A primarily Poppy post

Focusing on a one thing at a time is essential for accomplishing anything these days. I seem to have lost my ability to multi-task: is it stress, age, cumulative effects of mild concussion? Ha; probably all of the above! Anyway, today my "one thing" to help me blog is Poppy, my good pup. We started agility classes again last night, after a holiday break, and she did great; the teacher commented on her growing maturity and skills. I am going to ask one of my fellow class members to video us sometime.

Me and my dog on the first day of 2022. May we spend many more together!

Brian didn't want a "little dog," but has acknowledged that Poppy is pretty cool. She thinks he's pretty cool, too.

While Poppy waited for the guys to come home, I had fun with iPhone filters.

Sometimes a girl's just gotta zoom!

That's it for now on  the terrier at . . .

Date nights, big and little

Last Tuesday, Rick took me to a concert. Rick plays guitar, so when he learned that Tommy Emmanuel was coming to Portland he got tickets. With masks and proof of vaccination required, we had no concerns about being in the packed Aladdin Theater in Portland, where we sat in the balcony:

I recorded some snippets of various pieces to share and return to, but didn't capture any of the really fast and furious or percussive pieces that you see in a couple of the photos.

It was REALLY GOOD. Brit Mike Dawes opened for Tommy and played with him, too; both of them are so talented and clearly had fun. Whoever did the lights definitely enhanced the experience. (Saturday night it was Brian's turn; Rick took him to a gospel quartet concert while I enjoyed a quiet night at home.)

Then last night, Brian brought Chuckie in for a little date night of his own. I think they needed a room; notice all the drool on Chuckie's foreleg and Brian's sleeve. 🙄🤣

Have you enjoyed any date nights yet in 2022?

That's it from . . .

Ladies in waiting

The sheep are still in the same two groups. Spot and his four girlfriends reside in and around the Ram-ada Inn; I've dubbed the Sheep Sheraton "The Island of Misfit Toys," populated as it is with two old ewes, two creaky wethers; a middle-aged ewe with lower jaw/teeth problems, and a bouncy pest who may be closer in age to a yearling but definitely looks and acts more like a lamb.

Round and waddling Bernadette on the left, Spot on the right

"Who are you calling ROUND?"

Left to right: Blaise, Bridget, Bette, Bernadette; the middle two are longer-bodied ewes.

Spot has clearly done his job; all four of his consorts are wide and a couple of them are even waddling. I told a friend that lambs were at least two months away, but I still need to start thinking about logistics. Bing and Bittersweet are no longer spry enough to live with a ram in the prime of life, but Spot can't live alone. Even living next to the wethers with only a pipe gate between as he did when he first arrived made him frustrated, but that may be my only option, along with moving the four ladies in waiting back to the Sheraton. The Sheraton needs to be cleaned out and rebedded (for which I must enlist begrudging manpower) before lambing jugs can be set up; I only have the materials to create two. What am I going to do if everyone lambs around the same time? There is an empty stall in the barn; it would be possible to turn that into a maternity/nursery ward if Rick didn't object too much (he's already grumbling that we're going to be overrun by sheep). Clearly the situation needs more thought and a significant amount of effort.

But this evening I looked back at my records (otherwise known as this blog), and saw with a jolt that I put the breeding group together on September 15. Lambing could begin in as soon as a MONTH! Gulp.

Getting ready to be the midwife at . . .

Critical mass mess

I've reached it. Between the state of the inside of the house and the outside of the house, I am feeling agitated and overwhelmed. Living in the country is messy; burning wood for heat is messy; winter weather is messy; holidays are messy; the males I live with are messy (especially one).... There is no way I can keep up with it all, and sometimes I want to throw an absolute hissy fit – or throw in the towel. Neither would accomplish a thing, though, so I keep at it like a maid with a mop on the Titanic. If my blogs go silent, you know I've gone down with the ship.

Listing badly at . . .