This afternoon it was time to take the Young'un to get his first pair of eye glasses. I decided the best way to go about the situation was to get them in an hour so he didn't have to agonize over the ordeal any longer than necessary, not to mention be able to see at school come Monday morning. That meant an hours trip to the mall in Lancaster. Wow! I haven't been to a mall in 11 months and 22 days. Sad, but true. Sadder yet is that I can recall exactly how long it's been.
All the way there, as the Young'un was snoring behind me, I kept humming the tune to Sesame Street's Elmo's World. There's also a bunch of Elmo's World books. Of course, we had Elmo Goes to the Farm. He goes everywhere. Elmo is a lucky little red monster. I bet he goes to the mall more often than I do.
When we got there I thought Young'un was going to go into culture shock. The bright lights...the loud peope...all the stuff! I asked him how long it's been since he's been to a mall and he said, "Never." I highly doubt that's true, but I'm sure it's been longer than 11 months and 22 days.
We went right to the eye glass store and he picked out two frames. I told him he could get one with clear glass and one with polarized sunglass lenses. It was a painless procedure and he seemed happy with what he chose. Then we had a good long wait so it was time to walk the mall. Yippeeeee!
I knew the Young'un was in despearte need of new sneakers. What better place to look than the mall. We were there and it gave me an excuse to go through any store with shoes, whether they had kids sizes or not. Oh, the shooooooes! I could have tried on shoes until the cows came home, but we don't have cows (yet) and I had to pick up the glasses at some point. When we made our way back through the array of stores to pick up the glasses we found they weren't ready yet. Yeah!
Next was a decision to make...stop for dinner on the way home or brave the food court. The Young'un opted for the food court, although he didnt quite know what it was. When we turned a corner and an array of smells hit us his face lit up and it's like a bright light from heaven was shining down on all the little restaurants. His eyes got big as saucers, which I doubt was due to everything looking blurry, and I think he stumbled a bit. I even think I heard him say, "Jackpot!" Hardest thing for him to do today wasn't pick out eye glass frames, it was choosing what food to get. We ate and the savage stomach beast that had posessed the Young'un was tamed.
So, that's the highlight for today. After 11 months and 22 days I went to the mall. It may not have necessarily been for me, but I benefitted from it too. On the way home we changed around the words to Elmo's World. Da da dada, da da dada, Young'un's world....da da dada, da da dada, Young'un's world...Young'un's got his eye glasses, his sneakers tooooooo...thaaaaat's Yooooooung'un's world! And tomorrow will be an exciting eventure, too, because Sharon goes to the alpaca farm! Smiling & Waving, Sharon
Every once in a while I enjoy meeting the gals at McDonald's for coffee. I run around like a maniac getting morning chores done to get there, but it's so worth it! Of course, I have to shorten the conversation and singing to the animals, but for some adult gossip time they cut me some slack. Besides, if I don't catch up on what's going on around town, I can't keep them up on the happenings either...the animals, not the gals...although I always manage to have a few stories to share with the gals.
This morning before coffee Hon turned on the television to see the morning weather. On his way to the channel he passed by the old program "Mr. Ed." Oh the memories! Let me clarify. I watched the reruns of Mr. Ed when I was younger. Mr. Ed ran from 1961 - 1966 and I was born a few years after the last show. Now that I've clarified that I feel a bit better about the gray hair I've been acquiring. I couldn't help but drive the kids batty by continuoulsy singing what I could remember of the theme song and calling them Wilber using my best Mr. Ed the horse voice. They weren't impressed, but I figure by the end of the day they'll find it in them to be impressed so I'll stop the madness...maybe.
Anyhow, I brought up the topic of old wholsome programs we used to watch like Little House on the Prarie, Eight Is Enough, and Happy Days. We've watched some of them with the kids and they think what we used to watch is corny, but in all the corniness, there were a lot of great theme songs. Trust me! Songs that I find solidly stuck in my head and refuse to go away until I sing them to anyone with ears.
While at coffee I found another closet Mr. Ed fan. The things you think you know about someone until the topic of Mr. Ed comes up. Boy oh boy, she not only knew the theme song, she recalled countless episodes she's enjoyed. Her husband, who joined us this morning, even admitted to gifting her with the Mr. Ed video collection. Brought back lots of memories and a ton of laughs. The problem is, I just can't seem to get that song out of my head. At one point we were talking about Queen's Bohemian Rhapsody, which I thought would counteract the Mr. Ed madness, but it didn't last for long. I went from singing "mama mia mama mia mama mia let me go..." to "A horse is a horse, of course, of course..." Poor kids. I thought singing "Electric Avenue" last week was going to send them over the edge. This may change that. Hon, however, has told the kids he will take us out for dinner tonight. I think he has hopes I will find another tune to hum, sing, and whistle to while we're out. At this point I think they're stuck...and afterwards we'll come home and enjoy watching some more of season 1 of the Knight Rider on Netflix. The kids would never admit to it, but they're closet Knight Rider fans at the moment. So, here's my question to you... What is your favorite show that's now in re-runs Smiling & Waving, Sharon
Here's a word for you...rooing. I wish it had something to do with that cute little kangaroo that lives in the 100 Acre Wood, but it doesn't. Rooing is something Icelandic sheep do when they're ready to drop their heavy coat of wool in the spring and their caretakers are not. It's also called wool break. The weather here has been so weird with temperatures going from mild winter, skipping spring and rolling into summer, and now back down to spring again that they started this process earlier this year, before we could (ahem, sorry, before Hon could) get the shears out.
Here's the problem. They get itchy and scratchy. They rub on the gates, fences posts, and fences more than usual. Then it begins to come off a their necks. When that happens I just can't help it. I have to start tugging it off. At first they aren't wise to what I'm doing. Then when they realize I'm trying to help the process along they flee in terror...sheep leaping and running to get away. Trust has gone out the window. I equate their fleece coming off like this to when I have a bug bite that no matter what I do I just can't leave it alone...or when I know Hon has hidden chocolate somewhere (shhhhh).
Little Man was today's bug bite. This morning I got a bit off his neck and when he realized what I was doing he took off while I had a grip on some more. That left bits dangling, which drove me nuts. This evening I went back out, him having forgotten about this morning's situation, and I took ahold of another few bits. Then he had a moment of deja vu, taking off as I had a hold of another chunk. Now he has a big floppy piece bouncing around on his back. I'm trying to ignore it, but even though it's dark out now, I know it's dangling. I tried to move over to help Z out and she gave me the hairy eyeball and leapt away.
I've heard other sheep enjoy standing there while someone helps them get the itchy long wool off. Ours are obviously not normal. They would rather leave bits and pieces on fences and trees for me to collect. And by the way, in case you were wondering, no sheep are hurt in the process of tugging the wool bits off. It's just sitting there, loose, and in need of a gentle tug to get it off. So, there you have it. A new word to use at the water cooler tomorrow. I bet it would even make a great Jeopardy question. Smiling & Waving, Sharon
Yesterday I was very productive in the fleece washing department. Because it was so hot out and the wind was non-existent, which is amazing for our area, I put a large plastic tote outside and dumped buckets of water in it to clean the fleece. After it was nice and clean I layed it out on a rack to dry. No big deal. I was happy to be able to clean a whole one at one time, because when it's cold out I am only able to clean a small piece at a time in the sink.
In the evening I sat outside and started picking through the dry fleece. Quite frankly, this is the one part of working with fleece I don't enjoy. I do it...but I don't like it. Sort of like having to eat brussle sprouts when I was growing up. I pick out vegetable matter and pieces of fleece that has a lot of veggetable matter bits in it and toss it on the ground. When I'm all finished I'll pick up the bits and pieces of fleece, figuring the lawn mower won't like it. Since I'm not finished I left the mess on the ground until today's pick through is done.
This morning when I came downstairs just before 6:00 Hon was alread up. I showed him the whole fleece I cleaned and dried, having left it on the laundry counter so I can set it back out to finish drying a few spots this morning. He told me when he got in about 1:15 this morning and got out of the car there was a strong skunk smell in the air. One that makes you stop and look around because it has to be close by. He said the moon was out and as he was walking on the driveway, looking for the skunk, he spotted it right on the grass next to the patio, the white shining in the moonlight. He gave that skunk a wiiiiide birth, walking quick to get to the house before it made it's move. Then when he opened the door he saw my fleece on the counter. Did I mention it is white with black? And, of course, I had to laugh. Smiling & Waving, Sharon
Tomorrow is the Young'un's birthday. He's hitting double digits. Goodbye 9 and hello 10. We took him to Dave & Busters restaurant yesterday to celebrate. He took two friends, we met some family there, and we tortured ourselves by having a birthday sleepover, too. At home afterwards...not at the restaurant. We ate too much, played too much, and then ate cake. I'm seriously considering going back to Julian Michael's torture videos now.
On the way home we had one of those priceless moments. After several rounds of songs only children can think up, the Kid said he had to, "Hock a loogie." Yeah, I know. Gross. Then he rolled down the window. I told him not to do it, so proceeded to hock that loogie out the window...as Hon was driving down the interstate. It was like a boom-a-rang effect. What gets hocked out, hits the wind, and comes right back at the hocker. Landed right on his cheek. It was gross. Of course all the kids laughed. Being as Hon and I are responsible adults we didn't laugh...much. All I could say to him was they always make it look so easy in the movies. I'd like to say he learned his lesson, but I doubt it. Smiling & Waving, Sharon
Today the weatherman got part of the forecast correct. It has been stormy. He's off by about 20 degrees with the temperature, but it's still a nasty day outside. One that makes me glad to be human and have a comfortable chair with a Miniature Dachshund and old cat to share with. We woke up to Young'un asking if he could go downstairs. Hon looked at the clock and said, "No, it's just after 3:00. Go back to bed." The Youngun said, "No, Dad, it's 6:20." Yikes! There went Hon making it to that 7 a.m. meeting. The storm that came through in the wee hours must have knocked out the electricity for a bit while we were all snoozing. Young'un has a new clock, which meant a new battery back-up...thank goodness.
Because it's a day not fit for me outside unless I want to tempt fate and the possibility of being a lightning rod I decided it would be a good time to tackle my knitting project. I've been fluctuating between liking it and not. Ok, that's sugar coating it. I've been fluctuating between somewhat enjoying it and wanting to poke myself in the eyes with the needles. Eldest has not helped by telling me after 4 days it's now big enough for his little parot to use as a blanket.
I spent Sunday night trying to figure out why what I was trying to duplicate at the coffee shop wasn't working out. Then I started making squares thinking who cares, I'm still knitting some how...and they look cool. Then Monday night I went from knitting to pulling everything I had already done out. Tuesday I was sure I figured out what I had been doing wrong from watching Youtube videos, thinking back to how I made the squares, and trial and error. Wednesday night I got it...sort of...depending on if I had to multi-task through it or if I had peace and quiet when the kids were in bed.
Here I am on Thursday afternoon. My project is a little bigger than this morning's parrot blanket. I've renewed my vow to learn how to knit. I did that by looking at beautiful pictures of projects others have completed. I am bound and determined to go from knitting a kinda sorta looks like it might be a scarf some day creation to something fabulous. I'm going to go with the knitting flow and not continue to go back and rip out what I've already done. Sunday I'm going back to that coffee shop to learn how to get my creation off the needles and do what needs to be done so it doesn't unravel. By then, it may be pot holder size. Smiling & Waving, Sharon
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It's not often I do something for myself. I mean really do something for myself. I'm not talking about buying a chocolate bar at the gas station and then sneaking bites of it here and there or splurging on a pair of $9.99 rain boots at Tractor Supply. Those were necessary for daily function.
Yesterday was my birthday. Getting older doesn't really bother me...except for those gray hairs I keep seeing pop up. I figure if I weren't getting older I'd be dead so I might as well not let it bother me. I decided to go all out and do something for myself. I'm learning to knit. This is actually the third time.
Long ago, when I was a little pip squeek Grandma Webb taught me. I was young, impressionable, and it didn't make that much of an impression on me for long. I do, however, remember a pair of metal knitting needles, a ball of yarn, and my own bag to put it in. Then there was about six years ago when Mom was in a novelty yarn kick making scarves. I really wanted to make one of those fun scarves. While she was visiting we went to Hobby Lobby where I bought needles, yarn, and a book about the basics. She showed me how to do it and I went to work on the project. No matter what I did when I got to the end of the row it was never right. I hated giving up again, but I did just that. Packed everything up in a box and sent it to her with a thank you note. Now I spin fiber into yarn. I see all these beautiful creations people make from yarn and dream about doing that myself. I think their inspirations are just what I needed to get down to business. Besides, third time's the charm, right?
Yesterday I met a couple of great women at Dino's coffee shop in Yellow Springs. They meet there on Sunday mornngs for a knit-in. I'm not sure if they actually knew I was going, but someone on Ravelry knew. I blew in with my needles, yarn, and another book. They were wonderful teachers...and the coffee and pastries were yummy. Between the new friendships, food, drink, and knitting knowledge it was worth the hours trip.
Evening came and I went back to my knitting. I had a brief memory lapse, but then remembered what to do after eating a Cadbury Cream Egg. Before I knew it I was knitting and purling. I even made some knit boxes and purl boxes. Then I went into another memory lapse and couldn't figure out what I was doing wrong when I wanted to make lines again. I was thinking a couple of rounds of Jose Cuervo might do the trick, but then decided on a piece of birthday cake instead and then my pillow for the night.
This morning I was back at it. Thank goodness for Youtube! I'm learning the long tail (continental) method of knitting. The woman on the video straightened me out and I'm sinking back into knitting bliss. I just know I'm going to get it this time! My hope is by Sunday I'll be back at Dino's, asking those women how in the world I get my weirdly stitched jumbled up scarf thing off the needles so I can wear it with pride, making the ewes jealous that they don't have a scarf, too. Of course, I'll be able to remedy that situation. Happy knitting! Smiling & Waving, Sharon
Today Hon took the Kid and Eldest to an airsoft game close by. That meant Young'un and I had the day to ourselves. What better way to spend the day together than getting up close and personal with alpaca at the 4th Annual Best of the US Alpaca Show in Columbus. We've not done that before. I've seen plenty of alpaca pictures and I bought some alpaca yarn the other day, but that was the extent of it. I know, you're thinking the Young'un was alllll excited to go and couldn't wait to spend his Saturday with alpaca. NOT! I bribed him with lunch at Sonic before along with the added bonus of walking through a pet store and a milk shake afterwards if he would just pretend to enjoy himself for a while. The great thing was, after getting there, he wasn't pretending. We both had a great time!
What keeps coming to mind is, "They're so stinkin cute!" In fact, that was what was rolling around my head most of the way home. I tell you, the personalities those little buggers have is just amazing. Ears up and perky, ears pinned back...sniff Young'un and let him touch, or sniff and back up... And the colors! They were so distinctive. One looked like it was wearing a brown hat. Another looked like it had dark lipstick all around it's mouth. Then there was a black one that reminded Young'un of a horses face and another that reminded us more of a picture of a dragon face in a book. No, not scary, a cute dragon.
We met some real nice folks there, all happy to talk alpaca with us. We pet alpaca, we fed alpaca, and did I mention we pet alpaca? The problem was I really wanted to take one home. I was considering taking the seats out of the van and leaving them in the parking lot. I figure I could have gotten a few of them in there, at least. Young'un would have had plenty of room. Then it dawned on me I left the money tree at home.
So, Hon did not come home to a new animal out in the pasture. I did, however, make a few alpaca friends and am looking forward to sneeking a peek at their fiber and bringing some home to wallow in while I dream of having a few of my (ahem, our) own her some day. Smiling & Waving, Sharon
Have you ever seen the movie "50 First Dates" with Adam Sandler and Drew Barrymore? Well, not actually have seen it with them…you know what I mean. I think the little cutie patootie Miniature Dachshund, Tabby, we brought home from the Humane Society a bit ago suffers from memory loss issues, too. Who knows what she went through before she landed herself in doggie jail and then here. At first when she barked at Young'un when he came home from school I thought it was because he's goofy and needed to be barked at. I figured her barking at the Kid early in the morning was because she wasn't fully awake yet. Even barking at Hon when he came home from work was because he was late. Maybe it was because I actually had a hair cut…wore my glasses in the house…wore a fancy dress… The list goes on. She barked at me after I came back from voting yesterday. I was gone 30 minutes tops and came back a stranger. It's not that barking out of excitement to see us bark, it's more along the lines of, "Who in the world are you?," "You're not my family!," and "Get me outta here!" barking. Maybe that's why when we let her outside she would look at us, turn around, and high tail it for the road, which now has us walking her on a leash until a fence is up for her.
I wonder if Cesar Millan, the Dog Whisperer, has some insight. Hey Cesar, if you happen to read this, what in the world is going through my little fluffer nutter's mind? This enquiring mind wants to know and I can't understand a word she's saying. Smiling & Waving, Sharon
The sun is shining, the birds are singing, and it's 70 degrees out. Okay, I'm fibbing. It might hit 30, we woke up to a light dusting of snow, and it's a cloudy. I did heard birds singing, though...and Canadian Geese fighting over who owns the pond. It seems like the most beautiful day out, though.
The veterinarian came out to pay us a visit and see how Josie & Lucy are fairing after the dogs attacked them on February 22. He was pleasantly surprised at how well they are doing. Considering how bad the situation was on the day they were attacked and days afterwards battling bloody seeping and infected wounds, he is very happy with their progress. He is also happy with how well we have taken care of them, which was a boost to my ego that I have no problem admitting. Hon will also be happy to know we are doing a good job. Being suburbanites gone rogue we don't have the benefit of being born with the knowledge, or growing up learning how to take care, of all the different situations we find ourselves in.
Dr Junk is definitely a doctor. He has a cast iron stomach. I, on the other hand, have a stomach made of aluminum foil. He removed the hanging and softening flesh on Lucy's face like it was a walk in the park. I, on the other hand, did what I could to control my queasy stomach. There is still some infection, but as a whole their wounds are improving. Josie's sinus cavity puncture is one that he could have put his thumb in, but even so, it is much better than last week. Her eyesight, however, seems to be compromised, but even so we are grateful she has retained her eye.
So, what do we do? We plug along with the situation we have been handed. We give them the most excellent care we can give them, love on them, give them a bit of a grain treat every time they get a shot in the behind, and talk lots of encouragement. Thank you to everyone for all of your support. We appreicate all of your words of encouragement and support. So do Josie & Lucy. Smiling & Waving, Sharon
I'm the queen of our farm, although the animals haven't figured that out yet. My title is Head Chicken Wrangler, but most days I'm called Mom. Life is a comedy and I plan on documenting it.