Blogathon
But for now, two of my very dear friends (both of whom just happen to be biker-chick/authors) continue to blog through the night until 8 AM Central time.
Linda's primary theme at Raven's Roads consists of places she's been, or wants to visit. To fill in the gaps, she's written some pretty interesting "7 Things..." blurbs. Aside from the blogathon, she's currently focusing on travel and history, but she's also written a fantasy novel. Her charity is Christian Children's Fund. And RIGHT NOW she's hosting the following contest:
[the prizes]
A Matchbox HeroCity playset–a garage with a little dump truck.
A Fisher-Price bathtime book. It is vinyl and made for little kids to take into the tub.
Here’s what you have to to win them. (Two prizes.)
Blog about this site one more time (or for the first time.)
Tell people about the contest.
Come back here and post the link to the plug.
Say why you think one of these two prizes would be great and, if you want, who’s getting the prize.
Phelan at Homesteading Neophyte is focusing on food and blogging for Farm Aid. In her efforts to be published, she's written horror, dark fantasy, and poetry.
Both of them have some pretty cool contests going; some are for sponsorships, others for contest entries. Linda has a copy of her book "A Little Twist of Texas" and Phelan has Willie shwag (yes, THAT Willie).
You don't need to tell them I sent you (there's no contest for referrals, as far as I know), but do introduce yourself. They're exceptionally cool women.
Sunday, July 29, 2007
Wednesday, June 13, 2007
Not much excitement, more than a little discouraged
We’ve plans to buy a pen for the grazers so what little grass we have has a chance to grow. Unfortunately, that's looking at about $1000 for a 60' round. Paying $130 for a round bale of hay (which lasts just less than a month) is getting old, and is seriously thwarting our ability to pay down our credit card debt. DH wants to hire someone to mulch our cedar piles, but I want to postpone it until we can pay off another card and/or do a transfer of our high-interest one.
We aren’t getting much out of our chickens, enough for us to eat, and a few dozen to sell each week, but not enough to cover the feed we buy (layer pellets, corn, and oats). Maybe we’ll back off on the grains, now that there’s more insect life for them to find. Must consult my experts [Phelan]. There’s one hen who’s been rejected by the flock, so we protect her at night in the old rabbit hutch. I think we’ve pretty much missed the window on expanding the flock, as we still don’t have a safe place for any chicks—a new coop, with a hover, is yet another project we don’t have the money (or time) to build.
We’ve also missed out on our spring garden, so we’ll have to see what we can do in the fall (a.k.a. growing season #2 in TX). All we have now is the oregano that survivied the icing we got back in January, and of course the rosemary, which will probably survive fallout from any nuke attack on Austin.
Dang, but it is hard to make this place a working farm that will qualify us for agricultural status, and the following property tax break. It seems like we need to win a big enough lottery to hire full-time people.
We aren’t getting much out of our chickens, enough for us to eat, and a few dozen to sell each week, but not enough to cover the feed we buy (layer pellets, corn, and oats). Maybe we’ll back off on the grains, now that there’s more insect life for them to find. Must consult my experts [Phelan]. There’s one hen who’s been rejected by the flock, so we protect her at night in the old rabbit hutch. I think we’ve pretty much missed the window on expanding the flock, as we still don’t have a safe place for any chicks—a new coop, with a hover, is yet another project we don’t have the money (or time) to build.
We’ve also missed out on our spring garden, so we’ll have to see what we can do in the fall (a.k.a. growing season #2 in TX). All we have now is the oregano that survivied the icing we got back in January, and of course the rosemary, which will probably survive fallout from any nuke attack on Austin.
Dang, but it is hard to make this place a working farm that will qualify us for agricultural status, and the following property tax break. It seems like we need to win a big enough lottery to hire full-time people.
Wednesday, June 06, 2007
In Memoriam, Persephone 1994-2007
I suppose I’ve been off-planet long enough; here’s my attempt to make sense of the last few weeks...
My Dearest Beloved Grrl
died in my arms on 5/15, 13 days shy of her 13th birthday. The story of how I found her, and her last hours, aren’t pretty. I’ve told a few people, but I don’t think there’s anyone who wants to see it in “print.”
Deep down, I’d known that she’d been making the transition, but her journey to the Summerlands (where there are no fleas, fireworks, or thunderstorms, yet chaseable bunnies and fresh deer legs are plentiful) still hit me hard. I also know that I could have easily lost her to breast cancer in 2001, so these past 6 years have, technically, been bonus time. I wish they’d been better for her. Let me explain...
When I first took Persephone home, we (the ex-sociopath and I) had no fencing at our rental. At first, our restraint system was chains. We tried an electric fence (with the zap collars), but she broke “through” it more times than my sanity could handle. So, we contrived an overhead run which gave her some room to, well, run. The relationship fell through, and I made my way out here, with herself riding shotgun (I’d made a nest on the floor, but she insisted on watching the road). Our first week here, I boarded her at a vet’s; when I’d found an affordable apartment, the best yard I could offer her was a 12’x6’ patio. At least she was off the tether, and we walked the neighborhood every weekday, and one park or another on the weekends. We saw our first fireflies together on the Town Lake trails.
The next few residences had adequate backyards--one with grass and another dog to play with, another with wild onions in lieu of a lawn, another that was rocky, but on a hill (excellent for surveillance, or so she told me), and the one before our current residence (Browncoat Acres), which had grass and a concrete slab to dig under--in theory, anyway. Hopefully, I have made the point that I was almost never happy with her living arrangements. I wanted her to be unfettered, to have shade and sun and grass at will, and to have space in which to gallop, like she used to do on the beach in her puppyhood. Can’t go back again, indeed.
We moved into this house over the 4th of July weekend in 2003. I remember being adamant that she be out of Austin and away from Nemesis#2. Finally, I’d found her a home where she was free to explore off-leash, switch locations at will, and make her own favorite spots. Within a few years, however, she became incontinent, and we weren’t able to treat it adequately. Her favorite spot was on the front porch, in front of the door ("take a hint, Mom"), so she was eventually confined to a run (cobbled together from cattle panels) in the backyard, which essentially put her back to where we’d started. The difference this time was in my ability to exercise her--I was pregnant with my son. At one point, I was nearly put on bed rest, and soon after that I was big enough to be uncomfortable exerting myself in the summer heat--two of our chickens exist purely because I didn’t set foot in the backyard to collect eggs for the 3 weeks prior to giving birth.
Could I make this story longer? I know I can’t justify or excuse the attentional neglect. I feel horrible for allowing myself to be coerced into banishing her from our home--I wanted her inside more often, I wanted her to be more comfortable in her later years, and I didn’t make it happen. I know (in my head) that I should focus on all the wonderful times we’ve had over the years and quit wasting energy on guilt-tripping.
Persephone had a wonderful smile.
She was beautiful.
She’d throw herself *wham* onto her back for a belly rub.
She’d also stick her butt up in the air to have it spanked--I swear she did not learn that from me.
I could feed her biscuits from my mouth.
She loved children, especially those with special needs.
She was so hurt when DH took her baby rabbit away.
Watching her take off down the beach, ears back, paws churning, made my heart sing.
She hated to swim, but did it for me anyway (what trust! what love!).
She was my best friend for nearly 13 years--that is the longest non-blood-family relationship I’ve had.
She loved to go camping; if it rained, I’d bring her into the tent with me.
She bore our rings at our handfasting.
She tolerated Anthony’s attempts at petting with grace.
She held her own when Boudreaux was in the mood to wrestle.
She behaved well in Circle.
She was the first of our animals to greet Anthony when we brought him home.
She’d howl at fire engine sirens, and at me if I sang “Blue” to her.
Of course she had a middle name: Ann.
She was always, always happy, nay, thrilled to see me.
I miss:
our walks down to the gate to get the mail
sleeping back-to-back with her
her kisses
the wag of her tail
her prance and bounce as I’d come near
her howl, and her “roo-roo-roo”
her sweet face
her deep brown eyes
playing tag, spins and play-bows included
the churn of her leg (sometimes two) as I scratched her belly
her, just her.
As far as the practical aftermath goes, her body is currently in our upright freezer (yes, it is almost impossible for me to go in there ). Neighbors run a business for which they own a backhoe; they will be coming over in the next few weeks to dig her grave (next to Kimmy’s), and I think DH will be building her coffin (if not, I have some phone calls to make). I’m considering a simple funeral, but I’m not sure what form it would take. I can’t find my copy of “I’ll Always Love You,” and it’s bothering me.
So, while I haven’t been dwelling specifically on losing Persephone, I’ve been in a self-absorbed funk. I’ve been reading, but not writing; the writing has got to get underway soon, or I will lose the best parts of my reviews to brainfade.
[crossposted to my lj account, and to Momma Writes About Books]
My Dearest Beloved Grrl
died in my arms on 5/15, 13 days shy of her 13th birthday. The story of how I found her, and her last hours, aren’t pretty. I’ve told a few people, but I don’t think there’s anyone who wants to see it in “print.”
Deep down, I’d known that she’d been making the transition, but her journey to the Summerlands (where there are no fleas, fireworks, or thunderstorms, yet chaseable bunnies and fresh deer legs are plentiful) still hit me hard. I also know that I could have easily lost her to breast cancer in 2001, so these past 6 years have, technically, been bonus time. I wish they’d been better for her. Let me explain...
When I first took Persephone home, we (the ex-sociopath and I) had no fencing at our rental. At first, our restraint system was chains. We tried an electric fence (with the zap collars), but she broke “through” it more times than my sanity could handle. So, we contrived an overhead run which gave her some room to, well, run. The relationship fell through, and I made my way out here, with herself riding shotgun (I’d made a nest on the floor, but she insisted on watching the road). Our first week here, I boarded her at a vet’s; when I’d found an affordable apartment, the best yard I could offer her was a 12’x6’ patio. At least she was off the tether, and we walked the neighborhood every weekday, and one park or another on the weekends. We saw our first fireflies together on the Town Lake trails.
The next few residences had adequate backyards--one with grass and another dog to play with, another with wild onions in lieu of a lawn, another that was rocky, but on a hill (excellent for surveillance, or so she told me), and the one before our current residence (Browncoat Acres), which had grass and a concrete slab to dig under--in theory, anyway. Hopefully, I have made the point that I was almost never happy with her living arrangements. I wanted her to be unfettered, to have shade and sun and grass at will, and to have space in which to gallop, like she used to do on the beach in her puppyhood. Can’t go back again, indeed.
We moved into this house over the 4th of July weekend in 2003. I remember being adamant that she be out of Austin and away from Nemesis#2. Finally, I’d found her a home where she was free to explore off-leash, switch locations at will, and make her own favorite spots. Within a few years, however, she became incontinent, and we weren’t able to treat it adequately. Her favorite spot was on the front porch, in front of the door ("take a hint, Mom"), so she was eventually confined to a run (cobbled together from cattle panels) in the backyard, which essentially put her back to where we’d started. The difference this time was in my ability to exercise her--I was pregnant with my son. At one point, I was nearly put on bed rest, and soon after that I was big enough to be uncomfortable exerting myself in the summer heat--two of our chickens exist purely because I didn’t set foot in the backyard to collect eggs for the 3 weeks prior to giving birth.
Could I make this story longer? I know I can’t justify or excuse the attentional neglect. I feel horrible for allowing myself to be coerced into banishing her from our home--I wanted her inside more often, I wanted her to be more comfortable in her later years, and I didn’t make it happen. I know (in my head) that I should focus on all the wonderful times we’ve had over the years and quit wasting energy on guilt-tripping.
Persephone had a wonderful smile.
She was beautiful.
She’d throw herself *wham* onto her back for a belly rub.
She’d also stick her butt up in the air to have it spanked--I swear she did not learn that from me.
I could feed her biscuits from my mouth.
She loved children, especially those with special needs.
She was so hurt when DH took her baby rabbit away.
Watching her take off down the beach, ears back, paws churning, made my heart sing.
She hated to swim, but did it for me anyway (what trust! what love!).
She was my best friend for nearly 13 years--that is the longest non-blood-family relationship I’ve had.
She loved to go camping; if it rained, I’d bring her into the tent with me.
She bore our rings at our handfasting.
She tolerated Anthony’s attempts at petting with grace.
She held her own when Boudreaux was in the mood to wrestle.
She behaved well in Circle.
She was the first of our animals to greet Anthony when we brought him home.
She’d howl at fire engine sirens, and at me if I sang “Blue” to her.
Of course she had a middle name: Ann.
She was always, always happy, nay, thrilled to see me.
I miss:
our walks down to the gate to get the mail
sleeping back-to-back with her
her kisses
the wag of her tail
her prance and bounce as I’d come near
her howl, and her “roo-roo-roo”
her sweet face
her deep brown eyes
playing tag, spins and play-bows included
the churn of her leg (sometimes two) as I scratched her belly
her, just her.
As far as the practical aftermath goes, her body is currently in our upright freezer (yes, it is almost impossible for me to go in there ). Neighbors run a business for which they own a backhoe; they will be coming over in the next few weeks to dig her grave (next to Kimmy’s), and I think DH will be building her coffin (if not, I have some phone calls to make). I’m considering a simple funeral, but I’m not sure what form it would take. I can’t find my copy of “I’ll Always Love You,” and it’s bothering me.
So, while I haven’t been dwelling specifically on losing Persephone, I’ve been in a self-absorbed funk. I’ve been reading, but not writing; the writing has got to get underway soon, or I will lose the best parts of my reviews to brainfade.
[crossposted to my lj account, and to Momma Writes About Books]
Wednesday, May 02, 2007
Found out tonight what a wall cloud looks like
One went right over our house around 8. When I saw the little bit of rotation, I told it to "just keep moving, nothing here to see." Considering emailing the info to the local weather station. Of course, it was too dark to get any decent pictures.
DH was on his way home (he drove into the storm), and he was able to watch tendrils of the cloud come down. I imagine he made pretty good time once he saw the potential for worry.
We're all fine, didn't even get that much rain (.8").
Hope all my Texan peeps are safe and well.
DH was on his way home (he drove into the storm), and he was able to watch tendrils of the cloud come down. I imagine he made pretty good time once he saw the potential for worry.
We're all fine, didn't even get that much rain (.8").
Hope all my Texan peeps are safe and well.
Monday, April 16, 2007
For Phelan's Readers
I'm deeply sorry that I didn't get a chance to be on my computer long enough to tell you of our weekend.
I spent most of Saturday cleaning house (inside and out); P&D rolled in just as it was getting dark. We sped off with them to the New Orleans-style restaurant while their kitchen was still open. Dinner was delicious, but since Anthony hadn't napped that afternoon, we had to do a lot of juggling and appeasing.
When we got back, we put them to bed asap, as they'd had only 3 hours of sleep since Kansas. P and I woke up before the men got going, and by the time DH had made breakfast (while Dan installed their trailer lights) , it was an hour away from their departure time.
We had several delays, some due to the animals, others to trip logistics. They left here around 2:30. I will let Phelan tell you all about what they've brought back to KS.
[I'll update this after she's published her story--it's going to be a doozy]
I spent most of Saturday cleaning house (inside and out); P&D rolled in just as it was getting dark. We sped off with them to the New Orleans-style restaurant while their kitchen was still open. Dinner was delicious, but since Anthony hadn't napped that afternoon, we had to do a lot of juggling and appeasing.
When we got back, we put them to bed asap, as they'd had only 3 hours of sleep since Kansas. P and I woke up before the men got going, and by the time DH had made breakfast (while Dan installed their trailer lights) , it was an hour away from their departure time.
We had several delays, some due to the animals, others to trip logistics. They left here around 2:30. I will let Phelan tell you all about what they've brought back to KS.
[I'll update this after she's published her story--it's going to be a doozy]
Thursday, April 12, 2007
Quick donkey update
Sombrea's all current with her vaccinations (rabies, west nile, flu) and the vet got the blood draw for the Coggins test. Would you believe she was the perfect little angel? Stood still for all the poking, didn't drag me all around the pen, no one got kicked. Yes, she's still holding a grudge against Steve, and he graciously bowed out of sight while I handled her.
There's hope for her yet.
We'll pick up her traveling papers on Friday, and have it all foldered up for Phelan and Dan to take with them.
Oh, and she is carrying "a little someone." The vet was able to nudge her side enough for the jack or jenny to nudge back. So, watch the skies for a really big stork to show up as early as late July.
There's hope for her yet.
We'll pick up her traveling papers on Friday, and have it all foldered up for Phelan and Dan to take with them.
Oh, and she is carrying "a little someone." The vet was able to nudge her side enough for the jack or jenny to nudge back. So, watch the skies for a really big stork to show up as early as late July.
Saturday, March 31, 2007
Looking After a Donkey, by Dorothy Morris
We didn't have much time to prepare for our donkeys; we'd been losing the sheep to predators, and had mentioned needing some sort of guard animal to keep our herd safe. My MIL took this on as a mission (this was one of her more rational ones), and found us not one, but two. DH knew he wouldn't have the time to spend with them (training or standard status checks), and I have little to no equine experience (early readers may remember the one about Hercules the Thumb-Bandit). If we'd had a chance to wait, and to prepare better, I might have chosen another title.
Anyway, I was a good little consumer and dutifully kneeled at the altar (my laptop) to beseech the dieties (at Amazon) for words of salvation (this book). I read this out of necessity (I desperately needed to know how to cope with our donkeys) about a month ago. I found it to be moderately helpful. It was published about 20 years ago, and it is U.K.-centric, so the donkey organization information is only relevant in the sense that I can now go find their website in hope of more detailed health and care information. Some of the advice given assumes that the reader has some (what I would consider advanced-intermediate) knowledge on how to handle equines. Morrison tries to cover everything in 140+ pages, and I'm sure there's so much more that the new owner needs to know. A good third of the book is devoted to breeding and foaling, which to me seems heavy, but I realize that the author is writing from that standpoint and has good advice in those aspects. So, I’ll be searching for another book, and I’ll be begging for handling lessons from my neighbor or one of DH’s college buddies.
Anyway, I was a good little consumer and dutifully kneeled at the altar (my laptop) to beseech the dieties (at Amazon) for words of salvation (this book). I read this out of necessity (I desperately needed to know how to cope with our donkeys) about a month ago. I found it to be moderately helpful. It was published about 20 years ago, and it is U.K.-centric, so the donkey organization information is only relevant in the sense that I can now go find their website in hope of more detailed health and care information. Some of the advice given assumes that the reader has some (what I would consider advanced-intermediate) knowledge on how to handle equines. Morrison tries to cover everything in 140+ pages, and I'm sure there's so much more that the new owner needs to know. A good third of the book is devoted to breeding and foaling, which to me seems heavy, but I realize that the author is writing from that standpoint and has good advice in those aspects. So, I’ll be searching for another book, and I’ll be begging for handling lessons from my neighbor or one of DH’s college buddies.
Wednesday, March 28, 2007
I did it
I have 10+ pages of handwritten material for my DayDiary submission. I can't publish any of it until after the book comes out, and then only 500 words worth (assuming that any of it makes the cut). I will check in later to write about the writing, the day, and how I'm getting by with no sleep. That kid had better take a nap today so help me...
I told Steve last night that I might could be book-published next year. He was surpised and happy. I haven't slept since 6:57 yesterday morning. I have to walk away from the writing so I can breathe and figure out how to clean it up for submission. I have a lot of chronicle and only a little depth and humor. Did not get to bake bread last night, so must go fix big salad and coffee for husband, hope it gets him through the day.
I told Steve last night that I might could be book-published next year. He was surpised and happy. I haven't slept since 6:57 yesterday morning. I have to walk away from the writing so I can breathe and figure out how to clean it up for submission. I have a lot of chronicle and only a little depth and humor. Did not get to bake bread last night, so must go fix big salad and coffee for husband, hope it gets him through the day.
Monday, March 26, 2007
These donkeys just won't quit picking on the chickens
We have a chicken (one of the Barred Rocks) who isn't getting along too well--she doesn't seem sick, but she's got a hitch in her get-along, and it's freaking the others out enough that they've pecked away nearly half her comb. So, we put her in the semi-obvious place: the old rabbit hutch GranR had given us. Not 3 hours later, I looked out the sliding glass door into the backyard and found that the hutch had rotated 90 degrees. The theory is that the donkeys shoved it around in order to eat the grain I'd put in there. When DH gets a chance, he will move the hutch into Boudeaux's pen (I'll try to help, but I'm not the buff 19 I used to be).
Yesterday, while my husband was out checking the viability of said hutch move, he discovered a huge stash of eggs under one of our brush piles. Since we've no way of knowing how long they've been there, we can't sell them. And, color me wimpy, but I'm not brave enough to try using them ourselves. We've tried candling before, and we aren't very good at it (we lost 2 chicks that way). So, since we have a chicken that was isolated anyway (and I'll assume she has nothing better to do), I built a nest with shredded newspaper (hay is $8.50 a bale here, and too expensive to use for nesting), and moved the eggs in. There's 26, and I don't think she'll be able to hatch all of them, but we'll give it a try.
The lesson here is that I need to get out more, and scope out chicken-friendly egg-hiding places so this doesn't happen again.
Yesterday, while my husband was out checking the viability of said hutch move, he discovered a huge stash of eggs under one of our brush piles. Since we've no way of knowing how long they've been there, we can't sell them. And, color me wimpy, but I'm not brave enough to try using them ourselves. We've tried candling before, and we aren't very good at it (we lost 2 chicks that way). So, since we have a chicken that was isolated anyway (and I'll assume she has nothing better to do), I built a nest with shredded newspaper (hay is $8.50 a bale here, and too expensive to use for nesting), and moved the eggs in. There's 26, and I don't think she'll be able to hatch all of them, but we'll give it a try.
The lesson here is that I need to get out more, and scope out chicken-friendly egg-hiding places so this doesn't happen again.
Monday, March 19, 2007
DestructoDonkey
A few weeks back, the donkeys busted through one side of the chicken yard. Steve hasn't been able to make the time to nail a new board up, so we've lived with the chickens being able to let themselves out in the morning. What we didn't realize was that Serenity is able to crawl under the wire and help herself to the corn and oats that I throw out for scratch. After a few incidences of chasing her out of the yard, we've decided that we'll just have to confine all chicken feed to the inside of their coop until we can design and build the new setup (one with real roosts, storage for food, nests, and a hover for chicks). We're getting some good ideas from How to Build Animal Housing by Carol Ekarius. If we go with a full-fledged coop, we will probably make it part of the barn/complex that is part of the Grand Plan.
We wanted chicks last spring, but I wasn't able to get my act together enough to buy an incubator and make space for the chicks. Our last attempt to expand our flock was sheer accident--I won't repeat the story here. In short, it didn't do much to improve our operation (we were hoping to have fryers by now). Once I get my raised beds going, I think I'll get that incubator, clean out the old camping bin, and raise us some more babies.
We wanted chicks last spring, but I wasn't able to get my act together enough to buy an incubator and make space for the chicks. Our last attempt to expand our flock was sheer accident--I won't repeat the story here. In short, it didn't do much to improve our operation (we were hoping to have fryers by now). Once I get my raised beds going, I think I'll get that incubator, clean out the old camping bin, and raise us some more babies.
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