This day is such a teaser. Nearly 70 degrees. Managed to (finally) clean out most of the rotting tomatoes and plants from the garden. Tore out a section of the walking path to our back door that was sinking into the ground and replaced it with a couple of stepping stones ... The kids have been planning gardens, and I have to keep reminding them (and myself) that spring is really a few months away still.

Overhearing Joe:

"What happens if the Holy Ghost gets me? The Holy Ghost will take me to jail."

An Admission of Failure

I bought Scrabble Jr. for a family Christmas present. The idea was to have fun while learning by playing with words. Patience did not come in the box. I sat there on the floor struggling to let the kids maintain control of their game, to not just tell them what to do, to not get upset when Finley refused all three or four of my suggestions. I am thankful that she likes to play the game.

Some days, my patience wears thin, and as I yell at them, I pray that they will forgive me someday, that my harshness and criticism won't hinder their pursuit of life.

And here comes Joe, soft blankie in hand, bleary-eyed this morning, ready for another day.

Thanks to Santa, I have a couple of dollars burning a hole in my pocket. So I've been thinking about how to spend it... I suppose a normal person would be thinking about treating themselves to a massage or buying some clothes or a new electronic device. Or something. But I've been thinking about vegetable seeds and a chicken coop. A chicken coop. Big chicken coop... I can't get it out of my head.

I know. We're in the middle of building a house. But there isn't much I can do in the way of building on the house while Chris is at work. I can, however, build a coop on my own. And it is going to be big enough for me to walk inside, and it will have an actual perch for the chickens, and it will have a living roof, and it will be beautiful.

Baby Goats

Our neighbors invited us over to see their baby goats. They ranged from a few days old to a few hours old, and 13 more mamas are expecting. I suppose my kids will be wearing me out to see the neighbors' kids. ;)

Finley came into the living room yesterday morning with bright pink smeared above her eyes, some of it sneaking up onto her forehead. "Finley," I said, "you might want to look in the mirror when you put on make up." "I did!" she answered. Oh.

I suppose because I don't wear a lick of make-up ever and could probably look nicer than I do most of the time, I have no credibility with my daughter. So, when I tell her that her application of make up doesn't look good, she shrugs me off. Either she really does think she looks better with bright colors plastered above her eyes, or she doesn't care that she looks silly. I'll just be glad when the make up she got at a Christmas party this weekend is GONE.

Got down into the single digits last night. When I woke up, it was a little cold in the trailer as the heater couldn't keep up. Thankfully we have nice, warm clothes and blankets.

Went to check on the hens before I took Fin to school, and didn't hear any of the typical soft clucks coming from inside the coop. I worried for a minute that I would find three frozen or catatonic hens. Like I said, I'm not one to do mouth to mouth on a chicken. Thankfully, when I opened the door, they were alive. Just quiet. I threw down some hay on the ground to keep their feet out of the cold snow and fed them some soaked bread, then added some more hay to the coop to give them a little more insulation.

First Snow of the Season at The Funny Farm

Fifteen degrees and snow covered after a "winter storm" came through yesterday. (Yes, they actually used the term 'storm' on the local news yesterday. These Tennesseans have no clue.) The cat and the chickens refuse to leave their shelters. Granny hen braved the snow yesterday, but this morning, she is staying in the coop with the other two. I worry a bit that they will starve to death in their refusal to make the two-foot trip to the feeder, but I really don't want to pamper them. I refuse to turn into the lady that bathes and blow-dries her silkie on a daily basis. (See The Natural History of the Chicken. Not an actual history, but a documentary that is strangely entertaining.)

Stairs

Yesterday afternoon, I started cutting the stringers for the stairs. At first, I used the chop saw set at the appropriate angle to start the cut on the risers, but I couldn't use it for the tread cut as the angle was too sharp. After the first stringer, I decided I was handy enough to make all the cuts with the circular saw, finishing out the corners with the jig saw.

I finished the stringers this morning, and by lunch, we had two of the three stringers up and treads in place for temporary use until we are ready to drywall and put the permanent stairs in place.

Frost Ribbons

Update

It's cold here, causing work on the house to slow.

My folks made it here to Tennessee, but their stuff hasn't yet. Apparently, it won't get here until Monday.

I am reading another Pearl S. Buck book called The Living Reed, which tells the story of the Korean struggle for independence from the Japanese in the early 1900's. It is a moving story, and I am realizing how much world history I am ignorant of.

When the night grows cold enough for a hard frost, sometimes the stems of certain plants burst from the water freezing inside them, and ribbons of frost grow during the night. I keep meaning to get a picture before the temperature warms enough to melt them...

Eavesdropping on Z playing with Pig and Horse:

"Horse."

"What."

"I tired. I take a nap."

"Okay!"

"But, Horse."

"What."

"I s[l]eep here. Spider [s]care me. A spider my room."

"Your room?"

"Yeah, my room!"

"Oh, no! I see her!"

...

"Pig aseep. Wake up, seepyhead! Oh, I fall down!"