Feeling better

I've spent days coughing and lolling in the recliner, watching television.

I've observed hours and hours of home repair and woodworking. I love that stuff.

And we've found some pretty weird shows on Netflix, like 'The Sniffer," a Ukranian crime series. The actors speak Russian, and the special effects are kinda cool, but basically you spend a lot of time watching a trendy guy with a bad attitude and a superhuman sense of smell as he puts things in his nose and takes them out. We watched one episode.

I've come to love "Brojects," a show about two adult Nova Scotian (Scotious?) brothers who make up silly projects and build them, while bickering and pulling pranks. I know it sounds dumb, and it is kind of dumb, but it celebrates do-it-yourselfishness and sibling rivalry in a charming way. For instance, they built a roof patio with ping-table, telescope stand, dumbwaiter and a station for fishing for chicken wings. I might borrow some of their dumbwaiter ideas. And they bought an old woody station wagon and turned it into a surf wagon, complete with solar shower, dressing room and grill, and converted a canoe into a paddle board (sort of). They use a lot of plywood, 2x4s (whatever they call them up there) and PVC pipe. It's inventive, goofy and mostly good-spirited.

And we've got Amazon Prime, too. "How Did You Do That?" is a sweet D.I.Y. show from New Zealand. The team takes a standard rundown old beach shack (or "bach") and transforms it into something cool over one season. The kiwi accents are very thick but charming, and projects range from paint effects to building a pizza oven, and making chairs from driftwood and twine. I might want to build that pizza oven.

And then there's "Shaun the Sheep." Great show. It's claymation, and follows the adventures of Shaun and his flock on the farm. Funny, silly, sweet.

That's what I've been doing. Watching TV, and eating a lot of chocolate chips.

And while I'm pretty much over the cold, I might sneak in a little "Shaun" or "Brojects" now and then.

Feh

This cold, which has been no big deal, has suddenly knocked me for a loop. I'm installed in the recliner, sucking on cough drops and reading, when I'm not whining. C., bless her heart, is waiting on me. That woman can cook!

More when I recover.

2017 in review

I suppose it's time to look back over the year and see how we did. And plan to do better in 2018!

Successes
Chicken and guinea birth control
We had zero population growth this year, thanks to keeping the birds confined during most of the summer, and hunting out guinea nests. Since we had to sequester our four extra roosters to keep them from abusing the little hens, no more roosters is a good thing! And no frozen baby guineas in October is also a good thing. And no more guineas is a good thing – 25 is plenty.

We could use more hens and eggs, though. And feeding and watering the separate colony of roosters is a pain. Also, Bob across the road says the crowing from bachelor quarters is a problem, so we'll have to move the boys this spring. We wouldn't have this problem if we were carnivores.

The garden was wonderfully productive.

Guineas kept tick and grasshopper populations down.

Worming the goats helped improve coats.


Failures
We had three hen deaths this year. Maybe due to the obnoxious guineas? Maybe separate the guineas from chickens?

Garden watering system was a fail. Again.


MS in 2017
I've had some progression over the year. My left hand is less able, and my walking a bit worse. I'm still walking, though, and still able to do wood and animal chores. And I've finally accepted having this disease, I think, so I can spend less time angry and resentful, and get on with it.

My friend Sandra sent me a book by a guy with MS, and it helped. It's "Challenging the Dragon" by Jim Havelock, and while it's not well-written or edited (sorry, but as a former journalist and copy editor, this matters to me), it is heartfelt. I was thinking about the book a lot, and on Dec. 6 I decided to be happy. Just generally. Immediately felt better in a weird way. And still do. What the hell, ay?


Plans for next year
Install a watering system in the garden. Really. A functional one. No joke.

Apply for historic-building status, and then for grants to fix the damn roof.

Get the alpaca sheared. It will get ugly. Do it anyway.

Install a frost-free hydrant in the pasture so I won't have to carry water in the winter.

Install gutters on the barn to save water for the animals.

Install heat in the studios.

Fence at least part of the lower field so we can rotate the big animals in the pastures.

Install "chunnels" or chicken tunnels around the garden fence so the confined birds can eat more bugs and be less bored.

Hire some help.
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Here's to 2018. I hope it's good for all of us.

Into the new year

Here we are. It's been warmer, which is nice.

Our new neighbors, who turn out to be our old neighbors from town (which is weird), came down unasked and plowed the six inches of new snow off the driveway and the big berm at the road with their vintage blue Ford tractor. Sweet. Gave them gas money. We got to know them 20 years ago when all our teenage girls were being horrible and we carpooled to Tough Love meetings. Tough Love is a support group you join when your teenagers are being horrible. Good support, good advice, good company in hard times. Bad coffee, though.

And all three horrible teens are now nice, responsible women with kids of their own. (Evil laugh.) (Not really.) (Well, maybe really.)

A plowed driveway restored my driving confidence, and Earl and I hit Deer Park Wednesday for chicken food and other essentials.

C. is better. Thanks for your kind wishes. She brought a cold home from the clinic, of course, and we're both getting over that. One good thing about getting old is that you rarely catch the colds and flus going around, but this one nailed us.

As soon as we're all done being sick, we'll have the kids up for our post-Christmas Christmas.

The dachshund rocker is progressing, and now C. is working on furry ears and tail. I don't sew, but she does, and very well. The tail is attached in an amusing way – I'll post pictures when it's done. Still trying to figure out how to attach the ears in a way safe for a toddler. Screws and washers might not do.

C. trims the fake fur from the edge of an ear before sewing it to a silky lining, and turning it.

The base, ready for stain and sealing.

We muddle along; muddle-dee-doo, muddle-dee-doo, as Kurt Vonnegut would say.

Here are a couple of gratuitous wiener-dog shots. Though they like the old leopard-spotted throw, they are well pleased with the new super-silky grey fleece blanket we got for Christmas.

Where did Christmas go?

It disappeared somewhere after I found an excellent recipe for gluten-free ginger cookies. Having learned my lesson, I made a single batch to test the recipe. It was wonderful. And I don't even like  most ginger stuff.  But these cookies were dark and rich and chewy and intense, almost like chocolate. And pretty. So I  made a quadruple batch for my holiday mailings. Mmmm.

Then C. got sick. We drove in to the CHAS Clinic (she doesn't have insurance) in Deer Park, and the bastards refused to see her as we were eight minutes late (I slid off the driveway in six inches of fresh wet snow and had to cowboy my way out in the Subaru). And we didn't call (C., bless her heart, is plumb unable to get the cell phone to work though she tried repeatedly.) So they blew us off. In a rural area after a winter storm. I was shocked.

So we went to urgent care, which costs a bundle. C. got antibiotics for mastitis, and we crept home.

So C. is now really quite sick with this infection. (Or maybe it's my cooking. I have a limited repertoire, and nachos every day can make you feel a little weird.) And I find I just can't make myself  get back in the car and face the roads. I learned to drive in Alaska, and I usually love to go charging into the snow, hurtling over berms, sliding into my parking spot, but MS has pretty much killed my confidence. It's less fun to get stuck when you have a hell of time walking or digging out. I put off mailing cookies until it's too late. Pathetic, I know.

And we hesitate to have the kids come up for Christmas, since mastitis can be contagious and both girls are nursing their babies.

So C. rests and we work on our now post-Christmas-present projects.

I'm making a rocking dachshund for our little granddaughter. The rocking base is the hard part, and I get it assembled all wonky. I've never made a rocking anything, and we're winging it without a pattern. And it's really cold in the shop area of the unheated gym, so I set up a spot in the living room and proceed to make a huge mess. C. is too ill to protest. I dart in to the gym and sand or cut or drill, them rush back into the warmth.

I disassemble the base, clamp the rockers to a box to keep everything square, and reassemble. It works!

I feel pretty successful when Bella barks at the partly finished intruder. I still need to cover the screws, and apply the final paint, ears and loooooooong tail.

When C. feels better she works on her own metal project. Shoot, she's making a bigger mess than I am!

We plan to get everyone together soon and pass out weird homemade presents. It will be lovely.

Holiday crankiness

Well, crap.

I got all giddy with the season, and decided to make awesome gluten-free cookies for my work friends and my garden friends and my family near and my family far.

No, I hadn't tested the recipes. Shut up.

So far, it's gone badly, and I'm surprised.

Now I'm thinking I'll be lucky to get a tiny box of cookies to my folks in Texas, and one to C.'s most excellent brother in Seattle. And lots of ugly bits to foist off on the kids when they come up. Or maybe the dogs.

The top row is three failed attempts to cook normal (not gluten-free) shortbread cookies. I'm getting really, really pissed. I Googled the problem, and apparently it might be the fat content of the butter (Oh, Mr. Grocer, can I exchange this butter for less-fatty butter?), or the proportions in the recipe (too late to do anything about that), or rolling them out too thin (if they were thicker they could make even bigger puddles!) or the oven firing too hot. I started cooking at 325. I'm down to 200 now. They are a a tiny bit better. Feh. And I forgot they had wheat flour and ate some dough, so now I have a headache and feel like a moron. (I cook, I nibble. It's how I roll.)

That's the Martha Stewart Cookbook in the back, and the Bonnie Scottish Cookbook to the left. You guys were not helpful.

I've wasted three pounds of butter, and my kitchen (C.'s kitchen, really) is a greasy, flour-streaked mess.

Sigh.

The bottom row is my less-than-brilliant success row. Left, gf lemon shortbread (better for baking, but with a funny gluten-free taste. You know what I mean), the pretty-dang-good gf chocolate crinkle cookie, and two fairly successful gf chocolate-covered peanut-butter cheesecake balls (yes, they are "decorated." It's the holidays. Shut up).

So, Ma, Pa and Dick, guess what you are getting for Christmas?

No, not pecan shortbread cookies. Those are for the dogs.

Snow, again

Kewpie noticed that it snowed.