What a week! Squeezed in a biopsy, a couple Dr. appointments, and shearing the sheep...and it's not quite Friday, yet.
Looks like there'll be more minor surgery (in and out the same day, we're hoping) on April 20, with a few appointments to take up time before then. At least right now it doesn't look like anything Big, which is good since the wee lambs will be popping next month! The biopsy didn't show anything really Bad but wasn't totally Normal either, so it will be a relief to have the procedure over with and, with luck, get back to "normal" for a middle-aged lady!
The fleeces on the CVM/Romeldale flock are beautiful this year. I guess all the corn I've been feeding helped. I managed to last through the 34 sheep here, but didn't make it over to Ron's in the afternoon when they did the rest of my 50 Border Leicester/Bluefaced Leicester/Cheviot ewes. I handed the guys boxes of big heavy bags to put individual fleeces in, but I have no idea what kind of mess I'll find when I open those sacks! Ron warned me that they had a lot of chaff in their fleeces.
I had about 28 of the sheep here covered with coats, so those fleeces are spotless. I'll have to give serious consideration to entering some in wool competitions this summer. I have lots of shades of gray and moorit, and some have exceptional crimp. They all feel soft, too. Fun!
I've been sore and tired since the biopsy on Monday, but I'm hoping that a prescription they phoned into the pharmacy for me today will get me back among the world of the living. I've been doing chores (more than I'm supposed to be tackling, but sheep gotta eat), then basically putting my feet up. Have not even done much knitting (except in the waiting rooms of doctor offices).
It's officially Spring: thunderstorms this a.m. had the dogs refusing to go outside until the sun came out around 10!
Thursday, March 22, 2007
Wednesday, March 14, 2007
Secret Pal10 "pals" have been assigned...
I received my SP10 "assignment" and also received a nice email from my secret pal. As somebody, myself, who is around yarns, etc. every day, it will be soooo fun picking out things for my SP. Marj, owner of the LYS, will be thrilled about it too, I'm sure. And it is always fun to share with "the gals" at the LYS not only the incoming but the outgoing packages! Let the shopping begin! (Oh, how I love shopping!) 
It's almost St. Patrick's Day. Where have the weeks gone? I'm sure it was February 3rd just yesterday, wasn't it?
It's been unseasonably warm for two days. Mud, mud, and more mud. When you drop a skein of yarn in your front yard grass and it comes up muddy, that's pretty bad! (And it was a nice skein of Opal sock yarn, too...I brushed it off and figure I'll knit as is and then wash it, rather than unwinding and rewinding it for a thorough washing now.)
It must be spring fever: The ewes are butting heads (silly things), the male dogs are posturing and grumbling at each other (without Craig, they need to establish a new pack leader), and I am itching to both knit and spin and am thoroughly frustrated that I can't do both, constantly, immediately, and simultaneously! This is when it gets dangerous and I lay aside UFOs in order to start something new! and exciting!, and yet another something new! and exciting! and before I know it I have three pairs of socks with 1 and 1/2 sock finished plus whatever else piques my fancy. I'm trying to be self-disciplined.
The other danger when I get into these frustrated spells is the dreaded Stash Proliferation. Because I'm using such and such a yarn or roving for this or that project, I rationalize buying something new for the next project. At least I've resisted this part of Spring Fever thus far.
Sunday, March 11, 2007
The bluebirds are fighting over boxes, owls are noisier than ever at night, and flocks of geese create such a racket overhead that I can't hear myself call the dogs! It's amazingly warm after the bitter cold we had so recently: 50s! The only down side (if it can be called that) is the mud and standing water everywhere, some of it still deceptively hidden under a bit of snow so you hit it and heels slip out from under you.
I finished the little lace socks for Xylia, and have started an adult pair. It's a REALLY simple pattern in the sock-shaped Knit Socks! book. I wanted something mindless that I could do at the shop, where inevitably whatever you're doing is interrupted (when we're lucky!) by customers.
I can't believe it's March 11 already! St. Patrick's Day looms, and I'm starting to worry about shearing the ewes. We take the shearer(s) whenever available, so all we can do is let them know we're ready and then wait for their call. And hope they make it here before the ewes start lambing. If they have full fleeces, it means they aren't encouraged to eat more right when they need it most, the wool brings a lot of moisture into the barn, the lambs have trouble finding the udder, and the ewes are less sensitive to where their lambs are and, although none of mine ever have, sometimes lay on a lamb. Also, if they have a difficult delivery, a touch of mastitis, or anything else, it can adversely affect the wool.
With all the wet weather and mud, a few of the ewes are limping. They need their feet trimmed, which we usually do at shearing time, too. And I'm determined that their "coats" (covers) will go right back on them at shearing time, before they're released.
Friday was Phoenix's third birthday. He called me to thank me for the box I sent to him, and although I only understood about 55% of what he said, it was clear that the John Deer toy and DVD, the hat (a bit big, but better that than too small), and the other little things (stickers, etc.) were a hit.
According to my brother Dave, they've all been sick with a respiratory bug. On the plus side, Xylia is a very easy baby, and Andrea's already back to doing accupuncture treatments to her regular clients and, when they called me, she was baking cookies. Wonder woman!
I'm putting together a "Xylia" box, with a fleece/satin blanket (sheep pattern, of course), a little pair of overalls (I gave a set to "farmer Phoenix" and have to be non-sexist, of course) that have a little lamb in the front pocket, lamb socks, a lamb bib, and a lamb top that matches the overalls.
I haven't been very good company lately, probably because I'm worried about the health problems that will be further investigated on the 19th. Fingers are crossed that it's something easily fixed. Once you've battled the big C, it seems like you're always looking over your shoulder, even more than ten years later!
I'm working on getting a digital camera, just a simple one. I'd like to document my knitting and spinning projects, rovings, etc. so this blog is less of a diary and more of a fiber page!
I downloaded some Old Shale (Feather and Fan) sock patterns and might start on a pair of those. Then again, I should start thinking about something for the men in the family...maybe cables? Suggestions for a simple cable sock?
I finished the little lace socks for Xylia, and have started an adult pair. It's a REALLY simple pattern in the sock-shaped Knit Socks! book. I wanted something mindless that I could do at the shop, where inevitably whatever you're doing is interrupted (when we're lucky!) by customers.
I can't believe it's March 11 already! St. Patrick's Day looms, and I'm starting to worry about shearing the ewes. We take the shearer(s) whenever available, so all we can do is let them know we're ready and then wait for their call. And hope they make it here before the ewes start lambing. If they have full fleeces, it means they aren't encouraged to eat more right when they need it most, the wool brings a lot of moisture into the barn, the lambs have trouble finding the udder, and the ewes are less sensitive to where their lambs are and, although none of mine ever have, sometimes lay on a lamb. Also, if they have a difficult delivery, a touch of mastitis, or anything else, it can adversely affect the wool.
With all the wet weather and mud, a few of the ewes are limping. They need their feet trimmed, which we usually do at shearing time, too. And I'm determined that their "coats" (covers) will go right back on them at shearing time, before they're released.
Friday was Phoenix's third birthday. He called me to thank me for the box I sent to him, and although I only understood about 55% of what he said, it was clear that the John Deer toy and DVD, the hat (a bit big, but better that than too small), and the other little things (stickers, etc.) were a hit.
According to my brother Dave, they've all been sick with a respiratory bug. On the plus side, Xylia is a very easy baby, and Andrea's already back to doing accupuncture treatments to her regular clients and, when they called me, she was baking cookies. Wonder woman!
I'm putting together a "Xylia" box, with a fleece/satin blanket (sheep pattern, of course), a little pair of overalls (I gave a set to "farmer Phoenix" and have to be non-sexist, of course) that have a little lamb in the front pocket, lamb socks, a lamb bib, and a lamb top that matches the overalls.
I haven't been very good company lately, probably because I'm worried about the health problems that will be further investigated on the 19th. Fingers are crossed that it's something easily fixed. Once you've battled the big C, it seems like you're always looking over your shoulder, even more than ten years later!
I'm working on getting a digital camera, just a simple one. I'd like to document my knitting and spinning projects, rovings, etc. so this blog is less of a diary and more of a fiber page!
I downloaded some Old Shale (Feather and Fan) sock patterns and might start on a pair of those. Then again, I should start thinking about something for the men in the family...maybe cables? Suggestions for a simple cable sock?
Tuesday, March 6, 2007
Does the cold make a person stupid?
I'm looking for any excuse....
I prefer thinking I'm more slow-witted than usual to wondering if I've gone bonkers. This past weekend whirled out of control rather quickly, leaving me feeling like a piece of last week's newspaper blown about by a very cold wind.
First, I was stopped -- and ticketed -- for a cracked windshield. Although it cracked about four months ago, it's apparently only now in imminent danger of shattering? Cracking all the way through? Something dire, posing grave risk, at any rate. (If you suspect irony, you get an A+.)
And here I was waiting until it was at least a tiny bit warmer to get the poor glass man out here to replace it, since they do it right in your driveway. The patrolman wasn't nearly as altruistic. I've passed him in our tiny town, looking out from behind my cracked windshield, any number of times in the past four months. Apparently the crack, although looking the same to me, wasn't as serious in the past as it was Saturday. Maybe the cop wanted to get a good start on his March citations. Sigh.
The downward slide in mood continued when it was revealed to my cold-numbed? brain that I have not the $50 deductable for windshield replacement that I thought I remembered from the last time the truck glass was changed, but a $100 deductable.
I still must call the county to find out how much the ticket will cost. I have ten days to do so. So far, I haven't wanted more bad news.
On Monday, the 5th, I realized that Mr. Policeman returned my driver's license with the ticket, but not my proof of insurance. Nervous from being pulled over for the windshield ticket, I didn't want to risk not having a copy of my insurance details in the truck. As I drove to my State Farm representative's office for a replacement, the "low fuel" light came on, and I realized I had a whopping $5 in my wallet. It took a record 40 seconds to pour it into the gas tank.
And, later the same day, I was sure I smelled propane. Looking like an idiot, sniffing around the house like a hound, I decided it wasn't really strong, but I should probably have carbon dioxide or gas alarms in the house.
So I drove, on that $5 of fuel, back to the town where the insurance office and hardware store do business, and plunked down $50+ (I remembered my checkbook this time) for a combination CO2 & gas detector. I sat out in the hardware store parking lot, cutting the package open to read the instructions and install the battery. (I think my thought, if I was thinking, was to have it working already as I carried it into the house.) I got a few odd looks, considering that I had removed my glasses and was holding the instruction book about two inches away from my nose. Well....the print was really really tiny. OK, I admit I need to make an opthalmologist appointment. The good thing about getting older is that I can see better at a distance. The bad thing is that the distance at which one reads, knits, spins, is increasingly blurry.
I drove home, carried my purchase into the house, plugged it into a power strip on the floor (per instructions, since propane settles toward the ground), and hit the reset button, as the instructions told me. Sound! Lights! Terror! The most incredible siren went off and lights started flashing on the tiny screen, and the word GAS came up, and what wits remained flew straight out of my head. I unplugged the detector in defense of my hearing, and debated whether to get all the dogs out of the house, open all the windows to the sub-freezing weather, call 911, and/or...what?
Thankfully, I decided to re-read the instructions. You might think me foolhardy, but honestly, I didn't smell anything when I came back in the house, and I figured if there really was a leak then I'd be MORE apt to smell something after being out in the fresh air. Logical?
The fine print informed me that sirens, lights, and the awful word GAS would indeed present themselves in the first few minutes as the detector set itself. Sure enough. I went through the ear-splitting procedure again, and the screen settled down eventually to a steadily pulsing dot and the numeral "0". Sigh.
That left me questioning my sanity, or at least my nose, because I really had thought I smelled propane. Maybe it was one of the dogs.
Three or four inches of snow are predicted for overnight. The only good thing about it will be the better footing snow gives on top of the shear, bumpy ice making up the yard, barnyard, and driveway. Hey. Maybe optimism is just around the clock. Hope springs, unlike Spring.
I prefer thinking I'm more slow-witted than usual to wondering if I've gone bonkers. This past weekend whirled out of control rather quickly, leaving me feeling like a piece of last week's newspaper blown about by a very cold wind.
First, I was stopped -- and ticketed -- for a cracked windshield. Although it cracked about four months ago, it's apparently only now in imminent danger of shattering? Cracking all the way through? Something dire, posing grave risk, at any rate. (If you suspect irony, you get an A+.)
And here I was waiting until it was at least a tiny bit warmer to get the poor glass man out here to replace it, since they do it right in your driveway. The patrolman wasn't nearly as altruistic. I've passed him in our tiny town, looking out from behind my cracked windshield, any number of times in the past four months. Apparently the crack, although looking the same to me, wasn't as serious in the past as it was Saturday. Maybe the cop wanted to get a good start on his March citations. Sigh.
The downward slide in mood continued when it was revealed to my cold-numbed? brain that I have not the $50 deductable for windshield replacement that I thought I remembered from the last time the truck glass was changed, but a $100 deductable.
I still must call the county to find out how much the ticket will cost. I have ten days to do so. So far, I haven't wanted more bad news.
On Monday, the 5th, I realized that Mr. Policeman returned my driver's license with the ticket, but not my proof of insurance. Nervous from being pulled over for the windshield ticket, I didn't want to risk not having a copy of my insurance details in the truck. As I drove to my State Farm representative's office for a replacement, the "low fuel" light came on, and I realized I had a whopping $5 in my wallet. It took a record 40 seconds to pour it into the gas tank.
And, later the same day, I was sure I smelled propane. Looking like an idiot, sniffing around the house like a hound, I decided it wasn't really strong, but I should probably have carbon dioxide or gas alarms in the house.
So I drove, on that $5 of fuel, back to the town where the insurance office and hardware store do business, and plunked down $50+ (I remembered my checkbook this time) for a combination CO2 & gas detector. I sat out in the hardware store parking lot, cutting the package open to read the instructions and install the battery. (I think my thought, if I was thinking, was to have it working already as I carried it into the house.) I got a few odd looks, considering that I had removed my glasses and was holding the instruction book about two inches away from my nose. Well....the print was really really tiny. OK, I admit I need to make an opthalmologist appointment. The good thing about getting older is that I can see better at a distance. The bad thing is that the distance at which one reads, knits, spins, is increasingly blurry.
I drove home, carried my purchase into the house, plugged it into a power strip on the floor (per instructions, since propane settles toward the ground), and hit the reset button, as the instructions told me. Sound! Lights! Terror! The most incredible siren went off and lights started flashing on the tiny screen, and the word GAS came up, and what wits remained flew straight out of my head. I unplugged the detector in defense of my hearing, and debated whether to get all the dogs out of the house, open all the windows to the sub-freezing weather, call 911, and/or...what?
Thankfully, I decided to re-read the instructions. You might think me foolhardy, but honestly, I didn't smell anything when I came back in the house, and I figured if there really was a leak then I'd be MORE apt to smell something after being out in the fresh air. Logical?
The fine print informed me that sirens, lights, and the awful word GAS would indeed present themselves in the first few minutes as the detector set itself. Sure enough. I went through the ear-splitting procedure again, and the screen settled down eventually to a steadily pulsing dot and the numeral "0". Sigh.
That left me questioning my sanity, or at least my nose, because I really had thought I smelled propane. Maybe it was one of the dogs.
Three or four inches of snow are predicted for overnight. The only good thing about it will be the better footing snow gives on top of the shear, bumpy ice making up the yard, barnyard, and driveway. Hey. Maybe optimism is just around the clock. Hope springs, unlike Spring.
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