I know the middle of summer is upon me here in Maine when the goldenrod starts to bloom. I mark that as my half point, and I was rather aghast this morning to see the heavy, ripe heads ready to burst into bloom roadside.
Because I have thoroughly blown half the summer away with none of my summer projects even past the concept stage.
But< I have been putting extra days in at the farm; the bosses having gone to Europe for ten days, and one of my co-workers who was covering nights is taking two weeks on the heels of that. And my other co-worker took time off over the holiday.
So I am enjoying spoiling the crap out of the animals under my care. :)
The day begins at the main barn, with all the does and wethers and kids not weaned or sold. And those does are on a time frame! I walk into the barn and they hustle into their places eyes watching me. Except little Lori, who I have alway obliged and spoiled rotten and fed first since the birth of her first born. The only trouble is, her buckling went away for weaning hot on the heels of her mother having triplets, so her Momma became the priority.
Tuesday Little Lori had enough, and inserted herself between me and her mother's pen, which I was trying to clean around her yelling Momma and three tiny siblings. Lori wanted her grain, across the aisle, first. I scooted her over and locked her up and fed her after her Momma.
Today I had a co-worker, and I was running a bit late. He chuckled later as he confided that Lori ran into her pen as soon as I entered the barn. Goats are too darn smart. She knew I would get to her and she was to wait in her pen. LOL.
ok, that's my cute goat story for tonight.
Guess you had to be there to see little Lori trying to shoulder me away from her mother's pen and look me in the eye and say, "you're late! feed me first!"
Summer soccer is really something else. At least we had two refs tonight, but that didn't prevent at least three of our guys getting hurt. Our goalie lunged for a ball and took a knee to the back as an opposing team member somersaulted over him, and our goalie ended up limping off the field clutching his lower back. I later learned he has a history of back trouble.
Our number one player ended up flat on the back after being kicked in the stomach and the other team snickered in their huddle while he recovered and hobbled off the field. The refs called a face off on that one, and our team urged the sub coach to get the hurt player back in so he could get revenge.
Another player took a face plant on the turf and took a moment to recover and no one even looked twice. He should have been pulled and checked for concussion.
Plus many trips, kicks, slams, etc, dirty playing after middle school...
Our regular coach has been on vacation; the sub coaches are recently graduated seniors who are heavily playing the older players. Now I am one of the parents that gets to watch their kid in for 10 minutes the whole game.
The Firebird is learning a lot by observing, however, and considering how balls-to-the-walls rough those teenage American boys get on the soccer field with minimum supervision, that may be a good thing.
How many times can you blue screen a PC trying to connect online and still keep trying? :D
I have my wheels situation taken care of: in three years I ought to be able to afford to address the PC issue. ;)
I am actually the proud owner and insured of two vehicles at the moment. In my true pessimistic fashion, I kept the old beater registered and insured just in case. Good thing, since I lost the only set of keys to the "new" one in the grass plugging in the electric fence and had to dash to the farm, saplings in tow, in the, currently known as, "the Death Trap."
And she was old faithful-plugging down the dirt roads in forward and reverse (doing fence work up a narrow road). Until we pulled in the end of the drive, and she became once again, "Bessie" when she coughed and stalled just as we returned home.
I glanced at the saplings, wondering if the three of us would be able to push it out of the way, before she fired up in a belch of running-too-rich fumes and made it safely back to her spot out back.
Gawd, how can you send that to the crusher?
196,000 and the body has rotted out around the frame, gotta love Maine winters...
The Firebird is kicking some serious summer soccer butt. Now an incoming Freshman, summer soccer is a take all comers game with a range of 13-17 year olds. And only the hard cores, of course.
A couple of the incoming Freshman were star players at schools he was playing against last year in middle school. Now they are his teamates, the cream of the crop. The varsity players are something to watch,strong young men that have years of soccer under their belts.
But the Firebird is tall for his age, and fearless, running right up to steal the ball or fall flat on his face trying, and not afraid to head bump or body block. He's getting some valuable experience playing with and against varsity players. And I have to admit, I love hearing other Moms cheering him on for a move well played.
Yeah, we get serious in High School :D
One of the few blue players with white socks, I call him white legs. :D
Another call to Dell, another temporary reprieve from internet banishment?
"Homer's Last Hurrah" BLF Lois and two of her three, hours-old triplets out of Homer. Two bucks and a doe. Homer never fully recovered from injuries, and although obviously still able to breed, was unable to re-join the buck herd and recently went to slaughter. Willow showed him to Grand Champion last year, and he was sire to my Badgee.
Update on my own goats: Jenny the goat, several minutes after my last update about her weeks ago, hopped her dividing fence and worked it out with everyone and is back with the herd.
Willow showed Uther for BLF in the yearling buck division @ the Fiber Frolic. He won Grand Champion cashmere goat. He is half brother to my Badgee. Willow won Grand Champion in Showmanship.
The Firebird graduated 8th grade fifth in his class, top ranked boy. He received several prestigious awards, even though his mother can't fashion a tie, lol.
Beautiful weather, not getting anything done with lots of things dividing my attention.