Cheesehead with Sticks

That is what today is – like  the only time I’ve made potato soup. It was most positively the most uninspiring thing a person could eat other than paste back when they were in kindergarten. In fact, it may have really been paste disguised as soup now that I think about it.

Honestly, I hate the fall. Fall means winter is on it’s way, and if there is anything I hate more than fall, it is winter! I detest waking up to cold darkness. I hate cold rainy fall days. Everything is dying. It’s just flat out depressing. Pass me the happy pills please!

Have I brought you down yet? No? I can keep on trying…

But, I won’t. Let’s move on, shall we?

I’ve not been called to teach yet – which is probably part of my foul, blah,  mood. Money to pay bills is nice. Not having your husband look at you like you’ve done a crazy, irresponsible thing when he gets home from work to discover you’ve been home all day yet again is nice. Okay – he doesn’t look at me like that (yet?) -  it’s just my self imposed guilt factor that makes me think that. I mean, here I am lounging around the house in my PJ’s doing great things like cleaning and playing in my studio – and he hasn’t had a day off in over a month. How rude is that? Nevermind that the house is actually getting cleaned again, and he hasn’t had to cook dinner in 2 weeks, which hasn’t happened in years.

Oh sorry, did I slip back to that place again? ahem… moving on..

I’ve got 2 necklaces ready to photograph if the sun ever comes out again, oh sorry as soon as there is enough light. And if I do say so myself, I rather like them a lot. I will list them up on Etsy along with my other necklaces. I spent the morning running around town gathering supplies to make some stitch markers and other odds and ends as well. We’ll see how that goes next week. I’ll be sure to post pictures soon too.

Well, I must go – I need to figure out exactly how much I can stalk the sub. caller without making myself out to be a pain in the rumpus. I wish we had an automated system – I’d have no problem calling a phone number 6000 times a day!

So, you know what the first thing you do when you dump your ex is, right? You cut your hair. That’s essentially what I’ve done with the blog, gone from long hair to a super short pixie cut!

I started the blog a few years ago when life was very, VERY different, some of you know why, so let’s just not revisit those days. Lately I’ve been wanting to post, but not sure what to post – life has been whipping me around like a dog with a dead fish busy . It’s like being me on the blog was always getting in my eyes, tangled up in ponytail holders, and clogging the drains – ewww. So, I’ve “cut it” short along with a few other things in my life.

See, I’ve spent the last few years making myself insanely busy. Too busy to do the things I believe a good mother and wife should do properly (you know, keep the floors from getting so sticky you can’t walk on them, or being home to help with homework every night) Maybe I’m making up for something I didn’t do as a child, maybe I’m really, really, bad at saying no, maybe I think I can do everything, or maybe, just maybe I want to be involved in my children’s lives a bit too much. But really, in the short time a child is your “child” is there such thing as too much? We all know it’s just a matter of 5 or 6 years before Little Ms. is screaming that she hates me and slamming doors in my face (or maybe she’ll take after me and never do those horrible things.. hah!) – so I best be a present driving force in her life now.

And then there is the matter of the other children in the “village”. See, lots of kids don’t have parents that can or want to be involved in their lives. Lots of kids don’t think they are worth much. Lots of kids don’t think they can do whatever they want if they just reach down deep enough.  That breaks my heart.If I had a super power it would be that I could go up to every child and tell them they are a gift, they are perfect individuals, that they are strong and can be brave and to believe in themselves, (and they need to be nice to all the other children and encourage them as well) and have them fully believe me.

That’s the biggest reason I’ve stayed on as a Girl Scout leader – which takes up quite a bit of time, and because I’m an overachiever, more time for me than the average person. Sure I joined up for my own child, but then I realized how many other children out there need someone to touch their lives, even if it’s just for them to remember back one day and say, “hey, that leader lady, she always let me  my own decisions and encouraged me” [One of my proudest moments is having a dad of a 10 year old tell me, after I returned his daughter’s pocket knife from an overnight camp session, “ya, I sent her with a dull one so she wouldn’t get hurt” and then me replying “well, she couldn’t do the activity very well because of it, and lesson number 4 in their training was that dull knives are dangerous – so I lent her my very, very sharp knife, she handled it just fine, and no one died – can you please show her how to sharpen this one?” (said with a smile of course).

And then there is the issue of the j.o.b. It was perfect one time when I was so drained mentally I needed all those non-thinking-required hours to let my brain gel back together. Lately, I’ve found it very, very boring, and really – I can’t STAND to be bored by force. It was also not a good fit for either me or my employer. They couldn’t challenge me, I couldn’t dumb myself down enough to meet their expectations and feel good about myself – not to mention the long hours and long drive, if only a few days  a week.

So, I quit. I’ve been looking for the right job for a few years, and with Little Mr. in school every day now, this year was the perfect time. But, I wasn’t going to leave a company I liked, that paid well, was flexible, and contained all my friends for just any job. It had to be a job with no weekends, no evening hours, close to home, and somewhat flexible – as I still hold down one other part-time job. I was hoping the school secretary would retire, but she isn’t that old. I tried to get in as an aide, but the only way into the union without a teaching job is via the lunch lady line – which didn’t pay enough. Then, one day, in the only 4 sentences I’ve spoken with Little Ms.’s first grade teacher in 4 years, a new path was laid out before me. I was informed I had the needed requirements to be a substitute. Then, the school district actually advertised that they NEEDED subs! So that is where I am today. There is a lot of concern about the timing with this economy, and then recent news about Mr. CH’s job – but I have faith that this path couldn’t have been pointed out any clearer to me by the universe unless it shoved me down it hard, so it must be the path I am to follow.

So now I’m a knitting, metalsmithing, mother of 2, wife, secretary, girl scout leader, and waiting to be called for her first day substitute teacher praying she made the right decision!!!

But of course, the old me is not gone. I will be bringing most of the old posts back, but some of them aren’t relative anymore, and now that I have a much more “in the public life” some things don’t need to be out there since they no longer apply. It’s just gonna take a while to weed through 300+ posts!

Guess what – the blog is under remodel – come back soon. (yes, some of the old stuff will be brought back )

Well, it seems I never made it back for the story behind these pictures.

A few weeks ago, DH’s grandmother passed away. She was 94 and lived a very full life. The family had asked if there was anything I wanted of hers and I had replied that I would take any of the cheap costume jewelry that nobody wanted. I figured surely there was SOMETHING in there that would be nice to upcycle.

When I was going through the bag they had given me I came across several religious medals. This cross spoke to me the loudest however. This cross had a reason for being in my hands. It had a journey to go on!

Remember a long time ago how I was lamenting over my nephew’s decision to join the Army? While I am incredibly proud of him, I’m also selfish in not wanting any harm to come of him. He had recently been home for his last visit before he was to be deployed to Iraq. Well, with Grandma passing away, he was granted emergency leave to attend the funeral just a few days before he was scheduled for deployment. We got one more visit in as a gift from Grandma.

As I held this cross it was as if Grandma was whispering down to me that it needed to go with my nephew. I did some research to see what he was allowed to wear, and yes, he could wear a religious symbol. So, I headed down to my studio, grabbed some copper sheeting, copper wire, and some scrap sterling silver sheeting.

This is what came forth in the end. A medal that was about the same size as his dog tags bearing the following wish:

I’m pretty happy with it. I love the front. The back is a bit, well, let’s say it has character!

He was scheduled to leave nearly 2 weeks ago, but his deployment got pushed back. He will be heading over there soon enough though and won’t be back in time for Christmas now most likely.

Now Grandma’s cross is with my nephew and she can watch over him.

(warning – long entry!)

School was canceled yesterday and today because of the bitter cold temperatures we are having here in Wisconsin. I also got lucky and the kids spent the night at their cousins house last night, which meant the only person I had to get ready today was ME. Mr. CH was working 3rd shift, so I spent last night gloriously alone watching shows on the big TV that we normally can’t because of the kids like CSI and Grey’s Anatomy. I hogged the bed. I fought no one for the covers. I slept without the TV on!

I showered last night so the only thing I would have to do this morning is roll out of bed, let the dog out, start the car, put some logs in the wood burner, and get dressed (yes, in that order, it was like -15 this morning). 15 minutes – Tops! This meant I could sleep in another HOUR. It was going to be a beautiful morning – the kind of morning that busy mothers fantasize about more than they fantasize about cabana boys in Mexico!

I set my alarm 30 minutes early, because I know me. I have to hit snooze 3 times before my brain registers – that is with a walk across the bedroom each time to do it. When the time came I got up, threw on my coat and mittens, grabbed my keys and brought the dog out with me to start the car. Now, if you’ve been reading this blog a while, you know the dog is notoriously a non-listener on occasion. She’s been real good about staying around in this freezing cold weather and when it’s dark, so I didn’t put her on her chain since I was out with her and she hasn’t not listened outside in months.

Please – hold your snickers until the end! Have you no faith?

And that is where it went all wrong. She did her business and ran right on down to the goat pen. One of her favorite past times is running circles around the goat pen at the speed of light. I called her. She feigned deaf. I called a few more times and she still didn’t come. I went in the house to get dressed – surely she would be ready to come in very soon with this weather.

Please, do try to contain yourself – it only gets better! Oh, this may also be a good time to use the restroom if you have a weak bladder. I’m just sayin… We’ll wait…….

…

…

Better? Good.

So, I get dressed and I’m ready to leave for work. I try calling the dog and she still doesn’t come in. I go outside and she’s still running circles like a loon. For 10 minutes I try to be all calm and nice and call her without sounding like the only thing I want to do is strangle her. I try to convince her that I really won’t yell at her if she would just come to me.

She just keeps on a runnin, runnin, runnin.

I try to bring out my dominant side for another 5 minutes. I lower my voice. I stand tall and all calm and dominant like. I close my eyes, breathe in,  and summon the wisdom and spirit of the great Ceasar Millan while calling to her.

And she just keeps on a runnin, runnin, runnin.

Mr. CH calls me to tell me he just left work and he is on his way home. I tell him I’ll see him tonight and hang up.

I crouch down all low like and non-threatening. I talk sweet to her. I promise her good eats when we get inside.

And she just keeps on a runnin, runnin, runnin.

And I am freezing, freezing, freezing. -15 degrees, remember?

I decide that I am going to have to resort to the shock collar that she is currently wearing. (Please don’t tell me how cruel it is, its only used when we absolutely must get her attention and that thing is not nearly as strong as the electric fence she keeps zappin herself on trying to get into the pen – that sucker HURTS – I’ve not respected the power of the fence plenty of times.) I go in for the controller and can’t find it anywhere.

I take turns between looking for the controller inside to trying to lure/call the dog inside. I try treats. I try toys. I try running away from her with my arms in the air all playful like. I try pretending that I’m going for a ride in the car. I leave and come back.

And she just keeps on a runnin, runnin, runnin.

I also try language that I am sure the far away neighbors may call the police on me with if they are outside long enough to get a good listen. F-bombs are flying like it’s World War 3 at this point. Calm assertiveness my arse!

And she just keeps on a runnin, runnin, runnin.

I decide if I had a BB gun I would be shooting it. I have clearly lost my ever-loving mind at this point and call Mr. CH to ask why he moved the collar remote and where the bleepity bleep did he put it??!

He tells me where it is, hanging, 14 inches from my head. I mutter and hang up the phone. I grab the remote, head outside, call the dog to give her one more chance, and then press the button.

And she just keeps on a runnin, runnin, runnin.

I press it again.

And she just keeps on a runnin, runnin, runnin.

I point the remote at her as if I am hurling a force of whoop-ass in her direction and I push that button like I REALLY mean it!

And she just keeps on a runnin, runnin, runnin.

I realize the batteries in the collar are dead because it’s been days since we used the thing and haven’t bothered to recharge it. I’m already going to be nearly an hour late for work.

Just then, as I hang my head to the ground I hear Mr. CH barrellin’ up the driveway.

He parks, gets out, calls the dog, and she runs to him. I look at him and say
“Great. I’m going to work now, buh bye!” and I turn around to walk to my car and mutter swear words under my breath. It’s 6:55 am.

At 4:45 pm I get a call at work. It’s Mr. CH telling me that if the dog isn’t inside when I get home she’s outside. He let her out off of her leash and she’s just a runnin around the pen and he can’t get her inside and he has to go to work blah blah bla.

I won’t be home for at least 2 hours.

Immediately my head fills with visions of the dog dying at the door of hypothermia or frost bite; visions of the dog running away and bothering the neighbors horse and me having to go pathetically stand outside the horse pen for an hour trying to coax her that I’m way cooler than the horse again; visions of angry neighbors with my dog beating the door down; visions of the dog being hit by a car.

I’m a protector. It is my one thing I do to a fault. I protect things that breathe. Sometimes even things I am not sure I really like; like goats, crazy dogs, and in the past an alcoholic husband. It’s just what I do.  The thought of her outside alone in these temperatures was more than I could bear. Suddenly I was furious that I was going to have to deal with the mayhem caused by someone other than myself not using the chain and worried about the poor dog. Mr. Ch and I proceeded to get in a lovely war while I was at work. Probably our 3rd fight in almost 2 years.

I spent the next 2 hours stewing, worrying, crying, yelling at no one in my car, and trying to practice my belief in not wasting energy on things you can’t fix. I had a plan for every scenario I could possibly imagine. I’m also a fixer. I prayed to god to have her be home or give me strength to deal.

As we were closer to home I felt better – soon I would know the outcome of this ordeal and I could deal with it. She would be freezing and happy to see me when she finally did. At last we got home, I got the kids out of the car and in the house then yelled for the dog. Nothing. I prepared to take the car to go look for her, but looked down at the goat pen first.

There she was – just a runnin, runnin, runnin.

I called all nice and sweet, I called all mean and bad, I had treats…

And she just kept a runnin, runnin, runnin.

For the next 2 hours I would call out the door for her every few minutes, go outside every 2o and try to get her in the house. I even offered her up a nice bloody delicious venison steak. Surely she had to decide she was cold at some point – she’d been outside for hours, and it was freezing!

And she just kept a runnin, runnin, runnin.

At 8pm, an hour later, I went outside with resolve. She’d been runnin around that pen for nearly 4 hours. I decided she was retarded from the cold and incapable of doing anything other than try to get a goat.  If she wanted a goat, by golly, she was gonna get one. I was going in that pen and getting a goat as bait if it was the last thing I did tonight.

I grabbed a shovel and went down to shovel out the gate to the pen. After a few scoops it was clear it was iced into the ground and wasn’t going to budge even if I cleared the 3 feet of snow away. I figured I could push it in, but first I better disconnect the electric fence so as not to get zapped. I reached through the wire mesh fence and unhooked the connection for the electric fence. It fell and I knew it would shock Jill, the friendly goat I was going to use as bait, if I didn’t move it.

In one of my finest moments ever I grabbed the metal fence in one hand and grabbed the electric fence wire with my other. You’ve taken middle school science class, right? You know that I have just created a complete circuit using my very own body. I take a step to toss the wire out of the way and ZAP!* I feel the current run from one hand to the next in a split second. There is a distinct pain in my right fingers, my left palm, and my chest (thank you underwire bra) as I drop the wire and am in disbelief at what an idiot I am with that fence, yet again! I like to think the wool mittens staved off a bit of pain, but I had to remove them and put my hands in the snow to take away the sting.

With the stupid fence wire out of the way now I proceed to pull on the fence to see if I can get it loose or push it in. I reach to grab the shovel and trip over my own foot and fall on my face into the snow. I curse violently, get up, decide that this is NOT the last thing I will do, tell the dog she can freeze, and go inside.  Oh ya – the zipper on my coat is broke and it doesn’t stay shut – do you know how freakin cold I am?

And she just kept a runnin, runnin, runnin…

After warming up for 20 minutes or so, I decide to give it another go. I put my gear back on, walk down to the pen, trample the fence over, put it back up to keep out the dog, and try to convince Jill to come to me so I can put a leash over her head and horns. I realize I forgot the marshmallows (a goat will do anything for marshmallows). She’s apparently wise to the idea that I am about to lead her out of the pen, in 3 feet of snow, and allow the dog to chase after her as I get her up to the house, thus cohorsing the dog inside the house. She’s not getting close enough. Oh ya, it’s dark as heck – no lights, trying to grab a goat and not fall – entertainment for anyone. I told her I’d let her stay inside for a bit and enjoy the warmth and some nice fresh fruit as compensation.  No go.

Just as I was ready to give up on the plan again, I see the other 2 goats barrel past us. They  don’t come by humans because they weren’t handled enough as kids, so I thought it a bit odd. Next came the dog. She had somehow gotten in the pen, and not the way I did.

Now I had a barrel of monkeys on my hands. It’s one thing to annoy horned goats with a fence separating you. It’s entirely another to do it where they can ram you and cause bodily harm and big vet bills. It’s also another when the dog can actually bite the goat causing bodily harm and big vet bills.

So, I’m in a goat pen, at night in the dark, freezing my ass off in the middle of winter, with a crazed dog chasing goats, goats charging dog and not a soul around of any use.

I yelled to the sky, I hoped for the dog to get cornered where I could grab her, I wished for Ree’s Marlboro Man or Pesky Tim to ride in, lasso the dog,  and save me as I stood there crying and laughing at the hilarity of it all for just a moment.

I tried for a few more minutes to get Jill, but it was impossible. Just then Hansel**, our timid yet sweet  male, stopped right by me. I threw my leash around his head and tightened up quick. After I knew he was caught I told him that this was his finest hour. He was going to be my hero if he liked it or not.

It seems that goats don’t understand english much. While I am telling him what great honor he had stumbled upon he insisted on trying to drag me the other way in protest.  So, here I am, dragging a 100+ lb goat through 3 feet of snow, over logs I can’t see, all the while fending off a dog and trying to stay upright. Hansel fought me greatly and he was choking himself a bit with the leash by not following along all sweet like. I knew it was now or never though, for everyone’s safety (cuz dude, if this didn’t work, I’d have my own private rubber room and a pretty little straight jacket to match!), so I drug on and apologized all the while to poor Hansel. I drug him over the fence, I drug him to the path, I drug him up a hill, and then I drug him up the driveway. The dog was still in the pen with the others so I let Hansel have a breather, told him if he would just move his feet and follow me it would be over sooner, and made some noise to get the dog’s attention that “hey, there’s a goat out where it doesn’t belong – come get it”. Once we got to the house Hansel was much more cooperative. Jill has been in the house plenty (another story for another day), but he never has since he was just a little kid. Warm air however is a great motivator. I got him in the house and reassured Little Mr. that this time it was okay if there was a goat in the house and he was really sweet and not gonna hurt him (hey – you didn’t think the dog was magically gonna go inside with a goat outside did you?) The dog was about ready to follow us in, but somehow she was on to me and knew I would grab her the second she was in the house though and she didn’t take the bait. Just then Jill came a wandering up from the pen.  This was not helpful. A leashed goat I can control, a free one I can’t. I had to get her contained in the house so she wouldn’t distract the dog from coming in after the goat allready in the house. I had Little Miss get on her winter gear and lure Jill in with marshmallows. She put Jill in the bathroom (hey, they don’t get to roam free) and then I had her hold the screen door open from the back. I walked Hansel in further and when the dog came back to the door she went in the house this time and Little Miss slammed the door behind her.

DOG IN HOUSE!!! yay!!!

Then Little Miss decided to come in  and before I knew it I had a dog/goat fight between my legs, an open door, and a 9 year old freaking out. Did I mention the horned goat between my legs – not cool. Not cool at all. I managed to keep the dog in and ride the bucking goat all at the same time while Little Miss slammed the inside door shut. I’ve only got a few large bruises on my inner thighs as souvenirs – thank god the horns missed you know where! From there we got the dog in the bedroom with Little Miss and shut the door. I took the leash of Hansel, apologized but explained that now he was free of the terrorist dog in the pen and he was a hero in his own right Then I gave him a few handfuls of marshmallows.

After that I let him back outside and went in the bathroom to get Jill. I took her out and tried to get her back in the pen, but she wouldn’t have it. It was okay – they deserved some freedom. (Goats don’t wander, trust me, I’ve tried that trick.) At least they could lick the salt off my car as a reward for their bravery. Goats really like lickin salt off cars and leaving them all polka-dotted with their tongue prints.

I went up to the house to barricade the garage door to keep the goats out during the night and Little Mr. yells out that dad is calling. I hollered to leave the phone ring and we would call him back (yay caller ID). After getting the garage barricaded I went in, put the dog on her leash, let her drink some water, and put her in the kennel. I inspected her as best I could for signs of frostbite or injury and gave her a clean bill of physical health, but a severe case of retardation in the brain. It was now after 9pm.

Then I called Mr. CH.

I instructed him that he would be fixing the goat fence alone before sleeping in the morning, giving the goats extra treats, and if he ever put that dog out without her chain again when he wasn’t going to be home for the next 12 hours to deal with it – I was gonna kill him.

And now that I have turned this story into something that you can only get over if you laugh at the hilarity and absurdness of it all, I am taking my battered, bruised, feelin like I’m gonna throw up, electroshocked body to bed – WHAT A FREAKIN’ DAY!

*electric fences do not emit a constant charge of electricity, they have more of a tick……tick…….tick……..tick intermittent charge.

** Yes, there is a pattern, first we had Jack and Jill, then Hansel and Gretel, then Mary, then we got off track with Little Feather, “the goat without a name” and Domino. We’ve got Jill, Hansel, and Domino left. Don’t ask why we have goats – I can only tell you that it was a dumb idea that I was against. Don’t drink and auction!