Sale Barn. Ugh.

Tom and I went to the auction at the sale barn today just to see the process in case we possibly wanted to buy cows from there. We had some friends that were going and expected to meet up with them also.

I can tell you right now that it is not a place that I will be going to frequently. In fact, I'll probably never go again. We only stayed maybe ten minutes, but that was enough for us both. It's loud with the auctioneer shouting non-stop into his microphone and big steel gates opening and closing as they herd the animals one by one in and out of the small sale pen. They poke and prod and smack the animals so that they'll move quickly through the right gate.

We missed the goat sale, so we just saw some of the cows. Some of them were emaciated and a couple of them feel down. They were just poked and yanked back up and shoved through the gate.

Our friends said that last week there was a goat that was in such pitiful shape that nobody would even buy it for a dollar. They said it was dragged into the arena and dragged out by the horns. Now, I know from experience that if a goat doesn't want to go somewhere, it will flop down and you either have to wait until it decides to get up or you have to drag it. So I don't know if that was the case with that goat or if it truly was so feeble that it couldn't walk. Either way, I just can't stomache that kind of treatment.

Even Tom didn't like it. I said to him that I thought briefly of bringing Cosmos to the sale barn because we really need to sell him, but before I could even finish my sentence saying there was no way I could do that, Tom was already shaking his head, "no".

Eggs!

We have arrived! This was the one thing we've been really anticipating. Now we can call ourselves farmers. There are seven perfect little eggs, which means seven chickens are laying. It's funny that they all laid their egg in the same place. One of them was still warm, so I guess they just waited for their turn throughout the night. None of them laid in the nesting boxes we have for them, so we'll need to take the advice of my chicken book (thank you Tina) and put some fake eggs in the nesting boxes to encourage them to lay in there instead of on the floor.

This is so exciting!

I Can Feel It Coming On

Oh yeah, another painting project is erupting from my inner self. This finished garden shed is begging to be painted. But, I must finish the bathroom cabinet first.

Completely off topic...do not buy a Hoover Windtunnel vacuum cleaner. It is the worst thing ever.

Watermelon

I only got two decent sized watermelons off of the three vines I planted. This one is a bit over ripe, so I better go pick the other one quick. Our neighbor had loads of watermelon. Don't know what happened to ours.

House Update

Yesterday, the buyers backed out. From what I gather, they object to paying for the house in gold coin. In exchange for accepting their rather low ball offer, those were our terms. So, it seems that they may have been bluffing because our realtor told us today that they still want the house. The Freddie Mac contract that the mortgage broker wants to use needs to be amended for our particular circumstance. The buyer is in a hurry, but we're having to wait on permission from Freddie Mac to amend the contract, blah, blah, blah.

So, who knows what will happen. One thing is for sure...we will either sell the house, or we won't.

Searching For An American

**sigh** I just got the worst manicure ever. I've been trying every nail shop that I can find out here trying to find one that has a bona fide American manicurist...one that speaks English as if she was born here. I finally found one today, but was sorry, indeed.

The place was not particularly clean even though it was in a relatively new shopping strip. They charged twice as much as the Vietnamese shops. I just about choked when they said it would be 15.00...I mean, for just polishing my nails? Not even filing, taking off old polish, rubbing cream on or anything? I should have said no thank you and walked out then and there, but I decided to give her a try. I'm willing to pay more for English spoken American style and understandable.

The tips of my fingers look like I let a 10 yr. old paint them. Seriously. White polish all over the tips of my fingers and under my nails, globby polish. She had to take the polish off and start over two or three times on some fingers. And all she did was paint on the white tip, then put a top coat on. I asked for another coat just so it would last for more than two days, but I'm seriously wondering if I want my nails to look like this for two days.

I would have expressed my disappointment to the young girl at the reception desk if she hadn't been yakking on the phone when I left. I thought they should know why I would never return.

I guess I'll be a regular at the Vietnamese shop from now on.

Starbucks, Here I Come...Not.

I had been looking forward to getting a Starbucks frappucino for a week. The closest Starbucks to us is a 45 min. drive, so I try to get one whenever I go to Dallas. That was my plan. Go to Dallas, shop, get my hair cut, enjoy a frapp. Alas, it was not to be. I ate lunch at Wendy's and apparently, something did not agree with my stomach, so I felt a bit sickly afterward. It is not a good idea to load one's stomach up with frappucino when one's stomach is not up to par. I toyed with the idea of getting one anyway and suffering the consequences, but in the end decided I wouldn't enjoy it to the fullest knowing I wouldn't feel good afterward, so why ingest all that fat and not enjoy it.

So, I passed on the Starbuck experience today and I am very disappointed.

Hello Out There

Didn't anyone watch my goat video? Come on! It was funny. I should have gotten at least one comment on it. Scroll back down, y'all must have missed it.

Fun Projects

Can it be August 17th already!? Life is flying by me at a dizzying rate. Ack!

Well, while Tom frolicked in Dallas yesterday and today (he's working on our house contract among other things) I finished up painting the bathroom cabinet base. I'm still working on the doors (in a previous picture) and will be painting those white drawers some funky colors. It was fun, but I nearly had to stand on my head to get the lowest parts painted without sticking my hand in the wet paint above. Guess I should have started at the bottom and worked my way up - hind sight. This is my first effort with oil paints and I did not know that it takes oil paint so very long to dry; ten days or more, then I have to wait six months before I can put a coat of varnish on it.

Why? You may ask. Why, would she paint a bathroom cabinet like that?! Because she likes a bit of funk here and there. Funky ugly is what I call it. Funky ugly is beautiful.

Tomorrow, I will be the one frolicking in Dallas. And I will actually frolick, not work.

Twenty-one Chickens and Counting

We had dinner guests last night and forgot to close up the animals before dark. When Tom went out to close up the chicken coop, he discovered a stray cat had killed a rooster that had been accidentally left out of the chicken yard. The cat ran off sort of in the direction of our neighbor's house, so it could have been one of hers. Hopefully, it wasn't because it will be shot if it is seen again.

Then, this morning Harry killed the Barred Rock chicken.

Don't ask me how that happened.

The chickens should be laying eggs already. I'm not sure why they aren't, but at this rate, we won't have any chickens left to lay any eggs.

House Contract

We just got word from the realtor that someone signed a contract on our house. We don't know the details yet, but we're praying for a good outcome and a quick sale.

Yay!

It's My Blog and I'll Cry If I Want To

Today was mowing day. It’s my job to mow the grounds and around the corner along the fence line by the county road. As I rounded the corner, I could see the stray dog out by the neighbor’s mailbox. That’s where he hangs out. It’s probably where he was abandoned by his owner. The strays sometimes wait for weeks where they were dumped; waiting for their master to come back; knowing nothing else, nowhere else to go.

This stray was dumped with a companion, maybe a littermate. They didn’t look much alike. One was solid black like a lab and the other black and tan like a hound, but they looked to be about the same age, maybe about five months old – about the same age as our own livestock guardian dog, a Great Pyrenees and Anatolian Shepherd mix named Harry. Harry isn’t supposed to like strays. It’s his job to keep other canines off of our property and we want him to learn it well.

As I neared the stray, well, he’s not really a stray being as how he didn’t stray from anywhere. He had no choice in the matter. He was where his owner put him - out in the country so he couldn’t find his way home. He’s alone today as he has been for the past week and a half. Our neighbor’s driveway is right across from his mailbox which is on our side of the street, so that I mow around it each week. I ran into our neighbor a couple of weeks ago when the two strays happened to be out there. “These your dogs?” Nathan asked. “No.” I said. “Somebody must have dumped them then.” Says Nathan. “Yeah.” I respond. He speaks again, “You know what that means.” “Trouble?” I say, envisioning dog packs running amok and killing our chickens. Instead, “I’m going to have to shoot them.” He says. “Oh.” I’m speechless.

Later that afternoon I heard one gunshot from Nathan’s direction, then another. That’s that, I thought. Well, at least they wouldn’t starve to death. At least, the coyotes wouldn’t catch them and tear them to pieces. At least they wouldn’t be killing our chickens in a couple of months.

A couple of days later, I saw the black and tan. Somehow he escaped the bullet. He’s alone now. He lays in the middle of the street…waiting. He lays by the mailbox…waiting. He hunts for rats to eat. Sometimes he’s lucky enough to get one.

On this day, he stands up as he sees me approach on the mower. He takes a couple of hesitant steps towards me. He has big brown eyes that wait for a kind word from me. I know that if I say one word, he will run to me. It makes me tear up just thinking about it. It’s been weeks since he’s had a kind word or a pat. I gaze at him as I pass by trying to assess his temperament and imagining how he would react if I tried to get him in a kennel. I plan out in my head that I’ll put the kennel in the truck, pick the black and tan up and take him to the humane shelter in town, wishing his owner had done it instead of me.

I don’t speak to him as I make several passes back and forth. Each time I pass, he stands ready to be called, looking at me with big solemn eyes, ears laid back submissively, occasionally gently waving his tucked tail. When I’m done I drive back up to the house and forget him as I get on with my busy day.

I was not going to be allowed to forget for long. This afternoon Tom wanted me to drive the truck, pulling the trailer so he and Charlie could pick up the last bales of hay in the field, the one right across from my neighbor’s driveway.

As we were rolling slowly along, the black and tan was sitting in Nathan’s field about 50 feet from his driveway. Nathan came driving out, stopped his truck, got out and reached back in. I could see that he was reaching for his rifle. He rested his rifle on the fence post and aimed at the dog. I covered my face wishing I could be anywhere but there, wishing I could block out the sound. The gun popped and the black and tan screeched in pain. The first shot didn’t kill him. I watched and cried as the dog thrashed and yelped as Nathan walked back to his truck and reloaded his rifle. It must have only been 20 seconds, but it seemed like forever. I watched in horror as Nathan walked back towards the black and tan. As he raised his rifle to take another shot, the dog ran towards him, yelping, until the second shot rang out and he tumbled silently to the ground.

So, whoever it was that dumped your pets on an old county road thinking that someone would take them in or that they’d live a “born free” frolicking life in the country. You’re dead wrong. But don’t grieve yourself over it, don’t lose any sleep tonight. Your dog has suffered so you wouldn’t have to. And I’ve grieved in your place.

Elephant Corn

OK, this is just scary freaky. What happened to my corn?

What IS This?

Now that I see it in a picture, I'm pretty sure it's a young coyote. Tom saw it in the field as he was cutting the hay and called to tell me to bring the 22. It was about the size of a fox, but didn't have a fox-like tail. It's too little to be an adult coyote, but didn't have any puppy-like qualities other than it seemed totally unaware that it should run and hide. It didn't run until Harry went after it. In fact, it barely acknowledged our presence and we were pretty close to it. Whatever it was, it was extremely thin and up close it was almost hairless looking. Quite ugly, but that didn't ease my suffering over Tom shooting it. I stood nearby for a long time watching it to make sure it was dead and not suffering...until Tom told me to come away from it.

Coincidental that this happened today, because last night I watched a program called Obsessed. It was about people with OCD and featured one woman who was obsessed with animal's suffering - abused, abandoned at the pound, lost, etc. I'm not sure how it affected her life (I started watching about midway through the program), but as she described her feelings, I knew exactly how she felt because I feel it, too. She kept crying, "Look at their faces!" and I was thinking, "I KNOW!"

Curtain Fabric

Here's the fabric I bought to make curtains for my windows. I don't love it, so I'm not terribly excited about it, but I was sick of searching for fabric that I love (that I could afford as well), so this will do.

The first picture is the fabric for the half bath and guest bath. The second is for the master bedroom (the blue is the right side) and the third is for the large kitchen window (the fabric on the left with the circles) and the living room (the fabric on the right with the vine).

My Projects

My projects aren't quite as strenuous as Tom's. I installed this little chandelier in our bedroom. Well, Tom helped me a little. He drilled the hole for the molly bolt because I couldn't reach the ceiling. But I did, with Tom's instruction, put a plug on the end of the wire. The lamp was made to be wired directly into a ceiling fixture, but I wanted to plug it in by the bed.

And anyone who has been to my house and wondered why there are no doors on the bathroom cabinet - this is why. I'm painting them. It's an ongoing project.

We've gotten quite a lot of rain the in the past two weeks, which has been wonderful. But it is supposed to come to an end tomorrow, so it will be hay cutting time. Of course, that's Tom's job, TOO. Seems he does all the hard stuff, well sweaty jobs, anyway. But, hey, I bought fabric to make curtains for all the windows. It won't be a sweaty job, but it will be hard and I sort of dread it.