"You need to take a long relaxing vacation".
The Chinese have spoken. Consider it done!
Which is why I became his momma.
It was inevitable. As I learned to love and care for one of God's little creations, I realized that Curly needed a momma like everyone needs a momma.
And I needed a baby like everyone needs a baby. Even the four-legged kind.
If I was honest, I'd tell you that my journey to the farm wasn't entirely about falling in love with a needy little blind calf. It wasn't even really about taking care of my sick farmer father, which I adore by the way (even though he wouldn't let me bring Curly home to keep in my back yard). It was really about finding and embracing a secret part of me.
The part that I left behind when I fled to the city 20 years ago. The part would try to hide the fact that, at my core, I really am a dairyman's daughter. Barnyard flies, piles of poop, non-pasteurized whole milk, and all.
And while I was falling in love with cows and experimenting with this truth...I remembered something.
The times in my childhood when I would watch those momma cows get separated from their babies right after birth, so they could provide milk for the rest of us. Those momma cows that would go one way - why their babies went the other in separation. And how I would watch those momma cows anxiously pace up and down their holding pen fence day after day...with the sad and sorrowful bellowing.
Something, I can understand.
And so, instead of hoping Colton's playing with horses above...I'll settle for a cute little blind baby calf which we all came to love.
This was the view from my backyard. No es bueno.
1600 homes evacuated. So after spending the night at the Red Cross shelter...I've realized that working in a shelter is easier when it isn't quite possibly your own.
p.s. To the firefighter who was injured when a horse bit him as he was trying to evacuate it ...I'm sorry. I think I've met the horse. He's mean. He almost kicked the cop that was leading him down the road to the animal shelter.
p.s.s. To the soldier who started the fire on the other side of the mountain...I'm not mad but the homeowners minus their homes might be. It wasn't your fault that you were told to shoot your machine gun on a hot, dry, windy day, right? I mean, who can predict the spark or the 50 mile wind which will take it away, right?
p.s.s.s. Although FEMA is calling the disaster the Machine Gun Fire (oh yes they are!)....for a minute I was calling it the Exit Strategy. For a few hours New England was in my grasp even if I could only take my dog, wedding photos, journals, photo albums and legal documents to get there.
I'd apologize for the wrinkles but I refuse to iron it.
Frankly, he's lucky he got the hanger.
If you want the truth, he wears it for multiple reasons. Among the top, is the fact that it makes this little spitfire laugh with his stories about me tying a bomb around his foot.
She is the reason that God created grassy hills. Her laughter is infectious and she always makes me wish that I was a five year old all over again.
Have you ever realized what a wealth of information Facebook is? People are not shy about telling you what's going on. In the last 5 minutes this is what I've learned:
Facebook. Should we love it, or hate it? I'm not sure...but I answer when it calls.
Probably for the same reason that I always pick up the tabloid as I wait in line at the grocery checkout.
Newborns. All within a week.
Meet Curly. He's my favorite. I saved his life more than once by shoving a feeding tube down his throat. Finally, we graduated to a bottle (after sucking fingers) and I couldn't be more proud.
But he was (is) one sick little fella and I've lost a lot of sleep over him in the last two weeks. Just ask my dad (who finally had to get out of the recliner despite doctors orders to save us both). Not to mention that this little guy is also blind. What mother doesn't love a blind little baby calf?
Curly is going to turn me into a vegetarian.
Because I love him. Blindness, feeding tubes, and all.
This is Glen (as in Glen Beck. Hey - when in Rome....). This little guy is a trouble maker (hence the name) which is quite noticeable with the pink patch on his forehead. I'm still looking for the missing hair. He too, likes to suck on fingers (and pants...and shirts....and long hair...)
Glen has Attention Deficit Disorder...
Requiring a lot of attention...
Which, like all babies, is always satisfied at feeding time. (please note that he prefers my "teta" over his biological mothers)
And finally, meet Barack. No maintenance required and totally independent. He tells you what he wants and then will take what he needs. My kind of guy. But sometimes he steals all the milk which doesn't work so well for the team...
While we're having Show & Tell... you should meet my 90 year old horse Butch (Really. He's 90 in horse years which is unheard of!). My grandpa gave him to me when I was 15 because I had stars in my eyes and would pine away for him every time I visited my grandparent's ranch. One day, my grandpa surprised me.
For 20 years I have loved this horse.
And just in case you think I'm totally country....you should know that I did chores in flip-flops every day. Twice.
Because that's what a New Yorker would do in a field of crap. So in addition to being a little bit country...I'm still a little bit Rock-n-Roll!
(p.s. my dad calls these my Chinese Motorcycle Boots. Good thing cancer didn't take his sense of humor.)