It took almost two weeks of sick kiddos to bring me down, and I have the feeling the smallest one did me in with her in-your-face coughing. So I will do my best to ignore that huge pile of dishes in the kitchen, and if the kids come to blows, so be it. I will not subject my sore throat to the strain of raising my voice to get any one's attention.

And all those roosters will live another day or two.

Thursday, when Chris got home, I told him I hadn't been feeling well, and Big Papi had been without water all day. Big Papi has this bad habit of knocking over his watering bowl, then kicking it to the back side of his pen where I am reluctant to retrieve it. So Chris went out to take care of it. A few minutes later, he came storming in and said, "Big Papi's going to die tonight!" Apparently, Big Papi had attacked Chris. "So, you weren't ready to kill him when you found out he attacked me," I said. "I see  how it is."

For the past few weeks, we have been anxiously awaiting the birth of Sandy's baby. Sandy is the neighbors' donkey. Every day on the way to and from school, we would scan the pasture or barnyard for Sandy to see if she had a little one by her side. Finally, on Friday morning, we got a call from the neighbor.

With all we've been dealing with lately, my garden has been completely neglected. Everything, except for the grass, has died out. It is getting a little late for any attempt at a fall planting, so I guess I'll just forget about it for now, and hope next year will be better.