Oh, the Glamorous Life I Live!

I know you're all sitting out there wanting to live my life. It's so terribly glamorous, what with my Farm Girl Spa each morning, muddy pedicure and all. But I've only been telling you half of the story! The cute half. The diabetic overload, sweet half. But in reality...

Bessie is prone to sticking her head through the fence...and getting stuck. Not just once, but several times. Look at that big hole in her ear! That happened on her second day here. You'd think she'd learn, but no. I am unsticking her daily.

You want to come visit? I've got something for you to do. Aside from unsticking Bessie. Sheep poop. It piles up around the place like nobodies business. Well...I guess it's the sheep's business. You'll need to grab Blake (Darling's name for the pitchfork) and start shoveling up the old bedding and wheeling it out into the garden. Battling flies all the while, of course.

Make certain you get it spread evenly around the plants.

Then you can mend the fences. City Boy would be more than happy to hand that job over to you. Not that he minds terribly doing the work, he's just not happy about the camera aspect of it all. He's camera shy, my City Boy. You're not camera shy, are you? You wouldn't hide, making it nearly impossible for me to get photos for the blog?

Oops! The Tax Collectors have realized there's activity that they've missed. Better impose the Mend A Fence Tax.

While they're at it, they figure they'd better install a compost for the garden tax. Plus charge me for their contribution (poop, that is.) That'll be two cookies each. Make that two cookies and a cracker filled with peanut butter.

Another load of compost heads to the garden. Don't you just love my wagon? City Boy bought it for me. Can't say my man isn't a hopeless romantic...

It's deworming time now. We use a paste product that is applied with a syringe into their mouths. Nasty stuff. They do not like it.

Okay, so Carrot likes it. Alot. He won't let go of the syringe. Darling must offer a deworming tax. Quiet Storm is not so cooperative. And just so you know? The back end of a horse is way more businesslike than the back end of a sheep; you'll be expected to clean that up as well.

By now it's dinner time. Taffy stands patiently as the boys grab a quick bite.

Okay, okay...I just couldn't help a little cute!