Costumes, Public Embarrassment, and Blue-Green Poo

Our vet was strongly encouraging me to enter one of our geese, chickens or ducks into a costume contest at the local nursing home. "We have so many cats & dogs, but far too few 'exotic' animals... consider it, please? The patients would love it..." I did consider it, but honestly, I couldn't think of much other than putting a paper crown around Queen Moe's tuft on the top of her head. The other thought was how I was going to catch a duck, goose or chicken if it got out, and the bedlam that would ensue.

Oh, if only I had seen this Etsy listing! Partyfowl "Pumpkin Costume for Pet Ducks, Chickens & Geese. I can just see Tugboat Moe, short & stout, with a pumpkin cape on her back. The shop's "Flower Collar" and "Bumblebee" costumes are also a hoot. I'd still have to think of capture strategies in case of escape, but at least Moe would stand out. Next year, next year...

The weather turned chilly for a few days last week. Dug out a Winter work jacket one morning, and realized that I still hadn't fixed the broken zipper. No problem, just close with a couple of small spring clips - no one around to notice but the chickens, right? Then one morning Spouse & I were in a rush to get the animal chores done so I could drive him to the airport. Finish up, hop in the car, go-go-go... then we stopped at Buc-ee's for a quick coffee & gas fill-up. I get out of the car, smiling at all the folks who were looking at me, and then look down... yeah. Still had on that Winter jacket with the bright, day-glo spring clamps closing the front. Err, oops. Can't take me anywhere.

So now that the employment contract has ended, I've time to do more than just maintain the farm. I'm getting bags of free veggie trimmings from the in-town co-op again, and creating more compost. I usually take out and feed to the birds the known "likes": tomatoes, lettuce, fruit. This time, thought I'd try something different. After taking out all the known goodies, I put the remainder of the veggie trimmings into a kiddie pool (after taking out things like raw onions, which are bad for chickens) and let the birds have at it, watching carefully to see what they liked or ignored. Surprised to see that celery was a big hit with the geese, as well as purple cabbage. Didn't realize there'd be another surprise waiting for me a few hours later: blue-green goose poo, all over the front porch. No more purple cabbage for the girls, thankyouverymuch.

Me time?

Mom sent an email today, wishing me a restful "weekend" off, and reminding me to get some "me time" in the mix. Yesterday's day off was One Of Those Days, where everything electronic I touched went to h3ll. I retreated into a pile of junk food and junk television, grumbling for the rest of the evening. I won't go into details - the tale of woe is long and mind-numbingly boring if you're not into Hackintoshes, DVD burning snafus, and Linux installs. I was a walking technology plague. Spouse avoided me accordingly. It could have been contagious.

Today is a new day. Decided to get the last professional pedicure for the season, then it's bare toes until Spring. "Me time" indeed, as I only get pro service a few times a year. So much nicer when someone else wields the cheese grater on my gnarly feet:

Then I come home to break up the second duck fight of the day. Same two girls, Queen Moe and one of the others, both on the tail-end of a molt and extremely crabby. Despite getting on the other's nerves, they're never far from each other. "Frenemies?", I asked Twitter. First fight was this morning, each had a beak hold on the other's chest, and didn't care that I was coming near. I picked up Antagonist #1, and held her in my arms until her heart slowed down and she realized she was in That Stinky Hominid's arms, and there was no going anywhere for a bit. The next fight, I picked up Queen Moe with the same strategy: hold her until she calmed down. She gave her thanks in that special way ducks do:

And that's my restful "me time" for the weekend.

stupendously huge skillet breakfast & a haircut: two bits!

pic: the stupendously huge skillet breakfast.

Fell asleep around 1:00AM, woke to the alarm at 3:00AM. Took Spouse to the airport so he could see his folks for a few days (we're down to one car at the moment). Stopped at Major Chain Diner after drop-off - was inexplicably ravenous at 4:30AM. Forgot how these diners serve stupendously huge entrees. The skillet breakfast was filling, and more than two-thirds was still on the plate when I finished. Boxed it up for the chickens.

Once home, briefly napped until dawn chores called. Gave the chickens the still-warm skillet breakfast (chopped up into smaller bits). The chickens couldn't finish the skillet breakfast either. The dogs selflessly worked cleanup detail.

Having had real caffeinated coffee with the stupendously huge breakfast ensured that a goodly nap would be elusive for the rest of the day. Decided to chance going into the city to get *cue dramatic music*: a haircut. Getting a haircut has become a Very Big Deal, full of Angstyness and Gnashing of Teeth. My local stylist left the area almost two years ago (d@mmit!), and every stylist since then has either given me a bubblehead cut or an 80's Rick Springfield 'do (not being as cute as '80's Rick Springfield, I can't carry that look). Summertime is no problem: give me a #6 guard on an electric hair trimmer and a pair of thinning shears, and I can wrangle a basic short style. It's the Fall and Winter where I run into trouble, letting the hair grow out for warmth. So I pulled up my Big Girl Britches, dusted off the credit card, and went back to Ritzy (Yet Still A Chain) Salon. It'd been what - over three years since I last went there? Since I last had a salaried IT job, anyways. Painfully expensive, but for reason - they give great cuts. They're now giving free trims between cuts, probably due to the economy but still, thank goodness - it makes their prices a bit easier to swallow. I've now a growing-it-out, grownup modern 'do that is presentable enough for upcoming client-facing work.

pic: Moe the Duck. She probably
designed the flag.

Home again home again, jiggity-jog, and look at the time: need to muck out the 4'x6' duck pond. [Funny, it used to be "the goose pond", then it became "the goose & duck pond", now it's "the duck pond". The ducks have definitively taken over. They have a flag.] The ducks vacate the duck pond by late afternoon for the pools on the other side of the house - they love their routine. Can almost set your watch by it, if your watch is a sundial. Anyhow, presented my new hairdo to the chickens, geese, ducks & dogs. They had no comment. I don't think the birds looked past my knees, to be honest. The dogs were probably hoping for more stupendously huge breakfast goodies. My, how one's ego gets checked on the farm! Clad my glamorous self in work clothes and rubber boots, and got to mucking.

Needles and Thread

One of my favorite warm-weather work shirts had a tear that needed mending. Instead of doing the usual patch, decided to dust off the old embroidery skills. Mind you, I haven't embroidered since grade school, and I'll tell you now, my eyesight was MUCH better then than it is now. Broke down and got out the reading glasses so I could thread the @#$!! needle.

Before the needlework, however, I got out the iron-on Stitch Witch and a small piece of cotton to cover the rend. Once the patch was ironed securely, got out the thread and started edging the patch. The patch looked a little bare in the middle, so I worked a squiggly line over the torn area to ensure it was kept closed, then added a little green dot. Nothing fancy, that's for sure. The work wasn't near as good as when I was a child - for instance, I forgot to "sew in" the knots in the back, and the back doesn't look very finished - but it was a fun thing to do. Now my old Cabela's chambray work shirt has a bit more personality than just stains and wear marks.

D@mn, I'm getting all sorts of domestic... time to shrug it off and go frag some bad guys on City of Heroes.

Piercing Pic and Amazing Gifts

We got back from the whirlwind trip back East on Saturday night. Spouse's company paid for us to fly out for the holiday party. Wow, I guess business was good this year!

Spouse's Uncle and Aunt critter-sat for us during the trip. No injuries to any parties reported, although Uncle claimed there was a house break-in where only our new recliner was stolen, and oh by the way, did we know he now has a recliner that looks just like ours? Funny guy, that Uncle.

Wished we could have visited all our friends during the visit. As it was, we could only visit with one, and then it was only for a few hours. One of Aunties Karen & Jan's many gifts to Spouse and I was a group of nested measuring cups that look like geese. GEESE! Since no good deed goes unpunished, I've vowed that some how, some way, I'll bring them a gaggle of screaming yellow balls of gosling fuzz come Spring to give their remaining lone Toulouse goose hel... err, company.

And on Sunday: besides homemade venison sausage, canned soups and preserves, Joy gave me my very own personal Round Tuit. This Round Tuit reads:

Many times you've said
"I'll do it as soon as
I get around tuit"
Now's your chance...
Now you can do it...
Now at last you've got
A Round Tuit

Ladies, your generosity humbles and amazes me. May it be returned to you tenfold.

And for those who observe, blessings of the turning Solstice to you and yours.

[Oh, when I got the piercing done, talked to a guy about doing a cover-up tattoo of the one currently on my ankle (the original was poorly done, and is now spread and fading). I'm thinking of getting - you guessed it - a goose.]

new shoes

The conversation went something like this...

"Okay, these or the other lug sole shoes?"
"D@mmit I'm a guy, don't ask me these questions!"
"No seriously - which do you think will survive the farm chores better?"
"Oh! Okay, that's different... ermm, these soles here will never let you slip, but will hold mud like crazy. The other shoes soles won't hold the mud as tightly, but have fabric vents that will be hard to clean out. Wait, which are less expensive?"
"This pair."
"Well then DUH! Get the cheaper pair!"

I'm now the proud new owner of a pair of Merrel lug-soled, low-top hikers. Slash and burn sale at REI. Men's size eight to fit my duck feet and cradle my arthritic toes. Had been thinking I was doomed to live in only sneakers or sandals all year 'round.

Monday morning, 3:00 AM CDT [pic]

[pic: self, staying awake. The things I'll do to support my passions... sheese!]

Only 90 degrees F?

At 11:44 AM, it's currently 90 degrees F and 58% humidity. Taking a short break from fencing, chainsawing, and clearing. I am covered in sweat, soil and plant matter. Sexxxaaaay!!!!

[pic: yours truly]

no niceties necessary

I think one of the best things about running a farm is that you're not required to be a "morning person", in the sense of being chipper and energetic at the @#$! crack of dawn. You don't have to put on makeup, heels, or a suit. Your clothes don't even have to match. You can stumble out to the pens (or vegetable patch), mayhaps give a grunt of recognition to the critters if you're feeling spry, but other than re-supplying food and water, they really don't care what kind of mood you're in. And you don't have to care that they don't care.

Okay, maybe the dogs care a little. But a pat on the head will suffice for them. Can you do that with your current boss? Didn't think so. Damn, it's gonna be hard re-entering the workaday world...

[pic: obviously post-morning and post-coffee, as I'm smiling]

Cross-Post from Barbells & B*tching

Barbells & B*tching is my (currently) much-neglected exercise blog. Below may shed some light on why...

Revamping Joe's Goals

I had been using Joe's Goals before all the farm critters came along. Now, some of the goals look a little silly:

• Get up early as a goal? Sheeeyit... it's not even an option anymore.
• Exercise? Walking at least twice a day, with two pups who become furry, forty-pound magnetic tether balls that roll around and bounce and entangle. You should see my delts now!
• Bag lunch? Begging your pardon, but I'm too damn tired at lunch to go out. Sometimes there's only enough energy to drop my face into the fruit bowl on the counter.

Time to re-arrange the goals.

It's been too hot to take the pups running, and I don't have the time to hit the gym. Regardless of these challenges, I think I'll be okay.