We’re All Mad Here

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The baby goats ran under my skirt hiding from the fiend.  His mouth was open, his eyes wild.  He had regressed five years.  My relaxed greyhound was half fed up, half wound up and the goats were then sorry they had spend so much time jumping on and off of him while he rested peacefully on his comfy lounge chair.  He lunged at them playfully (though slightly mad), putting their heads in his mouth and pouncing on their backs as if they were his same size.  They had acted like they wanted to play before but were now hiding under my dress expecting me to stop him.  I could not believe he was acting that way.  I put the babies in the garage and when I came out Bumble was chasing chickens.  He never chases chickens.  He guards them like a worthy protector from his lawn chair.  He is himself again, but really doesn’t want to go outside now if the babies are there.

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We made them their own pasture, which they get out of every day.  The neighbors come by regularly to tell me they put the babies back in the yard.  The goats were on the driveway….on the porch…running around the front yard.  I live on a major street.  Not good.

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I fight them to stay outside while I go in the house.  I am bruised and battered and tired.  And they are six weeks old.  Remember my fears about the bruiser animals?  I am wondering if I got in over my head.

I wonder how to balance farm life.  I feel a bit like Bumble right now.  I feel like running around screaming with my eyes all ablaze with insanity and then lying down on a lawn chair…for the next three months.

Next week when our life is calmer I will think…oh, I got this!  I can handle everything.  Right now, I can handle weeding, replanting, harvesting, canning, dehydrating, freezing, feeding baby goats, four markets a week, a shop, a house, and cooking, full knowing that in the winter I am so bored I need to take up cross country skiing or something to fill the time.  This week though holds its own craziness.  On top of all the other things, the house has to be cleaned and readied for the shop to move into the dining room.  I want to go Amish and give away all the extras.  My house is too full.  My shop has to be readied for our huge sale, everything cleaned, organized, and then emptied.  My shop closing leaves me at once relieved and heartbroken.

I am, however, constantly reminded that running it out of my house and doing markets is the smart move to make.  The neighbor came over to talk to Doug and Leo about our goats getting out and happened to mention his business.  It is just a few blocks from ours.  In the past three years, he never knew we were there and then in humorous fashion (I am being sarcastic) he asked, “Oh, an Apothecary?  Do you sell pot?  Hahahah.”  Hmm.

I will be in the back yard chasing chickens if you need me.