The Lumberjack's Wife

Hazel is now ten weeks old.

There are times, sadly, where I must take off my farming hat and enter society for awhile.  I greatly dislike these times.  And this is a complete 180 from my behavior during the first half of us living out here.  I will be honest:  I did not want to move out here and for a long time, I did not want to stay out here.

But, I digress.

If I am in town, then Hazel is not with me, and since I am her mother, she tends to miss me.  And I, her. So, when I return, I walk out onto our back deck and call her name.  And I would like to submit that there is nothing happier in this world than having a calf come hopping and leaping and wagging her tail towards you upon your homecoming.

I have cut out one of her bottles.

Stand down, Reader!  I am still giving her the recommended amount.  For awhile, I added a third bottle because she became so violent and full of rage when the milk stopped flowing.  She needs to learn how to be a cow and eat some grass, too.

She is trying to decide her opinion on hay.

She totally wants a bottle.  But I must remain firm and help her to learn how to be a bovine.  Parenting is hard, friends.  I am to be her mother, not her buddy.

***

We have two mysteries going on over here.

That’s right.  TWO.

The first one is the missing, older heifer calf.  And some people were like, “Oh, is Hazel the one missing?” And, seriously.  If Hazel was missing I would have organized 17 search parties and there would have been weeping and gnashing of teeth.

No.  Hazel is not missing.  A 9 month old heifer calf and steer escaped on Saturday.  These two were new to Maliblahblah farms and a bit more on the wild side.  When they escaped, they ran for their lives away from us.  The steer wandered back home late Saturday night, but the heifer is still missing.  And she has been missing for 6 days and we have seen no sign of her.  We have left a fence panel open for her with hay and water in hopes of luring her back, but she is like totally gone.  She shall be known as The Mysterious Wild Heifer who Roams the Hills.

The second mystery has completely baffled me.

David has recently brought home a few bred cows that he purchased from auction.  Luckily, they are all pretagged, so it is easier for me to keep track of who is who.  And instead of bestowing a lovely name for the cows, I call them clever things like:

Cow R350.

Because that is what her tag reads.

Sometimes the cows he buys are a bit more on the wild side and prefer if we do not lay our eyes upon them.  You might remember Elusive with a Tag and Elusive without a Tag from last season.  Those two gals were absolutely insane, but they have since calmed down and permit you to walk near them and such without losing their ever loving minds.

Anyways.

On Monday, I happened upon cow R350 and her new calf.

Yes.  She was murdering me with her eyes.

I check on the cows at least twice a day, and I wasn’t seeing this pair.  Which isn’t super odd, because, again, she wants to kill me, so naturally, she is not a fan of making herself visible.

But then I started seeing the cow, but no calf.

And cow R350 is now hanging out with all the other cows with a placenta hanging out her back end and the biggest udder you have ever seen in your whole entire life.

It began to bother me that I never saw a calf, and it seemed like the cow was never away from the herd, presumably with her calf, so I started to search for this calf.  For hours upon hours and days upon days, trashing my knee and annoying my teenagers by FORCING them to come and look.

Mom, this is so dumb.  Gosh.

All of our calves, except cow R350’s have been tagged, so it would be obvious if we happened upon her calf-we were just looking for an untagged calf.

And then.

I found one!  But it was far away from everyone else with another cow David had recently purchased.

This cow is called: “You know that 8+ month pregnant cow David recently bought.”

Because she is also absolutely insane and I haven’t gotten close enough to read her tag number, but I do know it is mint green.

Anyways, after much observation, David and I have concluded that the untagged calf belonged to the cow known as “You know that 8+ month pregnant cow David recently bought,” and not cow R350.

David tagged this calf, so now we are back to looking for the untagged calf of cow R350.

This calf is definitely dead.  I know, I know.  Very sad and grievious.  But if it was alive, it would be drinking milk from the mother and that mother is never feeding a baby and her udder is the biggest udder any human has ever seen.

But where is the calf and its body?

Cow R350 and “You know that 8+ month pregnant cow David recently bought” hang out together with the one calf and like to murder me dead with their eyes.

And that concludes the two mysteries here at Maliblahblah farms.

***

I was watching cows and calves last night.  I know.  Shocking.

And I got this cute little video of calf 216, who was recently made a steer by David and Hadley.

If you know what I mean.

And I think you do.

(sound on)

Cracks me up.  I am going to make this little guy my new sound in class for when a timer is up.

Happy Friday!

On Saturday, I drove to the big city, as I had errands to do.  My new thing is “Audible.”  Where has this been all my life?  I was listening to the final and 70th chapter of my Gone With the Wind and yelling at SIRI for interrupting and telling me when to turn left.

Me: AHHHH!  Shush!  She really loves Rhett!  He has to stay!  Will he stay?

Even though I already know he is going to leave and not give a darn.

Since I was going to the big city and all, David asked me if I would like to pick up a dishwasher from Craigslist.  Our dishwasher broke around the end of November and we have been handwashing dishes since then.

And, yes.  Middle school boys hand wash dishes just as well as you might think they would.

David also asked me to pick up chicken wire because, GUESS WHAT!  He is finally redoing the chicken coop so chickens will actually stay in the chicken coop.

I go to the store and I see chicken wire.  They have many diverse and sundry bundles of this poultry netting, coming in different heights and lengths.

I call David so he can instruct me on what to buy.  This might surprise you, but I am not a part of the building committee over here, so I have zero clues as how to high and long and such this fence will be.

I called David, as previously mentioned, and he was kind in voice, but obviously quite distracted.

David:  Um . . . do they have . . . um 5 ft high 150 yards long?

Me:  Yeah.  They have 2 of those.  How many should I get?

David:  Um . . . . Hey!  We already went that way! Um . . . . Come here!

Me:  Hello?

David:  Yeah.  Do they have 4 feet high?

Me:  Yes.  Is that what you want me to get?

David:  Um . . .

Me:  Ok, I will just get the 5 feet high, ok?

David:  No!  Come back here!  Taylor!  I need to stack it!

Me:  Huh?

David:  My posts are 9 feet high!

He says the last statement like everyone in this entire nation already knew that when David Maliblahblah was going to rebuild his wife’s chicken coop, it was quite obvious that the posts would be 9 feet high.

Me:  Ok!  I didn’t know!  I will get a 5ft and a 4ft-how much in length?

David: Um . . . .

This sort of nonsense goes on for awhile, so naturaly, I must interrupt his distracted musings with:

DAVID!  YOU ARE DRIVING ME NUTS!

Turns out while he and the boys, plus Kate’s boyfriend, were working outside they accidentally let two older calves out and were on a hunt for them.  And the answer was 150 yards.  I see one bundle of 60inx150 yards and one 48inx150 yards so I go inside to the cashier.

Me:  Hi!  I need chicken wire.  Do I get a cart and bring it in here to pay or how shall I get it?

Friendly Cashier:  No!  I can ring you up here and then you show your receipt and the guys will load it for you.

Me:  Super.

So Friendly Cashier pulls out a gigantic binder and finds chicken wire.  It is quite apparant that she does not know how to convert inches to feet because the binder is in inches and I am talking feet.

Me:  I need 5ftx150.

Cashier:  Hmmm.  Can you point to which one?

Me:  60in by 150 yards.

Cashier:  Ok, great!  And it is in stock!

So she rings me up for both the 5ft and the 4ft, or rather the 60in and the 48 in and then the guy who is supposed to load things comes and says inventory is all messed up and they really do not have the 4ft one.  And I am just plum confused because I just saw what I needed.  I had already paid and the two young but kind helpers were not sure how to handle this situation so they told me to go back out there with Loading Guy and pick out something I needed.

Loader Guy had left a bundle up at the front and told me it was a 5ft bundle.  So we were looking for the 4ft bundle and they did not have the 150yard length one, but they did have 3 50 yard length ones and I am trying to call David and ask if that would be ok and he is still super distracted and acting like 50×3 isn’t 150.

Yet, Reader.  It is.

Loader Guy, who is probably as old as my own child, says he needs to go and will come right back.  I decided that I am smart enough to know that 50×3 is 150 and David can check my math later, so I take the bundles with my receipt and go to the front.

I see the bundle Loader Guy had left and READER.

It was the 4ftx150 yard and not the 5x150yard and he never came back and I checked my receipt and I loaded exactly what I paid for in my car and drove away.

I just really wanted to tell someone about that experience.  It was frustrating.

Thank you for listening.

When I got home, the calves were still missing so David sent us all on a search party.  A neighbor had called and said he had seen them by the marina, and that means nothing to you, but that is like three whole miles away.

So, I am taking the exact route David told me to take, but I am following HD and Kate’s beau on the 4 wheeler and what is the point of that I ask you?

So I split off from them and go the actual marina, where a neighbor had spotted them, and there was an actual live beautiful and peaceful wedding happening there.

!

Reader.

Were two calves running amok and ruining this wedding?

How rude are we?

!

We couldn’t find them.  Then a neighbor called who had a mama cow die and he needed a bottle and GUESS WHAT.

I am apparently the neighborhood guru now when it comes to bottle calves.

We have been here 11 years and I am finally contributing to my little community.

Me:  David!  Does he want me to take the calf and raise it and love it as my own?!

David:  He said he already promised it to Jess.

Me:  Ugh.  Lucky Jess.

You do not know who Jess is.  But I do.  And Jess has the calf and the calf is great and not mine, but that is ok.

I guess.

On Sunday morning, both the girls boyfriends came over at the ungodly hour of 8:30am.  Because it was cow sorting day.

We needed to seperate some cows and tag three calves and castrate one calf.

We did it and nothing of note happened.

Then we had to go to the river property to talk about things I didn’t understand at all, but look!

The river is flooding!

So now, we have to wait for it to flood more and more and then to recede and then we can camp there!

Look at this little guy enjoying a nap in the sunshine the day after David and Hadley took away his manhood.

Happy Tuesday.

Oh! One calf came back and one is still missing.

I shall keep you abreast of the situation.

We were out late last night attending the basketball awards ceremony of our kids.

I did not get home until 10pm.  On a school night, of all things!  Usually, I am asleep well before 9pm.

Our kids’ were recognized and it was grand and merry.  Kate received the coach’s award and her coach reminisced about her four years of playing Varsity basketball with him.

Yesterday was quite the day for Kate.  She also completed her CNA certification.

The boys were both recognized for their time on the junior high team.  LD received the Coach’s Award and HD was given Most Versatile Player.

When it was time for high school boys basketball, HD got to stand up there with them as we was able to play up on the JV squad this year.

He gets very excited if ever the Varsity coach recognizes his existence on this planet.  Once before a game, the Varsity coach walked in and HD and his best buddy were gasping: “Coach SHAWN is here!!”

When Coach Shawn got to the microphone for high school awards, HD was called up by him.  The coach had really nice things to say about him, awarded him with Most Improved Player, and told him he was excited to have him play next year.

It was all very exciting.  HD’s best bud, who is the same age, also was recognized for his great defensive work and it will be fun to watch those two play together in high school.

We got home around ten pm.  I was planning on going to bed due to the ungodly hour, but was worried about my Hazel.  I stepped out onto the back deck and called her name out into the darkness.

Much excited mooing ensued, so I went back in to make a bottle.  When I came out the front door with the bottle, she was running all around David, who was trying to unload stuff from his workvan. So we now know that Hazel can get out the pen whenever she pleases.

And I love her.

HD’s best bud stayed the night last night.  I gave them ample warnings of when I would go live with my teaching and suggested they eat breakfast and get out of the kitchen area.  Alas.  They did not heed my instruction and instead chose to play cards and laugh at me while I was singing Zip A Dee Doo Dah.

“Dude.  My mom is so weird.”

The boys had enough of my singing and decided to go outside and tackle their chore list. They greatly dislike any chores that I give them.  Chores like:  put away your laundry, make your bed, clean your room.

I don’t think they mind doing David’s chores.

Yes.  That is Hazel standing right in their way.  She still has quite a bit to learn about life.

I love working from home and getting to do this on my lunch break-

After her bottle, she fancied a nap in the sun.

***

New family sent me a really nice Abbie update.  They love her and everyone is happy.  She likes to lay in one of their most high traffic areas.

She is wagging her tail in this picture.  She used to always do that.  Act like she didn’t notice you, but her tail would be going a mile a minute.

Look at this cute picture of Kate and Niko.

Do you think I could get her to do my hair like someday?

She asked me for advice and I would like to announce a major breakthrough.

She know longer “knows everything.”

She explained her situation, which was causing her some anxiety.  My advice was:

“I think you just need to walk through the doors as God opens them.”

Her response:

“Oh, wow.  That’s good.  Ok.  Thanks!”

So, there you go.  After 18 years, I finally gave her good advice.

So maybe she should fix my hair.

As I mentioned before, my cute nephew is a first grader at my school.

He is not in my specific class, but he is in a small group with me a couple of times a week.  Cute Nephew got a new puppy, and Reader, this puppy is LITERALLY the cutest puppy I have ever seen in my whole entire life.

Cute Nephew was showing off Cute Puppy through the Zoom world.

Me:  Oh!  I want that puppy!  Can I have that puppy?  I NEED that puppy!

Another Student:  Mrs. M?  Excuse me?  You have enough animals.

And she is not wrong.

I was worried a bit ago about one of my students.  He was acting a bit off.  I chatted with his parents about it, and he was feeling a bit over being at home-wishing to be back at school.  This is a common feeling with the kiddos at eSchool.  So I have been trying to come up with ways to connect with them and connect them with each other, but this little guy, I was sure worried about.  He was sort of detaching.

I started to notice a beautiful Calico cat in his background.

Yes!  Me!  I!  I noticed a cute animal.

Weird.

So, we started chatting about it and now the whole class looks forward to seeing Macie, the 9 year old Calico cat, who loves to join us for class in his room.

One day, we asked him where Macie was and he said she was not there.  And right at that moment, she pushed his bedroom door open and came on in.  Now this kiddo who used to be a bit forlorn, asks the class daily if they would like to see Macie.  And we all nod and give thumbs up and he seems so much better.

Thankfully, covid restrictions are loosening up and we are starting to be able to have little class gatherings.  The pandemic sure has been hard on our kids. Have I ever mentioned that I tend to grow fond of my students?  This is the point of the year where I start to realize my heart is soon to be broken.

I took a little drive after school today.  I forget how close I live to the lake.

Beautiful, eh?  I am looking forward to warmer weather.

Hazel is 2 months and three days old, and no, it is not strange that I have that information.

She often sucks on my fingers.  I just felt like you should know that.

Matilda and her little heifer calf are doing well.

I think I will name her Tillie.

I stood in the cow pen and watched Hazel for quite awhile tonight.  Which isn’t weird at all.  She was trying to be all brave and interact with cows.  She started to lick Mildred when she saw another cow doing so.

Then she tried to jump on Mildred?

The other cow who was licking Mildred is a young cow who had a bull calf around the same time Matilda calved.  I am not 100% sure, but this cow is either Mildred or Maisy’s from the 2019 season.

Anyways.  Hazel was standing by Mildred, who was laying down.  The younger cow starts to come toward her.  Hazel is looking to me, her adoptive mother, for assurance.

I was very happy when the young cow started licking Hazel.

And I truly hope that someday  soon, some kind cow will lick Hazel’s rear end.  Because it needs to be wiped, Reader.

Today is my dad’s birthday!

Let us have a flashback to the year the kids and I decided to make him a “Titanic” cake for his birthday.

Bam!

Yesterday was bring your farm to work day.

If David had lived throught he same day as I did, and someone asked him:

“Hey, David.  How was your day?”

He would shrugged and said, “Fine, I guess.”

And if you asked me . . .

And now, I present to you, my day:

I woke up stressed.

Usually, I am as cool as a cucumber.  Just ask David.  But today, I had to haul a stock trailer to town with my best friend Hazel and some newly hatched chicks.

I woke up, stressed, as previously stated, and was immediately worried that Hazel, who is a country girl and never been to town, would accidentally run into the road by the school and get hit by a car.

Not wanting to sound like an insane person, I did not mention my fears to David.

Want to know one of the best perks of marriage?

Having your husband bring you coffee in bed at 4:45am.  I give it two thumbs up.

So he brought me coffee and said:  Today is your big day!  Are you nervous?

Me:  I am really worried that Hazel will get hit by a car.

David:  I woke up in the middle of the night and thought the same thing.  Bye!

!

With fear and trepidation, I started to get ready for my big day.  I heard the dogs barking something fierce and I assumed they were attacking pigs or a horse, or any other animal who could totally kill them.  But I looked outside and they were chasing a coytoe.

!

A real, live coyote!

And the coyote was running all around the cows, including precious Hazel, and I knew David would never believe me, so I took video:

There is a coyote in the video.  It is, admittedly, hard to see.  But you can see it at the very beginning.  It is the same color as hay and is followed by three dogs.

So, then I had to panic and worry and wonder why the Lord chose to unite me with this man named David who would move me out to rural areas and make me in charge of keeping animals safe from coyotes whilst he was busy being an electrician in a big city.

Then.  Then, I woke up the boys.

The girls were at work and the boys were at home.  I am the only one who has school on Friday.  I woke the boys up because I needed help getting everything loaded and ready to go.  I tasked HD with getting Hazel loaded and LD with loading chicks.

HD decided to first make 27 pancakes, with chocolate chips, of course, and, duh mom, I know I have to load Hazel, it won’t be that hard, gosh.

LD started to take the chicks from the house to the car, but I was like, dude, take their water out because it will spill.

He did not take the water out and it spilled.  There was a bunch of water in the bottom of the tub.

Me to LD:  Listen to me.  The chicks will drown.  Take all of this and dump it.  Put fresh straw in and load the chicks in the car.

He is gone for 20 minutes, doing what I had presumed to be just that.

Meanwhile, I am loading stuff and getting ready and HD is like,

MOM!  I cannot load Hazel!

So we have to trick her with a bottle and lift her into the stock trailer because she is too small to step into it.

And then I drove to town.

Alone.

I have accepted that fact that I must tow the trailer, but I do not know how to back up a trailer, so I must plan all routes and situations so I would never have to back up a trailer.

As I am driving to school, HD texted me.  I did not notice because I was driving a stock trailer to town.  And hauling things totally stresses me out and I have to be like 10 and 2 the whole entire time.  And then I remembered that sometimes David LOSES animals out the trailer and for the love of everything there is no way I am going to be ok with Hazel flying out of the trailer and onto the road so I pulled over and checked and everything was locked and loaded so I went back to driving safely five miles under the recommended speed limit and keeping my hands at 10 and 2.  And if ever I passed a police officer I would shout:

Please look at me!  Am I legal?  Is everything ok?  If not-PLEASE PULL ME OVER!

I also was in tow mode.  If that impresses you.

HD then calls me and shouts:  WHY AREN’T YOU ANSWERING MY TEXTS?

Me:  Remember?  You just saw me leave?  I am driving to town?  With Hazel and chicks?

HD:  Can you help me drive 2 1/2 hours to go buy a bunch of bottle calves I found on Craigslist tomorrow?

And is he not just the carbon copy of David, Reader?

(Spoiler alert-I am not driving him to get bottle calves)

I get to school.  I unload Hazel.

I recruit fellow teachers to help form a human barriacade to ensure that Hazel does not get any fancy ideas and run into the road to get hit by a car.

She makes it to the pen at school safely.

I then go back to get the chicks.

LD did not heed my instructions and three, yes, THREE chicks were drowned in the puddle of water.

I hurriedly have to unload everything and get ready to go live with students for our first meeting.  My teacher team and I decide the drowned chicks are close to dead, but not all the way dead, and we try to recuscitate them.  We even had help from other teachers in the building.  We were holding wet little chicks in our hands and blowing on them and trying to teach and be merry.  We were reciting the Pledge of Allegience whilst blowing the breath of life into these chicks.  And 1 of the 3 died and I had a Come to Jesus meeting with LD about his laziness, although I don’t think I reached him yet.

Maybe someday. Yes.  Maybe someday all my words of wisdom will seep into his messy haired middle school brain.  Let us all hope and pray.

And the kids came it was so fun.  They were so excited to meet Hazel and see the chicks and I have the best teacher team ever.  One of our teammates made us cute shirts that said:

I said a Moo, Chick-A Moo.

We were missing one teammate, sadly, who was out due to a family emergency, but we made it through the day and much merriment was to be had.

Look at my cute team teacher in the background, waving to all the peoples.

Get this.  They made me her mentor for this year.

That’s right.

MENTOR.

HAHAHAHAHAHAHA.

She’s top notch and doesn’t need a mentor.  And I am not mentor-quality.

Hazel was, as expected, a total star.  She did become completely “over it” by mid morning and would just go sit and look in the opposite direction of the children.

At first, I thought I could just take kids in the pen with me to pet her.  But then, she stepped on my toesies and I was only wearing sneakers and it hurt so bad.  I even had to whine about it all day to my team teachers and tell them I now understood why cowboys wore cowboy boots.  I decided bringing small children in would not be a good plan so I had to keep chasing her and pinning her up against the fence so the kids (and their grown ups) could pet her.

And, yes, my knee is toast.

At the end of the day, we posed for this picture.  It was a hot mess.

We, including Hazel, were all exhausted.

Afterwards, I had the audacity to drive my SUV and stock trailer to THE COSTCO and shop.  I had to go to Costco to get Dino-Nugs to donate for Hadley’s class fundraiser.  And we only go to town once a day!

Hazel did not appreciate me stopping at Costco.

Also.  I forgot the Dino-Nuggs.

#winning.

I came home unloaded all the things with the help of all males in my family and got in bed to ice my knee.  I woke up several times throughout the night, worried my coyote friend had come back to eat my Hazel.  I wonder if the mama cows out there would at least adopt her and chase off a coyote?  I cannot get anyone to wipe her bottom for me.  I fear I might have to do it again soon.

Hazel did not die.  But she does have some sort of an eye infection.

!

I.

KNOW.

More worried could I not be.  I wiped her eye goop and made David shoot her in the buns with something I believe to be medicine to cure all ails in cows.

My Own Child:  Mom?  I am coughing up green stuff?  Is that normal?

Me:  Yes!  Just go!

Hazel has eye goop and I am planning a trip to the vet.

Guess how many times I have whined about my knee pain today.

Go ahead.

Guess.

And just look at this old picture from the spring of 2001.

From left to right:

Grammy, Me, Sister Meagan, my Dad.

That was a bit before I was pregnant with Kate.

Grammy passed in 2010 and now all my grandparents have passed.

My Poppy died in 1994.

One day, I was at his house and I wrote a poem.  I went and showed it to him and he thought it was the most beautiful poem he had ever read.

(It wasn’t)

He wrote on the top:
Written by Taylor Marie Moering on this day _____ in the year of our Lord______.

And then he made 78 copies with his copy machine.

It was not a common thing to have a copy machine back then.  I felt he felt I was hot stuff.

I have like 18 copies of it somewhere in storage.

Maybe I will find it again someday.

Today, Hazel, in all her friskiness, decided to spar with a young heifer calf who is seven weeks younger than her.

At first, I thought Hazel’s mother was one of our heifer calves.  But David thinks he accidentally kept a cow who was part Dexter or Lowline.  This means absolutely nothing to me, but to the cow world, I think a Dexter or Lowline is a smaller breed.  So, Hazel will probably be on the smaller side.

This popped up in my Facebook memories today from two years ago:

That is Maisy and her newborn calf, along with the Dudes.  Maisy was HD’s first cow purchase and she calved soon after he bought her.  He later sold her and the calf to David.  To our knowledge, Maisy has not calved since.  David almost took her to the auction, but we just keep hoping she is pregnant.  Because she has quite the girth.

Everyday:

One of us:  Did Maisy calve?

The other one of us:  No.  But she looks HUGE.

One of us:  But she always looks huge.

The other one of us:  True.

And that will be our conversation regarding Maisy until one of the three of us passes into the hereafter.

A chick was stuck in its shell for an eternity.  If you ever google something like, “Should I help a chick hatch?” the answer will always be a resounding NO.

But I took pity and helped a chick hatch today.

It looked like this for hours and hours and hours:

After hours and hours and hours, I started to try and help it.  And then it hatched.

And at this point in time, it lives.  But who knows.

I went to see the surgeon yesterday regarding my knee.  The two main new problems from my recent injury are a torn meniscus and a bone contusion under my knee cap.  I will admit, I was kind of hoping for a knee replacement.  That being said,  I don’t REALLY know if I want a knee replacement, I just want a normal knee.  But that is not in the cards for me at this time and I will most likely be getting a scope (surgery) to trim up the torn cartilage.  The bone contusion just needs time.  And I need to go to therapy.

Happy Wednesday!

This picture popped up in my Facebook memories.

What has happened?  Where has six years gone?

I would like to see me just try and put button down shirts on the boys today.

Sometimes, if my knee is fussy, I can get the kids to feed Hazel a bottle.  HD went out and fed her the other day while I was rehabilitating myself in the hot tub.  He was shouting to me during the ordeal about how cute she was and how we should go into business flipping bottle calves.  When she was all done with the bottle, she started in again on her usual abuse and violent fury of trying to get milk out of a human.

HD:  Mom!  She is still hungry!

Me:  She is always like that!  I forgot to tell you!  Sorry!  She is going to knock into your legs the whole time you come back.

So he came up with this plan.

And it was a good plan.

There are a few outdoor projects we are working on.  One such project was called:

“Let’s not have to weed the orchard.”

We took our ridiculously large 100×40 garden and made about 2/3 of it an orchard.  The back 1/3 is for berries and weeds.

I purchased eight yards of bark and the dudes spread it around in the orchard.

Take that, Weeds!  It is basically a very large bark orchard with a few measly trees scattered about.

At one point during the bark spreading, the orchard was on fire.

Yes.  ON FIRE.

Me:  What are you doing?!

Boys (rolling eyes):  We have to burn pine needles, Mom.

Me:  What?  No!  What?  No!

I don’t even know anymore, Friends.  I don’t know how they know to do that and how they started a fire and how they didn’t burn our entire plantation down.

I do not know.

Nothing burned except pine needles.

David, Kate, and the boys took down our old chicken fencing this weekend in preparation to build higher fencing to keep the chickens in and the puppy brothers out.

Rest assured, the puppy brothers will slay chickens if given the opportunity.

But I have a dream!  I have a dream that I can walk out to my cute chicken coop with a wire basket and gather pretty multicolored eggs to feed to my moody teens.

Also.  David hung my new chicken coop arrow sign that I received for Christmas from Ma and Pa.

It makes me feel happy.

Because I am basically like Ms. Frizzle, of Magic School Bus fame, I was able to video a chick hatching for my online pupils.

My own children could not care less, and like, duh, Mom, we have seen a chick hatch before.  They were trying to eat lunch and furious that I was asking them to be quiet while I filmed the miracle of life.

But my students!  They think it is magical!

This five day old calf is already taller than 7 week old Hazel.

David:  I don’t know, Taylor.  Hazel is pretty small.  We might not want to keep her.

Me:  She will be my best friend forever.  Don’t ever take her away from me.

Because, seriously.  After being in town all day, what could be better than going out into the back pen, calling out for a calf, and having a calf run happily to you?

Nothing.  I submit that NOTHING is better than having a Hazel.

The other day, a man in front of us at church pulled a comb out of his shirt pocket and proceeded to comb his beard.  And I would like to state for the record that I had no idea that beard combing was a thing.

Thoughts?

I am  nearing the finish line for our grade level chick-hatching project.  The chicks are due to hatch on Sunday.  I came home today and opened an incubator to add water, saw a chick, and screamed my head off.

Lucky for David, I had just called him when I started screaming.

David:  Hello?

Me: AHHHHHHHH!

David:  Hello?

Me:  Sorry!  A chick?

David:  Huh?

Me:  A chick!

David:  Huh?

Me:  Nothing.  Have you heard from the accountant?

David:  Nope.

Me:  Ok, bye.

We have been waiting for days and days and days to hear how much we owe in taxes due to the sale of the rental house last year.

Selling houses.  It’s all fun and games until the tax bill is due.

Today, I had to take the boys to town with me.  HD and LD are polar opposites when it comes to personal appearance.  HD cares a bit too much and LD cares not at all.

He was getting ready to walk out of the house in basketball garb, socks, and muddy/poopy Crocs.

Me:  You cannot wear those.

LD:  Why not?

Me:  They are gross.

LD:  It is fine.

Me:  Nope.  I washed your sneakers.  Go find them.

Later, I walked into the living room as he was singing to the cat as song he had just then made up:

“Thank you, Mom, for washing my shoes!  They look really fantastic!”

So, I’ll keep him around.

I dropped the boys off at the gym to meet up with friends from school and play basketball.  When I picked them up, they were starving and LD was quite smelly.

Me:  Doooooooooood.  You are putting deoderant on everyday, right?

LD:  Well, not EVERY day!  It says it works for 48 hours.

Me:  E-V-E-R-Y-D-A-Y!

I drove through McDonalds for them and then LD had mayo on his face.  I handed him a wipe and told him to wipe his face.  I checked a bit later and it was still there.

LD:  Oh!  I thought you said MUSTARD was on my face.

Me:  But why would you look in the mirror and not wipe the mayo off?

LD shrugs and this is what it is like to raise an almost thirteen year old boy who is taller than you and likes to announce that he is growing  MAN HAIR on his legs.  May the Lord bless me and keep me.

Hazel is seven weeks old now.  I love her with my whole being.

David just bought three pigs because he likes to make everything smell.  The puppy brothers and Charlie feel it is their job to try and murder the pigs daily.  Even though the pigs are quite large and could easily murder them.

This morning, I went outside with Hazel’s bottle.  No cows were nearby, so I knew I would have to walk a bit to find her.  I started to scold the canines and Hazel came running out of the back 40 mooing and wagging her tail.

And the whole point of THAT story is to tell you that she knows my voice.  And I love her.

Finally, if you ever think you are having a bad day, think about Purple Cow #5.

Purple Cow #5 lives in a big pen with many other moooooooooody ladies, all vying for the same man.  Imagine being Purple Cow #5 and having one of your competitors poop directly on your head.

If that’s not sabotage, I don’t know what is.

Happy Friday!