This is the most recent addition to our family. It's a Shopsmith from the 1950's. I wanted to cut 2 feet off of about six boards... and I hate running the circular saw (yeah, it's a quirk). The motor of our table saw died a couple years ago and my little cutting projects have just been piling up (because for some reason I won't get out the circular saw and get them done). When I wanted to go shopping for a table saw a friend suggested that I check the pawn shops first. I checked. They had nothing I wanted... then... I looked on craigslist. This shopsmith showed up in my search for "table saw." My grandfather always wanted a shopsmith. That was my first thought. My second thought was, "wow, that's about $100 less than buying the table saw I like, if I buy a new table saw." Yeah, you know I had to purchase it. This one came with all the accessories to use it as a table saw, drill press, lathe, and shaper/router. I need to buy an attachment to use it as a disc sander (I'm currently shopping for the attachment).

My entire house and shop is full of projects. There are things I've started and not finished. There are projects I've purchased materials for and not started. There are many things in need of repair... and then there are the sewing projects which also share shop space with the tools. It's not like I NEED more to do here. Something about this tool called me. It feels right, as if it's going to be important somehow. I ordered a new owner's manual for the Shopsmith V (the V being because it is five tools in one), a series of 10 self directed woodworking lessons, and a book about woodworking in general. This is MY homeschooling for the spring. I WILL learn how to work this machine and get it up and running. My goal: to build a bar for use out in the shop. Everyone should have a multi-use workshop/sewing room/party space, right?

Update

I haven't written here in a long time. Sometimes I wonder if I still want to. Facebook may be to blame for my apathy about blogging. I can type out a quick status update and be done with it.

This has been an interesting fall/winter. Hard to believe that Dave died more than 2 years ago. We just had our third Christmas without him. That still sucks beyond belief. I think that Christmas Eve night is my own little hell on Earth. Other than that- things have been pretty good.

Chris is ten years old now. He's getting tall and his feet are WAY bigger than mine. They're only half a size smaller than his dad's feet were. He's so helpful around the house. Because of his size and strength he can move and fix things that I wouldn't have been able to tackle by myself. It's hard to remember sometimes that I don't have to do everything alone anymore. He likes to help and has a knack for "tinkering" that reminds me of his dad. Chris's sheep flock is doing well. He has three ewes who were marked when we took them to breed. We're hoping that translates into six spring lambs... but, lambs, like chickens, should not be counted before they're on the ground.

Sam turned seven last summer. He's tall and strong and still climbs everything in sight. His speech is finally more intelligible and the boy has interesting things to say. He also has a love of the television and all things electronic. He is the boy I have to drag kicking and screaming into the sunlight. Zowie got bred last week so we are expecting spring puppies. I think I may turn that responsibility over to Sam. He needs some encouragement to work hard and working with animals seems to be one of his biggest talents. Sam's other real talent is cooking. He loves to help in the kitchen and I have to sneak in baking time when he's asleep if I don't want company in the kitchen.

Jake is now six. He's funny, and amazing, and a pain in the rear- all at the same time. He's the kid who is most like me. That's not always a good thing. His wry observations make me laugh. The boy's sense of humor is twisted and wrong (which just makes us laugh harder). He's hard to discipline because it's so hard not to laugh at him. He was a spontaneous reader, but it's hard to get him to buckle down and practice. He loves getting together with friends and has never met a stranger. He is eager to help with anything and everything. Jake also loves to sing and has been trying to teach himself to play guitar. That's a sight to see, since the guitar is larger than he is.

I'm still doing the same old stuff. We still homeschool. We still have some deficits and excel in other areas. Grandma is amazing and active at 90 years of age. She is great company and offers wise advice (when I'm patient and wise enough to listen). For the most part I love my life and realize how blessed I am to get to be with the people I love, doing what I like, almost every day of my life.

Priorities

" A friend is one to whom one may pour out all the contents of one's heart, chaff and grain together, knowing that the gentlest of hands will take and sift it, keep what is worth keeping and with a breath of kindness blow the rest away."
- Arabian Proverb

What is normal friendship development? How often do you hear from your friends? How often should you expect them to want to get together? I know that every relationship is different. I know that people's schedules and ability to give to a relationship change over time. We all get busy with work and other activities and when we do have a chance to be home- we want to veg, not catch up with friends we haven't seen in a while. I am not a giving, present friend 100% of the time.

It's been so long since I've really made new friends. I've made very casual friends. They're the people who I hang out with on occasion and rarely seek out. We run into each other or someone has a wild hare and schedules a get together. We don't talk every day. We don't make it a point to get together and have dinner every month or two. We might purposely see each other a couple of times a year.

I think the problem is that I'm missing my best friend. The one who was always here. The one who wanted to hear me bitch about the stupid stuff every day. The one who would dance around the living room with me when I heard a song I liked. The one who would put spending time with me above everything else in his life. Yeah, that guy.

Amy's my other best friend. She also listens to the stupid stuff I complain about on a daily basis. She has never danced around the living room with me- although she did once wear my bra stuffed with socks. WE make spending time together a priority- when she's in town- which isn't often. I love hearing from her. I love listening to her complain about the stupid stuff that's bothering her in her day. I love hearing her speak about the things that excite her.

I don't have a best friend in my town, let alone in my house, anymore. Amy is awesome, she really is. But she's not the same as having a best friend in my house who partners me in life. Am I possibly at the point where it's time to put my toes back in the pool and open myself to the idea that there's another man out there who can be that friend, lover, and partner that I want?

The shallow relationships that I've maintained here locally (of the male type- my girls ALWAYS have my back!)- they're annoying the hell out of me. They've been annoying me for a couple of months now. I don't want to be an afterthought. I want to be important in someone's life. I miss having a partner. I miss having a lover. I miss having someone to take care of, and think about, and do things for and with. Of course I miss Dave... but this is something more and different. I think that I may be ready to make room in my life for someone new to be that partner, lover, and friend. Maybe. Or maybe I get so irritable and annoyed because I'm not ready? Eh, what the hell... next month is going to be about exploring and trying to do something positive with my social life. I'm open to ideas and suggestions (and set ups- hint, hint).

Remember Me

Interesting Revelations that could only happen during a county fair...

That which we persist in doing becomes easier, not that the task itself has become easier, but that our ability to perform it has improved. ~Ralph Waldo Emerson

I learned something important during the fair this year. I like being single. Shocking, yes?

I feel like I need to add a disclaimer here: I would never have chosen to live my life without Dave- if anyone had given me a choice. In no way am I saying that I'm happy he's gone or that my life is better without him. Neither of those statements are true.

What I am saying is: I like being single. I like my life. I like not answering to anyone else. I like being the one who decides how to allocate resources. I like knowing that it doesn't matter if I make it home for dinner or not. If the kids are with me we can do whatever sounds good at that moment in time. If we want to stay late at the fair, there's no one missing us at home. If I want to wake up at the last minute and make the kids eat a granola bar in the car for breakfast- no one's going to criticize.

During the course of this year we've bought a lot of sheep. Well, we bought 8 sheep. That's a lot for us. I picked them all up with the horse trailer. Then I drove them to weigh-in... and sheep meetings... and the fair. If you've never pulled a trailer, or if you've always pulled a trailer, that might not seem like anything special. I haven't really driven with a trailer in about 18 years. I've kind of forgotten how to back up a trailer without jack knifing. It's also kind of interesting to hitch a trailer, not difficult, just interesting.

As I was backing into the driveway with the trailer on the night of fair check-in, I realized that I was incredibly happy and peaceful, both at the same time. We'd completed our 4-H year. The kids were doing well. Every place we'd needed to be- we made it. Stuff was ready to go for the show the next day. The kids were ready for the show the next day. I BACKED the trailer off the road, down over the drainage ditch, and into the driveway by the shop. Then I unhitched the trailer, sent the dog to the house, said goodnight to the llama (who I'd tracked down, tried to purchase, and transported the week before), got in the suburban to pull around to the front of the house... and realized... I was HAPPY! And a large part of the reason I was happy... was because I'd done hard things... and I'd done them by myself.

The boys were with me. I can't say that they didn't help- they did. People in our 4-H club helped, of course they did. But really- I did this. I got my family through the 4-H year. I managed the meetings. I figured out how to feed the kids dinner on the go for the nights we needed to be on the other side of the valley by 6:30. I bought the suburban so that we would have a vehicle that will haul a trailer. I arranged for Chris to buy sheep. I took him to buy sheep. I paid for some of the sheep. I arranged to have feed delivered. I encouraged Chris to go out every day, multiple times a day, and take care of his lambs. I drove us to all of the meetings, and workshops, and practices that the kids needed to learn and grow. I re-educated myself on how to BACK UP that darned trailer! For all of the details that had to be worked out, big stuff, small stuff, seemingly inconsequential stuff... it got done.

I can do hard things. I can even do them with grace (sometimes). I can make things that used to be hard seem easy because my skills have improved. It feels good.

Canyon County Fair 2011

I'm a horrible mom and took hardly any pictures of the fair this year. I'm sure that I have more pictures on my camera- but not really very many of them. This picture is of Chris slick shearing his own lamb a couple of days before we checked into the fair. He did a great job. His leader, Claudia, and I helped smooth things out a little, but he did most of the work himself.

The little boys both showed pygmy goats this year. They had a great time walking them around the goat barn and keeping their water bucket full. There's just something about little boys and water. Both of them did all right in the show ring- considering they were milling around for about 45 minutes while we waited for the judge to come back from her break. Then they lined all the little kids up on the pavement in the sun and had them stand there for a few minutes before letting them enter the show ring. By that time- none of the kids were practicing their best showmanship skills. A good time WAS had by all... and Sam did NOT lie down and play with the grass in the arena this year! Overall, that's an improvement!

Chris showed two market lambs and two ewe lambs. He slick sheared one and a half of his own sheep. TJ, the teen leader for our project, Claudia, and I sheared the others. This was the first time either Chris or I had tried using the slick shearing clippers. They're nice. I think we should budget to purchase our own set next year.

The lambs did fairly well. Chris got blue ribbons on everything. He is the world's slowest pen cleaner. I just have to say, it was painful to watch- so, I'd usually go hang out in the tack stall behind the barn :-) This was the laziest I've ever been at a fair. I did make sure everyone got where they were supposed to be on time, but the kids did their own work. That's the way it's supposed to be, that's the way it was. Nice. That's all I can say :-) NICE. Even the handing off of sheep and putting on of halters as Chris exited the arena and had to go right back in with a different sheep- a kid helped with that (thanks, Katelyn!).

We have some of the nicest families in our 4-H club. It was a joy watching and listening to them as they worked throughout the week. Some of the teens got a little bit grumpy as the days progressed and the lack of sleep was compounded. They were still awesome. I didn't hear a single parent complain about the judging or berate their kiddo for anything that happened in the show arena. We're blessed to be part of such a supportive, positive group of people.

This is the first year Jake's been old enough to show. He was VERY proud to have the opportunity to take Willow the pygmy goat. Willow was born in 2003. Showing him has become a family tradition. Each boy has gotten to take him to the fair the first year they show. The really funny part of that is that Willow is a pain in the butt to show. He also weighs about twice as much as the little boys do. Willow's big goal for the past four fairs has been to visit the expo building- on the other side of the fairgrounds. Whenever he sees it, he takes off running... and Jake can just run along with him or let go... he CAN'T stop him! It's pretty funny. All the people in the area panic and run to catch the wild goat. Little do they know that like any good dog, he'll eventually come back. It does make it challenging to actually show him when the showman only weighs 40 pounds though.

Sam took a yearling doeling of Mom's to show this year. She'd been to a show or two, but hadn't really been handled all that much. When we started working with her (and I use the term work very loosely, pygmy goats didn't really register on my list of important prep work for fair) she would barely walk on a leash. By the time she came home she was a friendly, little thing. She also walked well on her leash and learned to follow the boys and Willow even without a leash. I like her a lot (shh... don't tell anyone. I have a reputation to maintain). She did run across the arena, dragging Sam, but all in all, they did pretty well together.

It was an awesome fair. Even though I didn't take many pictures it is still a fair that I'm sure will live on in our memories. We came. We had fun. It was a success!

Breathe

For some reason today I feel like I can't breathe... and on top of that I have more than my fair share of bitchiness. I'm trying to keep it to myself, but it's spilled over onto other people more than once today. I hate feeling like this. It's that strange, emotion moving under the skin feeling. My filter's not totally gone- but it's shredding a little. I'm not sure what to do to bring everything back into alignment and find my peace again. I'm hoping that it's just exhaustion and that once I get some more good rest my normal good mood will return. In the meantime- I just need to work on only letting the nice words come out of my mouth :-) which is much easier said than done.

Really bad poetry- you've been warned.

"Tis the night before fair and all through the house,

our belongings are strung amid mess, socks, and sawdust.

The club banner and name signs reside

on the suburban front seat

beneath the sheep cards, shears and rakes.

The laundry is strewn like dandelion fluff,

trailing through the kitchen and into the hall.

Kids are asleep still wearing their boots.

(They've been warned that I don't care if they wear thongs on their feet- my job's to make sure they don't forget the sheep).

Dining's not an option at the dining room table.

Archaeological digs might find layers of paper, glue, felt, stickers, and lotion (don't ask).

Our poor dog is lost in all the commotion.

The kitchen remodel is coming along.

Luckily, food's not a priority, there are more important tasks.

Thank goodness record books were due early.

Now if only we can keep them looking neat and pretty

Until they reach the club display booth.

Things feel way too in control tonight-

Surely something remains to be done, but for now... I'm headed to bathe and make myself smell girly.

Bad Dreams

Early this morning I had a dream about Dave. In the dream I realized that I should have tried texting him (because technology is just THAT good, lol). When I texted he answered. Then he came over. The gist of the dream was that he wasn't dead- and I was FURIOUS because he hadn't contacted the kids (for some reason the fact that he'd ignored me too wasn't an issue). Apparently he'd gone into some sort of job training program (like Job Corp?) and had decided that he just couldn't do what he needed to do while dealing with all of us.

I know it was just a dream. I know it was ridiculous. I know that Dave was NEVER like that. But- I'm still having a hard time getting past the mad feeling.

The whole dream could be a sign that I've been dithering over whether to keep Dave's phone line going or not. I want to save the outgoing message but I haven't actually taken the time to do so. Until the message is saved off of there- I'm willing to keep paying for the phone line- because when I need to I can hear my husband's voice. I can even leave him a message if I want to.

We're in the middle of getting ready for fair. The sheep weigh in next Tuesday and our club scrapbook and record books need to go in on Monday when we decorate stalls. When I'm busy and overwhelmed I tend to project my feelings about one issue onto another issue (or person, or event). Before Dave died I was much better at seeing my own motivation for actions. I was also better at recognizing emotions and knowing why I felt the way I did.

This evening I'm wondering if maybe I'm a little mad at Dave for leaving- and leaving me with all the work and all the kids to raise. I know he didn't have a choice, and had he been offered a choice- he would have done almost anything to stay (except trading his life for one of ours). I still love the man like crazy. He's been dead for almost two years and I still find myself getting irritated with him on occasion. I don't want to be mad at him, especially when there's nothing he can do to make it better. There's no action anyone can take to change the outcome.

This is my life. I love it. Come hell or high water... this is mine. My family. My home. My choices. My decisions. My life. It wasn't all that long ago that it was OUR life. Even though it seems like it's been a long time- it hasn't been all that long. I miss OUR life. I miss having someone to share the joys and the responsibilities and someone to take care of (but not like a parent caring for a child). I miss my honey. He was also MINE. Apparently I don't do well letting go of my stuff or my people.

Here's hoping that tonight brings sweeter dreams...

Mom's not always all there

Have you ever had one of those moments when your brain malfunctions? Chris and I weighed his lambs on Thursday for the first time since weigh-in, which was mid-May. It was a little scary. Our rate of gain averaged .39 pounds per day on feed. That's abysmal!

Ha, ha- guess what? I was remembering the weigh in weights as 10 pounds heavier than they really were. Dur, dur, dur, dur. Way to go, Mom. Now that I tracked down the real initial weights- we're averaging .53 pounds gained per day on feed (.53#/dof). That number's still not great, but I think it will look better the next time I weigh them.

A little over a week ago Chris woke me up to tell me that there were dogs in the sheep pen. I went out and sure enough, there were two black dogs sitting at the gate, wagging their tales at me. When I went in they started growling, but moved away from me. They'd been there for a while. There were five sheep hiding in the little shelter in the dog kennel (my husband built a huge dog kennel and it's the main "corral" for the sheep- they're out on pasture, but can still get into the kennel, it's where we grain them).

I couldn't convince the dogs to exit the gate, so I started looking for the two missing sheep while keeping an eye on the dogs. The Boise market lamb, Sheepy, was standing pressed against the side of the shop. He looked fine, he just wasn't moving around. Lily, our bum lamb, was dead on the ground. She'd been gutted. Of course- she's Chris's favorite.

Since I couldn't get the dogs out without upsetting the sheep- and I did not want the sheep starting to run with the dogs in the pen- I went back to the house. On my short walk back I had to make the choice between shooting the dogs while they were still in the pen or getting their owner. Since I was positive they were from the house back behind us, I got my keys instead of a shotgun and made an early morning call in my nightgown to tell the neighbors I needed their dogs out of my sheep NOW.

That's always a lovely way to meet your new neighbors, isn't it? Especially since I was wearing my nightgown and not much else. The neighbors were great about the situation and even took Lily and buried her so that I didn't have to deal with her. They paid for her and the vet bill for the rest of the flock.

Every lamb we own had scrapes and scratches in all four of their armpits. The big, blackface ewe, Tulip, had a couple large scrapes on one flank. Sam's little ewe had a large cut in her left, front, armpit which required stitches (she's still swollen and stiff).

Sheepy looked good, but still wouldn't rejoin the flock so the vet and I went out to him- she thinks he broke his left, front leg. The suspected break was high enough, towards his shoulder, that she couldn't splint him in the pasture. She said we could bring him in if we really wanted to, but she recommended not moving him around that much because it could displace the break. She was also uncertain that a splint would work well, since the whole shoulder would have to be immobilized. So far he's looking good. He's a little stiff on that front leg, but actually limps less than Brisca (Sam's ewe) does.

At any rate- back to that rate of gain thing... I'm not too concerned about the mediocre rate of gain because I'm pretty certain the dogs ran off a week's worth of gain. We'll try to weigh more often so that we can keep on eye on things. I'd like to boost that gain to .7#/day from here until fair time. Chris has been excellent about feeding the sheep and keeping them in fresh water. He really is committed to keeping them healthy and happy (plus, he wants more money).

We've started buying from a feed store in Caldwell. This is big news to me for two reasons. First, they give us an excellent price on feed with a 4-H discount. Second, the sales rep delivers the feed to our house. She even brought Chris a pallet to keep the feed on so that it doesn't absorb moisture from the concrete shop floor. Betz Feed, Caldwell, Idaho- they deserve a shout out! Awesome people, very youth friendly, very knowledgeable.

Dance With Me