Pretending to Farm

Lauren Downer

Despite a generous dose of ruminant therapy primarily involving Bill Withers who couldn’t get enough and kept nudging me for more love, I am in mourning. We lost yet another turkey, Jessica the Narragansett hen, this time to coyotes and, with the exception of indoor Zorro, we are down to three turkeys from our original eight. Whether from fear or boredom, the two remaining hens stay parked in their laying boxes and only venture out to eat and drink. Rubius, our only tom, stays in the pen of misfit fowl and, although he is a good boy, he exhibits none of the personality his former mates did. Yup, it’s pretty lonely and boring in turkeydom.

Also, I finished “The Deathly Hallows.” It was the best book of the seven; I loved it. Yet now, I have no more Harry Potter books to anticipate reading, no more Hogwarts, no more magical spells. I miss them already. With the book freshly read, the characters and lingo keep popping in my head. If I could make just one spell work, it would be turgio; it’s a cleaning charm. How wonderful would it be to just point my wand (which I don’t possess) at the floor, walls, dishes, laundry, etc. and cry “turgio!” and all would be sparkling. If only such a thing was possible.

The third contribution to Lauren’s Land of Mourning is the end of the Tour de France. Despite the scandals that plagued this year’s tour, we thoroughly enjoyed it and looked forward to watching it every day. Our three weeks of placing bets on stage winners with one another is no more. Another thing to look forward to is over. Sob.

All these things happened in a 24 hour period, hence my mourning. I am working on pulling myself out of the abyss which I have fallen into but washing and folding neglected loads upon loads of laundry don’t do much for my overall sense of well-being.

On a brighter note, something snapped and I am finally making progress on the Meem’s lily of the valley shawl from Lacestyle. I might not have yet mastered lace but I am queen of the nupp. For those of you who do not know, a nupp is created by making five stitches out of one and then purling those stitches together on the following row. Not quite a bobble yet more than a bump, it enhances the texture of the pattern.

Sorry to be such a downer. I told myself I wouldn’t post if I was in one of my funks. Yesterday’s lack of post was due to this but I am who I am. You all surely know this by now.

Remember the Alamo!

It’s been a rough week for poultry. Alamo, our huge Black Spanish tom turkey, is missing and presumed dead. Yesterday morning, he sat perched on top of the roof of his shelter. By late afternoon, he was gone. We looked everywhere, in all his usual hiding places, behind every shed and shelter, on the roof of our house, and in the next-door neighbors’ yard. It was as if he disapparated (magic way of travel in Harry Potter) because there was no sign of him or his feathers anywhere.

I suspect Whiskey. No, not Jim Beam, the German Shepherd next door. So far, he has been responsible for the loss of at least two (this would make three) turkeys and I-don’t know-how-many chickens. I’ve always felt that the fowl who made the mistake of wandering into their yard probably deserved their own demise but I think now he stalks them, puts his paws on top of the block wall that separates our properties, and grabs. This does not make me happy but, as I like our neighbors and they put up with farm noises and smells from us without complaint, I can’t really gripe to them about their fresh-meat-loving dog.

Today, we mourn the loss of Alamo who served as mascot and greeter to the farmyard. The most vocal and largest of the turkeys, he was first to acknowledge our arrival home and the biggest displayer of his handsome plumage. He will be missed.

Remember the Alamo!

Master and Servant (and House Elf)

Staying up late listening to Jim Dale’s excellent narration of The Deathly Hallows, in addition to deepening the already purple circles under my eyes, does great things for my knitting. My stint as Beth’s house elf has ended; I have clothes (non-readers of Harry Potter will not understand this; go get the books and read them stat).

For those of you who don’t remember, Beth’s wee Tom was in the hospital and her sock pal was in need of knitted Hogwart’s socks. Beth was already behind because she had special ordered the yarn from somewhere in upstate New York and then, when crisis ensued, she did what any self-respecting sock pal would do and delegated. Unfortunately, Beth was under the deluded impression that I was a fast knitter; I am not. Anything involving the use of my uncoordinated physicality, even something as athletically non-demanding as knitting, cannot be accomplished quickly by me. Slower than molasses in January, my mother used to call me and, despite some inconsistent effort on my part, that insulting but apt description still applies.

Yet the socks are done. I can return to my own slow progress both on what were David the Teenager’s socks which no longer fit him since he has sprouted like the proverbial weed this summer (they’re mine now, hee hee) and the Meem’s lace shawl on which I spend more time frogging then progressing. I am determined to master lace. Right now, however, I am its servant.

Watch Out Brad

Have I ever told you all what Hunky Husband does for a living? Well, if not, he is a Construction Project Manager, more specifically one that specializes in post-litigation condo reconstruction. After the dust has settled from construction defect lawsuits, he swoops in like the superhero he is and saves the day. He and the company for which he works fix other people’s mistakes and, seeing that construction workers can be error-prone, the work keeps them busy.

To insure continued business, however, a little schmoozing it is order. In addition to other events in which he participates, he attends a monthly luncheon with CAI, short for Community Associations Institute, attended by HOA, condo, and construction professionals. As is typical for these things, the function starts with an ice breaker to get the conversation flowing and the neurons firing.

Yesterday, the starter was a questionnaire. If you knew you were going to be stranded on a desert island and could only take three objects, people included, what would they be?

Now, David is a funny guy. This is one of the things that first attracted me to him, believe it or not. After all, when I first met him, he had an 82nd Airborne buzz cut and enormous muscles, things that didn’t really appeal to me honestly. It was his winning personality that reeled me in and hung me on a hook.

So here David is at the bad chicken luncheon filling out his three things. He got quite the laugh. Me? I’m nursing my wounds.

1. Fishing Tackle (Okay, that’s smart, the whole teach a man to fish thing. Plus he gets really cranky when he doesn’t eat. Pioneer Woman calls it Low Blood Sugar Cranky Butt Disorder- LBSCBD- and he has it, believe me.)

2. A Surf Board (I can see this as well. He can both have fun on it and fish from it. Another good choice.)

3. Angelina Jolie (Talk amongst yourselves. I'm plotting my revenge.)

Keeping the Pretending in Pretending to Farm

The morning began with not-the-typical farm chore. Leroy No-Longer-Brown’s horn was once again in danger of growing into his head. In the past, he has found a way to break it off himself. As evidence, we would find an area on the block wall of rubbed off fleece and smeared blood but it had not happened this time. To spare our boy one big-arse headache, we pulled out the cable saw and lariat and ventured out into the farmyard together.

Although typically affectionate, like dogs going to the vet, the sheep seem to know when something different is up. Perhaps it is the deliberateness of our step, the mission in our eyes, or the giant PVC pipe in Hunky Husband’s hands, but the minute they see us, they run, and today was no different.

It’s times like these that the “Pretending” in the Pretending to Farm becomes obvious. We tried trapping Leroy in the corner, behind the tree, and in various areas of the yard. After fruitless minutes, we laughed at one another and our obvious amateurishness. Yeah, we’re shepherds, uh huh, right. Finally, we got him and he was not happy about it. David sat him on his bottom like Papa and Son Ernie the Shearers have so expertly done in the past but Leroy still fought. When he was finally situated, I placed the cable saw around a section of the horn that I hoped was without blood vessels and got to work.

“Longer strokes!” Hunky Husband shouted. I adapted my form as he coached me; I had never done this before. Smoke rose from the horn. The knuckle of my thumb grazed the cable but I had no time to whine (a first!) about the resulting burn; Leroy would only put up with this for so long. David kept me apprised of the situation; “You’re halfway through, ¾, almost there, done.”

My arms burned but the task was complete and successful. Newly freed, Leroy ran off with the rest of the flock and would not even take the grain offered to him in treat and apology. Seeing this, the goats had no problem filling in for him; goats have no shame.

All is now fine with the flock but we are once again humbled by our lack of shepherding skills and experience. I think it’s time to re-read my sheep husbandry books and get out there with halters whether they like it or not. Nancy is way ahead of me in this department; take a look. We’re not worthy.

By the way, super kudos for Nancy for keeping her farm and flock after a tough time in her life. Way to go, Nancy; you deserve every success! Hopefully, someday we’ll make it to Minnesota to see your lovely place and snag a sheep or ten.

Darby says, "Stay away from my horns if you know what's good for you."

The Sky is Crying

Jakers the rooster, incubated here at home and hatched on my birthday this year, has left this world and moved on to happier coops where the scratch is plentiful, the temperatures are mild, and the body is without ill. He died; we cried. Shortly afterward, the heavens opened once again and shed tears of joy as they welcomed the very good boy who shared my bed and warmed our hearts. He will be missed.

With the passing of Jakers, we are left with only two roosters, Big Red and Slick, Jakers’ father. I’m sure our cranky neighbor, Southern State Sounding like Female Genitalia, is pleased by this as their crows seem rare these days. Big Red got tired of Slick’s harassment and moved himself to the duck pen, despite being returned to the coop numerous times. The duck pen is now a land of misfit fowl, housing Rubius Hagrid, the picked-upon tom turkey, the four ducks, Daffy, Inge, Buffy, and Peeps, and two chickens, Mighty Isis, the also picked-upon White Polish, and now Big Red. Somehow they all get along, having brokered a feathery détente between them. All is weird, but well, in the duck pen.

Finally, on a lighter note, Michelle shared this quiz with me. Since it lightened recent events, I thought I’d share. I’m Grace Kelly; who are you (said the Caterpillar as he sat upon the mushroom)?

Ever wonder which movie star you are most like?

Number your paper from 1 to 10, then answer each question with the choice that most describes you at this point in your life , and then add up the points that correspond with your answers.

Now Don't look ahead or you will ruin the fun!

1. Which describes your perfect date?
a) Candlelight dinner for two
b) Amusement Park
c) Roller blading in the park
d) Rock Concert
e) Have dinner & see a movie
f) Dinner at home with a loved one

2. What is your favorite type of music?
a) Rock and Roll
b) Alternative
c) Soft Rock
d) Classical
e) Christian
f) Jazz

3. What is your favorite type of movie?
a) Comedy
b) Horror
c) Musical
d) Romance
e) Documentary
f) Mystery

4. Which of the following jobs would you choose if you were given only these choices?
a) Waiter/Waitress
b) Sports Player
c) Teacher
d) Policeman
e) Bartender
f) Business person

5. Which would you rather do if you had an hour to waste?
a) Work out
b) Make out
c) Watch TV
d) Listen to the radio
e) Sleep
f) Read

6. Of the following colors, which do you like best?
a) Yellow
b) White
c) Sky blue
d) Teal
e) Gold
f) Red

7. Which one of the following would you like to eat right now?
a) Ice cream
b) Pizza
c) Sushi
d) Pasta
e) Salad
f) Lobster Tail

8. Which is your favorite holiday?

a) Halloween

b) Christmas

c) New Year's

d) Valentine's Day

e) Thanksgiving

f) Fourth of July

9. If yo u could go to any of the following places, which would it be?
a) Reno
b) Spain
c) Las Vegas
d) Hawaii
e) Hollywood
f) British Columbia

10. Of the following, who would you rather spend time with?
a) Someone who is smart
b) Someone with good looks
c) Someone who is a party animal
d) Someone who has fun all the time
e) Someone who is very emotional
f) Someone who is fun to be with

Now total up your p oints on each question:
1. a-4 b-2 c-5 d-1 e-3 f-6
2. a-2 b-1 c-4 d-5 e-3 f-6
3. a-2 b-1 c-3 d-4 e-5 f-6
4. a-4 b-5 c-3 d-2 e-1 f-6
5. a-5 b-4 c-2 d-1 e-3 f-6
6. a-1 b-5 c-3 d-2 e-4 f-6
7 a-3 b-2 c-1 d-4 e-5 f-6
8. a-1 b-3 c-2 d-4 e-5 f-6
9. a-4 b-5 c-1 d-4 e-3 f-6
10. a-5 b-2 c-1 d-3 e-4 f-6
NOW take your total and find out which Movie Star you are:

(10-17 points) You are MADONNA:

You are wild and crazy and you know it. You know how to have fun, but you may take it to extremes. You know what you are doing though, and are much in control of your own life. People don't always see things your way, but that doesn't mean that you should do away with your beliefs. Try to remember that your wild spirit can lead to hurting yourself and others.

(18-26 points) You are DORIS DAY:

You are fun, friendly, and popular! You are a real crowd pleaser. You have probably been out on the town your share of times,yet you come home with the values that your mother taught you. Marriage and children are very important to you, but only after you have fun. Don't let the people you please influence you to stray.

(27-34 points) You are DEBBI E REYNOLDS:

You are cute, and everyone loves you. You are a best friend that no one takes the chance of losing. You never hurt feelings and seldom have your own feelings hurt. Life is a breeze. You are witty, and calm most of the time. Just keep clear of back stabbers, and you are worry-free.

(35-42 points) You are GRACE KELLY:

You are a lover. Romance, flowers, and wine are all you need to enjoy yourself. You are serious about all commitments and are a family person. You never forget a birthday. Don't let your passion for romance get confused with the real thing.

(43-50 points) You are KATHERINE HEPBURN:

You are smart, a real thinker. Every situation is a approached with a plan. You are very healthy in mind and body. You don't take crap from anyone. You have only a couple of individuals that you consider "real friends". You teach strong family values. Keep your feet planted in them, but don't overlook a bad situation when it does happen.

(51-60 points) You are ELIZABETH TAYLOR:

Everyone is in awe of you. You know what you want and how to get it. You have more friends than you know what to do with. Your word is your bond. Everyone knows when you say something it is money in the bank.You attract the opposite sex. Your intelligence overwhelms most. Your memory is the next thing to photographic. Everyone admires you because you are so considerate and lovable. You know how to enjoy life and treat people right.

Now comment and tell me who you are. I'll be booking my flight to Monaco to claim my throne. You think they'll let me bring my animals? Charlotte and Fiona think they're royalty as it is.

Taking the Bad with the Very Good

I should be very happy this morning. Yesterday afternoon, the heavens opened up and let go a deluge I have not seen for some time. The pool was alive with raindrops creating miniature fountains with each landing. The trees lashed back and forth, letting go the last of their seed pods as well as the dust that inevitably builds up here in the land of sand. For a few hours, our property value tripled as we were river (or at least wash) front and, even when the rain halted, we could hear the roaring stream outside our bedroom door.

Initially, we all sort of stared at it. What is this moisture? Where are the dust devils? Where is 110 degree heat? Yes, one of the best parts of the monsoon is when the storms strike, the temperature falls from the rain-cooled air and in a period of fifteen minutes or less, we lost thirty whopping degrees, drawing us all outside. Wet, schmet, we could go outdoors. It was awesome.

The animals enjoyed the new-found coolness as well. Although the chickens, notorious for their intolerance of wet, hunkered down in their house,

the alpacas relished the showers and joined us in our rain dance.

Most of the sheep and goats managed to stay dry but the moment the moisture let up, they were out in the yard enjoying the after affects. A good time was had by all.

Today, we are left with 80% humidity and a forecast very much like the day before. I feel like I am in North Carolina, not Arizona, and, if I wasn’t so upset about this handicapped rooster on my lap, I’d be doing a happy dance. The trouble is that Jakers is no longer improving. He seems to feel better and he eats and drinks but he has no strength in his legs and cannot stand or even sit upright. I keep massaging his cold feet (chickens typically have very warm feet) and trying to get him to stand but I am beginning to feel it is futile and it is time to say goodbye. We visited his former coop home and watched his brethren scratching in the dirt and running around while the air was cool and comfortable and, perhaps projecting my feelings into a bird, I thought he looked sad, that he pined for the life he had before whatever got him, got him. Even if we had the patience and tolerance for having a paralyzed rooster in our home, which even for us is stretching it, this is no way for a farm animal to live. Jakers is, therefore, on death row. In 24 hours or less, if he doesn’t show improvement, he will be leaving this world.

It might sound ridiculous, but please say a prayer for our Jakers. He’s been a good and worthy farm companion.

A Monday Addendum

Just to clarify, when I said I was in the doldrums, I meant literally, not figuratively. I am supposed to knit like the wind but it is going so slow that I must be in an area without wind, e.g. the doldrums. Michelle, kind and caring cyber-friend that she is, thought I was in the dumps and in need of sheepy therapy. Thank you for your concern, Michelle. Amazingly, I am a very content mom/gramma/wife/woman right now. Wonders never cease.

And if you were wondering how fowl things really are around here, I just looked over to our possibly permanently paralyzed rooster, Jakers, sitting on our sofa having a snack and I didn't think twice about it. Hmmm.

No Socks on the Beach

Less than 24 hours after receiving “The Deathly Hallows,” David the Teenager finished reading it. He liked it; he was uncharacteristically enthusiastic and looked like the cat who swallowed the canary as he alone in our home holds the knowledge of Harry. It must be very, very good. Shhhh, he and Jakers are trying to catch up on their sleep.

Just as I swooped in to grab the tome, Robert declared it “his turn.” Crestfallen yet ethically unable to wrest the newest greatest children’s book from my own son’s grasp, I am once again waiting for my chance to read it. Oh, bother, I really should have pre-ordered two copies but the guilt of spending money on multiples of the same book prevented me from doing so.

It’s not that I don’t have anything else to do; I have tasks in the tons, laundry to wash, a house to clean, a toddler to love, teenagers to beat (not really but sometimes I really want to), and more, much, much more. Leroy No-Longer-Brown’s fleece is waiting to be spun for Hunky Husband’s Recreation-of-His-Favorite-Sweater Sweater and Beth’s Hogwarts socks are awaiting completion. I swear little elves get up in the night and frog the second sock to prevent me from finishing it. I go to bed thinking I will be kitchenering the toe the next day for sure and wake up and realize I have inches to go before I can pull out my tapestry needle. I should have been done days ago. In fact, I really wanted to get done while still in San Diego so I could post the completed project with the title “Socks on the Beach” but no go. What’s a ridiculously slow yet busy knitter to do?

Considering all the things to do, I guess it’s good thing that Robert has custody of Harry right now. If it was in my hot little hands, Beth’s sock pal would never get her socks. She’d be cursing me, Beth’s house elf, for my inadequacies and she would be entitled. In fact, it’s about time I warmed up my fingers and knit, knit like the wind. The only problem is I seem to be stuck in the doldrums.

Hey Buddy, Can You Spare a Wheelchair for My Rooster?

Last night, I did something in bed that I have never before done.

Now that I have your attention, I have to admit it is neither kinky nor sexual at all. In truth, I slept with a rooster. Okay, I guess it does sound a little kinky but instead it was dirty, and not like Christina Aguilera.

Jakers, David the Teenager's favorite rooster (of course), has fallen prey to what we think is a scorpion sting or spider bite. Yesterday morning, we discovered him lying on the ground in the chicken coop, unable to stand or support himself in any way. His right foot was noticeably swollen; his head was lolling; and his comb was pale and worrisome. We brought him inside (another of course) and fed him a mash of sugar water and chicken feed and gradually his color improved but he still could not stand. When bedtime came, and with Zorro already inhabiting the house poultry cage, we did the only self-respecting thing we as bleeding heart farmers could do and let him sleep in bed between us. Unbelievably, I actually slept very well cuddled with his feathery warmth and, except for that whole lack-of-house-training thing, he made a good sleeping companion. Yes, my sheets went in the wash at daybreak after which I took a long, vigorous scrubbing-filled shower.

Today, Jakers seems better but still cannot use his feet and keeps trying to stand on his elbows without success. We feel for the poor boy and hope he will not lose his head over the whole thing. Isn't farming awesome?

The other big event yesterday was, of course, the wait for Harry. I had pictured UPS driving up at its usual lunchtime schedule but no. Darkness fell and still no Harry. Anticipation fell to anxiety and then to anger. WHERE WAS MY BOOK??? Finally, around 8:30, the boys made the ¼ mile trek to the mailbox again and it was there. I haven't seen young David since except for when I found him asleep this morning with half the book read.
He must have stayed up all night. Good thing because I want to read it sooner rather than later. Yes, I am encouraging my child's unhealthy habit of sleep deprivation for my own selfish reading greed. Hurry up child; I'm waiting. Don't make me buy my own copy and don't tell me what happens. I like finding out what happens on my own, thank you very much.

And now for something completely different, Cordelia thinks she is a person. Or perhaps a rooster.

Life is beautiful. Happy Sunday everyone.