First of Fall

It is the first day of autumn, and we woke up this morning to a typical autumn day: cool and clear with the promise of a warm afternoon. The kids put on their shorts, t-shirts, and jackets, then headed outside, bearing backpacks, to see the newest member of The Funny Farm family before heading off to school.

 We adopted Daisy on Friday. I had resisted adopting a dog, determined to wait until we were in the house. But then a friend posted some pictures on facebook. She was free, oh-so cute, and her farm dog mix of Great Pyrenees, Australian Shepherd, and touch of Blue Heeler made her a dog we couldn't pass up.

I am hoping that Daisy will help Joe get over his fear of dogs. It is working, I think. Joe adores Daisy, but is still apprehensive. We keep reassuring him, "Daisy is just a baby. She is not mean, she just playing. If she is doing something you don't like, you can make her stop." Still, you can tell from this photo- he tries to keep a safe distance.

 While the kids are at school and I am doing chores around the farm, Daisy is my sidekick. I have to be careful, though. If I stop moving for more than a few seconds, she curls up on my feet, tempting me to cast aside all responsibility and plunge my hands into her fluffy softness.

 In spite of the new distraction, things are moving along on the house. We had the building inspector come out last Thursday to give us a list of things we needed before we could get our final certificate of occupancy. I also called the electrical inspector to see if we were ready for our final electrical inspection. We were hoping we could pass that inspection this week, but turns out there are a couple of minor thing we need to fix before that will happen. Maybe next week. Once we have electrical and a few other minor things, we can move in and work on getting our final occupancy.

Countertops are going in! They aren't exactly what I wanted, but comparing the time and cost difference between the in-stock countertops and ones we'd have to special order, we opted for the less-expensive, faster option. Terry, our ever-helpful neighbor, came over yesterday to help Chris install them. I am thankful. I was worried that with our inexperience, we wouldn't do a very good job. But Terry is a pro, and I can cast those worries aside.

In other news, Finley came to me about a month ago, bubbling with excitement and determination. Mrs. Sweeney, the music teacher at school, was about to hold auditions for Melody Makers, a 4th and 5th grade extra-curricular choir. Finley wanted to try out. Warning sirens went off in my head. My sweet, music-loving daughter can barely hold a tune. "That's great, Finley! I am proud of you for wanting to try out. I just want you to know that you might not make it," I cautioned her.

For the audition, the students were to sing Mrs. Sweeney a song, then try to match notes she played on the piano. I practiced with Finley. The results were not very good. I was not very optimistic, but kept my opinion to myself.

The day of auditions, I picked the kids up from school. As I pulled up to the curb, it was obvious, Finley was floating on air. "I made it! I made it!" she yelled before I could even open the door. Out of the 65 kids that auditioned for the 36 member choir, Finley was #36 on the list.

All I can think is that Finley's Sue-Heck-ish enthusiasm won her a place, because she certainly doesn't have the greatest ear. (Chris keeps making Barney Fife jokes to me on the side.) So, thank you, Mrs. Sweeney. Maybe you see potential that we can't. Maybe you just needed some truly earnest kids to boost the energy of the choir. Either way, I don't care. Finley really enjoys it, and I am just praying this experience will help my daughter to sing mostly in tune. That would be amazing.

I Will Not Be Cranky

We got most of the flooring laid this past week, and finished up the kitchen floor on Monday.

The laundry/mud room still needs to be done, but Finley was sent home Monday with strep. Tuesday, I discovered that the van's battery had gone kaput and a had to take Finley to a doctor's appointment. (Thank goodness for the truck.) Today, after getting a 4:15 wake-up thanks to Chris's alarm clock (I will not be cranky), I wrestled the battery out of the van. With an older model vehicle, the job would have taken about 30 seconds, but the brilliant engineers at Chevy buried this battery under a bar bolted to the frame, a fuse box, and tangle of wires, so it took a bit longer. 

In the mean time, the kitchen waits for counter tops and for Chris to hook up some plumbing. Once that is done, we are hoping to at least get a temporary occupancy permit so that we can move out of the trailer...

Laying the Hardwood: Beginning

We started laying the hardwood floor Friday afternoon, and got several rows laid int he living room.
Saturday morning, we started the office. After a couple hours, we realized we hadn't quite lined things up properly, and had to tear up everything we had done that morning and start over. After getting everything realigned, Chris left for a work-related event, and I kept working. Sunday took on a slow, leisurely pace, and by the end of the weekend...

Moving Right Along

Last night, Chris and I hung some of the kitchen cabinets.

Since painting the cabinet doors would have taken a lot longer, we opted to put that off until we are moved in. Flooring is next before we can permanently install the lowers cabinets and counter tops.

The Right Way to Raise Chickens

I took Finley to the 4-H chicken show last night to show her chickens. We got there early to ensure that we would have plenty of time to let the vet take a look at her birds and get them set up in their pen. We were one of the first to arrive, and as other 4-H-ers trickled in with their birds, I couldn't help but compare their chickens to Finley's. The birds in the pen right next to hers looked like they might be a little bigger than Finley's. But they were uglier, in my opinion.

As the pens filled up with the 150 or so Black Sex Link laying hens, I was overwhelmed by the sea of sameness, and couldn't imagine how a judge could tell any sort of real difference. Most of the pens had a carton filled with eggs sitting atop the pen. One pen had a whole plastic bin piled with at least 4 dozen eggs. Our pen had a mere half-dozen eggs. This fact was a little discouraging to me. Because we had let Finley's chicken mix with our other chickens, we weren't entirely sure how many eggs her hens had laid, so I only let her bring the ones I was sure of.

After all the pens were filled, and the judge started his rounds. He would reach into the pen, grab a bird, and feel it up in some mysterious way. After letting it go, he would feel another one. Before moving on to the next pen, he would scribble something onto the card that announced the owner's name. When he was safely down the row past Finley's pen, she went out to see what he had written, but it revealed nothing to us. Periodically, he would go back to a pen he had already been to and feel up another chicken. The suspense was beginning to kill me.

Finally, the judge was done, and stepped back to leave us in suspense a little longer with a speech.

He had been involved in 4-H chicken shows for over 35 years. Just so we knew, these birds were for all intents and purposes, genetically identical, and were all born on the same day. Sometimes, he could tell the difference in birds that had been picked up as chicks in the morning as opposed to the afternoon. I had been one of the first to pick up Finley's chicks. That's good. He said it could make a difference if the chicks were given sugar water right away. Uh-oh. He said it could make a difference if the birds had been kept in too big of a pen. Finley's birds had been free range for the last several months. Oops. He said it could make a difference how long you fed the chicks the grower feed before switching to scratch, or when you started feeding them layer crumble. The birds could show underdevelopement if they were left without food for as little as 8 hours. Since Finley's birds were free range, we rarely left them with unlimited access to scratch. It could make a big difference if the birds had access to fresh water all the time. I know we didn't give them fresh water EVERY day. Oh, this isn't looking good... He went on to explain the different grades. Blue plus birds were top quality. Blue was good, but could be a bit small, or not laying yet. Red birds were underdeveloped.

At this point, I was just hoping that Finley's chickens would score blue.

After talking a little while longer, he finally released us to see what he had graded the birds. We stormed the pens.

In the right hand corner of Finley's card was a big B+. I couldn't believe it. Although she didn't win a Grand Champion or Reserve Champion prize, we had apparently done something right. So go ahead, Fin. Let that heart swell with pride.