide and wham me from behind some unexpected moment. So I must acknowledge it as it exists; try to savour it as part of the flavor.
If those people can be millionaires - hundreds and thousands of people - so can I. If the neighbor can buy up lots of land in the area, so can I. The question becomes, "Should I?" For years I have chosen to exist as a facilitator. To be an ego takes sacrifice of a sort I'm not sure I desire. That sacrifice is being visible; being responsible. If it were my desired path, I'd have taken it a long time ago. It is impossible to consider all factors in any situation, because one doesn't have access to all the factors. One only has one's conscience, and one's subconscious wisdom to follow.
A lot of people in this world who have money, don't have many scruples. Everyone is somehow superior, in their own heads - intellectually, physically, financially - and I get so weary of the "in your face," sit-com style wit so many people exist by. Even psychologists try to psychoanalize themselves into superiority.
God, how many people out there are obsessed with another way to get your MONEY! They are in my email! They are in my Krogers card! I'm about ready to shut it all off. There is a new order arising out of all of this, and it isn't Amish. It is the order of "Get out of my life." It hasn't quite formed cohesive denominations enough to be called a religion yet. Well, it isn't even based on God.
Can I just fly on a fricking airplane somewhere without having to save a bunch of mileage points, and get junk in my email box, and phone calls from credit card companies, PLEASE??? Can't it just be that simple??????? I quit clipping coupons years ago. How many jillions of dollars could be saved if people would stop pandering?
My lawn is too tall. There are dishes in my sink. My bills aren't paid. The dog needs brushed. The sheep need shorn. But everyone else has THEIR days off they want. My children have done what THEY want to do. Okay, I'm overextended, and everyone else gets my money. What do I do now? Shrug like Atlas? I think I'll just be a bitch, and tell everyone to get the hell off of my back.
Tuesday, May 17, 2005
Coffee, Chickies and Duckies
It has been a cool, sunny week. This morning there is dew on the ground, and green, green everywhere. The black raspberries along the driveway that I was going to trim so my brother could mow the lawn without getting scratched up - they're in bloom. Now I don't want to clip them. I want raspberries! I did about a 5th of the way up the drive, so he can do the corner okay.
The duckies have become more human. They look full-sized, but they won't be old enough to lay eggs until September. (This is May). That's if they're female. We can't tell yet. We have to wait until they form drake feathers if they're male, to see. I tell you, it's worse than waiting until it's time to turn a pancake. Everything I read says that the only other way is by ultrasound. You can injure a duck trying to find out if it's male or female any other way. So we just have to WAIT. We have 3 white pekins, and 1 muskogee (or however you spell it). The pekins quack like a normal duck, and the muskogee looks like a duck, but it cheaps like a bird. (No wonder I could never hear wild ducks at the lake). They're like dogs. We keep them in the kennels during the day, and in a big rabbit hutch at night. We have a kiddie pool in the dog kennels for them. Don't bother trying to keep the water clean!
Did you know that ducks will quack to be let out in the morning as soon as they hear your voice; and quack to be put in at night when it gets dark? Did you know that ducks rinse off their food in water? And then they dig through the dirt in the bottom for bugs they may have lost? They quack when they want their swimming pool filled. They are cool birds. We have to keep them in because ducks, unlike dogs (or like dogs, whichever you prefer), don't come back when called, or until they darned well feel like it - and the fox and coyotes around here, although you can't see them, will take full advantage of that. I have lost every duck I ever tried to raise here. I am not going to lose these guys. They're hanging with the chickens when we get a coop built!
The chicks are now pullets, and they are a little bigger than a clenched fist. They have their red feathers, but the combs and waddles haven't grown on them to be able to tell if they are roosters or hens yet either. The roosters go in the freezer in August or Sept.. I am NOT looking forward to that! But we've done it before. I can't have 10-15 roosters fighting over my hens, and chicken is expensive. We planned this, but the more I think about it, the more I hate thinking about it.
I'm flying to Phoenix in less than a week to watch my son graduate from high school, and bring him back for a month before he begins college. He lives with his dad. He's wanted to be a computer programmer like his dad since he was 2. He hasn't seen Ohio's green since he left last June, and he has missed it terribly. It will be wonderful to have him home!
My husband has got the coffee just about done. He is feeling romantic because I have had some vacation time off for a few days, and started in on cleaning the house. It is far from "clean," but it sure looks a lot better! It is making him feel happy. If only I had more time off like this. I need 4 weeks, not 1 1/2. There is so much to do. Tomorrow we are driving halfway across the state to look at rams. Today, my second son signs up for college in high school, and my daughter has a band concert. I'd rather work outside in the garden, or trim the hedge, or mow lawn, but there is only time for so much.
The duckies have become more human. They look full-sized, but they won't be old enough to lay eggs until September. (This is May). That's if they're female. We can't tell yet. We have to wait until they form drake feathers if they're male, to see. I tell you, it's worse than waiting until it's time to turn a pancake. Everything I read says that the only other way is by ultrasound. You can injure a duck trying to find out if it's male or female any other way. So we just have to WAIT. We have 3 white pekins, and 1 muskogee (or however you spell it). The pekins quack like a normal duck, and the muskogee looks like a duck, but it cheaps like a bird. (No wonder I could never hear wild ducks at the lake). They're like dogs. We keep them in the kennels during the day, and in a big rabbit hutch at night. We have a kiddie pool in the dog kennels for them. Don't bother trying to keep the water clean!
Did you know that ducks will quack to be let out in the morning as soon as they hear your voice; and quack to be put in at night when it gets dark? Did you know that ducks rinse off their food in water? And then they dig through the dirt in the bottom for bugs they may have lost? They quack when they want their swimming pool filled. They are cool birds. We have to keep them in because ducks, unlike dogs (or like dogs, whichever you prefer), don't come back when called, or until they darned well feel like it - and the fox and coyotes around here, although you can't see them, will take full advantage of that. I have lost every duck I ever tried to raise here. I am not going to lose these guys. They're hanging with the chickens when we get a coop built!
The chicks are now pullets, and they are a little bigger than a clenched fist. They have their red feathers, but the combs and waddles haven't grown on them to be able to tell if they are roosters or hens yet either. The roosters go in the freezer in August or Sept.. I am NOT looking forward to that! But we've done it before. I can't have 10-15 roosters fighting over my hens, and chicken is expensive. We planned this, but the more I think about it, the more I hate thinking about it.
I'm flying to Phoenix in less than a week to watch my son graduate from high school, and bring him back for a month before he begins college. He lives with his dad. He's wanted to be a computer programmer like his dad since he was 2. He hasn't seen Ohio's green since he left last June, and he has missed it terribly. It will be wonderful to have him home!
My husband has got the coffee just about done. He is feeling romantic because I have had some vacation time off for a few days, and started in on cleaning the house. It is far from "clean," but it sure looks a lot better! It is making him feel happy. If only I had more time off like this. I need 4 weeks, not 1 1/2. There is so much to do. Tomorrow we are driving halfway across the state to look at rams. Today, my second son signs up for college in high school, and my daughter has a band concert. I'd rather work outside in the garden, or trim the hedge, or mow lawn, but there is only time for so much.
Friday, April 22, 2005
Death of a Teacher
It is the one week anniversary of the death of a great man. I'm not talking about the pope. I'm talking about a Quaker theologian who was deeply loved by most who knew him. He also happened to be the father of one of my best friends.
In this rush-rush world that thinks normal is the television or radio droning on in the background, this man had a quiet home with a place to pause. He was the "Yoda" of my youth - the wise one. He taught at a Quaker boarding school, where the students affectionately referred to him as "the monk." Indeed, yearly he would retreat to a monestary for at least a week to worship almost as a peer with some monks he knew. I think the monestary was in Pennsylvania. He taught religion and whatever else needed a teacher at the school - English, American Government, and odd classes like "Kinship With All Life." He taught teenagers mostly, but also adults, the Quaker way of being still and waiting on God. And they listened. Most of the people who took classes from him say he was the best teacher they ever had.
Quakers in eastern Ohio have a tradition of asking a rare few of those who have notable gifts of ministry to become recorded ministers in their meeting. It is not something a person can aspire to, and those who aspire to it mostly don't even get asked. There is no formal training. The spiritual community takes ministers under their wing and nurtures their gifts of ministry. My mother was asked to be a minister when I was about 8 years old. She set out to visit every member of our meeting to get a sense of the spirit among us. She visited members and other people in hospitals, nursing homes and psychiatric wards, usually taking me with her. In meeting, she often spoke out of the silence, and spoke to the condition of someone present. That was her gift.
She also began being put on numerous committees, often being made convener of them. Our home was a hubbub of activity. At many of those committee meetings was this great teacher - and his daughters whom I played with.
We grew up under the wings of our elders. We faced the idea of walking in their footsteps. We rebelled like teenagers do, trying to find our own wings, never feeling quite like they'd be anything like those of our elders.
Bill Taber taught people how to listen to God. He didn't tell them what God said. He simply taught them how to be still, in a gentle, nonjudgemental, understanding way. He knew world religions as thoroughly as anyone I've ever met, and he respected them all. He was criticized by some of his peers, and doubted for not proclaiming his own Christianity superior; for not insisting it be adhered to. He simply taught people how to find that on their own, more thoroughly and effectively than any schooled minister I have ever heard of. Teenagers respected him, and thanked him for this gift. He gave it to my own two sons.
And although he was the quietest, meekest teacher I have ever known, living behind his goatee and thick-lensed glasses, he was the most regarded Quaker minister; the most esteemed leader in the religious community I was reared in.
In this rush-rush world that thinks normal is the television or radio droning on in the background, this man had a quiet home with a place to pause. He was the "Yoda" of my youth - the wise one. He taught at a Quaker boarding school, where the students affectionately referred to him as "the monk." Indeed, yearly he would retreat to a monestary for at least a week to worship almost as a peer with some monks he knew. I think the monestary was in Pennsylvania. He taught religion and whatever else needed a teacher at the school - English, American Government, and odd classes like "Kinship With All Life." He taught teenagers mostly, but also adults, the Quaker way of being still and waiting on God. And they listened. Most of the people who took classes from him say he was the best teacher they ever had.
Quakers in eastern Ohio have a tradition of asking a rare few of those who have notable gifts of ministry to become recorded ministers in their meeting. It is not something a person can aspire to, and those who aspire to it mostly don't even get asked. There is no formal training. The spiritual community takes ministers under their wing and nurtures their gifts of ministry. My mother was asked to be a minister when I was about 8 years old. She set out to visit every member of our meeting to get a sense of the spirit among us. She visited members and other people in hospitals, nursing homes and psychiatric wards, usually taking me with her. In meeting, she often spoke out of the silence, and spoke to the condition of someone present. That was her gift.
She also began being put on numerous committees, often being made convener of them. Our home was a hubbub of activity. At many of those committee meetings was this great teacher - and his daughters whom I played with.
We grew up under the wings of our elders. We faced the idea of walking in their footsteps. We rebelled like teenagers do, trying to find our own wings, never feeling quite like they'd be anything like those of our elders.
Bill Taber taught people how to listen to God. He didn't tell them what God said. He simply taught them how to be still, in a gentle, nonjudgemental, understanding way. He knew world religions as thoroughly as anyone I've ever met, and he respected them all. He was criticized by some of his peers, and doubted for not proclaiming his own Christianity superior; for not insisting it be adhered to. He simply taught people how to find that on their own, more thoroughly and effectively than any schooled minister I have ever heard of. Teenagers respected him, and thanked him for this gift. He gave it to my own two sons.
And although he was the quietest, meekest teacher I have ever known, living behind his goatee and thick-lensed glasses, he was the most regarded Quaker minister; the most esteemed leader in the religious community I was reared in.
Wednesday, April 13, 2005
Sunny, Dry Spring
The past 2 springs have been wet. Last fall, hurricane Ivan came so far inland that it flooded the Ohio River worse than it's flooded since 1936, and then the river flooded again in January. I think we've been a whole week without rain now! Amazing! We haven't poured new gravel on the farm's driveway for 2 years, and the dust flies up behind the car. I can't remember the last time that happened.
Yesterday we shore our 2 Angora goats. Since last fall was so wet, and I work, there was never a good day to shear, so they had a useless, matted year's growth of mohair. Maybe I'll make a dog bed out of it. It is so sad, because the buck's mohair is SO nice! Curly, crimpy and fine.
We planted a dogwood tree in front of the house yesterday, and another blueberry plant in the garden. I had one that only grew blueberries the first summer I planted it. Come to find out, you have to have -two- bushes to get blueberries. It was probably bloomed when I bought it, hence the first year's success. I am waiting impatiently for my order of fruit shrubs and paw paw trees.
Today I have an ACLS class, and I should be studying. I let my certification run out last year. But now I need CEU credits to keep my nursing license when it's up for renewal this year, and ACLS provides a bunch of credits. Sigh. I'd better get to work. Advanced Cardiac Life Support = rescusciting people. I've had to try that once or twice the past couple of years. So I suppose it is useful.
Yesterday we shore our 2 Angora goats. Since last fall was so wet, and I work, there was never a good day to shear, so they had a useless, matted year's growth of mohair. Maybe I'll make a dog bed out of it. It is so sad, because the buck's mohair is SO nice! Curly, crimpy and fine.
We planted a dogwood tree in front of the house yesterday, and another blueberry plant in the garden. I had one that only grew blueberries the first summer I planted it. Come to find out, you have to have -two- bushes to get blueberries. It was probably bloomed when I bought it, hence the first year's success. I am waiting impatiently for my order of fruit shrubs and paw paw trees.
Today I have an ACLS class, and I should be studying. I let my certification run out last year. But now I need CEU credits to keep my nursing license when it's up for renewal this year, and ACLS provides a bunch of credits. Sigh. I'd better get to work. Advanced Cardiac Life Support = rescusciting people. I've had to try that once or twice the past couple of years. So I suppose it is useful.
Friday, April 08, 2005
Gambling Mindset
I have 2 nice doggies and a very nice husband.
This week, our part of the hospital was surveyed (aka "inspected") by the state. I was the charge nurse for 2 of the 3 days they were there. I don't normally work day shift, but I had the honor of being there this week. The state had one-up on us, as they got to evaluate a nurse inexperienced with the crazy day regimen. The two inspector ladies left me alone, but bothered just about everyone else there. For this I was grateful. The unit secretary told me she thought I did a pretty good job, and the assistant nurse manager told me I did great. (Gee, did I look that insecure???)
Okay, I'm going to complain a minute. It really bothers me when other staff complain about the work they have to do, and it is the charge nurse who generally has to stay over to make sure everything is done. I resent people with positions of less responsibility who have little regard for the commitment expected of those above them. The more they complain about their tremendous responsibilities, the less I feel inclined to relieve them.
But what really, really bothers me is some patients' families. Most of them are wonderful. But about 10-20% are looking for trouble. They expect the hospital staff to make mistakes, and stand in wait to pounce. They take notes. They watch the court T.V. channel. They talk incessantly about their lawyers. They brag about telling this nurse or that doctor off in intentional earshot.
That 10-20% of people, perhaps they have a true beef, but most of them, as I said, are LOOKING for trouble, and they can easily find it. What they don't understand - what they just don't GET - is that in a healthcare setting, finding trouble is not conducive to healing. I personally, as a nurse, feel that that 10-20% can just go home and take care of themselves, and get the hell out of the healthcare system altogether. I have no desire to care for an individual who labels me a failure before I step into their room.
West Virginia is in a healthcare crisis because of idiots like this. Pretty soon, the rest of the country will be. I was there when the doctors began to leave the state. I took care of patients who sued them. Doctors are not gods or money pockets for lump sum lawsuits. Patients are not funding for vacations and new cars. The whole system is very sick. Everyone wants something for nothing - and in our gambling mindset nation - we think we "deserve" it.
And likely, we won't have a healthcare system if it keeps up. West Virginia has to come out of it if we all have much hope.
Patient, heal thyself, and use only the little of what is needed from others to do so. We are all mortal.
This week, our part of the hospital was surveyed (aka "inspected") by the state. I was the charge nurse for 2 of the 3 days they were there. I don't normally work day shift, but I had the honor of being there this week. The state had one-up on us, as they got to evaluate a nurse inexperienced with the crazy day regimen. The two inspector ladies left me alone, but bothered just about everyone else there. For this I was grateful. The unit secretary told me she thought I did a pretty good job, and the assistant nurse manager told me I did great. (Gee, did I look that insecure???)
Okay, I'm going to complain a minute. It really bothers me when other staff complain about the work they have to do, and it is the charge nurse who generally has to stay over to make sure everything is done. I resent people with positions of less responsibility who have little regard for the commitment expected of those above them. The more they complain about their tremendous responsibilities, the less I feel inclined to relieve them.
But what really, really bothers me is some patients' families. Most of them are wonderful. But about 10-20% are looking for trouble. They expect the hospital staff to make mistakes, and stand in wait to pounce. They take notes. They watch the court T.V. channel. They talk incessantly about their lawyers. They brag about telling this nurse or that doctor off in intentional earshot.
That 10-20% of people, perhaps they have a true beef, but most of them, as I said, are LOOKING for trouble, and they can easily find it. What they don't understand - what they just don't GET - is that in a healthcare setting, finding trouble is not conducive to healing. I personally, as a nurse, feel that that 10-20% can just go home and take care of themselves, and get the hell out of the healthcare system altogether. I have no desire to care for an individual who labels me a failure before I step into their room.
West Virginia is in a healthcare crisis because of idiots like this. Pretty soon, the rest of the country will be. I was there when the doctors began to leave the state. I took care of patients who sued them. Doctors are not gods or money pockets for lump sum lawsuits. Patients are not funding for vacations and new cars. The whole system is very sick. Everyone wants something for nothing - and in our gambling mindset nation - we think we "deserve" it.
And likely, we won't have a healthcare system if it keeps up. West Virginia has to come out of it if we all have much hope.
Patient, heal thyself, and use only the little of what is needed from others to do so. We are all mortal.
Sunday, April 03, 2005
Spring Forward
I have so many neat thoughts on my way home from work. But all I want to do right now is read a book and go to bed.
Ducks are cool.
Ducks are cool.
Wednesday, March 30, 2005
Funerals, Duckies and Blackberries
Today I spent 5 hours going to an Italian Catholic funeral. I went with my husband and inlaws. I really wanted us to drive seperately so we could skip the meal and run some errands, but my husband and his siblings don't like their parents to drive places by themselves, and the brother who normally does that for them didn't want to go. So we did the deed. It was my husband's sister's husband's family. They are good people, and I sort of felt like the kids needed us to be there. I am a Scottish/Irish/English/Welsh Protestant, and I was the tallest woman there. There were about 3 men who were taller than me. I don't do the cross thing during prayers, which was done about 100 times throughout the funeral and dinner. I did finally figure out that you go to the left first when you do that.
When we got home, it was the most beautiful sunny day we've had so far this year. I cleaned out the duckling cage, and put the duckies in a bigger cage outside to enjoy the sunshine and a pie pan full of water. My husband put a bigger dog dish full of water in and took my "little" pie pan out. He discovered that when duckies are startled, they all get into the water. It was so funny, that we startled them several times. But when you put food in the cage, they get back out of the water.
Then I walked up on the hill onto the long ridge of our farm to dig up some cut-leaf (evergreen) blackberries to transplant near the house. I tried doing it last year, but they died. Someone in a forum told me that now was the time of year to do it, and that it was best to dig up cane ends that had tipped into the soil before they leafed. He told me how to tell the different kinds too, but when I got up there, last year's dried leaves were still on the cut-leafs, so it was easier than I had thought. I couldn't find any tipped ends. But I found several plants. I tried digging one of those up, but the tap root was HUGE, and went all over the place, and I ended up breaking it in several places. So I walked down into the woods on the other side of the hill, where coyotes and deer live, and 3 bad bulls roam when they get out. I was looking to see if I could maybe find a small wild dogwood tree to transplant instead. I didn't find one, but I had fun.
I didn't know it, but my husband had come up to join me, had found my bucket with the broken tap root in it, with the briar snippers and shovel beside it, and had gone into the woods looking for me. He never called for me. When I came out of the woods further along the ridge and walked back towards my bucket, I heard a lot of rustling in the woods, and I was sure that it was the big bull coming out to see what was going on. I was trying to devise a good escape plan in case it might chase me, but it usually doesn't chase people. But then I saw the whitish cowboy hat, and my husband emerged with my Newfoundland dog on leash. I asked why he didn't call for me, and he laughed. He thought it was more fun to find me his way.
We went over to the pasture side of the ridge and hunted there, and he found a great big cut-leaf blackberry bush with a bunch of canes tipped into the dirt, with nice, small roots. I snipped them off a few inches up the cane, dug them up and filled up my 5 gallon paint bucket with dirt balls with canes sticking out. Then I had to carry it back. My husband helped by carrying the shovel - he had the dog leash in the other hand.
When we got back to the house, I planted the blackberries in the far end of the garden, and some by the front porch, between the iris'. My husband raked the turned over dirt in the garden, while I dug some beds for the fruit shrubs I ordered. They haven't come yet, but I wanted to mix manure and dirt to get the beds ready. I have ordered paw paw trees, currants, gooseberries, red raspberries and rhubarb. I went to the manure pile in back of the barn and filled a wheelbarrow full of well-composted sheep/goat manure. The goats can never figure out why I'm taking their poop when I do that - they just watch and tilt their heads sideways. My husband had to help me get it up to the garden. After we got all the manure into the beds and the garden, I planted where he had raked. I planted greens (lettuces, mustard and watercress), turnips and radishes from very old seed packets. The mosquitos are very thick this year. I will have to remember to put some insect repellant on next time I work outside!
My daughter fixed kielbasa for supper while we worked. It was very good. Now there is Farm Bureau meeting tonight. My daughter is bringing the duckies back in. I'd better get out of these clothes and into something nice...to go complain about the state of farming in this country with some of the neighbors who still farm. It has been a good day.
When we got home, it was the most beautiful sunny day we've had so far this year. I cleaned out the duckling cage, and put the duckies in a bigger cage outside to enjoy the sunshine and a pie pan full of water. My husband put a bigger dog dish full of water in and took my "little" pie pan out. He discovered that when duckies are startled, they all get into the water. It was so funny, that we startled them several times. But when you put food in the cage, they get back out of the water.
Then I walked up on the hill onto the long ridge of our farm to dig up some cut-leaf (evergreen) blackberries to transplant near the house. I tried doing it last year, but they died. Someone in a forum told me that now was the time of year to do it, and that it was best to dig up cane ends that had tipped into the soil before they leafed. He told me how to tell the different kinds too, but when I got up there, last year's dried leaves were still on the cut-leafs, so it was easier than I had thought. I couldn't find any tipped ends. But I found several plants. I tried digging one of those up, but the tap root was HUGE, and went all over the place, and I ended up breaking it in several places. So I walked down into the woods on the other side of the hill, where coyotes and deer live, and 3 bad bulls roam when they get out. I was looking to see if I could maybe find a small wild dogwood tree to transplant instead. I didn't find one, but I had fun.
I didn't know it, but my husband had come up to join me, had found my bucket with the broken tap root in it, with the briar snippers and shovel beside it, and had gone into the woods looking for me. He never called for me. When I came out of the woods further along the ridge and walked back towards my bucket, I heard a lot of rustling in the woods, and I was sure that it was the big bull coming out to see what was going on. I was trying to devise a good escape plan in case it might chase me, but it usually doesn't chase people. But then I saw the whitish cowboy hat, and my husband emerged with my Newfoundland dog on leash. I asked why he didn't call for me, and he laughed. He thought it was more fun to find me his way.
We went over to the pasture side of the ridge and hunted there, and he found a great big cut-leaf blackberry bush with a bunch of canes tipped into the dirt, with nice, small roots. I snipped them off a few inches up the cane, dug them up and filled up my 5 gallon paint bucket with dirt balls with canes sticking out. Then I had to carry it back. My husband helped by carrying the shovel - he had the dog leash in the other hand.
When we got back to the house, I planted the blackberries in the far end of the garden, and some by the front porch, between the iris'. My husband raked the turned over dirt in the garden, while I dug some beds for the fruit shrubs I ordered. They haven't come yet, but I wanted to mix manure and dirt to get the beds ready. I have ordered paw paw trees, currants, gooseberries, red raspberries and rhubarb. I went to the manure pile in back of the barn and filled a wheelbarrow full of well-composted sheep/goat manure. The goats can never figure out why I'm taking their poop when I do that - they just watch and tilt their heads sideways. My husband had to help me get it up to the garden. After we got all the manure into the beds and the garden, I planted where he had raked. I planted greens (lettuces, mustard and watercress), turnips and radishes from very old seed packets. The mosquitos are very thick this year. I will have to remember to put some insect repellant on next time I work outside!
My daughter fixed kielbasa for supper while we worked. It was very good. Now there is Farm Bureau meeting tonight. My daughter is bringing the duckies back in. I'd better get out of these clothes and into something nice...to go complain about the state of farming in this country with some of the neighbors who still farm. It has been a good day.
Tuesday, March 29, 2005
Revolutionary War
I just finished reading "The Hornet's Nest," by former president Jimmy Carter. Every American History teacher should read this book. So should anyone fighting a war.
Wednesday, March 23, 2005
Ate Their Words
Normally this phrase is used to signify revenge at an extreme or an "I told you so," more mildly. I hope that some people in a chat room eat their words about human nature in this war in Iraq that has not ended; and that the peaceful side of human nature does indeed win out.
Using "In God We Trust" as a slogan in any war is profane to someone like me, who does not perceive the god of the New Testament as a war god. Unfortunately, having faith in the side of human nature that desires peace is not a popular view nowadays. It is even asking for trouble in a chat room where military people are recruiting trainees to learn interrogation skills. I keep getting booted out of that "Religion" chat room, and I don't know if it is an entity of Yahoo, or if I am pissing off the administrator. I kind of think it's the latter.
There is a weird mistrust in people who support the war against those who don't support the war, even if those people, like me, come from historical Quaker upbringing. Quaker principals were involved in the founding of our country, yet most Quakers opposed the Revolutionary War. Even if 50% of the American public are descended from Quaker roots, most of them don't know a thing about Quaker principles. People in the military start thinking I'm Muslim, or better yet a terrorist; or even worse, someone "misled" by communist infiltrators twisting my brain and my ideology. If they knew anything about Quaker history or beliefs, they'd understand something about me very basic. I'm just a Quaker. And when it comes to that of God in every person, I'm not a "pie in the sky utopian." I'm just very simply...right. Every human being on this planet has some good in them, and if you affirm the good, it will grow. You may not affirm the good enough to turn them from being a terrorist. But you can instigate change, however small.
On that premise, someday, those military buffs will eat their words - particularly if it truly IS in God that they indeed, do "trust." Because they will lay down those guns.
But if the vengeance and glutton for violence in them has been well fed, and they are closet atheists, they might just shoot me, or incite me to violence to prove their point, and their reality will live on.
But don't anybody to argue with me that this resolution would in any way be "good." May they eat their words, and enjoy doing so, if there is an iota of good left in their souls.
Using "In God We Trust" as a slogan in any war is profane to someone like me, who does not perceive the god of the New Testament as a war god. Unfortunately, having faith in the side of human nature that desires peace is not a popular view nowadays. It is even asking for trouble in a chat room where military people are recruiting trainees to learn interrogation skills. I keep getting booted out of that "Religion" chat room, and I don't know if it is an entity of Yahoo, or if I am pissing off the administrator. I kind of think it's the latter.
There is a weird mistrust in people who support the war against those who don't support the war, even if those people, like me, come from historical Quaker upbringing. Quaker principals were involved in the founding of our country, yet most Quakers opposed the Revolutionary War. Even if 50% of the American public are descended from Quaker roots, most of them don't know a thing about Quaker principles. People in the military start thinking I'm Muslim, or better yet a terrorist; or even worse, someone "misled" by communist infiltrators twisting my brain and my ideology. If they knew anything about Quaker history or beliefs, they'd understand something about me very basic. I'm just a Quaker. And when it comes to that of God in every person, I'm not a "pie in the sky utopian." I'm just very simply...right. Every human being on this planet has some good in them, and if you affirm the good, it will grow. You may not affirm the good enough to turn them from being a terrorist. But you can instigate change, however small.
On that premise, someday, those military buffs will eat their words - particularly if it truly IS in God that they indeed, do "trust." Because they will lay down those guns.
But if the vengeance and glutton for violence in them has been well fed, and they are closet atheists, they might just shoot me, or incite me to violence to prove their point, and their reality will live on.
But don't anybody to argue with me that this resolution would in any way be "good." May they eat their words, and enjoy doing so, if there is an iota of good left in their souls.
Tuesday, March 22, 2005
Kidnapped by Indians
It's a beautiful, sunny Tuesday. I just worked 4 days in a row - one afternoon, then 3 nights. I slept well last night. I can't decide what to do first.
I had not read a novel for a long time. A couple of Sundays ago, my daughter talked me into going to the book store at the mall. She takes a long time to pick out books. She bought two, and had one read in a day. I told her I was going to have to take her to the library instead of the bookstore. She claims, "There's nothing to read at the library!" That's 13 for you!
The book store is my favorite shop at the mall. Novels on Scotland and Ireland appealed to me, but in the end, it was Jimmy Carter's "The Hornet's Nest." What sold me was the good bit of attention to the history of Quakers in the south during the Revolutionary War, and the book hasn't disappointed me.
One day, when disillusioned with it being a man's world, I decided to see what was straight back my maternal line - mother to mother to mother, and on. Geneology has long been a hobby, although not a serious one. Quaker geneology is relatively easy, since the Quakers were anal about journaling and writing down their business. What I discovered was a story I'd heard before, but did not realize it pertained to ME. My grandmother's grandmother's grandmother was kidnapped by Indians in Georgia! I think it was the Creeks who kidnapped her. It is a true story not unlike the one in "Dances with Wolves." She lost the memory of her English language, and she married the man who rescued her. I am a direct maternal descendant. I think that is so COOL.
It made sense. My grandmother knew a lot of native plants and their uses. She was educated, and a well-liked nurse; a quiet Quaker, but very socially involved in things like the local quilting group. She was like what a grandaughter's grandaughter of someone like that would be like.
So when I picked up Jimmy Carter's book, and saw that it had extensive information about the relationship between the Creek Indians and the Quakers in the south, I thought, neato. He is a lot better writer than I thought he'd be. I've been working on reading the book in between my daily routine activities. It isn't quite as engaging as was "The Da Vinci Code," so I am able to motivate myself to get work done in between reading. I may read some today, and work outside some also. I need to pay some bills, do some cleaning, water the tomato plants... maybe clean out my gutters or dig a ditch...we shall see.
I had not read a novel for a long time. A couple of Sundays ago, my daughter talked me into going to the book store at the mall. She takes a long time to pick out books. She bought two, and had one read in a day. I told her I was going to have to take her to the library instead of the bookstore. She claims, "There's nothing to read at the library!" That's 13 for you!
The book store is my favorite shop at the mall. Novels on Scotland and Ireland appealed to me, but in the end, it was Jimmy Carter's "The Hornet's Nest." What sold me was the good bit of attention to the history of Quakers in the south during the Revolutionary War, and the book hasn't disappointed me.
One day, when disillusioned with it being a man's world, I decided to see what was straight back my maternal line - mother to mother to mother, and on. Geneology has long been a hobby, although not a serious one. Quaker geneology is relatively easy, since the Quakers were anal about journaling and writing down their business. What I discovered was a story I'd heard before, but did not realize it pertained to ME. My grandmother's grandmother's grandmother was kidnapped by Indians in Georgia! I think it was the Creeks who kidnapped her. It is a true story not unlike the one in "Dances with Wolves." She lost the memory of her English language, and she married the man who rescued her. I am a direct maternal descendant. I think that is so COOL.
It made sense. My grandmother knew a lot of native plants and their uses. She was educated, and a well-liked nurse; a quiet Quaker, but very socially involved in things like the local quilting group. She was like what a grandaughter's grandaughter of someone like that would be like.
So when I picked up Jimmy Carter's book, and saw that it had extensive information about the relationship between the Creek Indians and the Quakers in the south, I thought, neato. He is a lot better writer than I thought he'd be. I've been working on reading the book in between my daily routine activities. It isn't quite as engaging as was "The Da Vinci Code," so I am able to motivate myself to get work done in between reading. I may read some today, and work outside some also. I need to pay some bills, do some cleaning, water the tomato plants... maybe clean out my gutters or dig a ditch...we shall see.
Thursday, March 17, 2005
Spring Work
The sky was so clear on the drive home from work tonight, with the waxing moon high above. The past 2 days have been beautiful! Such an odd change to be at work in a hospital after a few days off.
Yesterday, I cleared raspberry canes from the flower bed beside the house, around outbuildings and under the sweet cherry trees. I made a big burn pile in the garden, where we burned some brush last year. I broke apart a big, old apple tree that had been laying in the brambles under the cherry trees and put it on top of the brambles. Then I took a mattox and dug up a few rotted tree stumps from long-gone fruit trees, to make the lawn easier to mow, and added them to the pile. We are going to have to have a cook-out now. I got the riding mower out, and mowed everywhere I cleared, plus over the asparagus beds. I can't believe how much better it looks! I was so busy the past 2 summers that everything got so overgrown, the place looked almost abandoned.
After that, Bruce and I drug used lumber from the ante-room (milk room) we disassembled with my brother's help from the barn last fall, that has been leaning against the barn and hay bailer all winter, up to the delapidated chicken house, and set up shop to pull nails there. The roof and 2 walls are the only good parts left of the chicken house. I removed the 3 windows that were still intact, and put them in the barn.
We ordered 25 Rhode Island Red chicks that will come in April. If that isn't motivation to fix up the chicken house or rebuild a new one, I don't know what is.
Well, this morning, after all that work, I found I could barely move to get out of bed. But I did, and I even made it through a night of work. I didn't know clearing brambles could cause that much aching, but Bruce reminded me that I had been dragging trees and stumps across the yard.
The problem with doing work like that is that you see how much more there is to do. For instance, I have not cleaned my gutters out for 3 years. There are small trees growing in them. The springhouse needs dug out. I stuck to the brush-clearing, but I did drag a ladder to the porch for the next sunny day. Maybe if those are sugar maples growing in the gutter, I'll transplant them...
Yesterday, I cleared raspberry canes from the flower bed beside the house, around outbuildings and under the sweet cherry trees. I made a big burn pile in the garden, where we burned some brush last year. I broke apart a big, old apple tree that had been laying in the brambles under the cherry trees and put it on top of the brambles. Then I took a mattox and dug up a few rotted tree stumps from long-gone fruit trees, to make the lawn easier to mow, and added them to the pile. We are going to have to have a cook-out now. I got the riding mower out, and mowed everywhere I cleared, plus over the asparagus beds. I can't believe how much better it looks! I was so busy the past 2 summers that everything got so overgrown, the place looked almost abandoned.
After that, Bruce and I drug used lumber from the ante-room (milk room) we disassembled with my brother's help from the barn last fall, that has been leaning against the barn and hay bailer all winter, up to the delapidated chicken house, and set up shop to pull nails there. The roof and 2 walls are the only good parts left of the chicken house. I removed the 3 windows that were still intact, and put them in the barn.
We ordered 25 Rhode Island Red chicks that will come in April. If that isn't motivation to fix up the chicken house or rebuild a new one, I don't know what is.
Well, this morning, after all that work, I found I could barely move to get out of bed. But I did, and I even made it through a night of work. I didn't know clearing brambles could cause that much aching, but Bruce reminded me that I had been dragging trees and stumps across the yard.
The problem with doing work like that is that you see how much more there is to do. For instance, I have not cleaned my gutters out for 3 years. There are small trees growing in them. The springhouse needs dug out. I stuck to the brush-clearing, but I did drag a ladder to the porch for the next sunny day. Maybe if those are sugar maples growing in the gutter, I'll transplant them...
Wednesday, March 09, 2005
Little Black Lamb
The last babe of the year has finally arrived today. Rosie had a little black girl. She is so cute, and so sweet. Rosie is the tamest people sheep we have, so the baby of course thinks people are just fine. It is such a relief to be done with it all!
The other two lambs, Sweetie and Cadbury, seem so huge now, compared to the new little girl. Geez, I don't want to sell any of them!
My big, fluffy, Newfoundland, Morgan, wants attention tonight. She follows me and lays down on the floor next to me no matter where I am. I can see why Sacajawia got so attached to the Newfie on the Lewis and Clark expedition, and took extra care of him over the Rocky Mountains.
There is a more than a dusting of snow tonight, and it is cold again - in the teens. I have to work very early in the morning, and ought to be getting to bed. All the animals are fed and bedded down for the night.
The other two lambs, Sweetie and Cadbury, seem so huge now, compared to the new little girl. Geez, I don't want to sell any of them!
My big, fluffy, Newfoundland, Morgan, wants attention tonight. She follows me and lays down on the floor next to me no matter where I am. I can see why Sacajawia got so attached to the Newfie on the Lewis and Clark expedition, and took extra care of him over the Rocky Mountains.
There is a more than a dusting of snow tonight, and it is cold again - in the teens. I have to work very early in the morning, and ought to be getting to bed. All the animals are fed and bedded down for the night.
Sunday, March 06, 2005
Conspiracies
I am sitting here, eating frozen blueberries out of an autumn leaf jewel tea custard cup trying to remember what it was I wanted to write about on the way home from work tonight. Oh, it just came to me... conspiracies. Our parents instilled in us a healthy Celtic sense of idealizing clairvoyance without calling it that. Combined with Quakerly meditative awareness on a more spiritual plain, the two leave a person in a state of psychic awareness that most in the surrounding environment don't have a perception of.
In a highly intelligent mind, this psychic awareness easily can lead to paranoia, to the extent of suspecting conspiracies in every corner. Conspiracies can be conscious, or subconscious on the part of their makers. They can even be somewhere in between.
I am of the belief that they don't exist on the conscious level as often as we think they do. As a result, the conspiracy can easily be disrupted without much ado. Such "conspiracies" are more properly called by Walter Wink's created entity, "the Powers that Be." If those powers are on a constructive path, there is no need to disrupt them. If those powers are on a corrupted path, they can be fixed, or disassembled and reassembled altogether. If one is going to do such a thing, it is best to bring it all to a conscious level on the part of everyone, and make clear why one thinks it is corrupted, and how one intends to fix it. This alleviates paranoia on everyone's
part.
Back to the psychic awareness/clairvoyance part...some people are of the opinion that this is not "real." I think that is psychic gifts are so abused. If one habitually puts one's self into a transe-like state in which items of importance are permitted to come forth in a safe manner, so that one see's whole pictures and whole Truths more clearly, the person doing so is bound to be aware of Truths that others are not aware of. To live in a responsible manner, a person needs to act on these Truths in a responsible way. One usually finds there are others who have come to discover the same Truths, and it is usually good to affirm them by sharing them.
Going to that plain requires submission of one's spirit. Few people are knowledgeable about how this works. Quakers know, and submit themselves to Christ. That way, it is all "safe." To open one's self to the spirits of their ancestors, all alone, might be quite another matter. Buddhists meditate, and so do yogi's. It is usually in these states when we "see" what is really going on.
So, in a sense, I don't think there is a such thing as a fully conscious conspiracy, usually.What we perceive as conspiracy is usually collective action based on collective fear. In such a corrupt conspiracy - the War on Terror for example - the collective fear needs to be addressed with education. The enemy needs to be redefined for the vague entity it really is - NOT Saddam Hussein, and NOT Osama bin Laden. To confront such a corrupted conspiracy is difficult, however, when it is a self-organized machine, elusive of all who are cogs within it - a machine that propogates its images that keep the machine running with such corrupt things as greed, money, fear and glutton for violence.
A constant, good fresh rain will eventually rust such a machine. It may take a long time. I have hope, and I can provide some of the rain.
In a highly intelligent mind, this psychic awareness easily can lead to paranoia, to the extent of suspecting conspiracies in every corner. Conspiracies can be conscious, or subconscious on the part of their makers. They can even be somewhere in between.
I am of the belief that they don't exist on the conscious level as often as we think they do. As a result, the conspiracy can easily be disrupted without much ado. Such "conspiracies" are more properly called by Walter Wink's created entity, "the Powers that Be." If those powers are on a constructive path, there is no need to disrupt them. If those powers are on a corrupted path, they can be fixed, or disassembled and reassembled altogether. If one is going to do such a thing, it is best to bring it all to a conscious level on the part of everyone, and make clear why one thinks it is corrupted, and how one intends to fix it. This alleviates paranoia on everyone's
part.
Back to the psychic awareness/clairvoyance part...some people are of the opinion that this is not "real." I think that is psychic gifts are so abused. If one habitually puts one's self into a transe-like state in which items of importance are permitted to come forth in a safe manner, so that one see's whole pictures and whole Truths more clearly, the person doing so is bound to be aware of Truths that others are not aware of. To live in a responsible manner, a person needs to act on these Truths in a responsible way. One usually finds there are others who have come to discover the same Truths, and it is usually good to affirm them by sharing them.
Going to that plain requires submission of one's spirit. Few people are knowledgeable about how this works. Quakers know, and submit themselves to Christ. That way, it is all "safe." To open one's self to the spirits of their ancestors, all alone, might be quite another matter. Buddhists meditate, and so do yogi's. It is usually in these states when we "see" what is really going on.
So, in a sense, I don't think there is a such thing as a fully conscious conspiracy, usually.What we perceive as conspiracy is usually collective action based on collective fear. In such a corrupt conspiracy - the War on Terror for example - the collective fear needs to be addressed with education. The enemy needs to be redefined for the vague entity it really is - NOT Saddam Hussein, and NOT Osama bin Laden. To confront such a corrupted conspiracy is difficult, however, when it is a self-organized machine, elusive of all who are cogs within it - a machine that propogates its images that keep the machine running with such corrupt things as greed, money, fear and glutton for violence.
A constant, good fresh rain will eventually rust such a machine. It may take a long time. I have hope, and I can provide some of the rain.
Friday, March 04, 2005
Surrounded by Tomato Plants
The weather forecaster was WRONG. It is SNOWING! AGAIN! It is going to snow every day, forever, and it is never going to go away. This morning, he said it would get just a little bit cloudy, but no snow; that the snow would stay to the north of us. But on the map, I saw this big huge front waving down from the Northwest, and his line drawn somewhere south of Cleveland. I told my husband when we had lunch at the local diner today, as the clouds were just coming in, that I bet that line would dip a lot further south. I should have gone into weather forecasting.
My husband told me that if people quit saying the weather man was wrong and giving their own forecast, that maybe he'd be right for a change; that people talking about other things happening might be making them happen. I asked him if that was a nice way of saying, "Shut up," and he grinned at me.
Yesterday I told my mom to tell my sister next time she called that I threw away her address. I said to tell her that if she wants a sister, she is going to have to BE a sister. She has not initiated contact with me for 3 years now, and she just complains when I write to her. So it's up to her now. (I don't think she wants a sister, so I've kind of resigned to forgetting about her). I did, in fact throw away her address so I would not be tempted months down the road to try to make amends without some effort.
I am surrounded by tomato plants. We went to Walmart today and bought more 4-inch pots, and a 50-lb bag of dirt. Last night I had bought more peat pots at Lowes. Today I transplanted over 64, mostly the yellow plum cherry tomatoes. I have no more window space in my living room.
My 15-yr-old son is now enrolled for next year in the local public school, and signed up for post-secondary option, provided he maintains a 3.5 GPA or above for the rest of the year. He will only have 2 1/2 years of college left when he graduates from HS. I got all the papers filled out, and took in the birth certificate, social security card, immunization records and visitation modification today.
My daughter's saxaphone is tuned up. She is going to shadow the director at the Towngate Theater in Wheeling for her Gifted and Talanted class, sometime in the next few weeks. I have been pricing plane tickets for Phoenix the past 2 days. I hope to get my nose into some paperwork tonight.
My parents want me to go to Full Gospel Business Men's Fellowship tonight for their dinner meeting, but I'm not going. I don't like getting singled out by his buddies to come up and get "slain in the spirit." Call me wayward. Maybe I'll give the baby goats their second tetanus boosters instead. I have to work the weekend, and this is my last free day for 3 days. So I'm going to enjoy it.
My husband told me that if people quit saying the weather man was wrong and giving their own forecast, that maybe he'd be right for a change; that people talking about other things happening might be making them happen. I asked him if that was a nice way of saying, "Shut up," and he grinned at me.
Yesterday I told my mom to tell my sister next time she called that I threw away her address. I said to tell her that if she wants a sister, she is going to have to BE a sister. She has not initiated contact with me for 3 years now, and she just complains when I write to her. So it's up to her now. (I don't think she wants a sister, so I've kind of resigned to forgetting about her). I did, in fact throw away her address so I would not be tempted months down the road to try to make amends without some effort.
I am surrounded by tomato plants. We went to Walmart today and bought more 4-inch pots, and a 50-lb bag of dirt. Last night I had bought more peat pots at Lowes. Today I transplanted over 64, mostly the yellow plum cherry tomatoes. I have no more window space in my living room.
My 15-yr-old son is now enrolled for next year in the local public school, and signed up for post-secondary option, provided he maintains a 3.5 GPA or above for the rest of the year. He will only have 2 1/2 years of college left when he graduates from HS. I got all the papers filled out, and took in the birth certificate, social security card, immunization records and visitation modification today.
My daughter's saxaphone is tuned up. She is going to shadow the director at the Towngate Theater in Wheeling for her Gifted and Talanted class, sometime in the next few weeks. I have been pricing plane tickets for Phoenix the past 2 days. I hope to get my nose into some paperwork tonight.
My parents want me to go to Full Gospel Business Men's Fellowship tonight for their dinner meeting, but I'm not going. I don't like getting singled out by his buddies to come up and get "slain in the spirit." Call me wayward. Maybe I'll give the baby goats their second tetanus boosters instead. I have to work the weekend, and this is my last free day for 3 days. So I'm going to enjoy it.
Monday, February 28, 2005
Nor'easter
I didn't know what a nor'easter was, except for a big snowstorm, so I googled it. I mean, everyone was talking about the nor'easter since last Thursday, and it's Monday, and the nor'easter is here. About 2 inches of it, so far.
A nor'easter is a storm caused when the jet stream gets so wound up backwards, that it creates a storm hundreds of miles wide that turns counter-clockwise, opposite of a hurricane, and on land. Because of jet stream dynamics, it "gets stuck," so moves real slow, and can last up to a week. The swirling storm causes the wind to come from the northeast, which in Ohio, is the wrong direction. Winds are supposed to come from the northWEST (cold winds - warm winds come from the SOUTHwest). The only time winds come from the east in Ohio, is when something is seriously wrong.
Fortunately, this nor'easter is only supposed to dump 6 inches on this part of Ohio. The 2 feet or so is supposed to happen further east, when it "gets stuck." That's if the weather channel people are right, which they often are not.
Unfortunately, my 15-yr-old son's private school is having "intensives" this week, and most of them are travelling. One group is even supposed to be backpacking. My son is going religion-hopping, going westward to Columbus, then south to Wilmington. I hope they are in Wilmington.
There was a 2-hr delay in most of the local schools today in anticipation of the snow. The problem was, it was raining, not snowing. After all the kids got into school, then it started to snow. The roads weren't too bad, still, when they let out, but I thought it was all rather silly. The superintendant who used to drive down the backroads before making a choice - he retired a few years ago, and I guess the person who replaced him doesn't do that.
Today I was in Bellaire trying to sign that son up for the academic program he wants to be in at the High School (going to college his Junior&Senior years and getting HS and college credit). Bellaire is in the deep river valley. About an inch had accumulated up on the ridges where we live, but in the river valley, the grass was green. People don't know there are parts of Ohio that act like the mountains. And all in the same school district.
Anyway, it looks like my son will be able to do the post-secondary option, but like taxes and financial aid forms, it is going to be more work...and here I sit, just writing about it...
A nor'easter is a storm caused when the jet stream gets so wound up backwards, that it creates a storm hundreds of miles wide that turns counter-clockwise, opposite of a hurricane, and on land. Because of jet stream dynamics, it "gets stuck," so moves real slow, and can last up to a week. The swirling storm causes the wind to come from the northeast, which in Ohio, is the wrong direction. Winds are supposed to come from the northWEST (cold winds - warm winds come from the SOUTHwest). The only time winds come from the east in Ohio, is when something is seriously wrong.
Fortunately, this nor'easter is only supposed to dump 6 inches on this part of Ohio. The 2 feet or so is supposed to happen further east, when it "gets stuck." That's if the weather channel people are right, which they often are not.
Unfortunately, my 15-yr-old son's private school is having "intensives" this week, and most of them are travelling. One group is even supposed to be backpacking. My son is going religion-hopping, going westward to Columbus, then south to Wilmington. I hope they are in Wilmington.
There was a 2-hr delay in most of the local schools today in anticipation of the snow. The problem was, it was raining, not snowing. After all the kids got into school, then it started to snow. The roads weren't too bad, still, when they let out, but I thought it was all rather silly. The superintendant who used to drive down the backroads before making a choice - he retired a few years ago, and I guess the person who replaced him doesn't do that.
Today I was in Bellaire trying to sign that son up for the academic program he wants to be in at the High School (going to college his Junior&Senior years and getting HS and college credit). Bellaire is in the deep river valley. About an inch had accumulated up on the ridges where we live, but in the river valley, the grass was green. People don't know there are parts of Ohio that act like the mountains. And all in the same school district.
Anyway, it looks like my son will be able to do the post-secondary option, but like taxes and financial aid forms, it is going to be more work...and here I sit, just writing about it...
Saturday, February 26, 2005
Bragging Rights
My oldest son recently created a website for his high school robotics club. He also received a scholarship for DeVry in Phoenix for next year. I'm very proud of him! DeVry gave his school a very large grant for the international robotics competition. You can read all about it at
http://robocolt.jt.org/
http://robocolt.jt.org/
Tomato plants
I have transplanted over 180 seedlings in the past few days - mostly tomatoes (Rutger, red and yellow cherry, 4th-of-July) but also green and hot peppers, brussel sprouts, basil and cosmos. I had to...the kitty litter pans I used to plant the seedlings in looked too much like the real thing, I guess. Midnight and Zoe don't seem to bother the peat pots, once they're transplanted. I still have around 50 yellow cherry tomatos to go.
The Rutger tomatoes have already outgrown their peat pots, so I went out to the barn looking for bigger plastic pots today, unsuccessfully. I was standing outside of the barn, viewing the two holes from boards that have fallen off, contemplating how to get a ladder up there to replace them, when Ali Baa Baa (the ram) came and stood directly under my feet, staring up at me, and after a while began nibbling on my sleeve, to tell me he was hungry. So I fed everyone.
Bruce showed up around then, and helped finish feeding. Then I decided to finally dig a ditch around the old chicken house that has two walls fallen out and a creek running through it. Bruce decided to help me with that too. The pasture around the chicken house is a swamp. Or, was a swamp. We worked until it got dark and chilly.
This morning I woke up with a headache that turned into a migraine later, and I was out of Ibuprofen. We all ran some errands (including getting ibuprofen), then went out for a very late breakfast (around noon) at Denny's. It was packed full. As I paid the bill, the manager told me the electric at Bob Evans was out. My daughter wanted to go to the mall, and I wished that I had ignored her, as the electric at the mall was out also, and everyone was leaving. On Saturday afternoon. It took us a long time to get through the traffic and back home!
However, I feel good now. It was a very productive day. I mailed a letter with pictures of baby animals to my sister in New York. I got a lot accomplished, including a job that was so past due that the creek bed had changed its course through an outbuilding. (I think hurricane Ivan was partially responsible for that though). The plan is to get so much done that we'll have the gumption to build a greenhouse. Then my tomatoes won't take up so much of the living room in front of the picture window.
The Rutger tomatoes have already outgrown their peat pots, so I went out to the barn looking for bigger plastic pots today, unsuccessfully. I was standing outside of the barn, viewing the two holes from boards that have fallen off, contemplating how to get a ladder up there to replace them, when Ali Baa Baa (the ram) came and stood directly under my feet, staring up at me, and after a while began nibbling on my sleeve, to tell me he was hungry. So I fed everyone.
Bruce showed up around then, and helped finish feeding. Then I decided to finally dig a ditch around the old chicken house that has two walls fallen out and a creek running through it. Bruce decided to help me with that too. The pasture around the chicken house is a swamp. Or, was a swamp. We worked until it got dark and chilly.
This morning I woke up with a headache that turned into a migraine later, and I was out of Ibuprofen. We all ran some errands (including getting ibuprofen), then went out for a very late breakfast (around noon) at Denny's. It was packed full. As I paid the bill, the manager told me the electric at Bob Evans was out. My daughter wanted to go to the mall, and I wished that I had ignored her, as the electric at the mall was out also, and everyone was leaving. On Saturday afternoon. It took us a long time to get through the traffic and back home!
However, I feel good now. It was a very productive day. I mailed a letter with pictures of baby animals to my sister in New York. I got a lot accomplished, including a job that was so past due that the creek bed had changed its course through an outbuilding. (I think hurricane Ivan was partially responsible for that though). The plan is to get so much done that we'll have the gumption to build a greenhouse. Then my tomatoes won't take up so much of the living room in front of the picture window.
Wednesday, February 23, 2005
Wet Bear
Sometime last week, my husband commented on the way back from the barn, "Whoever is holding Ursula Major is getting wet."
Then I had a dream about a wet grizzly bear rocking my car. It didn't occur to me the two might be related until I went back and read what I wrote. I was traveling south in my dream, and Ursula Major is north. Okay, I'm still confused about what my dream meant.
Then I had a dream about a wet grizzly bear rocking my car. It didn't occur to me the two might be related until I went back and read what I wrote. I was traveling south in my dream, and Ursula Major is north. Okay, I'm still confused about what my dream meant.
Tuesday, February 22, 2005
Drugs, Zoe and Midnight
A relative of a relative disappeared, and it had something to do with drugs, and two kitties needed a home. So a few days ago, we took in Zoe and Midnight. There was a 13-year-old girl in the house the same as mine - she went to live with her grandma, who can't have kitties. The kitties must have bonded very strongly to her, because Midnight just wailed when my daughter left for school yesterday. Midnight is a HUGE (as in fat), black 9-yr-old fixed male. He looks and acts like a black Garfield. Someone has loved him very, very much because he is just the nicest cat.
Zoe is a 5-month-old short haired tabby-calico who has adopted the top of my computer screen as a hang-out spot. She's a bit more lively. I think she has burmese in her because she has the biggest, curiousest eyes. She is very playful.
I bought Midnight this cool black&white tiger collar to match his shiny black coat. Zoe got an all black one, and both have bells. They are dingalinging around the house right now, at 2:45 am, like kitties do. The relatives talked like it was permanent placement. They were going to leave these indoor kitties outdoors on a beef farm of another relative. I was missing my 10-yr-old kitty that disappeared in December, so I took them and saved them from the wildish beef farm kitties. I have a hunch that this little girl may want her kitties back if and when she ever gets to a place she can keep them. Meanwhile, they can hang out here.
Zoe is a 5-month-old short haired tabby-calico who has adopted the top of my computer screen as a hang-out spot. She's a bit more lively. I think she has burmese in her because she has the biggest, curiousest eyes. She is very playful.
I bought Midnight this cool black&white tiger collar to match his shiny black coat. Zoe got an all black one, and both have bells. They are dingalinging around the house right now, at 2:45 am, like kitties do. The relatives talked like it was permanent placement. They were going to leave these indoor kitties outdoors on a beef farm of another relative. I was missing my 10-yr-old kitty that disappeared in December, so I took them and saved them from the wildish beef farm kitties. I have a hunch that this little girl may want her kitties back if and when she ever gets to a place she can keep them. Meanwhile, they can hang out here.
Wearing me out
I have been sick with an intestinal something or other for about 3 days now. Why do I always get sick on my days off??? We managed to get the last sheep ready to lamb into a pen in the barn.
Today was busy. My 15-year-old son wants to take "secondary option" his junior year in high school, which means he goes to a local college for classes, and gets both college and high school credit for the classes. It requires a 3.5 GPA. He has a 3.67 GPA. The deadline to sign up is Friday this week, plus he has to enroll in the local public school. I had to run and get his transcript from his private school today, and I have a meeting the day between two night shifts, Thursday, just before the deadline. Joy, joy. The sacrifices we make for our children. I figure he earned it though. I'll suffer through it, and hope I don't get sicker.
My 13-year-old daughter is secretary of her 4-H club. They had a meeting last night and chose projects for the next year. She chose 3 - Writing and Reporting for Teens, a geneology project, and Market Lambs. I tried talking her into market goats, but she likes the lambs better. I know they require a LOT more work. I guess she will find out the hard way. I have a friend whose daughter won grand champion market lamb a few years ago in another county. I'll have to have her daughter come over and give mine some pointers. We are spankin' new at it, and clueless.
The pick-up's breaks are shot. I had it towed yesterday to the dealers, and they quoted me $1500-2000 "at least" for the job. Today I paid to have it towed to one of my brother's friend's who does mechanical work - he's been talking about doing it since December. I figure, it'll be at least summer before I can come up with $1500, so why not have this guy do it anyhow? Okay, so I'm already over $100 out, just in towing. It sucks. But if you have farm animals, you need a good truck.
Anyone who thinks there's money in farming ought to think again! Tax breaks, maybe - but not as much as you already spent! I went grocery shopping after paying the tow truck. I'm tired. My stomach is rumbling. I burnt the pizza.
Today was busy. My 15-year-old son wants to take "secondary option" his junior year in high school, which means he goes to a local college for classes, and gets both college and high school credit for the classes. It requires a 3.5 GPA. He has a 3.67 GPA. The deadline to sign up is Friday this week, plus he has to enroll in the local public school. I had to run and get his transcript from his private school today, and I have a meeting the day between two night shifts, Thursday, just before the deadline. Joy, joy. The sacrifices we make for our children. I figure he earned it though. I'll suffer through it, and hope I don't get sicker.
My 13-year-old daughter is secretary of her 4-H club. They had a meeting last night and chose projects for the next year. She chose 3 - Writing and Reporting for Teens, a geneology project, and Market Lambs. I tried talking her into market goats, but she likes the lambs better. I know they require a LOT more work. I guess she will find out the hard way. I have a friend whose daughter won grand champion market lamb a few years ago in another county. I'll have to have her daughter come over and give mine some pointers. We are spankin' new at it, and clueless.
The pick-up's breaks are shot. I had it towed yesterday to the dealers, and they quoted me $1500-2000 "at least" for the job. Today I paid to have it towed to one of my brother's friend's who does mechanical work - he's been talking about doing it since December. I figure, it'll be at least summer before I can come up with $1500, so why not have this guy do it anyhow? Okay, so I'm already over $100 out, just in towing. It sucks. But if you have farm animals, you need a good truck.
Anyone who thinks there's money in farming ought to think again! Tax breaks, maybe - but not as much as you already spent! I went grocery shopping after paying the tow truck. I'm tired. My stomach is rumbling. I burnt the pizza.
Saturday, February 19, 2005
Dreams
I've been having strange dreams the past two nights. The one two nights ago was most profound. I was traveling with my daughter and our dog - a black cocker spaniel mix. We were going south across a state like WV. We went down this really long, steep hill (more like a mountain) into a town. There was a stop sign at the bottom, and I wasn't sure I could stop, but I did. Then we were looking for a particular road. We went through the stop, and bore right. We went across some RR tracks, and were following a valley. None of the road signs were correct, so I looked for a place to turn around.
There was an old, stone or block church to the left on a creek bottom, across a small bridge. We turned in there to turn around. The church was very familiar, like I had been to it in another dream. Above it was a hill, and I knew there was a trailer park on the hill, so I looked for the trailers, and they were up there.
The parking lot of the church was eroding away into the winding, shallow creek bed. Going up the hill behind the church was a waterfall-like creek. There was a big grizzly bear climbing up the creek bed. The bear was soaking wet. As I backed up and began to pull out, my car went forward into part of the eroded lot, way too fast, and splashed into the creek bed. I was afraid we'd drown, but it wasn't deep enough. My daughter and my dog were scared. The dog didn't bark. The bear came over to the car, and started to rock it to get us out of it, and we hurried up and closed the windows.
Then I woke up.
There was an old, stone or block church to the left on a creek bottom, across a small bridge. We turned in there to turn around. The church was very familiar, like I had been to it in another dream. Above it was a hill, and I knew there was a trailer park on the hill, so I looked for the trailers, and they were up there.
The parking lot of the church was eroding away into the winding, shallow creek bed. Going up the hill behind the church was a waterfall-like creek. There was a big grizzly bear climbing up the creek bed. The bear was soaking wet. As I backed up and began to pull out, my car went forward into part of the eroded lot, way too fast, and splashed into the creek bed. I was afraid we'd drown, but it wasn't deep enough. My daughter and my dog were scared. The dog didn't bark. The bear came over to the car, and started to rock it to get us out of it, and we hurried up and closed the windows.
Then I woke up.
Wednesday, February 16, 2005
Sick of Work
I am SO sick of that hospital floor. I just finished the 5th night of night shifts. I was scheduled for 4, but the full-time night shift nurse has migraines that act like strokes, and had one, and I went in for her. Her face and hand on half of her body get numb, and she can't use them. She has been hospitalized for them. That's what full time nights at a hospital does to a human being.
Several staff people on the unit have gotten shingles and had to take time off for them. We've had a few patients with shingles too. It seems like the year for it. I have an itchy, puffy area on my left upper outer eyelid, but I don't like going to the doctor for minor problems. They usually turn out to be nothing. But I don't want shingles on my eye either. I'd rather get put on Zovirax and have it not be than not get put on it and have it be. But I'm too tired to go to the doctor today. It's morning, and I just got home.
People at work tell me stuff about other people. I feel put in the middle of everything, and it makes me wonder what they say about me when I'm not there. Someone told me tonight that my being a Quaker was a news issue. Joy, joy. I have to watch that I don't say the wrong thing to the wrong person. On my way out the door this morning, an orderly from escort said, "Bye, nurse." He looked like my old manager from Domino's pizza 20 years ago, only skinnier. Nah. A guy in maintenance told me, "goodnight." On my way out the door, I remembered that someone in maintenance hunts on my farm, and he looked kind of familiar. Funny how day shift staff tell you "goodnight" in the morning when you leave - even people you don't know. I opened the door for a dressed up lady who looked like an administrative person's wife.
It started snowing on the way home, and sleeting. Then it turned back into rain. My husband is cooking me breakfast. I have a very good life.
Several staff people on the unit have gotten shingles and had to take time off for them. We've had a few patients with shingles too. It seems like the year for it. I have an itchy, puffy area on my left upper outer eyelid, but I don't like going to the doctor for minor problems. They usually turn out to be nothing. But I don't want shingles on my eye either. I'd rather get put on Zovirax and have it not be than not get put on it and have it be. But I'm too tired to go to the doctor today. It's morning, and I just got home.
People at work tell me stuff about other people. I feel put in the middle of everything, and it makes me wonder what they say about me when I'm not there. Someone told me tonight that my being a Quaker was a news issue. Joy, joy. I have to watch that I don't say the wrong thing to the wrong person. On my way out the door this morning, an orderly from escort said, "Bye, nurse." He looked like my old manager from Domino's pizza 20 years ago, only skinnier. Nah. A guy in maintenance told me, "goodnight." On my way out the door, I remembered that someone in maintenance hunts on my farm, and he looked kind of familiar. Funny how day shift staff tell you "goodnight" in the morning when you leave - even people you don't know. I opened the door for a dressed up lady who looked like an administrative person's wife.
It started snowing on the way home, and sleeting. Then it turned back into rain. My husband is cooking me breakfast. I have a very good life.
Tuesday, February 15, 2005
Sweetie
A little white lamb we hadn't seen before came into the barn during feeding tonight. It's umbilical chord was dried up, and it was friendly. Snowie, one of our sheep, claimed her. Snowie just happens to be the daughter of the sheep that died yesterday. Snowie also happens to have been the first lamb born on our farm since I've lived here. She was born in that deep February snow two winters ago.
We figure that this little lamb has to have been born the day its grandmother died, on Valentines Day. So we named her "Sweetie." What a sweet suprise.
We figure that this little lamb has to have been born the day its grandmother died, on Valentines Day. So we named her "Sweetie." What a sweet suprise.
Monday, February 14, 2005
Sad Valentine
It is a rainy, sad Valentines Day. One of the sheep developed a bad case of pregnancy toxemia over the weekend. We had the vet out Sat. morning, and we were giving her the propylene glycol and penicillin shots. She died this morning. It was too late to get her to the vet and get the twins out. She was my favorite sheep - beautiful brown/black fleece and a matriarchal, friendly disposition. For Valentines Day, my husband buried my sheepie, in the rain. I couldn't help after a 3 night shift stretch with the 4th to go tonight. My daughter also came home from school, sick today.
We shared cards and candy this morning. I bought my husband a rose on the way home from work, and a small oreo cookie cake. It made him very happy. He put the rose in a vase and put it on the table, and he shared two little bites of his cookie cake with me before putting it away for later.
We shared cards and candy this morning. I bought my husband a rose on the way home from work, and a small oreo cookie cake. It made him very happy. He put the rose in a vase and put it on the table, and he shared two little bites of his cookie cake with me before putting it away for later.
Sunday, February 13, 2005
Chip
I was scrolling down my blog and noticed a reply that I hadn't seen, and it was barbali already suggesting a name for my lambie. Well, we already named him Cadbury, but I'm sure there may be a Chip coming up soon! I just posted a picture of the tiny goat, Pippin.
Crescent Moons and Indian Spirits
I had been thinking about my oldest son, living with his dad in Phoenix, wondering about how his high school graduation will go; feeling apprehensive about flying out and being on a plane again.
The lane from our farm in Ohio goes straight uphill to the northwest. As I left last night at 9:45 pm for midnight shift, I drove uphill and a huge, waxing crescent moon emerged from the top of the hill in the west, turning the black sky gray. The moon was on the horizon, and so appeared enormous. It was surrounded with a haze. It was absolutely breathtaking. It was like a promise that things in the west were okay.
Cadbury, the black lamb, is faring delightfully. We have a total of 5 healthy kids from 3 goats. The goats are done now, but we have 3 sheep yet to lamb. The latest drama is that my matriarch ewe is down with pregnancy toxemia. The vet says she might pull through, but it is yet more work in a very busy winter. More shots, excercising animals, checking, checking, checking.
I've been thinking, if I have more black or gray sheepies, what to name them. I've been thinking of names like "Rolo," "Scor," "Russell Stover," "Hershey," and "Mars." If someone thinks of something interesting, feel free to post it!
Last week I made an extra few hundred $ on my paycheck for covering during the respiratory infection that went around. So I splurged, and bought a long-desired digital camera. It was cheap, as digital cameras go, but it is NICE. It's a Canon Powershot A75. I've already downloaded pics on my computer.
Driving home from work this morning, a redtail hawk flew overhead, coming up I470 from the Ohio River. It is a sunny day, but there was a fog in the valley, as there often is. It clears out up in the ridges, and the valleys look full of marshmallow fluff. That is most noticeable in the autumn, but sometimes it happens in odd weather. The farm is nestled in the ridges, up in the sun. It must have seemed like old Scotland to my ancestors.
The I470 Wheeling bypass follows a creek up from the Ohio River into Ohio. The creek is called Whiskey Run, and you can see parts of it going up the hill. I've hiked down in there, and there is a family of beaver who dam off Whiskey Run perpetually. You can't see the dam from the interstate. The reason I can hike there is because I married into the property owner's family. Once I saw a beaver by the interstate while driving. The creek was named that because it used to be the path for bootleggers to take barrels of whiskey to the river. What is most interesting to me is that all of the surrounding property owners were Presbyterians whose descendents claim their ancestors did not DRINK.
Whiskey Run is also in the vicinity of an obscure spiritual ancient Indian site. I think their spirits are still there.
The lane from our farm in Ohio goes straight uphill to the northwest. As I left last night at 9:45 pm for midnight shift, I drove uphill and a huge, waxing crescent moon emerged from the top of the hill in the west, turning the black sky gray. The moon was on the horizon, and so appeared enormous. It was surrounded with a haze. It was absolutely breathtaking. It was like a promise that things in the west were okay.
Cadbury, the black lamb, is faring delightfully. We have a total of 5 healthy kids from 3 goats. The goats are done now, but we have 3 sheep yet to lamb. The latest drama is that my matriarch ewe is down with pregnancy toxemia. The vet says she might pull through, but it is yet more work in a very busy winter. More shots, excercising animals, checking, checking, checking.
I've been thinking, if I have more black or gray sheepies, what to name them. I've been thinking of names like "Rolo," "Scor," "Russell Stover," "Hershey," and "Mars." If someone thinks of something interesting, feel free to post it!
Last week I made an extra few hundred $ on my paycheck for covering during the respiratory infection that went around. So I splurged, and bought a long-desired digital camera. It was cheap, as digital cameras go, but it is NICE. It's a Canon Powershot A75. I've already downloaded pics on my computer.
Driving home from work this morning, a redtail hawk flew overhead, coming up I470 from the Ohio River. It is a sunny day, but there was a fog in the valley, as there often is. It clears out up in the ridges, and the valleys look full of marshmallow fluff. That is most noticeable in the autumn, but sometimes it happens in odd weather. The farm is nestled in the ridges, up in the sun. It must have seemed like old Scotland to my ancestors.
The I470 Wheeling bypass follows a creek up from the Ohio River into Ohio. The creek is called Whiskey Run, and you can see parts of it going up the hill. I've hiked down in there, and there is a family of beaver who dam off Whiskey Run perpetually. You can't see the dam from the interstate. The reason I can hike there is because I married into the property owner's family. Once I saw a beaver by the interstate while driving. The creek was named that because it used to be the path for bootleggers to take barrels of whiskey to the river. What is most interesting to me is that all of the surrounding property owners were Presbyterians whose descendents claim their ancestors did not DRINK.
Whiskey Run is also in the vicinity of an obscure spiritual ancient Indian site. I think their spirits are still there.
Saturday, February 05, 2005
Starry Night
On the way back from the barn last night, my husband and I were looking at the beautiful winter sky. As we turned from a plane flying over in the south, we looked north, and he says, "Whoever is holding Ursula Major is getting wet."
Follow the drinking gourd.
Follow the drinking gourd.
Friday, February 04, 2005
Pippin
The last 24 hours have been overshadowed by a tiny male angora/dairy cross day-old goat kid I've named Pippin. We have been trying to keep him alive, and have so far succeeded. He asked to spend the night tonight in the barn with his mommy, so we let him. He has been in a box on the kitchen floor all day with a heating pad on under him, and a towel over him. He watched some TV laying on my tummy. That's when he told me he'd rather lay by his mommy. He looked at me and smacked his lips. They're under a heat lamp in the barn.
I put his mommy, Rasberry in the milking stanchion when I got home from work this morning, and milked out 4 oz of colostrum; strained it and warmed it up in the house, and he ate it hungrily. After that and a shot of vitamins, he was strong enough to be taken out to nurse all by himself. (My husband did that while I slept). But we still have to lay Rasberry down and hold her udder up for him, like the way a puppy eats. He started to find it on his own tonight, finally. He can stand up by himself now too. He's still pretty wobbly, and poodle-sized.
Meanwhile, my hold-out ewe finally lambed. She had twins, both black. One was stillborn, and its head was unnaturally large - probably got lodged in the birth canal too long. That was a girl. The other one is a boy, and he is alive and healthy. They are both very large lambs for being twins - even if they were single they would be oversized. The boy's pretty spunky - will be a beautiful black ram someday. His daddy, Ali Baa Baa is black, and his mom, Hickory is gray. We will have to figure out what to name him.
We laid the dead lamb in the room by the ewe's pen to bury her later. Our male llama is recovering from meningeal worm, and has free reign of the inside of the barn right now, cause with the lambing and kidding, it is the only secure place to keep him that isn't outside. When we went back out later, the dead lamb was covered with hay that had been scattered on the floor near the pen during feeding. It was like someone had scraped the concrete floor clean and put it all on the lamb. It was either the llama, the cocker spaniel or the spayed tom cat. The prints in the dirt look llama-like. I've heard of male llamas killing other llamas and sheep, but ours is a sucker for babies. He is curious and protective. I never would have thought he'd do something like that. We thought it was the dog for sure until we saw the scrape marks.
I have a terrible migraine that won't go away, and the computer light is driving me nuts. I should get some sleep...have to work again tomorrow and superbowl Sunday. I'd trade farming for the super bowl any day (in favor of farming of course!) Work's okay. Sick people, sick animals...what's the difference?
I put his mommy, Rasberry in the milking stanchion when I got home from work this morning, and milked out 4 oz of colostrum; strained it and warmed it up in the house, and he ate it hungrily. After that and a shot of vitamins, he was strong enough to be taken out to nurse all by himself. (My husband did that while I slept). But we still have to lay Rasberry down and hold her udder up for him, like the way a puppy eats. He started to find it on his own tonight, finally. He can stand up by himself now too. He's still pretty wobbly, and poodle-sized.
Meanwhile, my hold-out ewe finally lambed. She had twins, both black. One was stillborn, and its head was unnaturally large - probably got lodged in the birth canal too long. That was a girl. The other one is a boy, and he is alive and healthy. They are both very large lambs for being twins - even if they were single they would be oversized. The boy's pretty spunky - will be a beautiful black ram someday. His daddy, Ali Baa Baa is black, and his mom, Hickory is gray. We will have to figure out what to name him.
We laid the dead lamb in the room by the ewe's pen to bury her later. Our male llama is recovering from meningeal worm, and has free reign of the inside of the barn right now, cause with the lambing and kidding, it is the only secure place to keep him that isn't outside. When we went back out later, the dead lamb was covered with hay that had been scattered on the floor near the pen during feeding. It was like someone had scraped the concrete floor clean and put it all on the lamb. It was either the llama, the cocker spaniel or the spayed tom cat. The prints in the dirt look llama-like. I've heard of male llamas killing other llamas and sheep, but ours is a sucker for babies. He is curious and protective. I never would have thought he'd do something like that. We thought it was the dog for sure until we saw the scrape marks.
I have a terrible migraine that won't go away, and the computer light is driving me nuts. I should get some sleep...have to work again tomorrow and superbowl Sunday. I'd trade farming for the super bowl any day (in favor of farming of course!) Work's okay. Sick people, sick animals...what's the difference?
Thursday, February 03, 2005
Angora goat baby
Our one Angora doe just kidded. It's a boy too. He is not up on his feet yet, but he has a voice! We milked the doe's thick colostrum and fed him a little; put him up to her teets and made him nurse a little, and dipped him in a warm bucket of water and dried him off. He didn't want to nurse. He's trying harder, but we will see. I don't know if he's going to make it, to be honest. He is very tiny, and almost looks premature - smaller than both dairy goat twins. I think his father was the dairy goat again, but it's hard to tell until he dries off and grows a little hair.
I'm working night shift tonight, and I don't want to leave. I want to bring the little guy in the house and watch him all night.
I'm working night shift tonight, and I don't want to leave. I want to bring the little guy in the house and watch him all night.
Tuesday, February 01, 2005
goat names
Last night I went to bed around 2:30 am, still excited about the babies. I was laying next to my husband in a dark bedroom, making up names aloud from the breeds the babies are part of (Saanen, Angora, Alpine and Toggenburg). I ended on Saangora and Alpanburg. My husband took a deep, sleepy breath (I was waking him up), and said, "How about just Sonny and Al." He didn't remember saying that in the morning.
In the morning, we mulled over other names with our coffee...Stewart and McGregor; Earl and Charlie (my two great uncles who farmed this farm before I was born); someone in chat room suggested marsiedoes and dosiedoes; someone else suggested roast and chops....
We figured the ghosts of Earl and Charlie might not be pleased, and we didn't want to offend them. The Stewart and McGregor clans might not be enthralled, although Scots do have a sense of humor. Sonny and Al stuck. So it is.
Ahhhh, finally, I finished my last day of work on a 6-day stretch. My daughter ate all the microwave popcorn, so I popped some from a bag in my freezer on the stove. Like the 70's. We used to pop corn on Saturday night, and watch Hee Haw or Lawrence Welk, and then Emergency. On rare occaisions, we'd pop a whole brown paper bag full, and go to a drive-in movie.
Kids these days don't know about stove-top popcorn. I am a popcorn pig.
In the morning, we mulled over other names with our coffee...Stewart and McGregor; Earl and Charlie (my two great uncles who farmed this farm before I was born); someone in chat room suggested marsiedoes and dosiedoes; someone else suggested roast and chops....
We figured the ghosts of Earl and Charlie might not be pleased, and we didn't want to offend them. The Stewart and McGregor clans might not be enthralled, although Scots do have a sense of humor. Sonny and Al stuck. So it is.
Ahhhh, finally, I finished my last day of work on a 6-day stretch. My daughter ate all the microwave popcorn, so I popped some from a bag in my freezer on the stove. Like the 70's. We used to pop corn on Saturday night, and watch Hee Haw or Lawrence Welk, and then Emergency. On rare occaisions, we'd pop a whole brown paper bag full, and go to a drive-in movie.
Kids these days don't know about stove-top popcorn. I am a popcorn pig.
Monday, January 31, 2005
Unexpected Suprise
Here I was, waiting for a sheep to lamb, and the martriarch goat, Florence Nightingale kidded! We have our first two babies of the year - twins - two white boys with ears that stick straight up in the air. What is really cool is that all the animals in the barn, including the billy goats and the ram, consider them part of the herd and are protective of them.
Wow, are they cute! Now, what to name them...
Wow, are they cute! Now, what to name them...
the life of two farms
It's a little after 11 am. A credit card salesperson woke me up, and I hung up on her. Then my husband called from his house to say good morning. There was a wasp buzzing in the window taking turns with a fly. I got up, checked the two flats of seedlings in the picture window to see if any more had popped up, and had a ham sandwitch and a glass of OJ. I looked out the window, and the sheep and llama are laying in the hay outside the barn, in the sun. I turned the baby monitor on, and the only noise this morning is birds. I put some coffee and water in the percolator and turned it on.
My husband is perfect for me. We have a unique relationship. I got divorced in 1993 from the father of my 3 children (now 13, 15 & 17). I was happily divorced for 11 years. I'd wanted Angora goats when I was married, and my ex used that desire to make numerous goat jokes - just a small portion of the mental abuse I suffered. I dated around off and on. I lived with a really nice guy, but that didn't work out. I went a year seeing nobody. I took out loans and went to nursing school so I could support myself and not have to rely on child support. Then I wound up on my parents' family farm in an effort to keep it in the family. I bought dairy goats, Angora goats, sheep and llamas over the course of 2 years. My kids thought I was nuts. My ex couldn't do a thing about it.
I found myself single with 3 children on this farm in this big old house, working my butt off. Then my husband, who was living on his family's farm, in their big old farm house by himself, just over the hill from here,...he and I started to notice each other. We already knew each other. His sister has been my friend for years. He was 49; I was 38. (He wants to know now if this is a ballog). (Oh, not a ballog, but a bullog). We got married last May. He has beef cows on his family's farm, and his brother and parents help him. But they live in a different house. He has to take care of his house (the homestead) and his cows, and he goes over to have a nice farm breakfast every morning. I work, so that suits me okay. I go over sometimes too. Then he comes back and has coffee with me if I'm not working, and sees me off to work if I am. He just came back, and is trying to figure out this entity attracting my attention. (He is more a curious guy than a jealous one). This week, his mommy is in Florida visiting another sister, though, so he has to fix his own breakfast, plus look after their house and his brother's cows too.
We are expecting a lamb at my house. It's like waiting for a watched pot to boil.
Last night it occurred to me that J.R.R. Tolkein may have been writing about Christianity vs. Islam. If so, he was very bigoted. I may read the books a 4th time. I read them aloud to my children, and that way, they were more enthralling than reading to myself. Each time I read something I missed the last time. If the Fellowship were Christianity, and Mordor was Islam, and Muslims were orcs, the Shire would be the British Isles; where is Mirkwood? (The Black Forest?); and Mt. Doom? What are the rings? Is Gandalf Jesus? Was the balrog Satan?
Bush made a big mistake getting us into a holy war. Even if it comes out that democracy overtakes the middle east, at what cost? What will happen to the Muslim community? 1700 Muslims (Bosnians) were tortured to death in Serbia [BBC Website]. Will we be watching Islam versions of the Haulocaust on TV in a few years? Ever? What about the Congo? Our media is so twisted by oil money. I used to be so faithful to the born again Christian movement, but it has been bought off. I used to think highly of Jews, but Serbia and the current prime minister fractured that illusion. Extremism and violence are what they are, no matter who perpertrates them; and greed is greed. It is "nice" in a very bitter sort of way that some people in Iraq got to vote. It will be good to make all the losses "worth it." But it will be a tough call for my government to buy me back. None of it should have happened to begin with.
There must be a bird sitting in front of the baby monitor, talking to someone. Geesh!
My husband is perfect for me. We have a unique relationship. I got divorced in 1993 from the father of my 3 children (now 13, 15 & 17). I was happily divorced for 11 years. I'd wanted Angora goats when I was married, and my ex used that desire to make numerous goat jokes - just a small portion of the mental abuse I suffered. I dated around off and on. I lived with a really nice guy, but that didn't work out. I went a year seeing nobody. I took out loans and went to nursing school so I could support myself and not have to rely on child support. Then I wound up on my parents' family farm in an effort to keep it in the family. I bought dairy goats, Angora goats, sheep and llamas over the course of 2 years. My kids thought I was nuts. My ex couldn't do a thing about it.
I found myself single with 3 children on this farm in this big old house, working my butt off. Then my husband, who was living on his family's farm, in their big old farm house by himself, just over the hill from here,...he and I started to notice each other. We already knew each other. His sister has been my friend for years. He was 49; I was 38. (He wants to know now if this is a ballog). (Oh, not a ballog, but a bullog). We got married last May. He has beef cows on his family's farm, and his brother and parents help him. But they live in a different house. He has to take care of his house (the homestead) and his cows, and he goes over to have a nice farm breakfast every morning. I work, so that suits me okay. I go over sometimes too. Then he comes back and has coffee with me if I'm not working, and sees me off to work if I am. He just came back, and is trying to figure out this entity attracting my attention. (He is more a curious guy than a jealous one). This week, his mommy is in Florida visiting another sister, though, so he has to fix his own breakfast, plus look after their house and his brother's cows too.
We are expecting a lamb at my house. It's like waiting for a watched pot to boil.
Last night it occurred to me that J.R.R. Tolkein may have been writing about Christianity vs. Islam. If so, he was very bigoted. I may read the books a 4th time. I read them aloud to my children, and that way, they were more enthralling than reading to myself. Each time I read something I missed the last time. If the Fellowship were Christianity, and Mordor was Islam, and Muslims were orcs, the Shire would be the British Isles; where is Mirkwood? (The Black Forest?); and Mt. Doom? What are the rings? Is Gandalf Jesus? Was the balrog Satan?
Bush made a big mistake getting us into a holy war. Even if it comes out that democracy overtakes the middle east, at what cost? What will happen to the Muslim community? 1700 Muslims (Bosnians) were tortured to death in Serbia [BBC Website]. Will we be watching Islam versions of the Haulocaust on TV in a few years? Ever? What about the Congo? Our media is so twisted by oil money. I used to be so faithful to the born again Christian movement, but it has been bought off. I used to think highly of Jews, but Serbia and the current prime minister fractured that illusion. Extremism and violence are what they are, no matter who perpertrates them; and greed is greed. It is "nice" in a very bitter sort of way that some people in Iraq got to vote. It will be good to make all the losses "worth it." But it will be a tough call for my government to buy me back. None of it should have happened to begin with.
There must be a bird sitting in front of the baby monitor, talking to someone. Geesh!
Sunday, January 30, 2005
Sunday Monday
This is day 4 of a 6-day stretch of afternoon shifts, and the unit is full of a demanding bunch of burgois. My house is not quite as it was for Christmas visitors. I still can't get to sleep until 3 am, and have been popping a bag of popcorn and sitting down to this screen after work each night for a couple of hours to wind down.
My wildest ewe has been in a stall in the barn for two weeks, full of milk, and still no lamb yet. 2 years ago, we had to chase her around the pasture for 2 hours with the lamb's head crowned before we finally got her in the barn to pull the baby out. He lived on to be Burdock, the ram. It's hard to tell for sure when a sheep is going to lamb. We turn on the baby monitor to the barn often, but all we hear is animals scraping hay to make a place to lay down. When we go to look at her, she stomps her feet at us.
I want time off to get started on my taxes. I want to brush out my cashgora goats. I want to take the llamas for a walk with my husband.
Two more days of helping people who've had their knees, hips and chests cut open and sewn back together move around and get ready to go home. Then I will be free for two whole days.
My wildest ewe has been in a stall in the barn for two weeks, full of milk, and still no lamb yet. 2 years ago, we had to chase her around the pasture for 2 hours with the lamb's head crowned before we finally got her in the barn to pull the baby out. He lived on to be Burdock, the ram. It's hard to tell for sure when a sheep is going to lamb. We turn on the baby monitor to the barn often, but all we hear is animals scraping hay to make a place to lay down. When we go to look at her, she stomps her feet at us.
I want time off to get started on my taxes. I want to brush out my cashgora goats. I want to take the llamas for a walk with my husband.
Two more days of helping people who've had their knees, hips and chests cut open and sewn back together move around and get ready to go home. Then I will be free for two whole days.
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