My “helper” last night. While I was putting up the tree, he was rummaging through boxes playing with whatever caught his eye.
We have a new driver in the family. We drove through the snow on really bad roads to Buffalo this morning so he could take his permit test. Now he can legally drive with an adult in the front seat. Keep in mind, he’s had classroom instruction, but no behind-the-wheel training.
As we leave the courthouse (trudging to our car through an unplowed parking lot and falling snow), he asked if he could drive home.
Bravery or stupidity…I’m still deciding.
Wally and I put the tree up tonight. We were wagering on how long it would be before Martha chews up an ornament, pulls the tree over, or causes some other damage. I need a ruling on this: Wally dropped an ornament and broke it before we finished decorating. But he stumbled because Martha had come up silently behind him and he didn’t see her when he stepped towards the tree.
Is this Martha’s fault? Because I was betting that I could be vigilant enough to prevent destruction until at least Thursday.
Walt enjoys a bite of his 6-point buck. We sautéed onions and cooked back strap medallions. Although it smelled wonderful and got great reviews from the boys…I just couldn’t bring myself to eat any. I don’t have any emotional hurdles about eating Bambi - but the thought of game meat, in general, doesn’t sound appetizing to me. And I subscribe to my sister’s Dining Theory that You Don’t Have to Try Something to Know You Won’t Like It.
This sneaky, endless-fur-dispensing, deer gut-eating, donkey tormentor swiped my hat. I think she was afraid I might go outside without her. Yeah? Well two can play at that game. She quit smiling when I wished her good luck finding her squeaky duck.
A new take on Lady and the Tramp:
Martha seems to have decided that she is a donkey. Today I caught her not only eating hay, but sharing the salt lick as well. I think her romance with George is doomed…but who am I to rain on her parade.
At least with both of them fixed I will not have to administer any Safe Sex lectures.
I hit the mouse lottery. Six on one glue trap is a new record here at The Outpost. And I feel exceptionally lucky because the last glue trap I set out in the barn was discovered and destroyed. The vandal, who shall remain nameless, was discovered with chewed pieces of glue trap stuck in her fur.
This week it will be time to say good-bye to our cows. And while we’ve already seen four butchered this summer, it will be more difficult to see these final two go.
Because they’re my friends. Martha’s too.
The quality of the photo is poor because of the sunlight and the fact that one of the subjects never stops moving. Plus it is rather difficult to try and snap shots while wedged between the stachions. I did manage to get one fairly sharp shot of Not 101…
…but what you cannot see is Martha giving him a tongue bath. Wait…yes, you can. Look right under N101’s chin. That’s Martha’s tongue. Not his.
It helps that these guys are destined to wind up in freezers other than ours. But I still won’t be home when our butcher shows up with his rifle and his refrigerated truck.
I have a white board on the fridge. I update it every morning so we can all see at a glance what is in store for the day and what we need to remember to bring to school or work. I take my white board very seriously.
Apparently, not everyone in the house does.
I failed to notice this earlier, but someone changed Oct 29 to Oct 290th. And commanded Martha (Marf, as she is often called) to behave herself.
I don’t know whether to be saddened that my white board is the subject of gentle mockery…or pleased that I can actually read the 15-year-old’s handwriting.