Monday Monday.

After a full, sloshy, slimy, boggy, soggy, mucky, yucky weekend, I did end up with just enough time to fire off another potholder.  Unfortunately, I had neither the energy or interest to do so.  I am holding at 6.  I had discovered on Friday that Acacia, the little runty lamb, had very poor body condition - she was very thin and not thriving.  Although it's easy to miss this, given the amount of wool on their little bodies, I fault myself for not checking on a weekly basis to make sure ALL of them are doing well.  This caused me to toss and turn all night long under a hot and hairy layer of guilt.  Saturday morning, while it was just 'misting' and just before the day-long deluge started, I picked Acacia up, wormed her and put her in the goat's area with lots of grass.  Then I had to keep the goats in the barn, since Chicky does not know the meaning of the word "share". 

But, what to do about shelter without access to the barn and a weekend long monsoon forecast? I had inherited a good-sized dog house from my neighbor (a builder) and he had very nicely dropped it at the top of my driveway.  I swear to God, this thing weighed 400 lbs!  It had started raining pretty steadily and Acacia only had trees for shelter.  So, I put on my big girl pants (and big girl rain gear).  I had to move it.  It took over 20 minutes of wet rassling and lots of limited vocabulary words, but I got it inside the fence, put hay and feed in it, and she popped right in, happy as a nice damp clam.  After wrestling with that bad boy, I decided that, should I ever decide to build a house, my neighbor has the job.

Then I zipped off to the Farmers Market - where a few hearty souls stood under pooling tents - and got mums for my mum and me; a big bag of mixed mushrooms (thank you Linda - dripping with sarcasm here - for introducing me to these); a Savoy cabbage the size of a bowling ball - so perfect it almost brought tears to my eyes - for $2; and assorted other vegetables.  Then I zipped back to the apple orchard where I picked my own - out of bushels in their dry store and NOT from the orchard; then to the feed store; gasoline; home.  Then I realized my pork roast was just too puny and put in an emergency call to Marianne, who had a lovely roast - at home and not at the market.  I managed to clean the house, clean the cats' room (whispering this so that all cats reading who do not have their own room won't be jealous), washed dishes, and did a major tidying up, before I raced north to meet Marianne at her house to pick up the roast, then zoomed home to beat my parents up the driveway.  After that, I just gave up, as I really can't do much while they're here.  It was a thoroughly enjoyable visit, with a boisterous firehouse breakfast (the food was just as bad as I remember), some Glenn Miller on the CD player, much cooking and moving around of sheep, lambs and goats, then a lovely dinner with my parents and my neighbors.  There is something so nice and heartwarming about a table set with cloth, flowers and good china, surrounded by people who like each other, are nice and fun, full of good chatter.  And the food - it was good.  I had convinced myself that I would not have any of the French apple cake, since it contained flour.  That resolve disappeared as soon as it was flipped over on its serving plate, all hot, caramel-y, apple-y.  I did, virtuous me, have a very small piece.

Kay brought over her personal trainer (aka Gideon, the Sheltie puppy) to meet everyone.  Scrappy and Bernie were not pleased, so they stayed inside.  We were all entranced by how smart he is.  At least there were glimpses of blue sky yesterday.  There are two more days of showers and rain, then the forecast is much better.  I sure hope so, because I need to get 100 bales of hay this weekend.  Which reminds me.  I am going to have to butter up the farmer - I need him and his truck to get it.  Maybe a lemon meringue pie?