tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32281841539751016392024-03-05T07:14:25.093-08:00Rancho Borrego NegroKathyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08275249302623702166noreply@blogger.comBlogger69125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3228184153975101639.post-7773269122309566662018-11-07T12:47:00.001-08:002018-11-07T12:47:57.865-08:00It has only been two years and two months - not too bad. I am going to start a series of spinning wheel data because that is pretty much what consumes me at the moment. Well, not ALL that consumes me - we are trying to get some our 36 Muscovie ducks butchered and working on shearing the last of the angora goats, plus other stuff, but right now I am volunteering to help my guild fix, describe, identify and digitize he new collection of wheels, looms, knickknacks, reels, and other fiberparaphernalia that will occupy our new Spinners Cottage. All are numbered, so if you have any comments or questions, please use the #
of the item. Much thanks! I will try to list what I think we think we
know, but please do let me know what you have to say, too.<br />
<br />176 -
German origin, @ 1861 Split-deck slanty? Wheel diameter is 12”, with
finials, but some of the smaller ones appear to be soft rubber??? Check
out the tallll painted (looks original) distaff Since I am writing stuff down anyway, this seemed like a good idea for keeping info in more or less the same place. <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEzT8sfYd0Oy7P3DS_CMEXJVaMh6XAitUfV2JRd6NmgoqDo-cWCNFDhMNY_xZE0Q6SfjZtyiJmUB5TQn8-iQyibwHj1DiaTN070IykO3N9fDGpEf4F7VjeLaL91JqBAl4qIN8Un5miOouk/s1600/IMG_1848.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEzT8sfYd0Oy7P3DS_CMEXJVaMh6XAitUfV2JRd6NmgoqDo-cWCNFDhMNY_xZE0Q6SfjZtyiJmUB5TQn8-iQyibwHj1DiaTN070IykO3N9fDGpEf4F7VjeLaL91JqBAl4qIN8Un5miOouk/s320/IMG_1848.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
<br />Kathyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08275249302623702166noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3228184153975101639.post-34527951275873474182016-09-23T11:22:00.002-07:002016-09-23T11:22:39.049-07:00Rants & Research - Common Core<!--EndFragment--><span style="font-size: x-small;">This in response to a headline in Florida Today (August 2014) that recently appeared on Facebook, “Florida school board makes history, opts out of Common Core”, accompanied by a picture of a room full of mostly shouting, clapping people. They later rescinded the vote, but that fact was not made very public, and a person posted as a comment on Facebook: “OMG. Common core is HORRIBLE! THEY DO NOT EVEN TEACH BASIC MATH SKILLS!</span><div>
<br /><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">As a retired teacher, having taught in several states over
many decades, in all grades and areas, including Special Ed, RSP, and GATE
(gifted GT, etc.) I cannot view this as a good thing. It was not always thus,
as they say, and before 2010, standards in different schools, different
districts, and different states used to vary wildly.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Even standards in the same school were not
often consistent. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">The basic intent of the common core idea is to provide a
framework for what is taught at each grade level; “It details what K–12
students should know in English language arts and mathematics at the end of
each grade.” Standards in other areas were added later, some nationally and
some by individual states, but most dove-tail with the nation-wide standards. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Common_Core_State_Standards_Initiative">https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Common_Core_State_Standards_Initiative</a>
(Lots of info here.)<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">You certainly know that the body of knowledge children must
master in school increases every year.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>In fact, “It is generally believed that the world’s knowledge increases
logarithmically, i.e., every ten years the amount of knowledge doubles.” <a href="http://www.peavinequarter.com/guest-columns/education-and-the-information-explosion/">http://www.peavinequarter.com/guest-columns/education-and-the-information-explosion/</a><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So you can understand why it might be useful
to outline the basic concepts to be taught at each grade level. Teachers can
know that (in an ideal world) students coming into his or her grade have covered
certain vital areas, and can then proceed to work on the next level’s goals
instead of going back to re-visit something because another class “just didn’t
have time,” or decided to skip something. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Logically, when you have set out goals and objectives, there
needs to be a way to measure levels of progress and achievement, as well as areas of concern. That means tests.
In my experience, no one likes them; not teachers, not students, not parents,
and maybe not even administrators. But they are necessary for accountability, if
nothing else, and can help teachers design their instruction as well as help
identify students (and maybe even curriculum) that might need help. Plus, testing should and is changing to be made more appropriate, valid and useful all
of the time.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">If you don’t know or understand about standards and
tests, call your district. Volunteer to join a parent group, speak up. The
information IS out there, you just have to find and use it. This is an
excellent site in California: <a href="http://capta.org/focus-areas/education/common-core/">http://capta.org/focus-areas/education/common-core/</a><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">However, the “parent” group that
supports the anti-core sentiment (similar in my mind to the anti-vaxers), <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Parents Against the Common Core</i>, is part
of <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">American Principles </i>(NOT
principAls<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">) in Action</i> - a
conservative group "dedicated to preserving and propagating the
fundamental principles on which our country was founded..." <a href="http://www.politifact.com/personalities/american-principles-action/">http://www.politifact.com/personalities/american-principles-action/</a>,
and committed to “</span><span style="background: white; color: black; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">full power conservatism”. <a href="http://www.wnd.com/2011/02/259869/">http://www.wnd.com/2011/02/259869/</a><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If this is your “thing” then fine. But if you
can read between the lines to see a huge, hidden agenda, then you may want to
do some research f your own. Research other than on Facebook, that is.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="background: white; color: black; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">The good news is that school districts in my
experience have been open to change, and have held discussion and debates on
ideas, with the goal of improving instruction, student progress, teacher
abilities, as well as understanding and resources for students, parents, teachers and schools. </span></div>
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<span style="background: white; color: black; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="background: white; color: black; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">So I ask thinking people to do just that: think and read. Virtually all states
and districts now have their core standards available on line. Check it out. I
don’t know where Franki Pagan (a commenter on Facebook) lives, or what her school is like, but if it is a
public school, and she doesn’t think they are teaching math skills anymore, she must be
on another planet.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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Kathyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08275249302623702166noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3228184153975101639.post-47900750486416372772016-06-21T16:07:00.001-07:002016-06-21T16:07:35.516-07:00You can see I did not struggle very long trying to hide myself away from the world of pain and bad news. I enjoy my positive Facebook connections too much. People have interesting lives. They have farms and animals. They spin, weave, dye and knit; they live in different places, and they travel to even more different places. I get to follow people in places like Mexico, Paris, Italy, Latvia, Denmark, Sweden, and Japan while they are biking or climbing mountains or diving in caves or eating glorious food while watching amazing scenery.<br />
<br />
But my life is not all that dull. This morning I fell into the chicken water. <br />
<br />
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Fortunately (?) I am big, and I go down slooowly, but I make a huge crash when I finally land. OK, so here is the set-up. Our dozen or so hens are loose in a big pen, shaded by an ancient live oak tree. There are also two smaller A-frame "coops" where we have raised hens with chicks, or isolated newcomers for a while. There are also two old stalls that serve as coop with nest boxes, roost space, and feeding areas. A big feeder hangs from the ceiling of one stall, and it always has lay pellets in it - no matter how busy the ground squirrels and crows have been.<br />
<br />
Two modifications were made back when we raised a litter of Kangal guardian dogs in the pen. We put in a big black rubber bucket for water, then later placed a large, plant saucer under the drip spot so that overflow from the steadily dripping hose would fill the shallow container for the chicks. We also lined the inside of the fence with hog panels so the more determined dogs could not dig out. <br />
<br />
There are no dogs there now, unless the raccoons are on a rampage, but the wire panels remain, somewhat, but not always, buried in the dirt. There are also chicken craters, as in the holes that chickens dig to dust in or to look for bugs, or - I sometimes think - just for fun. In addition to this, a variety of detritus from chairs for spectators to a phone-cable spool to branches fallen from the oak tree provide an interesting setting for the more athletic fowl, and a foul obstacle course for humans in their 7th decade.<br />
<br />
During morning rounds this morning I filled a scoop with scratch and proceeded to wade in past the adoring throng - nothing is better than scratch, to these gourmets of grain. I dribbled the in a long line so that everyone could get a place at the table, so to speak, and spent a few minutes at the end with two of our more, uh, special pullets. They were part of a group of four that we bought to put under out great old broody hen, by now a Grammy several times over. But she only elected to care for the ones that were dark, like her - coo coo marans - and shunned the tweedy-brown Welsummers. So they were raised in the house, by us, and sadly were not taught much about how chickens really live. It has been a rude awakening, I am sure.<br />
<br />
These poor orphans only accept treats from a human hand, and shun the food, scratch and bugs that are readily in the pen. So I took a page from Gramma hen and poked at the scratch with a finger, clucking, "Look, look, LOOK!" This is what it sounds like to me when the hen finds a prize and is calling to her offspring. After a few minutes of crouching on the ground in my nightie/robe calling out, "Look, look, LOOK!" I figured the neighbors probably had enough ammunition for a court-ordered sanity hearing, so I went off to pour pellets and check the water. The WS chicks, meanwhile, continued to peck listlessly at a few grains, then leaves, then sticks, an empty bowl, and finally began to flutter after me. Oh well. <br />
<br />
The shallow saucer was dry, so I bent over to scoop some water from the bucket into the saucer, caught both feet under the hog wire panel, and started falling forward like a felled tree. I did manage to get one hand operating freely, which sadly didn't help, but instead, hit the big bucket of water, sending it caroming into the air, accompanying my scream in altitude if not decibels. This clever maneuver caused my whole body to rotate anti-clockwise - after both knees crashed into the wire panel, that is - and I landed on a big log with my "good" hip, somehow clutching dirt in my left hand while spitting out more dirt and dirty chicken water.<br />
<br />
At this point I took a brief intermission to try to untangle the train wreck that was my brain at that point: ASS (Assessment of Stupid Situation) has always been a helpful tool for me. <br />
<ol>
<li>Roll off log and excruciating knees.</li>
<li>Give gratitude for postponing surgery on said knees. </li>
<li>Sit up. </li>
<li>No phone. Phone is in house, along with DH. </li>
<li>Take another minute. </li>
<li>Put knees together in case neighbors are watching.</li>
<li>Wear undies next time.</li>
<li>Does anything appear to be broken - no.</li>
<li>Is anything bleeding - not much.</li>
<li>Muster the troops to try to stand - butt in the air, downward dog-style; ok, now walk your hands back, take a deep breath... WTF are YOU looking at?</li>
<li>And, why are all of the chickens cowering under their roosts, anyway?</li>
</ol>
PS - I'm fine. A few Tylenol, a bit of Cabernet, and I even managed to weed in the garden today. Perhaps these shake-ups are actually good for our aging bodies. Perhaps I should throw myself off the deck tomorrow morning... with undies, of course.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Kathyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08275249302623702166noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3228184153975101639.post-83746615141912173582016-06-15T09:50:00.001-07:002016-06-15T09:52:42.737-07:00<b>Ladybug, Ladybug</b><br />
<br />
Where to begin.<br />
<br />
<br />
I am mentally in a semi-fetal position, imagining myself under the covers, safe and dreaming. Turning off the news, shrinking away from Facebook, looking into the dense, mostly-green tangle that is my unkempt garden, I want nothing more than to become a small insect that creeps or flutters along its inevitable way, mostly looking for something to eat. I am too old for other urges, children have grown and flown. <br />
<br />
If I move now I can get outside before the day has burned through the morning gloom. But that involves moving, and I am totally volition-less. I have spent most of the last two days in my shapeless, old, gray sweatshirt-robe, except for some town errands, and putting on work shirt and jeans to help put down the two ewes last night. That includes feeding animals. That includes checking on chickens. That includes meals (such as they have been) and evenings in front of the TV. But no more news. I can not watch news any more.Kathyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08275249302623702166noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3228184153975101639.post-66293136377102984842014-01-29T21:53:00.002-08:002014-01-29T21:53:10.666-08:00I can't do any better than this:<br />
<br />
<h2>
<a href="http://www.brainpickings.org/index.php/2012/09/28/neil-gaiman-8-rules-of-writing/">Neil Gaiman’s 8 Rules of Writing</a></h2>
<strong class="by">by <a href="http://www.brainpickings.org/index.php/author/mpopova/" rel="author" title="Posts by Maria Popova">Maria Popova</a></strong>
<div class="intro">
<em>“Perfection is like chasing the horizon. Keep moving.”</em></div>
In the winter of 2010, inspired by Elmore Leonard’s <a href="http://www.brainpickings.org/index.php/2013/08/21/elmore-leonard-10-rules-of-writing/">10 rules of writing</a> published in <a href="http://exp.lore.com/post/25883124972/never-open-a-book-with-the-weather-avoid" target="_blank"><em>The New York Times</em></a> nearly a decade earlier, <em>The Guardian</em> <a href="http://www.guardian.co.uk/books/2010/feb/20/ten-rules-for-writing-fiction-part-one" target="_blank">reached out</a> to some of today’s most celebrated authors and asked them to each offer his or her commandments. After <a href="http://www.brainpickings.org/index.php/2012/09/19/zadie-smith-10-rules-of-writing/">Zadie Smith’s 10 rules of writing</a>, here come 8 from the one and only <a href="http://www.brainpickings.org/index.php/2012/05/22/neil-gaiman-commencement-address/">Neil Gaiman</a>:<br />
<img alt="" class="aligncenter" src="http://www.brainpickings.org/wp-content/uploads/2012/09/neilgaiman.jpg" /><br />
<blockquote>
<ol>
<li>Write</li>
<li>Put one word after another. Find the right word, put it down.</li>
<li>Finish what you’re writing. Whatever you have to do to finish it, finish it.</li>
<li>Put it aside. Read it pretending you’ve never read it before. Show
it to friends whose opinion you respect and who like the kind of thing
that this is.</li>
<li>Remember: when people tell you something’s wrong or doesn’t work for
them, they are almost always right. When they tell you exactly what
they think is wrong and how to fix it, they are almost always wrong.</li>
<li>Fix it. Remember that, sooner or later, before it ever reaches
perfection, you will have to let it go and move on and start to write
the next thing. Perfection is like chasing the horizon. Keep moving.</li>
<li>Laugh at your own jokes.</li>
<li>The main rule of writing is that if you do it with enough assurance
and confidence, you’re allowed to do whatever you like. (That may be a
rule for life as well as for writing. But it’s definitely true for
writing.) So write your story as it needs to be written. Write it
honestly, and tell it as best you can. I’m not sure that there are any
other rules. Not ones that matter.</li>
</ol>
</blockquote>
Kathyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08275249302623702166noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3228184153975101639.post-85985281971762373652014-01-27T15:47:00.004-08:002014-01-27T15:47:49.068-08:00Resting this afternoon, eyes closed but not asleep, my mind was drawn to more than 60 years ago, when days like this - warm, out of season days, dawning clear- would be tantalizingly warm at mid-day. The seductive cologne of cut grass would draw a child to kick off shoes and socks to wander a bit in the cool grass. If time and circumstances allowed, one might then plop down, belly first, head on crossed arms, and rest.<br />
<br />
The sounds of the world would instantly recede, yielding to near-silent scurryings of the ant and bug world, and the subtle re-arrangements of the grass. The world grew quieter with the declining angle of the sun. There might be a car horn sounding in a far-away fog, or someone calling children, or children laughing and scuffling as they made their way to the inside, evening world. People went in for dinner, or started dinner, or were on their way home for dinner. <br />
<br />
Eventually the child would wake; the sun would no longer feel warm on her back, her bare legs would be cold. Someone might call the child, several times, each time the voice becoming a little louder and a little more irritated. The child would roll onto her back, discovering that the sun had gone from the sky, taking the heat and the day with it. She would sit up, stuff her socks into the toes of her shoes, and pad through the cold, early-dew kissed grass toward toward the lighted windows of her house.<br />
<br />Kathyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08275249302623702166noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3228184153975101639.post-82147762927308268422014-01-27T15:12:00.001-08:002014-01-27T15:12:34.018-08:00A Day LateYesterday was full of little good things, but before sitting down to write my three favorites, I asked my DH what his were. He thought quite some time, then said, "Good salad, good dinner, good TV." Hard to argue with that. Why? I think because they made us happy.<br />
<br />Kathyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08275249302623702166noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3228184153975101639.post-54920447710709297052014-01-25T22:30:00.001-08:002014-01-25T22:30:22.537-08:00TGTs: It's Working!Woke up this morning to discover that the musical dog trials of the night ended up with <i>"... all in their places with bright shining faces. So this is the way - to start a new day!"</i> <br />
<br />
We have three acres, half a dozen pens and enclosures, and three dogs (Kangals) charged with guardian duties. They are large and gentle beasts, even with the chickens, except that one will kill the others if they come in contact, so she has to be kept separate at all times. Also, she can't be on night duty because she howls and the neighbor complains. But she can't be in the house, either, because the older dog is in there during the day so I can give her meds. Then she can go out later for night duty. She doesn't howl, but she does want to come in around dawn. This involves a very complicated system of opening and closing gates, putting on and removing doggie door covers, calling in and rushing out various beasts, rewards with cookies and - of course - flawless communication amongst human caretakers so that we more or less know what is going on. Last night the two dogs wanted to trade beds, so we tentatively reversed the routine - and it went splendidly! Why? Communication! (And maybe careful gate-closures.) Ta-da: Thing 1!<br />
<br />
Thing 2 was when hubby gallantly agreed to put together some dinner for us as I sat knitting (and, ok, maybe pouting a bit) on the couch watching the evening news. But I managed not to wine, I mean whine. <br />
"What's for dinner?" he inquired, as he cheerfully emerging from a darkened computer room for the first time in hours. <br />
Me, quietly: "What dinner." Silence. "I did breakfast and lunch and I don't want to go in that kitchen any more today," I elaborated. A brief discussion of how nice it would be to have a salad, and what leftovers were and were not left over ensued, and then he disappeared. I returned to the knitting and the news. <br />
Then, suddenly a tinkling as welcome and the laughter of angles rang out at the table behind where I was sitting: dishes, silverware, the table being set! Glory, glory - dinner is served!<br />
<br />
Thing 3 was born when someone admired a fleece that I had put up for sale, but said she wished she had more money. I suggested that she make me an offer, and one thing led to another until suddenly we were talking PayPal and discussing various aspects of washing and dyeing and spinning and playing with fiber. I feel good, she feels good, now THAT's a good thing for sure!<br />
<br />
<br />Kathyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08275249302623702166noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3228184153975101639.post-31158155122343488352014-01-25T10:06:00.001-08:002014-01-25T10:06:12.010-08:00January, a Start of Good ThingsSo 2013 flew by faster than 2012. How embarrassing. Enough said. People who know me know that I'm still alive, and for those who don't know or care, I am still here anyway. Moving on.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.delanceyplace.com/index.php"><img alt="Delanceyplace" height="13" src="http://www.delanceyplace.com/cmsAdmin/uploads/hm2_delanceyplace.gif" style="border: 0px none; float: left; margin: 0px; padding-right: 2px; padding-top: 4px;" width="103" /></a>,
<a href="http://www.delanceyplace.com/index.php">http://www.delanceyplace.com/index.php</a>, describes itself as "a brief daily email with an excerpt or quote we view as interesting or
noteworthy, offered with commentary to provide context. There is no
theme, except that most excerpts will come from a non-fiction work,
primarily historical in focus, and will occasionally be controversial." It is a delightful thing to find in your IN box, and I was especially delighted to see yesterday's selection, from <i>Flourish</i> by Martin E. P. Seligman. How can you resist the offer that starts out with, "You will be happier and less depressed one month from now. ..."?<br />
<br />
I'm still working on the first suggestion - the gratitude visit - but the second item seemed to beg attention: "Every night for the next week, set aside ten minutes before you go to
sleep. Write down three things that went well today and why they went
well." So I am going to try.<br />
<br />
1. Yesterday, I had breakfast with my BFF, then errands, then visiting a friend at home from the hospital, all done pleasantly and efficiently because I allowed enough time and didn't over-schedule. Yay! When I dropped off two huge bags of stuff at Goodwill, I even had time to shop a bit ( found "new" pillows for the couch, baskets for wool, and necklaces for me), and take a nap. Why? Because we had left-over Chinese food for dinner and I don't have to cook. Yay!<br />
<br />
2. Had a delightful speakerphone conversation with grandchild #7, a charming and precocious 3 year old. We often chat like this when mom picks her up and they are headed home after teaching and day care. Fridays are especially fun, because all are in good spirits. I thought of some good questions to ask: "What are you wearing?" invited a many-minute rundown of every single color on her, from toes to nose. "What did you do at school today?" resulted in a detailed description of painting her play dough creation, which I thought was going to be a pancake, but apparently had become a dead bear. "I just decided to change my mind," she explained. Then gave it some thought and decided that maybe it could be a pancake after all, since it was painted purple, red and black, with some blue. So it could be a blueberry pancake! Mom interjected that they had blueberries at home, and could make pancakes for Saturday breakfast. "Oh, YES!" she shouted jubilantly. "We haven't had those for quite some time!" These moments of sweetness happen because my daughter is a wonderful mother, and take the time to bring us together.<br />
<br />
3. I did the evening chores on my own, since ML had to work late, and things went quite swimmingly. Why? Because I started early and moved with deliberate intent. Loaded two bales of hay into the 'Gator and didn't screw up the winch, fed, watered, etc. All went well until I was coming out of the chicken pen with four eggs in hand, and gave the steel pipe gate a hefty swing to close it. The latch missed it's mark, and the gate slammed into my face. The pipe-to-cheekbone contact was so painful I had to sit down for a bit while tears ran down my face, then stumbled back to the house muttering and swearing. Only later did I discover that I wasn't wearing my glasses any more. By the time I got back down there to look, it was getting dark, and it is hard to find your glasses when you aren't wearing your glasses. OK, for the good ending? No eggs were broken, my cheekbone was not only intact, but barely bruised, and when ML came home he got his 10-million candle power light and found the glasses rather quickly.<br />
<br />
And we had left-over Chinese food for dinner.<br />
<br />
Kathyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08275249302623702166noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3228184153975101639.post-72209154422324185452012-12-06T09:27:00.002-08:002012-12-06T09:27:29.260-08:002012 Stepping StonesOK, "I Can't Stand It No More"(thanks, Peter Frampton), although Bluto's cry of "<span class="st">I yam what I yam ! and I've had all I can stand, <b>I can't stands no</b> <b>more!" </b>feels much more appropriate. </span><br />
<br />
It has been just about a year since I inherited newsletter and program
chair duties from outgoing members of my weaving guild. Not
coincidentally, it has been just about a year since I have written in my blog, or anywhere else. Life on the farm has continued on at a
rollicking pace - shearing in April and October, sorting, picking,
sending, sometimes selling, carding fleece, and always spinning,
knitting and weaving. But, due to some misplaced sense of duty, the
programs and newsletters for my guild have taken precedence over other
creative endeavors.<br />
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<br />
Like trying to cross a stream that is too wide to be jumped in a single leap, I am going to walk across stepping on stones, but I WILL get across!<br />
<br />
Some prominent stones:<br />
Last <b>January</b> I started the maze of doctors and referrals which led up to a THP (total hip replacement) in April. We continued our presence at the Vista Market as long as I was able.<br />
<br />
Took a wonderful rug-weaving workshop with Jason Collingwood (Peter's son) in <b>February</b>. <br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMNHTPuETPUth-z5vsZcx5rXlyHVpZ_GZwhSk-CDrgTvtFzI17NTyOFzbe1C_juBHkRRpSCoVPgN7fF52-153UFZwVxGQpY6xJUcc4RmnQV0hBUTrbNamTC_rfcehh1R6pH91GCIw5GqVR/s1600/Jason.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="249" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMNHTPuETPUth-z5vsZcx5rXlyHVpZ_GZwhSk-CDrgTvtFzI17NTyOFzbe1C_juBHkRRpSCoVPgN7fF52-153UFZwVxGQpY6xJUcc4RmnQV0hBUTrbNamTC_rfcehh1R6pH91GCIw5GqVR/s320/Jason.JPG" width="320" /></a> <br />
<br />
Did a presentation for a local "Art Lovers' Club" in <b>March</b>. Well received, and great fun to do. Slide show is ready should there be any calls for an encore!<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2xCToGjgHDux3wOhbfi7HwS6F7D5u5JnHcYKPkD3oxQUz6vtgQBbgkcDitr8pp_3vNK0FcLeZrJ8zLNeO5TNKIkPjvX3FRlHKoHe_NQR1txdfVZstR5yzc1E_2V0f9EMknxelyA-4_f-K/s1600/7+shawls.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br /></a>Managed to spend some time with Bay-area kids and grands before <b>April</b>'s surgery,<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2xCToGjgHDux3wOhbfi7HwS6F7D5u5JnHcYKPkD3oxQUz6vtgQBbgkcDitr8pp_3vNK0FcLeZrJ8zLNeO5TNKIkPjvX3FRlHKoHe_NQR1txdfVZstR5yzc1E_2V0f9EMknxelyA-4_f-K/s1600/7+shawls.jpg" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2xCToGjgHDux3wOhbfi7HwS6F7D5u5JnHcYKPkD3oxQUz6vtgQBbgkcDitr8pp_3vNK0FcLeZrJ8zLNeO5TNKIkPjvX3FRlHKoHe_NQR1txdfVZstR5yzc1E_2V0f9EMknxelyA-4_f-K/s320/7+shawls.jpg" width="159" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Finished seven shawls and a rug</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The rug was done with llama and wool roving and linen warp, on a peg loom.</td></tr>
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Our little flock of hens lost their rooster after neighbors complained,
but Michael is their leader now and he takes care of them very well. By <b>May</b> they are growing and thriving.<br />
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In <b>June</b> we had some surprise goat babies - surprise was that I had gotten rid of the bucks months ago! However, all are simply lovely so will be keepers.<br />
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In <b>July</b> Ivy brought the girls down for a visit, and of course a trip to the beach was mandatory. They were fascinated with the surfers, who didn't seem to even notice them.<br />
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The chickens started laying, and by <b>August</b> we were getting beautiful eggs on a daily basis.<br />
We also joined a local CSA, <a href="http://www.jrorganicsfarm.com/">JR Organics</a> and continue to enjoy our beautiful "surprise box" of fruit and veggies every two weeks.<br />
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In <b>September</b> my amazing new neighbor, <a href="http://carolynreynoldsart.com/">artist Carolyn Reynolds</a>, invited me to assist with her three-day show in Sausalito. What a trip!<br />
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Carolyn does huge and beautiful canvasses that begin with layers of gold or silver leaf. On that background she builds many layers of oil paint, so that the finished work is luminous and ever changing. Very inspiring!<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"Real" SAORI from Japan</td></tr>
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Later in the month I was able to attend the International SAORI Conference in Los Angeles. I truly felt like the grasshopper at the feet of the master; knowledge and inspiration were overwhelming, the weavings stunning. <br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Kenzo Jo demonstrates SAORI weaving techniques.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My enabler watches the booth.</td></tr>
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The second annual <a href="http://vistafiberartsfiesta.com/">Vista Fiber Arts Fiesta</a> was held again in <b>October</b>, with slightly less participation than last year. Still, it was a fun and fiber-filled weekend.<br />
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Of course I succumbed to some beautiful handspun, hand-dyed singles from <a href="http://www.etsy.com/shop/TaraSFibers">TaraSFibers</a>, and was gifted with some lovely wheel paste from the <a href="http://theyarnmarm.blogspot.com/">Yarn Marm. </a> <br />
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Toward the end of the month I was privileged to attend my first-ever SOAR (Spin-Off Autumn Retreat) at Lake Tahoe. Seizing this as my first and perhaps only opportunity, I signed up for weekend workshops with Michael Cook<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVaqbBLzNWnjx1m2zOpXQny-u3lBijg25WOJwuLnBUyboROGy8O6zjPofyofJ2BqLwMSqhl0b-XzG4lyNCv4jgRL2D1Rilo8yKEIzX7sJexZ0Nbuwa1bLwNuKG78nsO2bVXzWm-9NVh0iN/s1600/cook.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVaqbBLzNWnjx1m2zOpXQny-u3lBijg25WOJwuLnBUyboROGy8O6zjPofyofJ2BqLwMSqhl0b-XzG4lyNCv4jgRL2D1Rilo8yKEIzX7sJexZ0Nbuwa1bLwNuKG78nsO2bVXzWm-9NVh0iN/s320/cook.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The silk guru</td></tr>
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Judith MacKenzie (luxury fibers)<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Judith with her beautiful bison rug</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Stephenie and Jacey Boggs</td></tr>
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Stephenie Gaustad (recreating and restoring textiles), and Deb
Menz, (working with color on hackles and carders). Then I packed my
wheel and sweet-talked my favorite enabler to drive up with me.<br />
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The picture to the left is sadly a bit blurry, but is one of my favorites because these two ladies are the past, present and future of spinning, and make it possible for all of us to step into that amazing stream of knowledge, skill and history ... and to help keep it flowing. Thank you, ladies. Thank you so much.<br />
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Got to
visit kids and grands in the Bay area, enjoyed (?) the snow at Tahoe,
and visited sister in Oceano on the way back. So rich an experience!!!!<br />
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<a href="http://www.schg.org/festival/">WeFF </a>(Southern California Handweavers' Guild's Weaving and Fiber Festival) was held the first Sunday in <b>November</b>. Too bad I was pre-migraine, and forgot the cash box and Square (for credit card processing). It was a lovely day, but sales were the worst ever. However, that event marked the end of our "seasonal rush," so now things have settled down to a more steady cadence.<br />
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I even had time to go visit Gil and Nancy Riegler at<a href="http://www.blogger.com/www.cameldairy.com/"> Oasis Camel Dairy</a> to see the beautiful dromedaries and to talk with them about developing a market for their fiber. I came home with a true love for the gentle beasts, and a bag of fiber with which to experiment. Fun!! I took my iphone and a camera, but was so caught up in the event that I forgot to take any pictures. Next time, I promise. <br />
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The very same thing happened when <a href="http://www.librarything.com/author/barberelizabethwayla">Dr. Elizabeth Barber</a> came to speak to my weaving guild. I was so in awe, and so happy to have her to lunch after, that I never thought to snap her picture. Not even when she walked over to pet the llamas, something she had always wanted to do.<br />
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<b>December</b> seems to have a decidedly more leisurely pace - so far - except that we are now in the throes of packing for our Skeptics' <i><a href="http://http/;//www.amazingmeeting.com/cruise/">Amazing Cruise</a> </i>, our first cruise ever - amazing or otherwise. <br />
More on THAT later -- providing the world doesn't end. ;> Kathyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08275249302623702166noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3228184153975101639.post-2707563928693591042012-01-10T10:42:00.000-08:002012-01-11T15:41:32.964-08:00First Tri<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg955DIRLZAIDDv76ZsPGA_LKTIEQkVxZOkF2WkcgVpdKpTXz5nYEcvurVJv3sMY0YdCWAn-YXWgnnC2ft5hrWprNofN2rzQuAXCz4sXZQXeF1f8rjrT8OHHeAUVIaFvgFACfmJb6aiMuFw/s1600/fix.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br />
</a></div>I don't know what happened to November and December. Oh well. January has been too much fun to even worry about it.<br />
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Sometime during that November/December "fugue state" (does anyone watch <i>Breaking Bad</i>?) I did a lot or reading and research on triloom weaving. There is a <a href="http://www.ravelry.com/groups/tri-loom-weavers">Ravelry group </a>that is very active, and also a <a href="http://groups.yahoo.com/group/TriLoom/">Yahoo Triloom Group</a>. The cover <a href="http://images4.ravelrycache.com/uploads/vintagegirl/65372503/IMG_0748_medium2.jpg">picture</a> for the Ravelry group was the one that finally sent me over the edge. Eventually, I took a short, one-day workshop in weaving on a triangular loom from <a href="http://www.angelfire.com/ca5/gentlewovens/">Barbara Borgerd Ickler</a>, who has been perfecting this technique for decades. Unfortunately, her web site is a little out of date, but her workshop was wonderful. Even the show-and-tell part was excellent, and by the time she had shown us all of the beautiful examples of her work, I was sold. Two days later I drove back and bought a 72" loom.<br />
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Unfortunately, the holidays interfered with my enthusiastic plans, so everything had to stay under wraps until all of the feasting and festivities were over. But during that time, I found a nice easel on Craig's list, sorted out some yarn, and vowed to set things up as soon as the house was mine once again. <br />
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I decided not to waste my handspun on the first try, so found some mill-spun llama that I had dyed, and added some Noro and a bit of handspun for variation. Lessons learned here:<br />
<ol><li>Llama stretches like the devil.</li>
<li>Noro breaks and shreds at the slightest pressure.</li>
<li>The handspun was not the same grist, in fact, nothing was the same, so tension was wildly uneven.</li>
</ol>Planning took some while, since I had lost the notes taken at Barbara's workshop. Duh.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiuva-BDKzWkaP8jgPb0qZiH0LVRLKCWN3VB9S9_fv5MQrRC4FXMczu3GOkGkuk3gFdHWIqte0v5gHrB24ic08THG1XWJfySbKBjHNSzPKhOC6tXKBwLbxeJpie6eje5cRjezDAuAhZV3P/s1600/plan.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="141" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiuva-BDKzWkaP8jgPb0qZiH0LVRLKCWN3VB9S9_fv5MQrRC4FXMczu3GOkGkuk3gFdHWIqte0v5gHrB24ic08THG1XWJfySbKBjHNSzPKhOC6tXKBwLbxeJpie6eje5cRjezDAuAhZV3P/s200/plan.JPG" width="200" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi79XfJJITM_Rpatjv4BWcZGBWCl-vpSmXgS9HIUD6-KFD42qnJ8BzUFdVAZ2-kyhAyFkaei5LAEIzGvz4O6XSGnQ2vZ96aMvsQ-6RsYDaXyyzd-YOXRbp3J1uYBRLPMpVGjdqTi_-q6CrF/s1600/begin.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi79XfJJITM_Rpatjv4BWcZGBWCl-vpSmXgS9HIUD6-KFD42qnJ8BzUFdVAZ2-kyhAyFkaei5LAEIzGvz4O6XSGnQ2vZ96aMvsQ-6RsYDaXyyzd-YOXRbp3J1uYBRLPMpVGjdqTi_-q6CrF/s200/begin.JPG" width="200" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiuva-BDKzWkaP8jgPb0qZiH0LVRLKCWN3VB9S9_fv5MQrRC4FXMczu3GOkGkuk3gFdHWIqte0v5gHrB24ic08THG1XWJfySbKBjHNSzPKhOC6tXKBwLbxeJpie6eje5cRjezDAuAhZV3P/s1600/plan.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a></div>But I managed to hunt up enough information on line to get me started. From there on, things seemed to slowly come back to me. Lessons from phase two:<br />
<ol><li>It seems to take forever to adjust the easel, chair and loom comfortably. Had to hunt up some chains to use as reins for the easel.</li>
<li>A 6' triloom and easel takes up a lot of floor space, and tends to frighten the dogs, while being of endless fascination to the cat.</li>
<li>A light is really helpful.</li>
<li>Use something to contain your yarn, in this case, a wire waste basket.</li>
</ol><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg955DIRLZAIDDv76ZsPGA_LKTIEQkVxZOkF2WkcgVpdKpTXz5nYEcvurVJv3sMY0YdCWAn-YXWgnnC2ft5hrWprNofN2rzQuAXCz4sXZQXeF1f8rjrT8OHHeAUVIaFvgFACfmJb6aiMuFw/s1600/fix.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Before I could bind off and make fringe (and several times along the way) I had to stop and try to take up the slack.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg955DIRLZAIDDv76ZsPGA_LKTIEQkVxZOkF2WkcgVpdKpTXz5nYEcvurVJv3sMY0YdCWAn-YXWgnnC2ft5hrWprNofN2rzQuAXCz4sXZQXeF1f8rjrT8OHHeAUVIaFvgFACfmJb6aiMuFw/s1600/fix.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg955DIRLZAIDDv76ZsPGA_LKTIEQkVxZOkF2WkcgVpdKpTXz5nYEcvurVJv3sMY0YdCWAn-YXWgnnC2ft5hrWprNofN2rzQuAXCz4sXZQXeF1f8rjrT8OHHeAUVIaFvgFACfmJb6aiMuFw/s320/fix.JPG" width="320" /></a> </div><ol><li>It is easier to straighten as you go than to try to clean up stretched and crooked rows at the end. </li>
<li>Don't use 100% llama!</li>
</ol><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjysZkyCbPoEcJMVTG9Lf1P_dxhwVbQSPYsvGC14MPxCLXRzyqA9owORi5fgT-Jaq7UMrwS-_6zePjDm94Frhn9SqMw5uR6YhgHG7h-JSk2-Wzdr6t1E55BNJrEthnAS7OkBdkndskIAds2/s1600/P1010006.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="229" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjysZkyCbPoEcJMVTG9Lf1P_dxhwVbQSPYsvGC14MPxCLXRzyqA9owORi5fgT-Jaq7UMrwS-_6zePjDm94Frhn9SqMw5uR6YhgHG7h-JSk2-Wzdr6t1E55BNJrEthnAS7OkBdkndskIAds2/s320/P1010006.JPG" width="320" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3eHe5Q1P3A53G2XKWILVCG_NxjTpdmYhM9m37nNpEw6heuoh_IF-8kZ7CRnbq63vQJG-BHEUlV0gWxVd2a7pjx22pZopjFSE8pJ3JDW_1MlThGMKDDyXxgipgaZJMn6uwmKOmOoCtgYn9/s1600/P1010001.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a></div> I soon found that outside on a warm day is the best place to work, at least during daylight hours.<br />
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Hubby worried that the shawl was too - what was the word - sloppy? But I rather like the open, gauzy feeling, especially for spring. I finally got the shawl bound off with something that unintentionally looked like leno lace, but is actually kind of interesting, and celebrated the last of the fringe with a Kir Royale, sporting a rose <i>garni</i>.<br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFWdMA3RqslxslAZNHNLgkAry1kBfx9xBLEsx4fYBPDZnmBVV0st0k7mlwx60wt7TgbNgeHN_wlzEZSbjDBxZTvxIQsFC65TT3FZgLyjkVwOaZ96pBNDb6RgFsWv0_cB8wZAL9XMIFnFyv/s1600/P1010009.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFWdMA3RqslxslAZNHNLgkAry1kBfx9xBLEsx4fYBPDZnmBVV0st0k7mlwx60wt7TgbNgeHN_wlzEZSbjDBxZTvxIQsFC65TT3FZgLyjkVwOaZ96pBNDb6RgFsWv0_cB8wZAL9XMIFnFyv/s320/P1010009.JPG" width="239" /></a></div><br />
Nothing provides confidence like one hard-earned success, so shawl #2 is well underway. And this time, I am using homegrown pygora/cashmere handspun with bits of color. All one texture, smooth as a baby's butt, and such a pleasure to work with! The addition of a beautiful wooden Tunisian crochet hook really makes it hard to leave the loom. Just one more round, just one more!<br />
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</a></div>Kathyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08275249302623702166noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3228184153975101639.post-42963608082631821952011-10-31T09:09:00.000-07:002011-10-31T09:09:24.770-07:00A Man, a Plan, a Canal: PanamaI worked for some time trying to figure out a palindrome for <i>A Woman, a Desperate Mess, an Impasse</i>, but could fine none. No palindrome, at least. BUT, after spending an entire drizzly morning working in my "wool vault," I finally found a solution! Nearly 200 pounds of llama, finewool, alpaca and ??? fiber in four different colors were boxed up and sent off to Zeillingers for spinning; Wensleydale fleeces were sorted and stashed, cashmere and pygora fleeces were sent off to Fantasy Fibers for dehairing, and I started washing the other angora fleeces. <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiUVqYishG3tqVLv_G-FhEQs0jgI-N-afz8EUToJrDnSXAAIEsUg4YCNDDmGBvNNIOcU9AC411iDg-5rNpszJR-ucuBZjj8NtrYJG11vmD7NSVsvy-F257Y97AeJLwE6SlwwZEWIE82ZYc/s1600/P1010010.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiUVqYishG3tqVLv_G-FhEQs0jgI-N-afz8EUToJrDnSXAAIEsUg4YCNDDmGBvNNIOcU9AC411iDg-5rNpszJR-ucuBZjj8NtrYJG11vmD7NSVsvy-F257Y97AeJLwE6SlwwZEWIE82ZYc/s320/P1010010.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
The farm is settling down into fall, goats sheared, sheep peacefully growing their long locks, sun low in the south, but I am gearing up for the last best event of the year: The <a href="http://www.schg.org/festival/">WeFF</a> up in Torrance next weekend. Sorting, packing, planning and creating some new yarns, I have been really busy in the house.<br />
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Imagine my surprise when Yollie came bursting through the dog door the other evening, soaking wet! Huh? She made one mad dash through the living room (mercifully missing my wheel) then back out the door. We followed her, trying to figure out what was going on. At first we thought she had fallen in the lily pond, but there was no water on the deck. Then she flopped her big self down in a patch of dirt and began rolling and tossing dirt everywhere. Mad, crazy creature!<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgncEOJskT-K2g0mupf44jzZQwuienYSuKToUEnxOVk6DX92aIulO1dqQ4kFFqFmLWqxGPsLbnwYbMaIryf_4iR4wKfvq3vjhUq-bONySo9DTl4J9uHVDoxlzIKpSMQA0yeUJhcTvcGvsrh/s1600/P1010018.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="229" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgncEOJskT-K2g0mupf44jzZQwuienYSuKToUEnxOVk6DX92aIulO1dqQ4kFFqFmLWqxGPsLbnwYbMaIryf_4iR4wKfvq3vjhUq-bONySo9DTl4J9uHVDoxlzIKpSMQA0yeUJhcTvcGvsrh/s320/P1010018.JPG" width="320" /></a><br />
When she had finally coated herself completely with dirt she gave a gloriously happy sigh, and rolled over. It was then that it dawned on me: she had found the outflow from the washing machine, and had been totally seduced by the buck smell in the water coming off the fleeces I was washing. <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj92S2PnPUf1eKwdu_WF9YekuhvbYA5TDx_VjGd2uLOrWoRh1LnnFXu0oyPy8mnqORjQ27Y0Kmxxbn9egrj2vZP6okkafVvc7_HbvZRVivwRqYFOWjsV81jsxZ5I-NemnsPpk50X_CyD9Cw/s1600/P1010017.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj92S2PnPUf1eKwdu_WF9YekuhvbYA5TDx_VjGd2uLOrWoRh1LnnFXu0oyPy8mnqORjQ27Y0Kmxxbn9egrj2vZP6okkafVvc7_HbvZRVivwRqYFOWjsV81jsxZ5I-NemnsPpk50X_CyD9Cw/s320/P1010017.JPG" width="320" /> </a><br />
I bet the girl goats just loved her.Kathyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08275249302623702166noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3228184153975101639.post-34259013056082493572011-10-17T08:35:00.000-07:002011-10-17T08:52:28.807-07:00I Am in LoveNever mind that he is younger than all of my children, or that he has a wife and child, or that I am married with seven grand kids, or even that he lives in a different state: I LOVE JERRY LADD! And his dad isn't bad, either (;>)<br />
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Jerry took pity on me several months back when I was writing and ranting about our most recent shearing disaster with a brutal shearer, who was fired, leaving us in the lurch for shearing the goats in the fall. <a href="http://tri-plyfibers.com/default.aspx">Jerry</a> said that he would be happy to come out and shear for us and, not only was he true to his word, but he arrived on the dot, at 7AM this past Saturday, with his very patient father along to lend a few hands. He was prepared, experienced and utterly charming. Plus, he's a spinner! <br />
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Jerry set up his gear and started in on the does and kids, trimming toes as he went. He remained unruffled - even when a couple of the devils actually bit him! He worked with a smooth, expert style and patience, while his dad (a businessman from Bakersfield) provided back-up, sweeping, horn-holding, kid catching and doe wrangling. <br />
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<div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEho8P9X9H_NVhSlrhrQ2GazanaraMBsl-cfP2NsyOq-jeK0-M8Eaxgy09sfrT-HXZsoVdolXqqH1uH-JDBLv0_4OCft3Za0YXIvL2up8EHhJxBh73gNC_LFoFZkZiQOqBwv4f37FLuFppGH/s1600/DSC02788.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEho8P9X9H_NVhSlrhrQ2GazanaraMBsl-cfP2NsyOq-jeK0-M8Eaxgy09sfrT-HXZsoVdolXqqH1uH-JDBLv0_4OCft3Za0YXIvL2up8EHhJxBh73gNC_LFoFZkZiQOqBwv4f37FLuFppGH/s320/DSC02788.jpg" width="320" /> </a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhC4n6Y1cH3pE1pRHi_4OclQqaR-oFRt963Hp0oAkvfGd9o5vVtnAubym9s_0uatnK60iIz4yYFLjEhw2G59d4dTy8OHuU8LHJwoTIBZAVgGHD12EYy3uVdoNH43q8gOM025qIsMpN0ITEk/s1600/DSC02789.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhC4n6Y1cH3pE1pRHi_4OclQqaR-oFRt963Hp0oAkvfGd9o5vVtnAubym9s_0uatnK60iIz4yYFLjEhw2G59d4dTy8OHuU8LHJwoTIBZAVgGHD12EYy3uVdoNH43q8gOM025qIsMpN0ITEk/s320/DSC02789.jpg" width="320" /></a> </div> After the does and kids, we moved across the drive where he took on three extremely stinky bucks with the same gentle confidence and poise. Even big, stinkey Eddie took the event in stride.<br />
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The big test, however, was shearing our spoiled bottle baby/premie, Mouse. I'll let you be the judge. Just look at the picture below and tell me if you agree that even the mighty Mouse has fallen under Jerry's spell.<br />
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<div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjoMGZPoxzYXdOeCOw_nJ0a1H_0-A9mRe6iWqIGL2yO_XQmjqajHNg3O9lix-uGRfcrW4eMd-oRs6JN6FnFuc_i33thHQjWvgyYk0fTG3fMeWWHCz87FG3-pN6LYBEYVnaXBWJ7HiLmZfr/s1600/DSC02784.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjoMGZPoxzYXdOeCOw_nJ0a1H_0-A9mRe6iWqIGL2yO_XQmjqajHNg3O9lix-uGRfcrW4eMd-oRs6JN6FnFuc_i33thHQjWvgyYk0fTG3fMeWWHCz87FG3-pN6LYBEYVnaXBWJ7HiLmZfr/s320/DSC02784.jpg" width="240" /></a> </div><div style="text-align: center;">With a smile like that, who wouldn't?</div>Kathyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08275249302623702166noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3228184153975101639.post-63789487533638851682011-10-14T08:14:00.000-07:002011-10-14T08:14:48.004-07:00Gathering of the Clan<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">The dust has settled on September, and October is quickly passing. The annual gathering of the kids and grand kids was a super success - after putting the slide show together, I am ready to have them back again right now!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
<iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dwQ_GDhhjjjzsmdha3LLTeC18FfkXtvNQeSoxZET31Jt65ruEoUSpCT7NWSqGdziov1cXZ8cWb69KOCsfZ0FA' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">The little pink jeep and the empty playhouse now sit alone and dejected, so sad.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">A few weeks after the gathering we attended the first ever Vista Fiber Festival. All I can say to that is "wow." The two organizers, Mimi Loutrel and Judy Maddox, pulled off a flawless two-day event that was successful beyond all expectations. And it was such fun! I met old friends that I haven't seen in 40 years and made many new ones. <br />
The event was held on the spacious and fascinating grounds of the <a href="http://www.agsem.com/">Antique Gas and Steam Engine Museum</a>, and there was a mineral show going on in a nearby building, so there was plenty to do and see for folks of all interests. <br />
There were two dozen vendors (including a pen of beautiful and friendly alpaca youngsters) and about two thousand visitors. Can you believe it? The weather was warm and beautiful, sales were brisk, and everyone was happy.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOQ0MRdp012AUC8jRYni6kjp7uW3Gik31vs9y8ZdTxb0lozOUGhw1koI4eOj4361-AwE1sIYgQ8Kp1t74AMqVE4xJKoUTMYlBS2ynvy6UPOjxtC-XJt6RBYPa7JhTMjRi0kgDYEkmlgZmd/s1600/DSC02768.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOQ0MRdp012AUC8jRYni6kjp7uW3Gik31vs9y8ZdTxb0lozOUGhw1koI4eOj4361-AwE1sIYgQ8Kp1t74AMqVE4xJKoUTMYlBS2ynvy6UPOjxtC-XJt6RBYPa7JhTMjRi0kgDYEkmlgZmd/s320/DSC02768.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"> Part of the tents with the weaving barn in the background.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsHr9NiJzWi9Ovdy0wgF6A21v11e6s89DoGpY_pzZLaiqQZ4Fe2GXyMW9Sfg0st41j2mN9_lXO6FwMQGClZxJnNhl7cM2sAWdAsAc59Wj3bGJEi2D_k8Jv8q7nZoHWbUY1myVFeKBzHn24/s1600/DSC02770.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsHr9NiJzWi9Ovdy0wgF6A21v11e6s89DoGpY_pzZLaiqQZ4Fe2GXyMW9Sfg0st41j2mN9_lXO6FwMQGClZxJnNhl7cM2sAWdAsAc59Wj3bGJEi2D_k8Jv8q7nZoHWbUY1myVFeKBzHn24/s320/DSC02770.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"> Our booth, somewhere in the crowd!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgil3DMt0pgQYc7NhyphenhyphenGxu218pFMsAtdIqVN315EJsm6m-F0n4z5ig8xG4Uf48lu-aWmUq72GHu6_6VyhjFu2Rj2xdFk_4GqtEkfOUZ6Ky25RIv1sn5zcwgrzjiwrEu-0B2HyObFgfdxKWLS/s1600/DSC02771.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgil3DMt0pgQYc7NhyphenhyphenGxu218pFMsAtdIqVN315EJsm6m-F0n4z5ig8xG4Uf48lu-aWmUq72GHu6_6VyhjFu2Rj2xdFk_4GqtEkfOUZ6Ky25RIv1sn5zcwgrzjiwrEu-0B2HyObFgfdxKWLS/s320/DSC02771.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"> The weaving barn, front and back</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0uoSkUXda35RZanpD8tlRkqKGIkuYs3jnJafOh7axKe39aQtbgUIhtR0tdJcWvqKGHR5esN_UGXGVK79rKLexQIkAnLc4F2sCPutdxCN0u9sWfIvWgEUcGPTB9SdvgatkSvlQvCOA3aih/s1600/DSC02772.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0uoSkUXda35RZanpD8tlRkqKGIkuYs3jnJafOh7axKe39aQtbgUIhtR0tdJcWvqKGHR5esN_UGXGVK79rKLexQIkAnLc4F2sCPutdxCN0u9sWfIvWgEUcGPTB9SdvgatkSvlQvCOA3aih/s320/DSC02772.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4TsGxLKoqo0zW_ZXjSeDmYaZA_pWo7LokDZrGpZtoZia4u4JNEWcjOlRuAc0BvGZZ9mBk-OJy_u9NyFlQLyKwSfIwd5TnqdqFgVwWeYxqeCBK1pRMWbuK3326a778_HYIrYglVkAeLiR2/s1600/DSC02774.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4TsGxLKoqo0zW_ZXjSeDmYaZA_pWo7LokDZrGpZtoZia4u4JNEWcjOlRuAc0BvGZZ9mBk-OJy_u9NyFlQLyKwSfIwd5TnqdqFgVwWeYxqeCBK1pRMWbuK3326a778_HYIrYglVkAeLiR2/s320/DSC02774.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"> Overview of the vendor area</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNPV5bhFtqQa0rIN3h8699Yn6h-qqv3HlXxu8TdoVT-ZWPG8FWD3wxNYKDYSSfQhoS4E5cQnOO9tMACiHkpOERrg0yQDo7-G8XEbDPyORrxIU4_gt0KguHURXrUg8RjTddhXDXoZ9eEgcr/s1600/DSC02777.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNPV5bhFtqQa0rIN3h8699Yn6h-qqv3HlXxu8TdoVT-ZWPG8FWD3wxNYKDYSSfQhoS4E5cQnOO9tMACiHkpOERrg0yQDo7-G8XEbDPyORrxIU4_gt0KguHURXrUg8RjTddhXDXoZ9eEgcr/s320/DSC02777.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">The first day I used my wheel, second day I demoed the Navajo spindle. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div>Will they have it again? We certainly hope so. Will we attend? ABSOLUTELY!!!</div>Kathyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08275249302623702166noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3228184153975101639.post-33702027100409987902011-09-14T16:34:00.000-07:002011-09-14T16:41:51.452-07:00The Sad Situation with Our BeesNow that it's over, I suspect that I am feeling much like someone who has lost a pregnancy.<br />
For the bees, at least the lucky ones, it may have been the rapture, but I am filled with a sense of loss and emptiness.<br />
<br />
Over the decades we've lived here on the hill we have been hosts to several unwanted bee hives, always on a warm, east-facing site. One was in the crawl space under our bedroom, two were in the walls of the guest house. Those unlucky hives had to be destroyed. Some were swarms that moved out on their own in in due time, but this particular group decided to take up residency in some wooden boards leaned up against an inside shed wall of the barn. For a long time we judiciously let them be (NPI), they weren't hurting anyone, it was wonderful to have them pollinating our plants, and we both grew to like the idea of keeping them around.<br />
<br />
We read articles on bees and bee keeping, watched videos and movies, read blogs and became very excited about the idea of becoming backyard beekeepers. Visions of honey comb and happy hives buzzed in our heads.<br />
<br />
But the more we read and learned, the more complicated, difficult, physically demanding and potentially expensive the enterprise seemed to become. Even though we found one beekeeper who said he could remove the bees from the barn wall and put them in a hive for us to keep, we finally elected to have them moved to another property when we learned that we would soon be hosting kids and seven small grand children.<br />
<br />
So, Michael donned his fire fighter turnouts (below) and spent some time clearing out a path for Shawn, the bee man. <br />
<div style="text-align: center;"> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEju1gy6vR2XF7fVnIyKWnEBvaUwZogCfNOyDwXFvr0fPVHqrTpR20vC2psxfXNg5Fx8DldxXbPJFJy5dS9rYozT91EsVFPgOJz_Cav1JMU_gKmLcwr2AVwvPxqhttToFZU-u82gA9959Ubr/s1600/ML+moving.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEju1gy6vR2XF7fVnIyKWnEBvaUwZogCfNOyDwXFvr0fPVHqrTpR20vC2psxfXNg5Fx8DldxXbPJFJy5dS9rYozT91EsVFPgOJz_Cav1JMU_gKmLcwr2AVwvPxqhttToFZU-u82gA9959Ubr/s320/ML+moving.JPG" width="276" /></a></div>Yesterday morning, when the fog had lifted, Shawn arrived with all of his gear. I sat in the sun and waited at what I hoped was a respectful distance while he donned his gear, hauled equipment, lugged more junk out of his way, and finally brought in his bee vac with attached hive carrying case (on the red can in the foreground). <br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3Q3b7LLT_EPWSFir4FkB9D3JE9Cuun7RQlJ8TksJJBYSFP42BjRixf7IA1s6I-CsRLieyHCNJ3JR8os4IsZg5811mlncXGX5akot8b0qhxhTrVzxV-0BYi3bRnt5YD_yGNTzvYvBEKosB/s1600/Shawn+at+work.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3Q3b7LLT_EPWSFir4FkB9D3JE9Cuun7RQlJ8TksJJBYSFP42BjRixf7IA1s6I-CsRLieyHCNJ3JR8os4IsZg5811mlncXGX5akot8b0qhxhTrVzxV-0BYi3bRnt5YD_yGNTzvYvBEKosB/s320/Shawn+at+work.JPG" width="215" /> </a></div><div style="text-align: left;">It was very cool - but stressful.The bees had been very calm around us, but they could feel quite differently about someone raiding their honey come, destroying their hive, and sucking them up with a vacuum. If they were Africanized, they could be REALLY upset. But they weren't. And he said it was a very healthy hive, with lots of honey.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">The bees were (relatively) calm and Shawn was calm, deliberate and patient, and eventually had a good portion of the bees in his box, and three nice chunks of golden honey comb in Tupperware for us to keep.</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhq3cWCI2MkwZkTIeAuGrn1l4KzXiRQ5q9VK5NKTf82C9WlQqcs6odR2wyIcMtGf-BotmVMNvOnC51UE5SxVd5ZyM_8QjW1pVUfrGei-XGJIupg7PPf7hgIb1Ws_eeXU5BY3UA9O4WsOcLA/s1600/golden.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhq3cWCI2MkwZkTIeAuGrn1l4KzXiRQ5q9VK5NKTf82C9WlQqcs6odR2wyIcMtGf-BotmVMNvOnC51UE5SxVd5ZyM_8QjW1pVUfrGei-XGJIupg7PPf7hgIb1Ws_eeXU5BY3UA9O4WsOcLA/s320/golden.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
As delighted as I was with the honeycomb, and even though I was relieved to see that potential tot danger alleviated, it was very sad to see them go. After two hours of painstaking work, Shawn held up his little box and said, "Well? Here's your bees, say goodbye."<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCXSl61_q4HgjLEoOL3_GqPKfffBCqvkviiokHSaR-bgZeNktQ8b4PxdrmmvGrLypbnoHq6RK6rIByDyVLkgGYybi9t8HBVM7P7gp1bHc55DCVawIlHMJN-BzPylJnOGf6loe8nddu0D-z/s1600/Here%2527s+your+bees.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCXSl61_q4HgjLEoOL3_GqPKfffBCqvkviiokHSaR-bgZeNktQ8b4PxdrmmvGrLypbnoHq6RK6rIByDyVLkgGYybi9t8HBVM7P7gp1bHc55DCVawIlHMJN-BzPylJnOGf6loe8nddu0D-z/s320/Here%2527s+your+bees.JPG" width="216" /></a></div><br />
<div style="text-align: center;"> I miss them. I just know they would have been wonderful bees.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3Q3b7LLT_EPWSFir4FkB9D3JE9Cuun7RQlJ8TksJJBYSFP42BjRixf7IA1s6I-CsRLieyHCNJ3JR8os4IsZg5811mlncXGX5akot8b0qhxhTrVzxV-0BYi3bRnt5YD_yGNTzvYvBEKosB/s1600/Shawn+at+work.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br />
</a></div>Kathyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08275249302623702166noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3228184153975101639.post-34691498866525563822011-08-25T17:13:00.000-07:002011-08-25T17:14:55.201-07:00ADD Without the H<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9yilrjy1pliZIDBCxDtE6BE0nkbMKE-j0Eit_Oo28dg11zjEiNgzdY8nx3Kjl8V0uaWJ0O1S4iWd6lblYqjJYtaDjf9HsOtM07vnSRKi-J8ppcmamp7_CnT-RXLAwtYSVkfxd8w6YckAR/s1600/tangle.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br />
</a><br />
I seem to have started a hundred projects, then run in circles trying to complete just one. It's the hot, muggy middle of August, yet these days feel anything but lazy!<br />
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A gallon of milk sat too long in the fridge, so I found a recipe for making paneer and spent a few failed tries to achieve a wonderful little cheese!<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQdb1jwr0B6h7o9bS-IP6HlsdyxEvnEm-ZLxhyphenhyphenyEGKonisXwOSeARFwb1ZpaFY6glN17q-DfLuV3xe41wIVSY8sQ9q0YVw6X4rsDq-oYkUl0lCFeKz3AgI5BLiNiNy2HSGwNjBCUq-iKlO/s1600/Paneer.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="252" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQdb1jwr0B6h7o9bS-IP6HlsdyxEvnEm-ZLxhyphenhyphenyEGKonisXwOSeARFwb1ZpaFY6glN17q-DfLuV3xe41wIVSY8sQ9q0YVw6X4rsDq-oYkUl0lCFeKz3AgI5BLiNiNy2HSGwNjBCUq-iKlO/s320/Paneer.JPG" width="320" /></a><br />
<br />
I learned that:<br />
<ol><li>You have to really heat the milk, not just warm it. </li>
<li>It takes some time. </li>
<li>You don't need to add anything except lemon juice. </li>
<li>It is as easy as falling down.</li>
<li> The result is delicious!</li>
<li>You can't really make ricotta from the leftover whey (or at least I couldn't). </li>
</ol>In fact, I don't know what you can do with it: it tasted lousy when used to make rice, and even the dogs turned their noses up at it.<br />
<br />
Next and continuously (but not at the same time nor in the same bowls) was washing and dyeing fleece and fiber for Pluckyfluff's <i>Yarnival</i> event next week in Placerville (<a href="https://docs.google.com/leaf?id=0Bx-_ne0yXcQHZDgxMTg4YjAtMTA3Ny00NzQyLTgwOGUtNGMxMmYwOGMzNDM2&hl=en_US">poster</a> is here), and for other upcoming events in the fall. The Yarnival is on Boeger Winery's grounds, and should be amazing fun, but work for Mikey since he has agreed (I think) to man the booth while I take a workshop on Saturday and Sunday. Do you believe this progression?<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiC3u7j0iK4wcYEMmWKqaFhMyrw_2GlSPxMZeiNHihxmJdjtgGMn17f-caCsaLoA-FqdhKZ9fec_tLgQgO4gHtYDesyy9OTTTasorY-BYYRyI66azy8IrfBWyy9nqBpe3evxLewkVrVXONE/s1600/washing.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="149" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiC3u7j0iK4wcYEMmWKqaFhMyrw_2GlSPxMZeiNHihxmJdjtgGMn17f-caCsaLoA-FqdhKZ9fec_tLgQgO4gHtYDesyy9OTTTasorY-BYYRyI66azy8IrfBWyy9nqBpe3evxLewkVrVXONE/s200/washing.JPG" width="200" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgv1SYUiao1N1EZUgh5x4qTgwoyfKqVIIKGGnwRo_lQFfxiJzeyD8M25goAHvPKahiuXz4gaaZDoL_SR7xrQPGD4QIcQtCKor3RNjP_Zi0258hZK1gOsyxR_ntGC1Aib6DYO45vpDo5yvy9/s1600/dirty+lox.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="149" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgv1SYUiao1N1EZUgh5x4qTgwoyfKqVIIKGGnwRo_lQFfxiJzeyD8M25goAHvPKahiuXz4gaaZDoL_SR7xrQPGD4QIcQtCKor3RNjP_Zi0258hZK1gOsyxR_ntGC1Aib6DYO45vpDo5yvy9/s200/dirty+lox.JPG" width="200" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3rJPZ21IzlGplgOqfIbd9eIkwJCkS-9ttTEV4dJtqi9qTEnYuCMv69ZglHWjCXOuIpL7VxfAqCLAPbqkcaYAXFx5wZ61rCWDLCSJ4hvOaCH_IxGRf4lLjXoHOwLzxYMcILy0xLkn81CCF/s1600/lox+soaking.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="149" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3rJPZ21IzlGplgOqfIbd9eIkwJCkS-9ttTEV4dJtqi9qTEnYuCMv69ZglHWjCXOuIpL7VxfAqCLAPbqkcaYAXFx5wZ61rCWDLCSJ4hvOaCH_IxGRf4lLjXoHOwLzxYMcILy0xLkn81CCF/s200/lox+soaking.JPG" width="200" /></a></div><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Of course, the whole thing was on a much larger scale, involving two washing machines, the entire kitchen in the guest house/studio, and most of the week. But what a lot to show for it!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2wBzJ8TwJd_XAdhqp92mZ4DfdxxM6eWPlOTWyERdCi0m0sAg1h-GIIvpwxKVLTMvLnlY_pS8URJuX3klptmCmwuf6HYnPw0I6MlnfqJ-8dzFE5pS8ztfkJUdYk5aoIBFEgYmic6XyS_IC/s1600/dye+pot.JPG" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="149" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2wBzJ8TwJd_XAdhqp92mZ4DfdxxM6eWPlOTWyERdCi0m0sAg1h-GIIvpwxKVLTMvLnlY_pS8URJuX3klptmCmwuf6HYnPw0I6MlnfqJ-8dzFE5pS8ztfkJUdYk5aoIBFEgYmic6XyS_IC/s200/dye+pot.JPG" width="200" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqNwzJHs-mefig_VxL3LNrQSn4omDu9Iqkw4T3-fs9pNbBXg6NRlG4o8D9i1fStBHV2tFsd5VMJfsT9bPb9ZtBYKv4UYC7I_xSoMiPd5OMm3teUI1-h1zKVpySwz9hANX_w94Ehv_A9QWA/s1600/dyes+in+sun.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="134" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqNwzJHs-mefig_VxL3LNrQSn4omDu9Iqkw4T3-fs9pNbBXg6NRlG4o8D9i1fStBHV2tFsd5VMJfsT9bPb9ZtBYKv4UYC7I_xSoMiPd5OMm3teUI1-h1zKVpySwz9hANX_w94Ehv_A9QWA/s320/dyes+in+sun.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div> Dyes mixed and waiting -- my favorites.<br />
The simmering pot -- great expectations.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfvayeWurV58X5vsA5c_0xgW1GsLoQPFbECQ8GpX7zdlxxc2dseXdUqK_ojElKa66ldIR0xxQ_vZATo6sdRAU2CF1Lk6CeiVGkWYi2yoxdltQWdIb-Hjmw6YTbSul0pXi6m9q1hlXN7Lpe/s1600/dyerack.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfvayeWurV58X5vsA5c_0xgW1GsLoQPFbECQ8GpX7zdlxxc2dseXdUqK_ojElKa66ldIR0xxQ_vZATo6sdRAU2CF1Lk6CeiVGkWYi2yoxdltQWdIb-Hjmw6YTbSul0pXi6m9q1hlXN7Lpe/s200/dyerack.jpeg" width="150" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPfW3ZnPf4T4WbYFqM0RgTrqZApQJjKvYEBGNVRSk_Yf93p-nDCCMDSIFXk0j7YBFiJ0HWkKwaUdI1Nwp9E6qdAHZWTzPphw43lsClS_z7yuL-OiL3BZZudIYo1JtkYOlOuxJY1Bt0Vz9h/s1600/dye+rack.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPfW3ZnPf4T4WbYFqM0RgTrqZApQJjKvYEBGNVRSk_Yf93p-nDCCMDSIFXk0j7YBFiJ0HWkKwaUdI1Nwp9E6qdAHZWTzPphw43lsClS_z7yuL-OiL3BZZudIYo1JtkYOlOuxJY1Bt0Vz9h/s200/dye+rack.jpg" width="125" /></a></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfvayeWurV58X5vsA5c_0xgW1GsLoQPFbECQ8GpX7zdlxxc2dseXdUqK_ojElKa66ldIR0xxQ_vZATo6sdRAU2CF1Lk6CeiVGkWYi2yoxdltQWdIb-Hjmw6YTbSul0pXi6m9q1hlXN7Lpe/s1600/dyerack.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a> The rack rolls inside at night and stays out on the deck during the day. Very convenient.<br />
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtyP6JqOjJIq8-vigi0pwN0x1K_ApMQMmmRRu_5D8RqnIOwxURDMgSZHUgQh1TXnjpxFYgxtOTMyExBS1rh0ih8yKyzp7DJys03JPTabHsjN_ewdlFq10NyrkTdTmqmtg1dabxlBZsiXTB/s1600/dyed+roving.JPG" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="149" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtyP6JqOjJIq8-vigi0pwN0x1K_ApMQMmmRRu_5D8RqnIOwxURDMgSZHUgQh1TXnjpxFYgxtOTMyExBS1rh0ih8yKyzp7DJys03JPTabHsjN_ewdlFq10NyrkTdTmqmtg1dabxlBZsiXTB/s200/dyed+roving.JPG" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Woolllama, mohair and wool and even some ?????</td></tr>
</tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivjo6DHOzcVltiGKc4KBg-Dm0UD2zAJxEhUw99tM_duco2TJhY_MBJEiWcxCLYlnSjSMt_jGyUllPnZp1ssvmbfweccbQ6Z60R6mGvbog-6OGSlp418ELzaVZm2M53XU_TwOAq7JihNaQs/s1600/more+roving.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivjo6DHOzcVltiGKc4KBg-Dm0UD2zAJxEhUw99tM_duco2TJhY_MBJEiWcxCLYlnSjSMt_jGyUllPnZp1ssvmbfweccbQ6Z60R6mGvbog-6OGSlp418ELzaVZm2M53XU_TwOAq7JihNaQs/s200/more+roving.JPG" width="137" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The roving is a riot of color.</td></tr>
</tbody></table><a href="https://docs.google.com/leaf?id=0Bx-_ne0yXcQHZDgxMTg4YjAtMTA3Ny00NzQyLTgwOGUtNGMxMmYwOGMzNDM2&hl=en_US" rel="nofollow" target="_blank"></a>Kathyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08275249302623702166noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3228184153975101639.post-31952458920361030642011-08-17T18:57:00.000-07:002011-08-17T18:57:01.200-07:00Another Peaceful Day<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdxdm8XxGdPJeMc0VunCxmtr2FKZmHSpTnmjOK1SZPzHuhYIsh8nc67UkqdFitucVQqY4S9uqy5_XG3pKTTWP-LTS0Up3481TvG9WDVOIMNEBm4ayAUR3-ow36sIQzMSv05TmylHUMoorf/s1600/peaceful+day.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="216" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdxdm8XxGdPJeMc0VunCxmtr2FKZmHSpTnmjOK1SZPzHuhYIsh8nc67UkqdFitucVQqY4S9uqy5_XG3pKTTWP-LTS0Up3481TvG9WDVOIMNEBm4ayAUR3-ow36sIQzMSv05TmylHUMoorf/s320/peaceful+day.JPG" width="320" /></a></div> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_DrQN-m2iIg89FW1_8aKpjSf-NZtlAg1tZABqMVyN9SwEZXBraPV_9ca2T2vmS5O3WjZm1RFwFFyovHnmrLTIde8zq8AgGuIgZJtRxGAQz46P4V89a3hMgNPh_sINkxMzXcxJ4XUSOF-5/s1600/P1010007.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br />
</a><br />
San Diego has the most amazing weather, and this year has beat all records for mildness. We have yet to experience a "real" summer, and by that I mean days that are scorchers with temps in triple digits and humidity in singles, for days on end. Instead, we have had the cooling marine layer in the morning, followed by sun mid-day, a pleasant sunset, and then cool, foggy nights. Everyone has been sheared for the warm weather, so most of the critters spend the day hanging out in the shade. Here (above) two of the buck goats watch as Rizado reaches for some tempting pecan leaves. Lani has her usual "huh" expression.<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_DrQN-m2iIg89FW1_8aKpjSf-NZtlAg1tZABqMVyN9SwEZXBraPV_9ca2T2vmS5O3WjZm1RFwFFyovHnmrLTIde8zq8AgGuIgZJtRxGAQz46P4V89a3hMgNPh_sINkxMzXcxJ4XUSOF-5/s1600/P1010007.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="208" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_DrQN-m2iIg89FW1_8aKpjSf-NZtlAg1tZABqMVyN9SwEZXBraPV_9ca2T2vmS5O3WjZm1RFwFFyovHnmrLTIde8zq8AgGuIgZJtRxGAQz46P4V89a3hMgNPh_sINkxMzXcxJ4XUSOF-5/s320/P1010007.JPG" width="320" /></a><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsSMorWhYkV93iiSzPquAS68NBlfZG64iMH7YRCvC11HLJeago9ZpdD2D4Cqp33IMIfcN__BEH6BWjXH65n5AA6QeY9wGuHfm1fEbGFzKQyjz4v14y2mpI3sF-stnW6ToNXHX4-BOzyUeW/s1600/P1010009.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="271" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsSMorWhYkV93iiSzPquAS68NBlfZG64iMH7YRCvC11HLJeago9ZpdD2D4Cqp33IMIfcN__BEH6BWjXH65n5AA6QeY9wGuHfm1fEbGFzKQyjz4v14y2mpI3sF-stnW6ToNXHX4-BOzyUeW/s320/P1010009.JPG" width="320" /> </a><br />
Dusty has picked up on the slight commotion and moseys over to see if he can grab the branch. He is taller, and - as expected - managed to connect (below), pulling the branch down so that Rizado can grab a bite, and the goats can hoover-up any stray leaves.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi00o7rMoO3UWJh6WcfWKeSWYdQUnpABZ0uW8h1XSGM83CN3l6siNQ43nDxgH5RFASW4p0b1O60dBGobU14MDRrBtqBZaqRzTOvkk9bL1rkJzi4evN3-YFR8c6C9pFh9CtfbgyAiWM8t_vX/s1600/P1010011.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="260" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi00o7rMoO3UWJh6WcfWKeSWYdQUnpABZ0uW8h1XSGM83CN3l6siNQ43nDxgH5RFASW4p0b1O60dBGobU14MDRrBtqBZaqRzTOvkk9bL1rkJzi4evN3-YFR8c6C9pFh9CtfbgyAiWM8t_vX/s320/P1010011.JPG" width="320" /></a><br />
Eventually the tiniest llama, Lilly, shows up to see if there is any left for her, but too late - Dusty has let go, and everyone else has to wait and wish.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_DrQN-m2iIg89FW1_8aKpjSf-NZtlAg1tZABqMVyN9SwEZXBraPV_9ca2T2vmS5O3WjZm1RFwFFyovHnmrLTIde8zq8AgGuIgZJtRxGAQz46P4V89a3hMgNPh_sINkxMzXcxJ4XUSOF-5/s1600/P1010007.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br />
</a>Kathyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08275249302623702166noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3228184153975101639.post-79693630377175436032011-07-14T13:41:00.000-07:002011-07-24T12:55:16.839-07:00Fresh FleecesWhew!<br />
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Finally finished the two dozen fleeces, updated the spreadsheet, and - I think! - have things back in the trailer in a more-or-less organized fashion. I am washing mohair fleeces to send off to Morro Bay for processing into roving, ditto the black Wensleydale lambs' fleeces. Then there is another box of wool and alpaca to go to Zeilingers for socks, but that is on hold for the moment until they have more room on their waiting list. Last are the black and gray fine wool fleeces (and coordinating llama fleeces), which are waiting for me to decide between roving or socks or ???<br />
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Everything else is on the inventory. Well, except for 10 llama, which I will attack later.Kathyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08275249302623702166noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3228184153975101639.post-9023785214779067372011-07-12T11:34:00.000-07:002011-07-12T11:34:38.996-07:00Sleeping Arrangements<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj19lJtPdTxwr20CmrKhjcKHgmwEBaIDdtPeDAa0IBh0UEb101J8W-aDklnbtW2HPaPpTU3BGA87RoEcO_ZZaEKVYSwLLfWRTg3E1OtendBFBRXn-RjyYY2WvxQoCfyCOq3ZzwnsqzFg7_G/s1600/P1010001.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a>For cats and dogs alike, the most sought-out place to sleep is in our bedroom. When the sheep guardians get the day off, they high-tail it through the doggy door, often causing a dog-jam and blocking each other in the hallway, then race to the doggy bed that graces a corner of our bedroom.<br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj19lJtPdTxwr20CmrKhjcKHgmwEBaIDdtPeDAa0IBh0UEb101J8W-aDklnbtW2HPaPpTU3BGA87RoEcO_ZZaEKVYSwLLfWRTg3E1OtendBFBRXn-RjyYY2WvxQoCfyCOq3ZzwnsqzFg7_G/s1600/P1010001.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj19lJtPdTxwr20CmrKhjcKHgmwEBaIDdtPeDAa0IBh0UEb101J8W-aDklnbtW2HPaPpTU3BGA87RoEcO_ZZaEKVYSwLLfWRTg3E1OtendBFBRXn-RjyYY2WvxQoCfyCOq3ZzwnsqzFg7_G/s320/P1010001.JPG" width="320" /> </a></div><div style="text-align: center;">There is only room for one of the beasts, so the one who comes in second has to content herself with the rug and maybe a corner of the blanket. There they snore the day away until dinner time.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Yollie (the goat guardian) is the bed's occupant at night because a neighbor complained about her howling at coyotes and sirens. So she comes in after dark. Every now and then she gets a little competetion from Sheba (As In Queen Of) the cat.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4z5DUeRrsihaeRLL9gzEVI13DzNKJTqts61smglumDJ1SalTHbIdJ1k3zY00pFdTd140TNoJYaNEjQ27YHmm9MFRrmKpt-Nmif3_OMLypTg-_5IJOY-uubnjCY_v95tf5fBNNZ-6IJ5nb/s1600/P1010002.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="283" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4z5DUeRrsihaeRLL9gzEVI13DzNKJTqts61smglumDJ1SalTHbIdJ1k3zY00pFdTd140TNoJYaNEjQ27YHmm9MFRrmKpt-Nmif3_OMLypTg-_5IJOY-uubnjCY_v95tf5fBNNZ-6IJ5nb/s320/P1010002.JPG" width="320" /> </a></div><div style="text-align: center;">Sheba came to us as a barely domesticated youngster who was never told about boundaries, so she knows virtually none. She got to the bed first, therefore it was hers. </div><div style="text-align: center;"> </div><div style="text-align: center;">Unfortunately, Yollie didn't see it that way:</div><div style="text-align: left;"></div><div style="text-align: center;"> </div><div style="text-align: center;"></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjse0A_ija5ZYDCjDBLK6qtAgFtNEY70_kHhxJ6Qb1dVxhUFPxDjjlnQfR6urUU-fajt0vh3WnEM3HJ3XG87tbew0ac8PEituRc5oKJQfkqZ1Ok6sYmYOc_dgsee1UtSEX4Y2Dte70t39We/s1600/P1010004.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjse0A_ija5ZYDCjDBLK6qtAgFtNEY70_kHhxJ6Qb1dVxhUFPxDjjlnQfR6urUU-fajt0vh3WnEM3HJ3XG87tbew0ac8PEituRc5oKJQfkqZ1Ok6sYmYOc_dgsee1UtSEX4Y2Dte70t39We/s320/P1010004.JPG" width="273" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"> Yollie came in, made her usual circular pass of the cushion, then gently plopped down in her traditional spot. Sheba let out sort of a squished squeak, but didn't move. She just looked at me with that, "So, what do you intend to do about this?" look. When I just went for the camera, she eventually gave up and disgustedly hauled herself out from under the dog.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">For a while her favorite place was outside on a deck chair or inside on a chest:</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJNougc-JfMw5-uuRs_q_5ZM5vyJo0RNRaPYUnGrXe0EOaFfNzDeKEiVk45emshCEvprAvbKrEBhfToT_iwmdTSqp2J-2SibKlpNFtJMbjJVK_CyxMPQmivQIKR3059EZpB3-ZL4O9iqys/s1600/P1010002.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br />
</a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJNougc-JfMw5-uuRs_q_5ZM5vyJo0RNRaPYUnGrXe0EOaFfNzDeKEiVk45emshCEvprAvbKrEBhfToT_iwmdTSqp2J-2SibKlpNFtJMbjJVK_CyxMPQmivQIKR3059EZpB3-ZL4O9iqys/s1600/P1010002.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHedK402kj4HYfjAQ42SaUggsnUl-WB9RJ4YPczlBMzFIsm4CuuRgcE0XbI8J-muKSOpg2Hd3DMIZgEAhSpR1bAMetdXxHfKp2u4vh34QnXzhM8QCI8B5rf639M4PAmnCrOO79EvEXOv6w/s320/P1010005.JPG" width="173" /><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJNougc-JfMw5-uuRs_q_5ZM5vyJo0RNRaPYUnGrXe0EOaFfNzDeKEiVk45emshCEvprAvbKrEBhfToT_iwmdTSqp2J-2SibKlpNFtJMbjJVK_CyxMPQmivQIKR3059EZpB3-ZL4O9iqys/s200/P1010002.JPG" width="157" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">We'll see how long that lasts.</div>Kathyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08275249302623702166noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3228184153975101639.post-75707295461261735582011-07-12T11:02:00.000-07:002011-07-12T11:02:49.849-07:00"Even the least among them..."While I am an abject atheist, sometimes those quotes just pop up in my head. Guess that's what a dozen years of intense Sunday school and bible teaching will do to a person. Anyway, we finally got around to shearing Mouse. Mouse will be a year old in September, but is the mini-est of Pygoras due to being premature.<br />
<br />
I did not want to take the risk of subjecting him to Rodney's abattoir-shearing techniques, so one day when I felt particularly brave, we steeled ourselves for the job.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMQCFF7Xbf_qVl5ORFxrtcLULRr4LqaSQxT5or2f0GbY-svZjNxYGIo1uFhmT8HCdJMfm6hfRY7fEQaEv68HyirP3wNMHag_TwSMfqnI1S7MPF27pGNazY-bGFKLtOZt8vYAJ8u5tD33a1/s1600/P1010004.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMQCFF7Xbf_qVl5ORFxrtcLULRr4LqaSQxT5or2f0GbY-svZjNxYGIo1uFhmT8HCdJMfm6hfRY7fEQaEv68HyirP3wNMHag_TwSMfqnI1S7MPF27pGNazY-bGFKLtOZt8vYAJ8u5tD33a1/s320/P1010004.JPG" width="304" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"> Here he comes!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgniPcSHOUv4-YDEccZ4oHAi6VO8qWsZBVkWe3rtszs5CqYFoECBJShBY4erXjm5bU63uzGlORzWDGCr_os7a9VJi-hMdsFI7d3DiNKx08kf56HE4E0UiUL7pOt6G7IKOKQWA6uYzVStjYz/s1600/P1010005.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="311" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgniPcSHOUv4-YDEccZ4oHAi6VO8qWsZBVkWe3rtszs5CqYFoECBJShBY4erXjm5bU63uzGlORzWDGCr_os7a9VJi-hMdsFI7d3DiNKx08kf56HE4E0UiUL7pOt6G7IKOKQWA6uYzVStjYz/s320/P1010005.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"> We are NOT pleased.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGgn37XxHdWtMdHJfshl5gSlwsN_X0seRth40OCrHyFFmv6cGjo7JTyfL8pDytLU-Dw_Dxai3AorfV0aCg78dZWy8Q1nFUwnHR-c5dE23fpAi6L2R3NsZpK0kRQa1KRsPJ8NwRICVxq-Os/s1600/P1010007.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="263" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGgn37XxHdWtMdHJfshl5gSlwsN_X0seRth40OCrHyFFmv6cGjo7JTyfL8pDytLU-Dw_Dxai3AorfV0aCg78dZWy8Q1nFUwnHR-c5dE23fpAi6L2R3NsZpK0kRQa1KRsPJ8NwRICVxq-Os/s320/P1010007.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">Are we done yet?</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">Sadly, his fleece was so fine that it had already started to felt, but I saved it anyway. Might make a nice felted toy? Maybe next time will be better -- for all of us. </div>Kathyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08275249302623702166noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3228184153975101639.post-87335155570829888522011-07-12T09:50:00.000-07:002011-07-12T09:50:31.616-07:00The Next StepThe last bit on shearing was written in May of this year. It has taken me this long to work up the gizzards to go out and see what sort of sorry mess awaited me in the "wool vault." The "vault" is actually a small, ancient travel trailer with beds modified into wide shelves for fiber storage. Once every few months I seal it up and bomb for bugs, which helps to save the fiber from moths until I can deal with it. When I opened the door, this is the amazing sight that confronted me: <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjd7uYT33XkEeiZlUMGibZvJzaJgHLh6OP5kKpVcgaM1gZD_ZH7EmGIOjP1ilq3kbhSdPfP0W7uMnvT7LenLlK0rrGpaQ4BdNFHxevfzLz0mbmga_QsnCYZoYFG3pwiCZurBPdL37jaHYJq/s1600/P1010001.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjd7uYT33XkEeiZlUMGibZvJzaJgHLh6OP5kKpVcgaM1gZD_ZH7EmGIOjP1ilq3kbhSdPfP0W7uMnvT7LenLlK0rrGpaQ4BdNFHxevfzLz0mbmga_QsnCYZoYFG3pwiCZurBPdL37jaHYJq/s320/P1010001.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwXdpCzoxM6G8nL4S7PwA2WkVwY1TWA0CyAqDy-LJkoHpt7qPqHw-tgORxuM0SBPwXaPVCfHFpeKORmItgTpMKFTfkGnFyVngKulKGQrCpUq9csqrgq6Eztd2rt7i-ZppCTeYaXzpuRlDH/s1600/DSC02573.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwXdpCzoxM6G8nL4S7PwA2WkVwY1TWA0CyAqDy-LJkoHpt7qPqHw-tgORxuM0SBPwXaPVCfHFpeKORmItgTpMKFTfkGnFyVngKulKGQrCpUq9csqrgq6Eztd2rt7i-ZppCTeYaXzpuRlDH/s320/DSC02573.jpg" width="320" /> </a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjn5Kf1kUaDhpuVe7t8VUCI6invN2bpuuXPE0azobSnPyXwRq63F6z4AVZsOQ4H3L7BPVWp9eksRt0ENYM3T_MENy4bh890JFiENOmpHm4rbMO3zlyx0uTUHPYeDXysCJKZhH2CdDIyzBxg/s1600/DSC02577.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjn5Kf1kUaDhpuVe7t8VUCI6invN2bpuuXPE0azobSnPyXwRq63F6z4AVZsOQ4H3L7BPVWp9eksRt0ENYM3T_MENy4bh890JFiENOmpHm4rbMO3zlyx0uTUHPYeDXysCJKZhH2CdDIyzBxg/s320/DSC02577.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>Wool, llama, mohair and alpaca: floor to ceiling, wall to wall. With the help of my ever-faithful companion, partner and spouse, we eventually managed to take everything out and sort the bags into piles on several tarps.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwb9U20rrJpTFexRcsENTrobidjYX7jS07r4Gal4ISoWzFfKP6fSsn47eDp8xNSIKgigXPLLjI44xhyphenhypheny2Q7cR8kD6EZjoDEoWBjsYTxBSK3-0_5Bj0Yi8QNtWwXwLM5g8IC4O157RNxW9M/s1600/P1010004.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwb9U20rrJpTFexRcsENTrobidjYX7jS07r4Gal4ISoWzFfKP6fSsn47eDp8xNSIKgigXPLLjI44xhyphenhypheny2Q7cR8kD6EZjoDEoWBjsYTxBSK3-0_5Bj0Yi8QNtWwXwLM5g8IC4O157RNxW9M/s320/P1010004.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6PoADIttN1FeDOvSjtqa-xTnl2IQbLWhrdHGActRp2fPSUVwk7bIvLz_jfNq3o1zapOBoisUkuv-cu1jDV2ADHQ-QutbQ8TigqaWLFRbQ3e30rE8tYslL2NQscYltploc658ImOt-_Jwm/s1600/P1010005.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="190" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6PoADIttN1FeDOvSjtqa-xTnl2IQbLWhrdHGActRp2fPSUVwk7bIvLz_jfNq3o1zapOBoisUkuv-cu1jDV2ADHQ-QutbQ8TigqaWLFRbQ3e30rE8tYslL2NQscYltploc658ImOt-_Jwm/s320/P1010005.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
The trailer looks beautiful:<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhikqwIozNbQZNpX9-2SDJ48xx2lCUBCuPOgc9m9h10k8xH_bQgFMFc7b5CcEZbkXyqjAhwuIIlHqckxrPYdT2dCUxHbZidfJxAdxtZ02Xm4tjzd5OnQFI-OawA-5iEiFk_OROUOb3IMw-v/s1600/P1010003+09-42-58.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhikqwIozNbQZNpX9-2SDJ48xx2lCUBCuPOgc9m9h10k8xH_bQgFMFc7b5CcEZbkXyqjAhwuIIlHqckxrPYdT2dCUxHbZidfJxAdxtZ02Xm4tjzd5OnQFI-OawA-5iEiFk_OROUOb3IMw-v/s320/P1010003+09-42-58.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
But now comes the hard part: deciding what to DO with all of it and putting the fiber back in!Kathyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08275249302623702166noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3228184153975101639.post-90804963936860621712011-07-12T08:57:00.000-07:002011-07-12T08:57:14.353-07:00ShearingI am writing this in a state of desperate resolve, hoping I can find someone with helpful advice. Even with double margaritas and a soak in the hot tub last night, and Aleve and coffee this morning, my joints are screaming and my back has stiffened like a pole. As many of you may have guessed, we sheared yesterday. And I did not even hold the shears! Here's the situation:<br />
<br />
I used to shear my own flocks, but hubby and I are nearly 70 and, though still active, not in the best shape. So we have had help. After running through a string of semi-qualified, often crazy people (I even tried listing on Craig's List, but that's another whole story! ) we seem to be left with a sorta local guy ... let's call him Rodney... who has been coming down for several decades, when he isn't sick or out of town, or busy or, well, you know. This year I lost half of my goat fleeces because they matted while waiting for him to get things together, and many of the long wools are LOOOOOOONG! Two of the Wensleydale rams had more than 12" of dreadlocks. <br />
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I understand how difficult shearing can be, and take special pains to keep the fleeces clean and the sheep healthy. They are my business, after all. I don't think I am excessively demanding: I don't yelp about a nick here or there, I just get the Blu Coat. Second cuts make me grit my teeth a bit, but I am making myself be quiet because there doesn't seem to be any hope for improvement. I try to explain, year after year. Yesterday Rodney asked (as he chopped up a nice black fine-wool ewe), "Can you use this fleece?" I picked up a handful that he had just sheared, and spread the locks out on my hand, showing him one piece 3" long, and the rest chopped into 1" bits. "Well... not much of it. See?" But there is never any acknowledgment or apology, or effort to improve.<br />
<br />
Although we are available almost all of the time, Rodney will only shear on Saturdays, the one morning when we sell at the market. So we rush home at noon and pen the sheep and goats, then wait - and wait - often two or three hours - for him to show up. Rodney's top speed is about 4 sheep per hour, so you can do the math to see the hours, days, and number of trips required to shear our flock of @ 50 animals. And, because I keep Wensleydales and angora goats, this is a twice-a-year ordeal.<br />
<br />
When Rodney arrives, he is generally exhausted, having sheared already in the morning, and it takes a while to assemble gear, argue about where to shear, find combs and cutters that aren't broken, and clean the crud off his tools and boards. Once set, hubby and I catch and deliver each animal, check for bell collars, etc. If hubby is working, I do it alone. Rodney will wait patiently while some ram or other drags me around the catch pen, but very seldom intervenes, even to the point of opening (or closing!) a gate, unless the request is screamed out in panic. When the shearing is done, I may be able to get him to trim hooves, but often he just "forgets" and releases the animal so we have to either run it down and catch it again, or just leave it 'till next time. We gather fleece and trash and sweep the boards and spray the wounds. Sometimes the bleeding goes on for hours, and many will limp for days after their foot-shearing.<br />
<br />
Yesterday was tough on all of us. After chopping away at two Wensleydale ewe lambs, Rodney ran his finger into the shears. He wanted to keep going, so wrapped it good and on we went. But I swear he was taking revenge on the animals. His board was slick, and angled slightly downhill, but rather than use that to his advantage, he insisted on starting with the animal in front of him, facing down-slope, so that he had to fight it every inch, and everyone eventually ended in the dirt (or weeds). We opened the tarp even bigger, to try to salvage the fleece. One ten-year-old ewe lost about 3" of skin over her jugular, which bled like crazy, but fortunately the vein seemed intact, at least last night. Others had ribs, flanks and bellies opened up. He sheared the ear-tags off my registered ram, and nearly severed his hamstring, and a ram lamb had his ear so badly gashed that I couldn't staunch the bleeding no matter what. His beautiful, white curls (first shearing) were drenched in blood, the board was bloody so that the fleece was acting like a sponge, sopping up the blood. "Hold his head down," Rodney suggested, while he tried to finish the first side. The lamb was very cooperative, but I could see that his ear was filling with blood, which soon spilled over my hands and out onto his neck, again into the fleece. <br />
<br />
We "finished" just before seven, and I gave up on cleaning the goats, who were dragging around huge hunks of shed fleece. It will fall off sooner or later, and at least they are still in one piece! <br />
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So, finally, at the end of this rant, here is my plea:<br />
<br />
Can anyone refer me to a competent and dependable shearer? I have 5 months to find one, because I am not going to call Rodney again. Requirements are rather basic:<br />
1. Show up when you say you will.<br />
2. Separate fleece from critter with minimal damage to fleece and critter.<br />
3. Trim feet and hold for pour-on if necessary.<br />
<br />
We live in north San Diego county, and have a "rustic" guest house if someone needs a place to crash if traveling.<br />
<br />
Thanks for suggestions, or at least for letting me vent.<br />
Thank goodness for summer. Now I just have to get busy skirting and sorting.Kathyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08275249302623702166noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3228184153975101639.post-76269742435763286852011-05-03T09:40:00.000-07:002011-05-03T09:45:35.384-07:00Hayfever HazeWe have been having absolutely beautiful weather here, in sad contrast to the rest of the country that seems to be inundated with floods and tornadoes. Fortunately, we took a spur-of-the-moment trip out to the <a href="http://www.parks.ca.gov/?page_id=638">desert</a> the last week in April, because temps there now are climbing fast. Every year we manage to get out several times, to see the wildflowers or to hike or to soak in the hots prings at Agua Caliente, or just to sit in the quiet and enjoy the sound of rocks baking in the sun.<br />
<br />
This time there had been some recent cold weather on the mountain, and the normally-sad-looking dead pines on the flanks of Palomar were dusted with snow, making them look like something from a fairy tale. <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi98jhwZ7Kbpz5ehRQWfpCBKYVZgNyoHdRPGlTUbqXg_E1Xlka9E_ajpI1dcEqhiKkyNoj-v6-1AzL01o91Fftm6xiGNrQs4vlb2GmZnD6rWYlyN2T7-f2nWoKXyMKnlhLiVY0NmZm2Njt1/s1600/P1010004.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi98jhwZ7Kbpz5ehRQWfpCBKYVZgNyoHdRPGlTUbqXg_E1Xlka9E_ajpI1dcEqhiKkyNoj-v6-1AzL01o91Fftm6xiGNrQs4vlb2GmZnD6rWYlyN2T7-f2nWoKXyMKnlhLiVY0NmZm2Njt1/s320/P1010004.JPG" width="320" /></a> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUsg1Fmkyb86312iW7-mfjqo0h51O7OSF_n-wjCFZrWTJ3EXIpkupo9rHh1sVBfspx-dPUfe7VJmexv6l_WlN5yo5_BxfxcTo7FW7yUQSghhrakVtumwmWzMM4Xc-xQefbiR0SRcsbl2aG/s1600/P1010007.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="149" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUsg1Fmkyb86312iW7-mfjqo0h51O7OSF_n-wjCFZrWTJ3EXIpkupo9rHh1sVBfspx-dPUfe7VJmexv6l_WlN5yo5_BxfxcTo7FW7yUQSghhrakVtumwmWzMM4Xc-xQefbiR0SRcsbl2aG/s200/P1010007.JPG" width="200" /></a><br />
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The flowers in the back country were still out; if you could see this picture a bit better, you'd see the wild lilac still in bloom. Puddles, ponds - even lakes - of tiny yellow flowers were every where.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7tjdHDSTVvH2rQfx6Hb-O-kbLBH-rH8oDCvKHwUy8o15C30Aivq-IfvGjkfNCgmKxeWgi14t8AIn0uRGPC4PfAHa5P8JL_Bu3xU47h6emVVNSVyqOtNLQxqih5XBiZkQQhi06iH1kSxsB/s1600/P1010002.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7tjdHDSTVvH2rQfx6Hb-O-kbLBH-rH8oDCvKHwUy8o15C30Aivq-IfvGjkfNCgmKxeWgi14t8AIn0uRGPC4PfAHa5P8JL_Bu3xU47h6emVVNSVyqOtNLQxqih5XBiZkQQhi06iH1kSxsB/s320/P1010002.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
However, the desert floor had pretty much moved on to an early-summer display of ocotillio and cactus blooms. Nothing much out of the ordinary.<br />
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As luck would have it (?) we chose a weekend when the park was celebrating Archeology Week, and the opening of a new addition to the archeology lab. There was quite a crowd at the museum center, with lectures, displays, and walks geared to the occasion. They also were having a silent auction as a fund raiser. One of the items really caught my eye: a small oil painting that reminded me of the flowers that we had just passed on the way down. And not one, single bid on it! I wrote down $20, and then forgot about it. I knew it would be snapped up by someone in the crowd.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5HH8VhSUY8qk_rHoq4ycgVcO6PPW6XM4OcgTTYSetl60iTbmbGm8PcLeRi99Y8cKeJ8n5DwWh5dPJc3lXYD0VggPrTHoWPSc4RwJXMOtbzIiOFnyeu9SGzyzsUmXM0W8rNx18H0xU4thn/s1600/P1010001.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="158" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5HH8VhSUY8qk_rHoq4ycgVcO6PPW6XM4OcgTTYSetl60iTbmbGm8PcLeRi99Y8cKeJ8n5DwWh5dPJc3lXYD0VggPrTHoWPSc4RwJXMOtbzIiOFnyeu9SGzyzsUmXM0W8rNx18H0xU4thn/s200/P1010001.JPG" width="200" /></a></div>Pretty, Isn't it? The artist was Betty Greer Rikansrud, and she lives in Julian, but no one knew anything else about her. <br />
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We toured the little lab, poked around in the museum, and then went back to our camp to make dinner. No one called about the auction, which closed at 5 PM. Sniff.<br />
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The next morning we poked around a bit more, then took our time and headed home back over the mountain. No snow this time.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgf7zNkCrQiVJC8UA9Vj_fKCnRlx9ePwEnnoILKODaKZM8is-RnqrH7rxEPdhN1phF0UbNMtj89bHzrztSSTYxijIBbbHgUeCSFC0GEMCNkmOvBSaYd69mMbL9PwmrPGTlgf1n-YfQAuozY/s1600/P1010012.JPG" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgf7zNkCrQiVJC8UA9Vj_fKCnRlx9ePwEnnoILKODaKZM8is-RnqrH7rxEPdhN1phF0UbNMtj89bHzrztSSTYxijIBbbHgUeCSFC0GEMCNkmOvBSaYd69mMbL9PwmrPGTlgf1n-YfQAuozY/s320/P1010012.JPG" width="320" /></a><br />
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Heard a covey of quail calling at one of our stops: chi-kee-ta, chi-kee-ta. In just a few minutes they all came tumbling out of the brush, tottering down a big boulder with top-knots wagging.<br />
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The whole trip was less than 24 hours, but it was as restorative as a week's vacation. <br />
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ML was rejuvenated upon our return, and started in painting the water tank and - between coats - tearing apart the old metal truck body.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfZ7dBgOAxJWIBBrAK2VAhy_GMj2PB0q9IsnPqXScUZUtSMVmFZWOLD6_QI2i5-Rh_oJING4cnfkHlirRRtZ04NENGowkQQSk_mXc42I3J46S4Sv8gKWuVZJHm73hMRD0jmzIsN6wR9KNQ/s1600/P1010018.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfZ7dBgOAxJWIBBrAK2VAhy_GMj2PB0q9IsnPqXScUZUtSMVmFZWOLD6_QI2i5-Rh_oJING4cnfkHlirRRtZ04NENGowkQQSk_mXc42I3J46S4Sv8gKWuVZJHm73hMRD0jmzIsN6wR9KNQ/s320/P1010018.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
To celebrate, I made a dutch baby, covered with strawberries (soaked in Grand Marnier) and a ton of mulberries from our heavily laden tree.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2kCTHDTFhGocmhvhurE7ChTp06M9gSzZ32S9_Yk2a948eGOwsM0C8q_FN9til5__PMglY6k5ibKaeZjhz_1wPjKvFOxN-_drTIbzO-t26snOt7XTRNswbtzdF0Wh30Xv5T7VaF1cSmtD5/s1600/P1010017.JPG" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2kCTHDTFhGocmhvhurE7ChTp06M9gSzZ32S9_Yk2a948eGOwsM0C8q_FN9til5__PMglY6k5ibKaeZjhz_1wPjKvFOxN-_drTIbzO-t26snOt7XTRNswbtzdF0Wh30Xv5T7VaF1cSmtD5/s320/P1010017.JPG" width="320" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQ7e-88AWYNc2Kz04OkkJbwk2VeFufxQykt8CV9ROZjAx-OO8iKWWLFTYY_tgy0CKPCLGxeqibNSgg8A-DD4KdUQDYdrA7f2AEKT4RhQBQSINtl-PuL-8NfMWARarbBvQkxVR1-PwiKyWJ/s1600/P1010016.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="148" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQ7e-88AWYNc2Kz04OkkJbwk2VeFufxQykt8CV9ROZjAx-OO8iKWWLFTYY_tgy0CKPCLGxeqibNSgg8A-DD4KdUQDYdrA7f2AEKT4RhQBQSINtl-PuL-8NfMWARarbBvQkxVR1-PwiKyWJ/s200/P1010016.JPG" width="200" /></a><br />
As RR would say, Yummm-O!<br />
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At about noon the next day, I got a call from a docent at the park telling me that I had won the little painting. "When can you come pick it up?" he innocently asked.Kathyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08275249302623702166noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3228184153975101639.post-56411832269339837092011-04-05T09:49:00.000-07:002011-04-05T15:16:27.158-07:00Good things, for a Change<div style="text-align: center;">OK. That helped. Thank you for your patient listening to that last bit of self pity. Now taking a breath, and taking a look at some of spring's encouraging signs.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTLnMxtkE6R8fOQJEZ4yOroXaWXJRd_oUlG3BuGnz0ZzeliON3LMiEze7tZD5aNmvNcEWlMWQ3f5_OK6g7mlp-aw0zo6kx-BMgPUlFpShovSYfswk2AFjgLi7sl3h-g1JnmjN4VnGRRqY6/s1600/P1010005.JPG"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5592124836972123298" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTLnMxtkE6R8fOQJEZ4yOroXaWXJRd_oUlG3BuGnz0ZzeliON3LMiEze7tZD5aNmvNcEWlMWQ3f5_OK6g7mlp-aw0zo6kx-BMgPUlFpShovSYfswk2AFjgLi7sl3h-g1JnmjN4VnGRRqY6/s320/P1010005.JPG" style="cursor: pointer; height: 241px; width: 320px;" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">Lady bugs are back. And, apparently, so are their gentlemen friends.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">After slipping on our "walk-the-plank" bridge arrangement in the garden, and ripping various thigh muscles from their attachments, ML painted and installed this cool little "Monet" bridge for me. I was so inspired and grateful that I started weeding.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirv-eAWSoulYuSFcVEAmIejv9h5ODMG-PoQq-9eLL8Cnymiv5tON3xpV1ep5GFEAzKzSU_ZvYBB8McdS5acsd7ni5-0gEbqOB5QuuGq8Dy24GdFMDPe2tm9Vu_BCCzqycib0ny7a0P9oKB/s1600/P1010002.JPG"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5592124826482666274" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirv-eAWSoulYuSFcVEAmIejv9h5ODMG-PoQq-9eLL8Cnymiv5tON3xpV1ep5GFEAzKzSU_ZvYBB8McdS5acsd7ni5-0gEbqOB5QuuGq8Dy24GdFMDPe2tm9Vu_BCCzqycib0ny7a0P9oKB/s320/P1010002.JPG" style="cursor: pointer; height: 260px; width: 320px;" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">Stopped weeding pretty much after this picture was taken.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">We decorated ML's old scar for the benefit and enjoyment of the doctor and staff at the dermatologists' office. Ml's instructions: "Make it look like Wilson, you know, on <span style="font-style: italic;">Castaway</span>."</div><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiiNZ9zRihzxMTotEwSbP1QguZUgC-mU_8Du8lZYWhlvGB2fMyvPPeVxraenyE7Q5BBKXqZ-HTEXkgCSF5c_k6pjOK8uj16r21g5R-1ByyE4oRT7BsXCF0KOfZkBgGpzmiWxQ_S_reXarD/s1600/P1010007.JPG"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5592124845898326690" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiiNZ9zRihzxMTotEwSbP1QguZUgC-mU_8Du8lZYWhlvGB2fMyvPPeVxraenyE7Q5BBKXqZ-HTEXkgCSF5c_k6pjOK8uj16r21g5R-1ByyE4oRT7BsXCF0KOfZkBgGpzmiWxQ_S_reXarD/s320/P1010007.JPG" style="cursor: pointer; height: 239px; width: 320px;" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">I think the likeness is pretty good.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">It's amazing what you can see when you stop moving for a minute. What's in this picture?</div><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyWJvLSazvPfS0tl3rU_yzR3DHISRBYryTclzQhJpTeUQu6aNZWH73NEfItBjXzuer3nvN5VGlmBWGu0GZRoTE2Q7lpc_jgmdg1hoqxdvUIOt-8E6x8hwZE0rvkfKuJH0jHzsJF-k_oZS2/s1600/P1010008.JPG"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5592124864620699346" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyWJvLSazvPfS0tl3rU_yzR3DHISRBYryTclzQhJpTeUQu6aNZWH73NEfItBjXzuer3nvN5VGlmBWGu0GZRoTE2Q7lpc_jgmdg1hoqxdvUIOt-8E6x8hwZE0rvkfKuJH0jHzsJF-k_oZS2/s320/P1010008.JPG" style="cursor: pointer; height: 239px; width: 320px;" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">Yeah she's there, sunning herself between two logs:</div><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsLRQmdi-e22vPhCPxKdv6mtKtgMW2KmxF-ljcHNLhoNMzh6Q-tBmRT7wFmOn-cdNdk4uOWx5nGWKUKWcp5pXR9m-C9DgFpfIfHPgoYkqoKZvhjjlA28GcVY_TMXjlH3Xh8ZV39r-rEMVf/s1600/P1010010.JPG"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5592124870914185634" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsLRQmdi-e22vPhCPxKdv6mtKtgMW2KmxF-ljcHNLhoNMzh6Q-tBmRT7wFmOn-cdNdk4uOWx5nGWKUKWcp5pXR9m-C9DgFpfIfHPgoYkqoKZvhjjlA28GcVY_TMXjlH3Xh8ZV39r-rEMVf/s320/P1010010.JPG" style="cursor: pointer; height: 239px; width: 320px;" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">Poor, cold toad.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Out with the old, in with the new. When we moved here over twenty years ago, a decrepit old red truck body was part of our storage system. It filled up with junk, as all empty spaces do around here, was basically sealed off and left to the rats and opossums. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhasBgOWh_ekpnUPy5m7Zsa4uWtJ_juS2nSDtrvB3J7WFYHjGKpETlIBz7a5mW5TnXh6EHJnb7xs9MesddBG6DCiaYmE_jfoOBIUoUMun4Yeo86TnvkjsyZUi5EjS8pSkk_Hr2iEVdyXOKA/s1600/P1010012.JPG"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5592125627843176114" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhasBgOWh_ekpnUPy5m7Zsa4uWtJ_juS2nSDtrvB3J7WFYHjGKpETlIBz7a5mW5TnXh6EHJnb7xs9MesddBG6DCiaYmE_jfoOBIUoUMun4Yeo86TnvkjsyZUi5EjS8pSkk_Hr2iEVdyXOKA/s320/P1010012.JPG" style="cursor: pointer; height: 239px; width: 320px;" /></a> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinBaCsIp4RXYQTJDUthggEO3kfC1aKjje-mtQQhhIhvxakjaNx4DV8BJ1060DWMgCZ0-eYG4KyHblc_WbDm3AilstLjg1jBDbiuMSGhcC65GkLU0QLaj9H9lUMmN7la-qRUKV_bGdvYmJs/s1600/P1010014.JPG"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5592125635714403778" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinBaCsIp4RXYQTJDUthggEO3kfC1aKjje-mtQQhhIhvxakjaNx4DV8BJ1060DWMgCZ0-eYG4KyHblc_WbDm3AilstLjg1jBDbiuMSGhcC65GkLU0QLaj9H9lUMmN7la-qRUKV_bGdvYmJs/s320/P1010014.JPG" style="cursor: pointer; height: 308px; width: 320px;" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">In my paranoid old age (and in no small part as a result of our forced week-long evacuation in 2007) I have worried a lot lately about having our water supply interrupted. Justified or not, with 60 dry mouths to feed and water, it looms large in my recurring "What-If " nightmares. So I located a 2,500 gallon storage tank, which we bought and hauled back to the ranch. And - even more amazing, ML managed to empty the "red barn," drag it from its decades-long plot, and move the new tank onto a leveled pad, pretty much single-handed. I tell you, the man is a genius!!</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj53eb0xKj5muPm7t6bWCfFdHw8BgSXkWso09woGp7f7WIua9exBupwGq0n1JPlQ7PKF4zaKrdT8saJdkpcNw0FubdXmwmVtrI10izFYcRqudo-l4odNMZqF1-gq-XL1KW4P1fJk4PlSHD9/s1600/P1010020.JPG"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5592125645375632162" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj53eb0xKj5muPm7t6bWCfFdHw8BgSXkWso09woGp7f7WIua9exBupwGq0n1JPlQ7PKF4zaKrdT8saJdkpcNw0FubdXmwmVtrI10izFYcRqudo-l4odNMZqF1-gq-XL1KW4P1fJk4PlSHD9/s320/P1010020.JPG" style="height: 277px; width: 320px;" /> </a></div><div style="text-align: center;">Some of us were working like dogs during shearing last weekend, but Yollie and her goat, Mouse, were just plain bored. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
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</div>Kathyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08275249302623702166noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3228184153975101639.post-9089331584033634802011-04-04T20:52:00.000-07:002011-04-05T15:11:29.384-07:00Urge, Purge, Dirge, or When to Call the DoctorFirst off, this is crazy. I have lost both parents, a sister, one marriage, and countless other people, things and critters of value. Why - how - can the death of this dog so unhinge me? It has been almost a month since Tank died, yet crying jags continue to ambush like sudden seizures. It's totally crazy.<br />
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</div><div class="MsoNormal">It can come on quite suddenly, maybe when I realize that we are filling just three bowls instead of four, or five. Maybe when I catch site of the shaded empty pen. Maybe when a sudden wind comes rushing from nowhere, roaring like a river through the tall Torrey pine tree near the house, while every other bush and tree on the hill is calm and still.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">We both miss him, Michael perhaps more than I, but we soldier on in our own little capsules of grief and quiet, offering the briefest of hugs coupled with many resigned sighs and consoling phrases. He was miserable. He was very sick. There really was no hope, either way. Even if we had elected chemo and radiation over the surgery, his time was running out. The tumor was huge. He must have had it for a long time and we just didn't know. Or it was very aggressive. Or maybe both. At least when one dies on the operating table in an attempt to remove an enormous fibrosarcoma that was literally squeezing the life and breath from him, the survivors are saved from having to play the coulda, woulda, shoulda game. Kindly old Karabey died almost two years ago, and made it until five, despite multiple disabilities. But Tank, dead at three years? It shoulda been different.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">It has long been my theory that the loss of pets helps to prepare children for losing loved ones later in life. We start out with a pale goldfish belly-up in a murky bowl of water, or a turtle that escaped and was later found, dessicated shell like a poker chip, under the couch. We all had legions of little wounded birds resting in shoe boxes full of tissue, which later become convenient coffins. And all of this should be bringing us to the stage where we, as adults, learn to recognize and accept the impermanence of life. But I am not finding it so. In fact, each death now seems cumulative, shock based on a Richter-scale-like rating system, each one ten times worse than the previous.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Apparently now there is research that shows people who have been dumped in a relationship, and are said to be "suffering from a broken heart," actually do feel real, physical pain. It's a fist in the gut, labored breathing, and - quite literally - a sore heart. In <span class="yshortcuts" id="lw_1301977889_1">ancient Greece, around</span> in 300 BC, Menander wrote: "<span class="yshortcuts" id="lw_1301977889_2">Time is the healer</span> of all necessary evils." This has been thoughtfully appended by J. Worth Kilcrease<i> , </i>when he wrote, <i>"Time</i> doesn't heal, it's what you DO with the <i>time</i> that heals."</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">So we continue running the ranch, mowing, chopping thistles, installing an emergency water tank, feeding, shearing, and loving those that are left just as much as we can. They say you stop crying when you run out of tears. But I swear, when that strange wind starts tearing at the top of the pine tree, and it sounds like big Kangals running through tall grass, I would surely join them if there were any way at all.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFodvqUe3CRMJBsSMgICZaMqgbrU_sUGseCuKhWCiaBHeIapyUa8xuvxCERrOMjHkNEYI1jBB7MroEeca5vHCV_7pRIRYyFQfJDQljr2FNsAo-fT0pTzXNVFKYPYISPOVy1DMxykOtwYaz/s1600/P1010017.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6o7Dzao9mrVu-1_zCULfmYuvNde9mCc9dMqLaE_i6JFFgSYM7Mnziu3K1tAJiiL5XjenJre4-X10ViX88Dl7sODpBlylQsWXvMIbNx7b_iHTr_kDM6UlsL5sMvI2pGEpOxBufAs-XY-x_/s1600/DSC00199_1.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6o7Dzao9mrVu-1_zCULfmYuvNde9mCc9dMqLaE_i6JFFgSYM7Mnziu3K1tAJiiL5XjenJre4-X10ViX88Dl7sODpBlylQsWXvMIbNx7b_iHTr_kDM6UlsL5sMvI2pGEpOxBufAs-XY-x_/s200/DSC00199_1.JPG" width="200" /></a><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFmoDj7fikvFJFriQ2lGTGaTrZYUzU91X8N53o860vzLPxqEJgaYf9vCG5BhT80IV0SjAPO3Y2GUhx1W4RoFM0nlJZHvxPTeoKeg1XXqZJD9OIF76i28LDRu1aV_g0ojs1yPZOgkXj4LZ0/s1600/DSC00254.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFmoDj7fikvFJFriQ2lGTGaTrZYUzU91X8N53o860vzLPxqEJgaYf9vCG5BhT80IV0SjAPO3Y2GUhx1W4RoFM0nlJZHvxPTeoKeg1XXqZJD9OIF76i28LDRu1aV_g0ojs1yPZOgkXj4LZ0/s200/DSC00254.JPG" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Tank was the firstborn of seven puppies, and earned his name by his physique.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTRQ0cckcXKE243Ax3os-q4nfpkggPjTgw6Mz1EIz9rAQmzEXszHk3tH_9jcb-pnb7iQco8kwbc9YYsiJ2kFkA31l1mAYF-hBWVjWOcohkolcnMhPfycDQGEtYvntH8rm3G3TmIIHhY0sn/s1600/P1010046.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="149" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTRQ0cckcXKE243Ax3os-q4nfpkggPjTgw6Mz1EIz9rAQmzEXszHk3tH_9jcb-pnb7iQco8kwbc9YYsiJ2kFkA31l1mAYF-hBWVjWOcohkolcnMhPfycDQGEtYvntH8rm3G3TmIIHhY0sn/s200/P1010046.JPG" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Here, Tank (left) keeps a watchful eye on the goats.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikHsxvnvLleFDs7fK842D2Sr5guVZHRTKblBj606ysLz5DEvGJ-F6ouX1RBhkJ1014rqiRylHIC9PR-QFJe0u6uSuEyF9Lcz9uqCnZi8yziw0egngm5fHphDDT1IJ82385kqfb98L01MKW/s1600/P1010218.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="124" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikHsxvnvLleFDs7fK842D2Sr5guVZHRTKblBj606ysLz5DEvGJ-F6ouX1RBhkJ1014rqiRylHIC9PR-QFJe0u6uSuEyF9Lcz9uqCnZi8yziw0egngm5fHphDDT1IJ82385kqfb98L01MKW/s200/P1010218.JPG" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Tank checks out Mouse, a tiny, preemie Pygora.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFodvqUe3CRMJBsSMgICZaMqgbrU_sUGseCuKhWCiaBHeIapyUa8xuvxCERrOMjHkNEYI1jBB7MroEeca5vHCV_7pRIRYyFQfJDQljr2FNsAo-fT0pTzXNVFKYPYISPOVy1DMxykOtwYaz/s1600/P1010017.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="160" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFodvqUe3CRMJBsSMgICZaMqgbrU_sUGseCuKhWCiaBHeIapyUa8xuvxCERrOMjHkNEYI1jBB7MroEeca5vHCV_7pRIRYyFQfJDQljr2FNsAo-fT0pTzXNVFKYPYISPOVy1DMxykOtwYaz/s200/P1010017.JPG" width="200" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqq6lRKjpCVxGAdRu9gh8MLM9zWAq6nAOhuXEWdgoon-_GnWdkgdTz0raBgsQYRkLHVLJI7pVgMCAyDK_EilvqF0xmrsbS1JzzoiY5eW6QauwW3iijZRa2nA7W3ucbp3_xSKdYdKAfNYzs/s1600/DSC00688.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqq6lRKjpCVxGAdRu9gh8MLM9zWAq6nAOhuXEWdgoon-_GnWdkgdTz0raBgsQYRkLHVLJI7pVgMCAyDK_EilvqF0xmrsbS1JzzoiY5eW6QauwW3iijZRa2nA7W3ucbp3_xSKdYdKAfNYzs/s200/DSC00688.jpg" width="150" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Tank was Michael's dog. Period.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPU7Xz7GkbJ0OJhFgP3MR1urGrKn2R6tkVnIP0JqdUw9X_wvg5E3aLqITD_-f5hbg7rQ9QBSDBCXC1s7wdC91ITRw0wSeUChdEoKl_0DOJw9VEsTpiXcwmJw9bNGcJcj9vCFnr7qhT5LD-/s1600/P1010043.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="146" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPU7Xz7GkbJ0OJhFgP3MR1urGrKn2R6tkVnIP0JqdUw9X_wvg5E3aLqITD_-f5hbg7rQ9QBSDBCXC1s7wdC91ITRw0wSeUChdEoKl_0DOJw9VEsTpiXcwmJw9bNGcJcj9vCFnr7qhT5LD-/s200/P1010043.JPG" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Tank (center) and the girls rough-housing. Zerrin, his mother (right) avoids a fatal nip by leaping into the air. Notice his two-curl tail.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjib839EoJXmn4UdXziLNzuKa3rN6K2TU3_ti8mX3HwoQGBFskhjCCqP9Nllycl38A6ym46_X9ymEDa6kEo6nicPXNpzdNOpEoov1gGwsxux3FcJV8XL_sxnmUqbmLAfUl1G_PgbsRy_1RS/s1600/DSC02487.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjib839EoJXmn4UdXziLNzuKa3rN6K2TU3_ti8mX3HwoQGBFskhjCCqP9Nllycl38A6ym46_X9ymEDa6kEo6nicPXNpzdNOpEoov1gGwsxux3FcJV8XL_sxnmUqbmLAfUl1G_PgbsRy_1RS/s200/DSC02487.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The end</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="MsoNormal"></div>Kathyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08275249302623702166noreply@blogger.com2