Chickens On Crack!

Blondie, on crack... look at his mouth closely...

Okay... last week I went to the feed store to get laying pellets for the chickens.  A couple days later,  Moshe opened the bag and we realized that the fellow who carried the bag of feed out to the Jeep accidentally gave me chick mash rather than laying pellets. The bags look identical, except for the name printed at the tops of the bags.

Please,  Sir,  we want MORE...

Having already opened the 25-pound bag, and knowing that we had 21 hungry poultry out in the coops, we made the decision to go ahead and feed them the chick mash until it is used up... Now, I don't know what's in chick mash, but - wow - do chickens ever love it!  Is it the ingredients?  Or, is it because that's what they had as babies, and so it's comfort food? You know,l  Like hot chocolate.  Or applesauce.  Or cookies.  Or ?????

Bottoms up, y'all

The first day, I scattered the mash on the ground the same way I throw corn or pellets.  The chickens were literally jumping on top of each other to get it!  I thought must be unusually hungry, although I didn't know of any reason why they should 've been...

Get outta' my way...

The second day, Moshe suggested that I mix the mash with water like I did when the chickens were babies.  It's been windy, and he had seen some of the mash being swept away in the wind.  So, I mixed it and carried the pail of wet mash out to the coops.  Again, the chickens literally jumped up and down at the smell of the mash!  And, as I put spoonfuls of the "chicken porridge" into the feeders, they were like crazed junkies!  My gosh, now I know the definition of  a "feeding frenzy"!

Having heard from me about our crack addicts, Moshe came with me the third day  to observe their behavior.  Not only did they act the same, but one chicken literally rode piggyback on another trying to be first at the feeder.  And, not wanting to feel left out, our new cat,  Pickles, got into the act.  Imagine, one small cat and a hungry mob of chickens eating  mash out of a bowl.
Such is life at the Ben-David farm...  I', still shaking my head and asking myself, "Exactly WHAT is in that chick food???"



Shalom  Y'all - Twyla

Do Animals Have Feelings?

     My hubby and I have different opinions on this one... He prefers the scientific explanation that animals have instincts, not feelings.  But, I think they have feelings very similar to our human ones. Fortunately, this isn't a terribly pressing matter in our household, and we can agree to disagree without much discussion.

"I'd do anything to please you... even wear this tiara..."

 Maybe because I am sensitive - both to my own feelings and those of others - I am also sensitive to the animals' feelings...  I love it when Moxie literally jumps for joy at the sight of my Jeep coming around the bend towards home... She runs to meet me, knowing that I'll open the door and let her "drive" up the curving driveway, both of us grinning all the way.   I love it when CassPurr comes into the office, quietly sits next to me, and bats at my arm - pulling it downward, as if to say, "Pet me -I'm lonely."  And I love it that without fail all the chickens start talking like crazy when they hear my voice.  The Peeps literally jump straight up and down at the sight of me.  Am I projecting my feelings onto them?  No, I don't think so... Believe me, I don't run down the driveway or bat anyone's arm.  And I certainly don't jump up and down! (Okay... on the last one I'd be willing to make an exception if someone sent me a check for a million dollars... or even a thousand.)



Cassie always walks toward the camera,resulting in photos like this!

      The animals have personalities, too.  When I was a little girl, we had a cat who would stand in the corner and pout if we laughed at her - it clearly embarrassed her and hurt her feelings.  On the other hand, CassPurr loves to be a clown and acts crazier and crazier the more we laugh at him.  I must admit Cassie is the only cat I've ever seen with this personality trait.  I had an old tom cat years ago who was so social,  he not only had to be a part of every occasion, he had to be the center of it!  And he grinned like a Chesshire cat - I kid you not.  Cats have a way, too, of sensing humans' feelings.  They know when you're sad or sick, and they are cuddly and comforting... Back when I had four cats, they were a pretty good family, but they had bouts of jealousy.  They could frown and shoot each other a dirty look...especially over attention from me. They played "king of the hill" on the ladder, and it cracked me up so much that sometimes I left the ladder up for days just so I could watch the competition. It warmed my heart when I'd come home from work to find those four little faces looking out the glass-paned front door, eager to say hello to their person.  They also would gather in a litle semi-circle all around the piano bench when I played music each morning.   They especially liked the slower music, and would settle down with a dreamy look in their eyes...Occasionally one would try to play along, resulting in frowns from the rest of the "audience".

"I'm worried..."

      I'm not an expert on dogs, but I know our Moxie.  She has got to be the most affectionate critter I've ever met.  (Thankfully, she doesn't lick - I can't stand that!)  But, she shows her affection by being our constant shadow... Moshe and I are together a lot, but when we are in separate rooms, she parks herself midway between the two of us.  If he is in the office and I am in the kitchen, she stays in the adjoining hallway until one of us moves.  Apparently she doesn't want to give either of us preferential treatment. Yesterday  Moshe and I cleaned house.  I scrubbed the kitchen while he vacuumed.  In order to vacuum, Moshe picked up Moxie's dog beds - one in the office and one in the bedroom - and moved them.  Meanwhile, I was cleaning everything in the kitchen, so I put her bowl and the pet waterer in the sink to wash 'em.   Moxie sat in the doorway entering the kitchen,  looking dejected and worried.  I told Moshe I thought she was afraid that we were sending her away to live somewhere alse.  No amount of talking or petting would console her, but once the beds and the bowl were back in place, she went back to her usual happy self.

  Beau is another example.  Beau is the stray dog we have adopted... sort of.  He sleeps under the front porch in a nest of hay.  He is great friends with Moxie; they run and leap and play together in an expression of pure joy.  We feed him morning and evening.  He will follow me out to the chicken coops and almost touch my hand, but if Moshe is with me, he follows further away.  Twice he came up and licked my hand when I called him, but mostly he won't get closer than a few feet away.  Somebody must have really mistreated Beau, and I can only hope that someday he will realize that we won't.  I've known people like that, too.. People who have been so hurt that they cannot and will not allow anyone to get too close to them.  Whether you're a person or an animal, it's a sad way to deal with emotional pain, isn't it?
    

My daughter was always a really good kid... Easy to live with, easy to bring up, and a good student.  I can only remember her getting in trouble at school a couple times.  Once for having a pea-shooting contest with her straw in the cafeteria. (That  STILL cracks me up! My sweet little Melody participating in a pea-shooting contest!!!)  The other time it was for arguing with her teacher... She had written an essay in which she described her cat, "Ozzie", as a person.  The teacher corrected her, saying, "Cats aren't people; they're animals." Melody said something like, "Well, maybe YOUR cats are animals, but OUR cats are people."
 


My crazy pre-computer cut and paste wedding photo; Ozzie is thegrey cat with the sweatshirt on; I am the bride...


    I  really couldn't scold her much for arguing with her teacher about that, now could I?  And, by the way, by the time Ozzie passed away, Melody was in highschool,  and Ozzie was so well-known in out little town that the entire tenth grade mourned his loss.  Seems to me that if an animal can invoke that much feeling in us, then we must be invoking feelings in them, too.
     Not a scientific study, I must admit.  But even so I maintain that animals have emotions.

Shalom  Y'all -
          Twyla

I Don't Know How She Did It!

     Last night I went to bed cold and hungry.  I could have found something to eat that fits my current dietary restrictions  (no sugar, no corn, no gluten), but chose to be disciplined instead.  The cold is another matter... We have the wood stove, but it simply will not heat the entire house; we knew that when we got it.  We keep the central heat on automatic, with the thermostat set at 60 degrees.  Now, sixty degrees is a might chilly...  We also have an electric blanket, so I usually pre-warm the bed.  But, last night I just couldn't get warm, couldn't get comfortable, couldn't sleep.  CassPurr tried to comfort me with his wonderful purring in my ear, but I still couldn't sleep. Moshe was snoring like a freight train, so I knew he wasn't going to participate in  any conversations any time soon...  So, I thought and prayed.  Prayed and thought.  Tried to think of everybody I know... what does he or she need from God.  I prayed for our country.  I prayed for our finances;  we, like so many people nowadays, are struggling to make ends meet... What will become of us?

...an accident from the 1930's...

     But, before the above-mentioned  "freight train" arrived, I mentioned to Moshe that I'd been thinking about my grandmother, and I just don't know how she did it. She lived on a farm in Michigan.  She was widowed at an early age; had several children to take care of.  Lost two children in an auto accident in the 1930's. (That must have been one of the earliest auto accident fatalities, no?)   She brought up those children during the Great Depression. She must have done a wonderful job, because my Mom says that their childhood was "just like The Waltons" - they even all had red hair!  Mom would've been the equivalent of "Elizabeth" - the youngest Walton girl...

The Waltons

 I never knew my grandmother all that well.  I saw her once a year at most until she died when I was sixteen. Whenever I saw her, she was cheerful enough.  Not overly talkative, but pleasant.  She ALWAYS wore a dark, printed dress with a full apron over it. Her hair was kept up in a rather untidy bun; but, a couple times I saw her brushing her hair out in the morning... It seemed like it was a mile long to a little girl - especially a little girl with short hair.  Her hair had been red when she was younger;  by the time I knew her, it was white like mine is now... with some dark hair in the back... just like mine.
      Minnie Harper.  A good country name.  With children's names such as Elva, Luella, Milo and Louie - to name only a few out the ten she bore.  They are all in heaven now, except my Mom.
  

corn crib,barn, and a few of the "aimless chickens"...

     But, how did she do it?  She lived in a big hand-built, fieldstone house. She never did get that indoor plumbing.  She had a pump, which, when properly primed, would supply one end of the kitchen with cold water. In her later years, different sons and daughters offered to build her a bathroom, but she declined their offers every time.  They got her a TV, but the only time it was  on was when company turned it on. When it was on, she would leave the room.  I remember her saying, "Those people on there can look right up my dress."  The family insisted that she have a phone, and someone got it installed for her.  She would answer it, but never once placed a call. She cooked, baked bread, and heated the house with two wood stoves. (Actually, I think one of them was a coal stove, come to think of it.)  She had dozens of chickens, which wandered aimlessly throughout her property... Hence, there wasn't a blade of grass to speak of in her "yard".

Grama's quilted pillow, alongside my Mom's doll, Tracy

   I remember when she had milking cows in the barn, and a mean-looking bull, which we kids were told to stay far away from. (Steer clear of the steer, dear?)  There were cats, but not the friendly kind like I had back home.  And she always had a dog.  I don't know how many dogs she had over the years, but it was always one at a time, they were always big brown dogs, and they were all named "Pat". The first "Pat" I remember was really smart and he knew how to turn the doorknobs and open the doors;  we kids thought that was just super-neato!

     In her "spare time" she quilted.  I have a couple pieces of her work, and they are treasures to me.  Completely hand-stitched; she didn't own a sewing machine.  I think she embroidered some, too, although I don't have any mementos of that.
     Amazing. I'm sure she read quite a bit. I never heard a radio playing in her house, although she may have had one.  She had a piano, but I never heard her play it. (Usually, it was locked when we visited... I was always insulted by that, because I actually played well. But, I guess when you're expecting a passel of kids, you'd be wise to lock the thing up before they all thought they should pound on it!)

     Of course, we always visited in the Summertime. I can't imagine how cold it must have been in January or February.  The closest house was a couple miles away, and the closest relative was about ten miles away.  She didn't have a car, but family took her to town "to trade eggs" every week or two.  There was an apple orchard, and fields of corn, wheat, etc, which my Uncle Louie cared for when I was growing up.  But, before that,  I can only guess that my Grama had to do it... Her and her children.  Wow.  How  DID  she do it?
  

some of my teacup collection

     It was a treat to be allowed to play upstairs at Grama's house.  There were two or three bedrooms up there, plus a little alcove where I loved to play.  I played with miniature china - real china - that had been my mother's when she was a little girl.   I still have one cup and saucer from that set!  Can you imagine?  In my later years, I started collecting cups and saucers.  I used to have two or three times as many as I do now... gave a bunch away, and sold a few as well.  Some are very ornate, some are probably valuable; but, the most-treasured one is that simple white miniature cup and saucer that somehow survived all these years...
  

the little teacup, alongside a "fancy" one

     When Grama died, the family put out the word that anyone who wanted anything should lay claim to it.  I told my Mom that I would LOVE to have one of Grama's old black rocking chairs.  I remember there were a few of them, all lined up in one room, alongside a couple of sofas, a daybed, the piano - it was a BIG room!

the old rocker, near our pot-belly stove...

      Mom got me that rocking chair and I still have it.  Decades ago, I stripped off the blackened varnish, to discover gorgeous golden oak.  Mom said she found out later that nobody took any of the other rockers... I can't imagine why.  It seems a shame, but when the property sold, the house was full of old rockers, china cabinets,  beautiful chiming clocks, probably the huge upright piano...with its' key.
  







 So, how did she do it?  I can only surmise that she had faith in God.  And, that God saw her through those many years, provided for her, cared for her, loved her, cheered her.
     And He will do the same for me - even when it's cold and I am hungry.



         Shalom  Y'all - Twyla

Ahh, The Peaceable Kingdom

Pretty Face

     Life is a learning experience.  And life on the farm is certainly a learning experience!  We never cease to be amazed at the occurrences here on our little homestead.
     Last weekend we moved all the baby chicks together -  3 that Pretty Face recognized as the ones she'd hatched, and the 6 that she rejected having been brought in as newcomers when a week or so old. We put all the Peeps together, thinking it would be best to combine them before they got to an age where they'd fight. (Admittedly, we don't know what that age would be, but we were basing it on the fact that the girls are acting like hens and the boys are acting like roosters.)
      So, together they went, and they did very well as one big family.  But, poor Pretty Face.  She remained in her little broody coop.  Alone.  She could see and hear her babies, but couldn't get to them.  It made me sad from the first moment. She cried and paced in her courtyard.  I was certain that she wanted to be with her babies!  Moshe kept saying, "Oh, she'll be alright."  But I just didn't think so...  More out of concern for me than Pretty Face, Moshe agreed to try putting her in with all the chicks.  It didn't work at all!  She pecked ferociously at the 6 "intruders", while happy to see her 3 chicks.  She went back to her solitary life.
     It bothered me all week.  It bothered me every time I looked out the back door, every time I went out to get in the Jeep, every time I went to get firewood, etc.  Ohhh, it bothered me.  I knew that Mamma chicken was mourning.  She paced nervously and talked incessantly.  I knew - like only another mother could - that she was missing her babies terribly. But, neither Moshe nor I could figure out what to do about it.

Peeps and the Peep hole

 

 Then, last night insomnia stuck.  I solved 2 or 3 problems during my middle-of-the-night-sleeplessness.
One of the solutions was the Pretty Face situation.  My idea was confirmed later in the morning when I spoke to my parents on the phone.  Mom grew up on a big farm with lots & lots of chickens.  When I described my idea, she said it was exactly what they used to do with the broody hens.  So, here it is:  We moved Pretty Face's broody coop adjacent to the Peeps coop, cutting a "Peep-sized" hole in the chicken wire so that the Peeps can go from cage to cage but Pretty Face has to stay in her territory. We figured Pretty Face's 3 Peeps could visit her, yet still interact with the other Peeps.  And, if the other Peeps came into hostile territory they could escape through the Peep hole. (No pun intended.)  My hope was that they could ALL learn to get along...
    

the combined coops

When the deed was done, sure enough several chicks went through into the broody coop.  Pretty Face immediately took her babies under her wing.  She started out scolding and pecking at the other Peeps, but in less than ten minutes she was accepting them all!  At one point I looked out the back door and Pretty Face had 6 chicks with her - and, only 2 were her original chicks.  Another time she was drinking simultaneously with 4 chicks, only one of which was "hers". 
     Moxie was really helpful during the transition.  While Moshe was cutting the chicken wire and moving the broody coop, he let Pretty Face walk in the back yard.  We knew she wouldn't go far... not with her babies so close by.  Moxie the Wonder Dog walked alongside Pretty Face, keeping track of her like a shepherdess with her sheep.
     And CassPurr?  He slept on the dining room chair that he has claimed as "his", totally oblivious to any and all the world's problems.  A total success story.

                 Shalom Y'all - Twyla

Thursday - A Day in the Life...

...CassPurr peeking out the curtain...




     I like Thursdays.  Thursday is usually my day to catch up on everything,  do miscellaneous chores, maybe bake something.  I hardly ever go into town on a Thursday, so it seems like the day is longer and more enjoyable. 
     The garbage truck picks up our trash on Thursdays. Now, probably to most people garbage day is not exactly something to get excited about... But, up here in these mountains, we can't put our garbage out until collection day.  If we do, the bears will come and overturn the trash can and scatter garbage all over the place.  So, whatever trash we accumulate during the week I have to store in my laundry room.  For a while there last summer, the bears were hauling our trash off into the woods.  I joked that if I could count on them to do so every time, I'd cancel the garbage collection service...  But, alas, even that would not be a very good solution... now that the leaves have fallen off most of the trees, we can see remnants of where the bears hauled the trash.  Moshe is out in the woods picking it up today.

feeding the Golden Comets

    
So far today I have done the normal chores like making the bed, straightening things up, doing laundry. I also fed the chickens so that Moshe could continue on his projects. Yesterday I made a BIG pot of my special "Sneak-in-the-Veggies" Spaghetti sauce.  We had some last night with Moshe's just-baked Focaccia bread. Yummy.  Today, I got out the big canner and canned 3 quarts and 1 pint of the sauce.  We had it again for lunch, and the remainder of the sauce is going in the freezer.  Oh, I baked a cake, too... haven't tasted it yet... it's cooling on the kitchen counter.  Should be scrumptious - pineapple, cherry, pecan upside down cake.  We will enjoy some of it, and the rest will go to the freezer for a rainy day or some such...
     Oh, I scrubbed all the kitchen cabinets and appliances with clorox solution.  One of those "thankless jobs", yet I enjoy doing it.  Everything looks so nice and white and clean... Yes, I am somewhat of a clean nut.  Some of this is, I think, because I was an Operating Room Nurse for several years. Once you really understand the difference between clean and dirty, it becomes second nature.  Nevertheless, somebody teased me once, saying, "You have to repaint your cabinets because you scrub the paint off; the rest of us have to paint our cabinets because they're so dirty."  Okay.....

  

...ready to pounce...

Shalom y'all-
Twyla

      CassPurr is in rare form today.  He made me laugh several times this morning;  he was feeling very playful  and kittenish.  At one point he was peeking out between the curtain panels that divide the art room from the "Cozy" room - the name  Moshe gave to the end of the kitchen with the wood stove.  After getting his picture taken peeking out, he began playing with the decorative scraps of fabric, yarn, beads, etc. I have hanging on the curtains.  Both CassPurr and Moxie LOVE walking through the curtains, looking as if they were wearing veils.

     This afternoon I'm hoping to have the energy to go outside and help Moshe pick up deadwood for fire wood.  I do have a disability, and can get fatigued fairly easily, but I  fondly remember the old days when I used to work outside all day. Nowadays a couple hours is enough.  Still, I would like to help. (Plus, it would be a good rationalization tool for eating some of that cake!)

to sleep, perchance to dream

"Now I lay me down to sleep..."

   ...or, a night in the day of yours truly. Sleep is a precious commodity. REM (rapid eye movement) sleep is the time in which the body heals; it is also the time of dreaming. Every now and then somebody will say to me that they never dream.  I always reply that if you never dreamed you'd be dead... you just don't remember your dreams. The human body requires REM time for daily maintenance and repairs; dreams are sort of a biproduct of brain repair.
     There was a time when I slept a solid eight hours without waking; nowadays I'm not so fortunate in the sleep department; but, I've always had many dreams.  Spiritual/prophetic dreams. Ho-hum dreams. Dreams of flying or climbing.  And dreams where I'd wake myself up laughing. (I've never heard anyone else say they have these!)  Now, I did dream a little bit last night but I don't remember the dream's content... it must've been one of those ho-hum dreams... What I do remember is a lot of the other nighttime occurances at the Ben-David ranch:
     #1 The human burrito:  My hubby has this incredible trick .  He starts out with no covers - says he's warm enough.  Then, when I settle in real good - maybe not yet asleep, but, comfortable. y'know?... he IS asleep, gets cool, and grasps a corner of the quilt and rolls himself up in it.  Thus, the title, the human burrito.  Oh, don't get me wrong.  He doesn't mean to do it;  he's asleep.  There is really not a mean bone in his body - especially when it comes to me... But, I have learned to keep a spare blanket or quilt within reach. The human burrito cannot be unwrapped easily!  So, I grab the extra covers.  This, of course, involves moving my body, getting repositioned with the new, COLD blanket, reassuring the various animals that it is NOT mealtime - I repeat, it is NOT mealtime, and settling back in.
     #2 The Itch:  I had a broken neck some thirty years ago.  Praise God there's not much residual damage. A sore neck most of the time, and a weakness of the right arm and hand, but I'm fairly used to that.  But, recently, I started developing a new problem associated with bad neck injuries: Brachioradial Pruritis.  What this means is that the nerve that ennervates the shoulder and arms is irritated due to pressure in the neck area, causing severe itching at the other end of the nerve.  Itching. Unbearable itching. From everything I've read about it, there is no medication that really works.  One day Caladryl will provide some relief,  the next day it won't.  Then, you try capsacion and it works for a day or two, then fails.  Then you try hydrogen peroxide, tea tree oil, you-name-it.  Sometimes things bring relief; often, they don't.  My shoulders and arms are covered with scabs, bruises from scratching, and new red bumps waiting to be scratched open... Lovely.  If you ever have insomnia and are looking for something to do with your nightime hours, develop brachioradial pruritis, and you pass the time actively. And, when you get up to find whatever lotion or potion you're applying to the itch, be sure to let the animals know that it is NOT mealtime - I repeat, it is NOT mealtime.  Then, settle back in.
     #3 The cat:  Those of you who have read my blog before know that CassPurr was gone for about a month, and that we got him back a week or so ago. CassPurr's favorite place on earth is our bed - day and night.  He occasionally leaves the boudoir for a meal or for the litter box, and every now and then, he actually wanders through the house.  But, for the most part, he loves that bed!  When I'm in it, he goes for the pillow area, placing his body on top of my head or across my face.  Apparently, he's been watching Moshe, because he tries to roll himself up in my hair - the feline burrito in the making!  Cassie also likes to lay on my stomach and stare into my face, occasionally taking his little paw to pat my cheek.  It is endearing when I'm watching TV... not so much at 1 AM, when I've finally fallen asleep... This morning, around 4 or 5, he desperately woke me up.  He had the strangest little look on his face!  He sort of looked panicky - big eyes, as if he was going to burst.  (Prophetic.)  Then, he started making those feline pre-barf sounds.  I shot up in the bed, scooped him up, and placed him on the floor - just in time.  Three barf sounds.  Ugh.  He had eaten a mouse.  Two piles of mouse entrails and one head.  Ugh. Ugh. Ugh.   Nobody DARED act as if it was mealtime...

CassPurr - friend of birds: mice - not so much!

    
                                Like I said, I USED to sleep eight hours straight.  Nevertheless...
                                 Shalom Y'all - Twyla
  

That's One Happy Dawg

Uhhh, I'm a happy dawg.  Can you tell?

    
      I've never been a dog person.  I didn't dislike dogs.  And, I wasn't particularly afraid of them.  I was just always a cat person... Had at least one feline friend all my life.  And, still do.
     Then, along comes Moxie.  If you've read my blog before, you know that we adopted Moxie from friends of ours "back home".  Now, I've known a few dogs I liked - dogs that belonged to friends and family.  I've even "dog-sat" for Puppy, my mother's little dog.  But, I've never really, really, REALLY known a dog like I know Moxie.
     Moxie should've been a rock star.  Or a movie star.  She is so special.  She is a giant teddy bear when we lay on the floor to watch old TV shows on the computer (Netflix is great!). She is a watch dog. She is a nursemaid if I'm not feeling well - won't leave my side.  She is comic relief (see photo above).  She's friends with all the chickens and with CassPurr.  She's Moxie The Wonderdog!!!
     And, so, here I am.  A certified cat person; and, what did I do all afternoon?  I made homemade organic dogfood and dog biscuits.  Here is the recipe for the dog biscuits, adapted from a recipe I found on Bullwinkle.com.  Maybe I'll write my recipe for organic dogfood another day.

                                          Homemade Dog Treats

                                     1 Cup rolled oats
                                     1/3 Cup shortening (I used rendered chicken fat)
                                     1 Cup boiling water
                                     3/4 Cup cornmeal
                                     1 Tablespoon sugar
                                     1 Chicken boullion cube (you could use beef flavor, if desired)
                                     1/2 cup milk
                                     1 Cup shredded cheddar cheese
                                     1 Egg, beaten
                                     2 Cups white or wheat flour

          Preheat oven to 325. Grease cookie sheets.  Combine rolled oats, shortening, and water in large bowl; let stand for 10 minutes.  Stir in cornmeal, sugar, boullion, milk, cheese and egg.  Mix well.  Add flour 1 cup at a time, mixing well.
          On floured surface knead dough, adding additional flour as needed, until dough is smooth and no longer sticky.  Roll out dough to 1/2 inch thickness' cut with cookie cutter.  Place on cookie sheets.
          Bake 45 minutes, or until golden brown.  Store, covered, after they are completely cooled.
          For me, this made 2 & 1/2 dozen large bone-shaped treats... enough for one-per-day for a month! My hubby made the bone-shaped cookie cutter just for Moxie.  Like I said, she should've been a movie star... and we could be her entourage.

The Sisters of Sarcasm

      Well, it's not that I really wanted the title... I earned it!
     Once upon a time, there were three women who all happened to enter nursing school at the same time.  They met in the back row of nusring 101, which was held in the auditorium.  Much of the early lectures was so basic as to nearly bring tears of boredom...one dark comment led to another, and the three of us became sisters.  Sisters in womanhood. Sisters in the fight to stay sane going to college in our thirties while surrounded by giggling girls just out of highschool.  Sisters in the  high form of humor known as sarcasm.  Not the HURTING kind, mind you... the intelligent kind of sarcastic humor... the kind that requires a knowledge of grammar, syntax, even spelling.  To be a sister of sarcasm, you also had to be a pro at puns.  And, like the stand-up comics, timing was everything.
     For example,  we took Anatomy and Physiology over the Summer;  this was the full course, usually lasting  three months,  crammed into six weeks.  To pass this class, you had to live, breathe, and eat Anatomy and Physiology for those six weeks.  There were four hours of lecture five days a week, plus lab time, which was when the REAL learning went on!   Being a cat lover all my life, I was absolutely mortified to open the drawer in the "morgue" and find that the subject of our dissection was feline!  Our threesome, the sisters of sarcasm, drew straws to see who would have "the honors" of doing the initial removal of fur, skin and fascia. Ugh.  Needless to say, I drew the short straw...
     Let me tell you, removing any sort of fur or skin which has been soaking in formaldehyde for a year or so is difficult!  Yucky. Smelly.  Even though we wore gloves, I had that formaldehyde odor stuck in my nostrils and in my hands the entire six weeks! I lost thirty pounds!!!  Maybe I should try it again sometime soon... (See, that was a bit of sarcasm, yes?)
     But, I digress. The three of us were lab "partners".  Yes, I know, partners implies two, but, there were three nontheless.  As I mentioned above, I was the one who removed all the outer stuff. revealing muscles, tendons, nerves, organs, and veins and arteries which had been injected with blue and red latex dyes so that they would show up. All the body systems were displayed before us.  Then, our instructor walked over, saw that the poor ol' cat had a big tumor on its bladder and declared that we would have to start over... the cat cadaver wasn't "safe" for us to work on, and would have to be incinerated.

I'll bet these cat owners wanted to incinerate them!

    
Oh, man!  Now, we had to do all the preliminary work over again!  And, this setback put us behind the other students.  Once again, we drew straws to see who would have to do the dirty work.  And, once again, I drew the short straw.  Disgusted, I dove into the project. Quickly this time.  No "Poor Kitty... I wonder if it was somebody's pet."  Just cut, tear, rip, cut, pull... well, you get the idea.  I got our second cat stripped in about one-tenth the time it took to do the first one.  The instructor came over for inspection, and said, " Well, Twyla, what have you learned so far?"  Deadpan, I replied, "There's more than one way to skin a cat."

       Okay, so I'm actually the Queen of Sarcasm.  I can't seem to help myself.  Puns, jokes, song lyrics, nicknames, rhymes, and odd little plays on words run through my movie screen all the time.  It's not that I WANT to be a smart***;  it just seems to be who I am!

You didn't really think I'd show a picture of me in the shower...

       Some people provide more fodder for this type of humor than others.  Enter Moshe... He walks into it on an almost constant basis.  For example, this morning  I was in the bathroom taking a shower.  Moshe walks in, and says, "Hey,  are you taking a shower?"  My reply, "No, I'm just in here checking to see if the water's working."  One day a couple months ago, I was in the kitchen.  I had the big pressure cooker going, two or three big pots cooking on the stove, canning jars everywhere... It's 90+ degrees in the kitchen, and I'm soaking wet from work, heat, and humidity.  Moshe walks in the back door and says, "Are you hot?"
Reply, "No. I LIKE looking like this. Oh, and feeling like this, too."


The Queen, wearing her crown...
                    


      Fortunately, Moshe always laughs. Well, almost always...  One time we were having a loud discussion - y'know what I mean?  Okay, we were arguing!  I don't remember at all what about.   I had gone to bed on the sofa.  Uh-oh!  In the middle of the night a naked Moshe came out to the living room to try to make ammends.I said something not-nice, and Moshe said,  "Well, I guess you think you wear the pants in this house."   My reply, "Well, I'm the only one wearing any."  He didn't laugh that time.


Shalom Y'all - Twyla

What A Day!!!



      This is one of those chain of events wherein nothing would've been the same if the timing had been a little different...
     We took a truckload of stuff from the shed to donate to the local Humane Society.  Literally a truckload.
I had argued with myself many times  about whether to donate the stuff or try to sell it; it was good stuff!
Finally, this morning I told Moshe that the right thing to do was donate it all so that someone else could be blessed... So, we loaded it all up before lunch and took it into town right after eating.
     When we got there, I  went inside the Humane Society Thrift store so that I could get a receipt for the donations. And who do I see but our neighbor Mary from down the road! (We only have one real neighbor on our road.  There are five houses, but the rest of them are vacation cabins.  Mary and her family and Moshe and I are the only fulltime people on our road.)
      Well, Mary immediately asked me if we wanted seven baby chicks. I went and got Moshe, and he said, "Yes."  So, about an hour later, Mary brought us the babies.  They are the same size as our chicks - a couple weeks old.  They are tame like ours, having been held and petted since "birth".  Tonight, after dark, Moshe will put the new babies in with Pretty Face and her two chicks.  Won't THAT be a surprise when she wakes up and has all those babies!!!
     So, Mary stayed and visited with me awhile after we got the chicks settled in the temporary cage, with chicken mash, water, etc.  We were talking about our various pets, and I mentioned that I had given up on CassPurr - figured he must be dead or gone in someone's car and ended up in Florida or something.  Mary said, "No. I just saw him at Mr Smith's house a week ago."  To which I said, "Where is Mr Smith's house?"  And Mary replied, "Right next door to you."
     I knew that the man nextdoor had been up here for a week or so.  I also knew he had gone back to his regular home a couple days ago... So, Mary, Moshe and I, plus various and sundry cats and dogs all walked through the woods over to the Smith cabin.  I spotted Cassie first; he was resting on an old cushion up near the woodpile in the corner of Mr Smith's yard.  I called him.  He talked to me.  He came up to me and I picked him up.  We both purred at each other.  Just like the old days.

CassPurr on the front porch

    
So I carried him back through the woods.  Home again, home again, jiggity jig.  I opened a can of his food, and, he is a happy, happy boy.  He has since inspected the entire house, and, apparently, it meets his approval.  Last I looked, CassPurr was sleeping with the teddy bears on the guestroom bed , just as if he'd never been gone.
     The baby chicks are in their temporary cage on the counter in one of the bathrooms - with a heater going in the room to keep them warm.  Cassie is contentedly sleeping.  Moshe is reorganizing the shed now that all that stuff is gone.  I'm cooking supper and typing this blog.  And poor Moxie is beside herself with all the activity;  she really wants to be with the new chicks, and she really wants to be with Moshe, and she really smells the supper cooking, so wants to be with me.  She hasn't even noticed CassPurr yet...

     Like I said, "What a day!"
    
                Shalom y'all - twyla

Update on CassPurr

Cassie with "Daddy"

     Two weeks ago I blogged about CassPurr.  He had been a naughty boy - wanted to play all night, and I didn't get much sleep as a result of his nibbling, chewing, licking, whisker switching, walking, talking antics...
     Oddly enough, the very day I wrote about CassPurr, he went out to do whatever cats do when they go out.  And never came back. I still expect that big blob of white fur to show up meowing at the back door.  I miss him.  Several people have said that someone probably took him.  He was very beautiful and very friendly.  Our nearest neighbor says that CassPurr sometimes came and sat with her on her front porch (the two-timer!)  If he went up the hill in back, there are a few nice houses up there on Ridge Road.  Someone could have thought he'd been abandoned, I suppose. (Although, he certainly never looked hungry! See photo above.)
     I hope he didn't get injured and suffer.  I hope he is with someone who is being very good to him.  And, I hope he keeps them up all night playing - at least every once in a while!
                                                                                                     Shalom Y'all - Twyla

I am Too Old to Have an Infant in the House!

CassPurr - "Mr. Innocent"

     Okay. Y'all have heard me talk about my cat, CassPurr.  I adopted "Cassie" from the Humane Society, so I don't really know his history.  Until Spring, CassPurr stayed in the house exclusively.  Since he had been declawed prior to the adoption, I assumed he had always been an indoor cat.  But, come warm weather, I guess he got "Spring fever".  He kept sneaking out, only to get beat up by some unidentified cat.  He would come back in for a few days, heal up, and go back out for more.
     Then, one day, CassPurr began winning the battles.  He was no longer getting hurt;  instead, he was beating up the other cats - even without claws!  One day, we watched a big grey tom cat enter the front yard.  When CassPurr saw the cat, he puffed
up like a porcupine and ran lafter that cat like greased lightning.  CassPurr is a big cat, anyhow ;  he weighs about 25 pounds- so, when he is "puffed up for battle", his appearance is formidable.  I don't blame the other cats for running for cover...
     Anyhow, Cassie has been king of the outdoors all Spring and Summer.  Although he's a white cat, he has shown up with various shades of yellow, grey, and brown fur the past several months. One time Moshe gave CassPurr a bath.  Cassie tolerated it pretty well, but immediately went outside and rolled in the dirt. All Summer he literally would not set foot in the house, preferring to sleep out in the bushes,  under the house, or aroung the shed. Then. about a week ago, CassPurr asked to come in. I fed him in his old spot in the kitchen, and he has barely left the house since!

Bedtime for Cassie

  
   
    Well... last night, Cassie decided he wanted to play.   All night.   He walked on me,  pulled and chewed my hair, licked my face until it hurt, nibbled my fingers.  He talked and purred.  If I put my hands under the covers, he dug for them, wanting to be petted.  I was up at midnight, one, three, four, and six o'clock. Sheesh!  I never had to get up THAT much with my daughter when she was an infant.

    
           I'm so-o-o  tired today. And so it has dawned on me that God knew what He was doing when he designed  women's bodies to NOT have babies after "a certain age".  I can't imagine.  Tonight, if CassPurr doesn't behave, he is going out!  Can't do that with an infant!

Let's hope for this!

Shalom Y'all,     Twyla

CassPurr

          Wow.  A year ago today I signed the papers on the mountain property.  Immediately after, I went to the Humane Society, formally adopted CassPurr, and we headed to our new home.  It has been an adventure ever since.
          I met CassPurr about three months before the adoption.  The day I first saw him, I was still reeling from the death of my dear Annie, who had been my companion for 12 years.  My daughter, Melody, and I entered the thrift store, not thinking about the fact that there would be animals there.  At first I didn't want to look at them, thinking it would pain my heart too much.  But, Melody coaxed me to meet "this big, beautiful white cat."  CassPurr was so charming!  He had me at "Hello"...

       Like so many animals adopted from the Humane Society, CassPurr had a sad past.  He had been owned by a young couple who, when she became pregnant, gave him to the Humane Society.  In ignorance, they thought he would harm the baby.  CassPurr stayed at the Humane Society    for several   months, living in a cage, getting out only at night to exercise in the back room of the thrift store.  The ladies at the Humane Society kept him longer than the usual time, hoping he would find a home and not be euthanised.

     I visited "Cassie" several times over the months while I waited for the closing date on the property. On my last visit before the closing, my Mom came with me.  We visited CassPurr, of course.  I told the employees I'd be back in a week or so to get him.  As we started to drive out of the parking lot, Mom said, "I have a feeling you should go ahead and pay for his adoption now."  I listened to my Mom's instinct, turned around, went back in the store, and adopted him with the understanding that I would pick him up on the date of the house closing.

     After I had CassPurr securely at our new home, the ladies at the Humane Society told me that CassPurr was scheduled to be euthanised the day I paid for his adoption and filled out the adoption papers. Had I waited until the house closing, he would have been gone. There are no coincidences in life. None.

                                                                                              Shalom,     Twyla

Oh, You Romantic Devil, You

This morning's post included a picture of one of the chicken arks. Did you notice the big white cat INSIDE the ark with the chickens? This is CasPurr; he's been friends with the chickens since they were two days old. CasPurr was following Moshe around the yard one morning, as he usually does, "helping" with the chores, when he stuck his head into the ark. Moshe let him go inside, then ran and fetched the camera to capture the moment. The chickens were cool about it, but CasPurr was kinda' scared. I think he was afraid he's have to stay in there like the chickens do... Too funny!

Our life in the country is a peaceful and beautiful existence. We live a simple life. No TV or radio to gum up the works with negativity. We do have the internet, obviously...

A couple hours ago I was outside looking at the plants and visiting with the chickens. I was hand-feeding them greens, which they love. Their favorite is dandelion greens. Moshe & I laugh at ourselves for getting excited over seeing a big dandelion plant, knowing that "the peeps" will love those greens!!!

One day about a month ago, Moshe went out of town for some dental work. That afternoon, I heard his truck turn in the driveway. As I watched him get out of the truck, I saw a flash of something and then he hid it behind his back. "Ah-Ha!", said I. As he came to the back door, I hurried to greet him, thinking, "Oh, that sweet man has brought me a bouquet..." As he opened the door, he said, "Hey, Baby! D'ya' wanna' help me feed the peeps?" And, he swept forth the "bouquet", which was giant dandelion greens. The bouquet was for the chickens. I have since threatened to write a book about these type of incidents and name it "Oh, You Romantic Devil, You".