Exciting News!!!

Me: Is Auntie Luvey having a girl or boy?

Abby: A little teeny baby tato(potato) ship(chip)!

Me: But is it a girl or a boy?

Abby: Ship, Mommy! Is a baby tato ship!

Me: Alright, fine, it’s a chip.

Abby: Boy tato!

Me: I think it’s nap time for mommy.

This was a conversation held between me and Abby last night as I was trying to put her to bed. That’s right. My best friend is pregnant, and she’s having a Potato Chip, which I will be calling Tato Ship.┬áBaby will be here sometime between the end of April and the end of May, depending on if you believe the doctors or not.

Since the moment we found that Luvey was pregnant, we’ve been asking Abby the sex of the baby. She, Abby, is scary good at knowing things. She has maintained, for the most part, that the baby will be a boy. We will all be surprised when baby is born.

I am completely ecstatic! Do you know how many cute little baby things there are too make? I’m currently working on a stack of washcloths and, hopefully, some burp cloths. Not to mention all the adorable little hats and socks I could make!

I will be posting pictures as I finish things.



A few years ago, for my birthday, I was given two goats. A white female and a black male with a white stripe on his belly. I named them Willa and Zane. Willa being the female, and Zane being the male. In the natural course of things, they had two babies. Beautiful girls, a blond and white one we named Honey, and a tan, white, and black one we named Dapple. I adored these goats.

Honey when she was old enough, had babies of her own. In a tragic accident, they didn’t make it. She became sick and didn’t make it either. Dapple and Willa also lost their babies. It was a rough winter that year. Some time later, Zane fell ill and didn’t make it, and I took in another little boy goat, Mercury. He was black, grey, silver, and white. He was the sweetest little thing.

Abby LOVED the goats as much as I did. She would help me take care of them. They were so gentle with her. They’d follow her, eat from her hand, and let her tug and pull on them. They loved her, too.

Last October, both Willa and Dapple became sick and died. They’d gotten into some bad feed before I could get rid of it. It was a long several weeks of me trying to make them well. In the end, it didn’t help. That left me with Mercury. My poor, poor little Mercury. He was left all alone, and he was not happy.

He became very ill very quickly on Halloween last year. It started as a runny nose and a limp. This was nothing serious. He loved to climb and jump. He’d pulled muscles before, and we were hit with a sudden cold spell. By the time we came home from our little party, only three or four hours later, he had progressed. He was out of his mind. I spent the next hours in the pouring rain, keeping him in the yard. Every time I’d touch him, he’d panic. If you’ve never heard a goat scream from sheer terror and fright, there’s no way to describe it. It sounds nothing like the Taylor Swift song with goats.

He would be put down in the morning, if he made it that long. Sometime in the middle of the night, he’d managed to get caught in the neighbor’s rosebush across the fence. It was a miracle I’d found him, and a miracle, he was still alive. It took me, my dad, and my younger brother, to retrieve him. He was put down only a few minutes later.

Abby is only two. She still talks about how she wants to take care of the goats. How she wants to see Willa and Dapple and Mercury. I don’t think she remembers Zane. She wants to feed them. She wants to pet them. And it breaks my heart.

A Bog!

Abby has been really clingy lately. So much so, that I had to stop writing in the dining room and move into the bedroom to write on my “bog.”

Daycare drop offs have become increasingly difficult, too. She’s excited to go daycare. She’s excited to see her friends. She’s excited to see her teachers. She’s less excited to see me leave. Kisses, hugs, and assurances that I will come pick her up have to be repeated multiple times before I can leave. Most of the time, she still wails. Occasionally, she’s fine. She wants to know where I’m at all times.

This weekend she’s going to her other grandmother’s house. I’ll either be met halfway, or I’ll be driving all the way out there and dropping her off. But the drop off is going to suck big time. At least until I’m out of sight, and then she will be fine. Like nothing is wrong. If I call and she hears my voice, or someone says mentions me, all hell breaks loose.

In other, less realistic news: Did you know that the weather is affected by my best friend’s eating habits? We discovered this today. Apparently, because Luvey has eaten, it’s gotten colder outside her home.

This was discovered when I called her to help with my creative constipation. We also discovered that the baby say “bog” as opposed to “blog”, and it may be the cutest thing ever. Of course, we say that every time she blinks or breathes or looks at us. We may be a little biased.

But now you know who to blame the weather on when it doesn’t go your way.

Coppy Dog

My old man dog, Copper, has started having trouble eating dog food (and cat food). Which leaves me three options: 1) I try to mush up his regular food, 2) I buy canned food, or 3) I make food. Can you guess what I decided? I chose option 3, because I like to make my life complicated.

After weeks and weeks of research, a couple of phone calls to the vet, and several metaphorical holes placed in the wall from my head, I finally came up with a recipe, more or less. I now have approximately a week’s worth of food for both of my dogs.

It only took about three and a half hours to cook. Which seems like a long time, but really, it’s not. I made a stock, shredded chicken, cooked rice and veggies until everything became mush. Copper LOVED it, as long as it’s warm. He’s not spoiled at all!

My little dog, Alphie, not so much. He can eat regular dog food, if that’s what he chooses. He weighs five pounds so a bag of food lasts awhile for him.

Another Writing Challenge

I had originally written a post about making dog food for my dogs, but then I suddenly remembered that the Ruby Slippered Sisterhood Winter Writing Festival starts Monday, January 11th!!! Oh My God!!! Ah!!! Panic!!! Doom!!! Destruction!!! Um… forgot where I was for a moment. The exclamation points distracted me.

Anyway, back to reality, as boring as that is. The RSSWWF goes from the middle of January to the very beginning of March. It’s hosted by the Ruby Slippered Sisterhood, obviously. It’s similar to NaNoWriMo, as you have a goal, but it differs greatly than the insanity of 50,000 words in 30 days.

With the RSSWWF the goal is to get fifty points by the beginning of March. How you score points is up to you. This year my goal is to write 20 minutes per day. It could be novel, blog, or simply a To Do List, as long as my hands are on the keyboard for 20 minutes. So, if I write for an hour, I’ve earned 3 points that day. Easy peasy!