What I Should Have Been Doing..

...but haven't, is trimming the sheep's hooves. I did manage to get them dewormed last week, and Quiet Storm as well. I'd planned on doing feet today with Darling, but she got a call from a friend, and next thing I knew she was spending the night. While sheep can be done alone, I just wasn't as motivated while alone (the internet just kept calling my name!) Here are my little dears outside in the fog. Tait is busy harrassing them through the fence where she knows they can't head butt her!

Unlike me, City Boy got busy during his few days off this past week. Inspired no doubt after watching Dirty Jobs, where they'd done some mule logging, he decided to go outside and do some 'logging' of his own. Or, cut down a few small alder trees. Either way, it was good. Those little alder trees can absolutely take over if given half the chance, and that's what they've been working on out behind the house. So out came the chainsaw and down went the trees.

We've had quite a bit of fog in the morning here in the valley. Had to go out and take a few pics. The creek is running pretty good this time of year, and despite the heavy rains, it's stayed it's course relatively well. Some years it cuts itself a new path, but apparently not this year; at least not behind our house.

Don't you just love this photo? I do...the way the treetops just sort of disappear up there in the fog... I'm thinking of have a 'name that photo' contest. What do you think? Perhaps this could be one that needs an official caption.

Golly, I love this one!

Those Boots Weren't Made for Walkin'

Okay, I'll admit. I'm a boot tramp. I like boots. Alot. Just try keeping me out of the western store at the mall; the smell of the leather sucks me right through the door and into the boot isle every time, where I touch, fondle and feel every pair of boots on the shelf.


I ran into someone online who was ever so excited about her honey bun buying her a pair of boots (hint, hint) at this delightful little online boot place: http://bootbay.com/ They can call it boot bay, I call it Boots, Baby! Oh, page after lustful page of the most enticing boots I've ever seen. I'm drooling over the keyboard as I type (City Boy will be happy to find that, I'm sure. But if he would just buy me the boots the salivating issue would clear up, I'm certain.)


I've got a great pair of Ariat boots, rather a roper style, that I use everyday here at the farm (yes, City Boy it is to a farm!) I also made a frivolous little purchase the other day of some shoes with a pointed, western type toe. They've got that little strap that goes around the heel...okay, I love boots but it's never occured to me over the years to figure out what a sling back or a mule shoe was...so bear with me in my ignorance. I just know that I love them!

The greatest Christmas gift I ever received was a pair of pink rubber boots from City Boy a couple years ago. He'd been unemployed and we were so broke; but that pair of boots just lit me up. I put them on and wore them all day. Even wore them to the grocery store the next morning! I loved my pink rubber boots, but eventually wore holes in them and had to put them to rest.

Yup, I love boots. But that's as far as it goes. The rest of the shoe world really does nothing for me.

Darling, on the other hand...that girl is a shoe horse! She's the Imelda Marcos of the Northwest, without a doubt! Ever since her arms were long enough to reach out beyond the edge of her stroller, she'd be snatching shoes off the shelves in every department store we'd walk through. Try convincing the clerk who's accusing you of shoplifting that it really was that sweet, innocent looking two year old that stuffed the shoes into the crevices and folds between herself and the stroller. Trust me, it's a hard sell.

The other day Darling and I were out and she spotted a pair of shiney, lime green sandals. She nearly jumped out of her skin with excitement, clapping her hands, jumping up and down. Something was coming out of her mouth...I'm not sure what, as it was high pitched and sounded rather like a dolphin. I think it was, "CanIcanIcanIcanI"...but I'm not sure. All I know is that I ended up with bright shiney sandals in my bag as I left the store, a pair that I'll never wear (not that I want to!)

Speaking of never being able to wear what comes home in my bag...the other day City Boy took Darling out shopping. They went to the Converse outlet store and bought three pair of shoes; two for Darling and one for me. The pair for me was a lovely red, the reminded me of a pair I had when I was younger. Upon seeing them I was nearly forced into Darling's happy dance, but I restrained myself. Good thing, too, as it would have been wasted. First day I put them on, Darling burst out laughing, telling me that there couldn't possibly be anything in my old fogey wardrobe that would match my lovely red shoes. And you know what? She was right. Dang, I hate when that happens!

So Darling ended up with the ruby red converse. But I still have my boots. I will not let her get her grubby little Imelda hands on my boots!

O'ppossum O'Power

Okay, who here doesn't love 'possums? Those cute, adorable little rascals...



What? You don't love them? You want to see them dead, which is why you swerve to hit them at night while driving home in your SUV?



Well, I love them. From their long, ugly snouts to their skinny, rat tails; and just look at those adorable little toes! I find them to be just charming little creatures. Okay, perhaps charming isn't quite the right word. But I do like them in an offbeat sort of way. I was even able to hold one once; a young 'possum who's mother had been killed had been taken in by an oppossum orphanage. It was so soft you just wouldn't believe it. Of course, if you've got tail issues, you probably wouldn't have enjoyed the fact that they wrap it around your arm just like they would a tree. But that little orphaned oppossum had me wrapped around his skinny little rat tail in a matter of moments as he snuggled down in my arms and dozed off just like a baby...



Last year one of the dogs was playing with a young possum outside and I put it into a tub. It took a few hours, but it's heart rate finally bumped up enough that it climbed out of the tub and wandered away.


This morning when I got up, I spotted Tait outside with something gray. At first I thought one of my chickens had gotten loose over night, but when I finally got the dog to drop it, I realized it was a young possum. Poor thing! Playing dead out there, trying to avoid getting eaten. I called the dogs in and left the baby on the lawn while I did my chores, hoping it's blood would get to pumping and it would get up and wander off before the dogs came back out.


No such luck. 'Possums take a long time to come back to 'life', especially on such a cold night as this one had been. This one evidentally had no desire to get up, so I went and got an old rabbit cage, put on a pair of gloves, wrapped the possum in an old jacket and put it in the cage, thinking I'd just put it out of harms way so the dogs could come back out and the little dear would remain safe. The best place I could think of was the back of my pickup. As long as it was in there, I figured I'd toss in a little hay and a doggie bisciut for when the little guy woke up. And then I went about my daily routine with the dogs happily trotting around wondering what had happened to their chew toy.



A little later, the men in my life were out of bed. The first thing they did was wonder outloud where the possum had gone. What? It'd been there last night? Yes, they said, it had. It was dead, they told me. I assured them it wasn't...it was playing possum...



"Nope," they said. "Not playing."



"Oh...but then that means..."



"You've got a dead 'possum in the back of your truck."



I'm still hoping he's playing....

Would You Care for Some Tea?

Geek Boy Grammar Nazi enjoys tea. Or perhaps it's become more of an obsession, I'm not sure. He handed me a catalog yesterday, pointing out a teapot and saying I could get that one for him. It came with tea and some tea bags...and it was only $90. Hmmm...alrighty then. I'm not sure when this tea thing began with him; perhaps it was when I used to pick chocolate mint from the garden and we'd make tea with it? I really don't like tea in the least, but he had fun adding a bit of honey and stirring it about.

I found this blog while skipping about the internet this morning and thought I'd have to share it with Geek Boy Grammar Nazi. You may enjoy it, too!

http://teapotsteapotsteapots.blogspot.com/

My grandmother one day offered me some of her teacups. Not all of them, she said, as she wasn't quite finished with them yet. But a few. As she pulled them out of her cabinet, she held up this little pink cup and saucer, saying that for some reason it gave her the warm fuzzies. She asked if I wanted it. Naturally, anything that gave Grandma warm fuzzies was something I'd cherish, so I said yes and she packed it gently into my box of newly found treasures. When I got home and began unpacking I tipped the pink cup over and saw a signature on the bottom of the saucer, Edris Fitzgerald, 1962. Oh My Word!!!! That was my other Grandmother! She'd died when I was about four, so I never really knew her. But she'd worked a bit in ceramics and this was one of her pieces. I was so glad I'd taken that precious cup!

Over the years I've picked up a few more little trinkets and treasures. City Boy found this terrific Cinderella teapot; it came with four cups that are designed as the stepsisters, the prince, the fairy godmother and of course, Cinderella herself. Since Darling collects Cinderella, she claims it as her's :) Darling enjoys a pretty teacup as well, and got the little rose one on the right, upon which sits a package of decorated sugar cubes.