farm life – Page 7 – Almost Farmgirl

And…this is winter.

Published on November 13, 2014February 27, 2016 by almostfarmgirl17 Comments

The snow falling outside my office window in the Heights probably means many things to many people. For me, it’s a gently falling reminder that old man winter beat us back to the ranch. We still aren’t moved back out there.

Just a few days ago, temperatures hovered between 55-60 degrees in our little corner of the planet. Now we’re in the 20s, complete with two days of snow. Illinois is like that, almost specializing in drastic weather changes that come in the night.

For the past few weeks, we’ve been expecting the cold. Our winter supply of hay–minus one flatbed load that we still need to pick up–is safely tucked away, either in barns or under tarps. Our grain room, likewise, is nearly full.

And, yet, the cold hit yesterday, and I found myself running around like mad trying to tie up loose ends.

I ran from store to store. At the first, I picked up a heated base for my chicken water, a sinking heater for my horse trough (the one from last year is toast), and cracked corn.

The cart that served as evidence of how woefully underprepared we were. I wonder how many carts like this went through check out yesterday. — The cart that served as evidence of how woefully underprepared we were. I wonder how many carts like this went through check out yesterday

Then to another store for winter gloves that stand a chance against ranch life.

Back at the ranch, I noticed a shivering alpaca, just one, so I dug the winter coats out of the feed room

2014-11-12 12.58.07 — This one was too big…and pink.

2014-11-12 13.02.53 — Midnight Idol is probably our oldest alpaca, and the tiniest. This coat fit him very well, and it probably wouldn’t fit anyone else.

Eventually, several of our animals will be in coats, but I prefer to wait to put them on until they act cold. The more they regulate their own temperatures without help, the better.

We also dug out heat lamps, and, before leaving for the night, we shut our old men into their stall with their very own heat lamp.

Today, we will head out again, buying posts at Lowe’s for a pony shelter that needs to go in yesterday and winter clothes for Jeremiah. (Do you believe he went through all of last winter without a heavy winter coat? Said that if he bought one, winter won.)

And so begins another season out at the ranch. Hopefully, the big snows hold off for just a bit longer, and we can get moved back out before the roads get icy. We shall see.

Also, since I’m new at this one, does anyone want to share some friendly advice for keeping chickens nice and cozy? I have two that have bald(ish) backs from getting picked on, and I’m afraid of frostbite.

Our humble bonfire

Published on October 29, 2014February 27, 2016 by almostfarmgirl20 Comments

Let’s just start here, shall we?

The above might just be the greatest picture ever taken…In the history of all of ever.

The 25th marked our first (hopefully annual) bonfire party at the ranch. The week leading up to it marked 7 days of complete insanity trying to prepare for our first (hopefully annual) bonfire party at the ranch.

I will admit that I sort of scheduled the party as a shove; I knew that we would work harder to finish things if we had some sort of deadline. And we did. I was under the (incorrect) impression that we would work harder over the course of 6 weeks or so. No. That is not how we roll around here. Mostly, we let things roll into major crunch time.

Guys, four hours before the party starting, I was painting baseboards. The morning of the party, I was still hanging and glazing cabinet doors. The night before all of this went down? This is what my kitchen looked like.

(And then Jeremiah photo-bombed things.) (I would like to point out that we don’t live like this; we still don’t live here at all, and about every corner of the house is undergoing renovations.)

Miscellaneous boxes were still piled high in the living room. Any and all dusting that I had done days before had been rendered pointless as Jeremiah had drilled through drywall and installed new light fixtures since then. (Drywall dust…everywhere…)

I spent Saturday morning working on the house. When I left at 2:00pm (to go back to the other house, fix food, and shower), the house was still a mess. However, as I was the one in charge of feeding all the people, I couldn’t stick around. So, I took a deep breath in, explained to Jeremiah what was still left to be done, and prayed for a miracle as I walked out the door.

When I got back, carrying large quantities of food and fearing that I would be met with chaos, I found my miracle wiping down the counters of a mostly spotless kitchen. Jeremiah’s mama to the rescue!

There is no way to tell this story without mentioning that my mother-in-law completely, totally saved my butt. Seriously. Unequivocally. She showed up early and finished all the cleaning…without even being asked, by the way. (I think I hugged her about ten times over the course of a half an hour…I honestly could have cried.)

Anyhow, thanks to her (and a lot of help the day before from siblings, cousins, parents, etc), we had a very presentable home when most of our guests began showing up.

Our tiniest guest showed up with his mama and dad early in the evening. He and his parents were treated to a private tour, complete with pony introductions!

Isn’t this the cutest! Violet and Slash love ALL tiny humans, but they seemed to take an extra liking to this little guy. He loved them right back with grins and pats and giggles. It was adorable. Jeremiah and I gave a lot of farm tours over the course of the evening, but this one was probably my favorite. It was definitely my bitty babies’ favorite.

Of course, farm tours notwithstanding, the main event of the day was the bonfire itself…and holy cow was it a fire.

Have I ever mentioned that Jeremiah used to be a professional fire officer?

Did you know that basically all firefighters are pyromaniacs who have managed to productively channel their “interest”?

Well, now you do. There were no fewer than five firefighters present at the bonfire. I was briefly afraid that we would need all of them involved in some sort of professional capacity. The guy walking around in bunker gear is my dear, sweet husband/personal pyromaniac.

At one point, he brought out the big guns to push the fire around.

This should probably be on an advertisement for Caterpillar.

(We actually had to build a secondary, smaller fire to roast marshmallows and hotdogs. The actual bonfire was way too big and way too hot.)

Around 30 people came by over the course of the evening. Friends from college came down and stayed the weekend. My grandparents even took the time to travel down several hours to check things out. (Grandma, I know you read this, so I thought I’d let you know that your pumpkin bars were a major hit!)

Good food. Great company. A fire that will probably live in infamy. For a bonfire, that equals success.

I am so glad we had this party. (I am also so glad that it’s over and the pressure is officially off.)

(By the way, the watermarked photos of the fire were taken by an incredibly talented friend of mine, Bob, who actually takes photos semi-professionally. Big shout out to Bob for letting me use these photos on my humble little blog! Also, if any of you are into web design and would like to trade for pictures, he’s your guy!)

(Second by the way, all of the animals were way out of the way of the fire. Even though it looks from the photos that the flames were rolling towards the pastures, I assure you that everyone was perfectly safe. The llamas weren’t even that interested.)

Letting your inner 8 year old give you a pep talk

Published on October 20, 2014February 27, 2016 by almostfarmgirl12 Comments

Sometimes, barn chores suck.

There is nothing fun about hauling individual water buckets down a frozen lane to fill a 100 gallon water trough because your water spigot froze (like it did last winter). There is nothing fun about going out to the barn with a headache, or head cold, or stomach flu. (I’ve done all three.) And there is nothing fun about forgoing potential plans with friends, or trips, or vacations, because you have to take care of the ranch.

Occasionally, taking care of the critters is the last thing I want to do.

Here’s the trick though: sometimes, when hauling my butt to the barn to do what needs to be done, and I’m grumpy and irritated, I let my inner 8-year-old give me a pep talk.

Everyone has that kid who they used to be buried inside somewhere. Mine just happens to be a horse obsessed little girl in pigtails.

From whatever age I was first self-aware, I was obsessed with horses and ponies, but when I was 8, I started actually riding horses. I wore pale pink cowboy boots with fringe and glitter; I’m pretty sure they were never intended to see the inside of a barn. My pint-sized helmet made my head look huge, and my parents had to buy me a ring to wear on one of my fingers because I was still really bad at telling my left from my right.

I still have memories of that first ride, the first time I ever settled into a saddle…and walked around in a circle. I mean, if we’re being honest, there was nothing at all exciting about those first few rides. The horses played follow the leader, and I sat there, thinking I was riding but in reality I was only sitting. Still, I was thrilled!

As a kid, riding lessons were absolutely the highlight of my week. I adored all of the horses I rode, even the more difficult ones, and I wanted a horse of my own more than anything else on the planet.

So, on the days when barn chores suck and my head hurts and I want to scream for things not going well, I try to channel that eight-year-old who would have given up every last material possession she had to have her own horse.

A few weeks ago, when one of my horses had an absolute hissy fit during our lesson and I couldn’t decide whether I wanted to scream or maybe cry (it hadn’t been a great week before the lesson either):

Me: “I hate this. I hate this. I hate this. One easy horse. I just want one easy horse.”

8 year old self: “You have a horse!”

Me: “Yup. I have a horse…one who is acting like a complete turd.”

8 year old self: “But you have a horse.”

Me: (With a notable sigh and shrug…) “Actually, I have five…”

8 year old self: *Jaw drops to floor.*

Me: “…and llamas.”

8 year old self: “You should never, ever be sad.” (Life is simpler when you’re eight.)

Nothing is ever all good or all bad. Most of the time, by a landslide, the farm and my critters are good. Sometimes, they aren’t, but when they’re not, it helps to remember that they are literally my childhood dream come true.

And that I, and my inner eight year old, love them to absolute pieces.

2014-03-09 16.15.24 — And of course, my wonderful llamas!

Up before dawn.

Published on October 13, 2014April 22, 2022 by almostfarmgirl15 Comments

I rolled over and checked the clocked at 4:22 am. My alarm was set to go off at 4:30, but I had been lying in bed awake for some time. I will never understand why my internal alarm is so “on it” for early mornings, but if I want to get up at 7:30, I had better set an alarm or I absolutely will not wake on time. This time though, I was fortunate. My phone charger wasn’t connected quite right and the battery had drained down to 6%. It’s more than likely that the 4:30 alarm wouldn’t have gone off at all.

As I rolled out of bed, I heard a less-than-half awake Jeremiah roll over beside me.

“Wha time ‘sit?”

“It’s about 4:30, love. Go back to sleep. I’ve got this.”

“You sure?”

“Yup. Go back to bed.”

He did so without ceremony, muttering a thank you as he pulled the covers up. Under normal circumstances, Jeremiah is infinitely easier to get out of bed than me, but he had only crawled under the covers after midnight. The day before, he had been on the road for an obscene number of hours, shoeing horses 5 hours away in Columbia. He deserved to sleep.

I wandered into the bathroom, trying to keep the doors and the dogs quiet. Throwing on yesterday’s barn clothes without a sniff check, I dressed quickly and made my way into the kitchen. Only then did I flip on the lights, punching the power button on my Keurig and waiting for it to warm up. Lights in the kitchen wouldn’t stir the dogs in their kennels to go outside, and 4:30 am is way too early to even think about bothering the neighbors.

I rustled through the cabinets looking for one of my travel cups only to realize that the only ones still at the house had been half-moved; their lids were at the ranch…somewhere.

I was too tired to care, and for the first time I was thankful that my Keurig doesn’t actually brew enough coffee at once to fill a large travel mug. The somewhat anemic fill power gave me two inches of buffer between my hot beverage and the likelihood of a spill.

As quietly as I could, I made my way out the front door and into my car. I turned it on, set the seat heater, and took off toward the ranch. It was just before 5am.

I know that there are certain people who are always up by 5am; I am not one of them. I was first introduced to 5am, and earlier, during high school when I would regularly drag myself out of bed in what I considered the middle of the night to compete at a llama show. L and I would load animals in the dark, grab breakfast at some nondescript interstate McDonald’s, and spend the day fluffing wool, cleaning dirty knees (they always get dirty knees), and prancing our prized pasture poodles in front of judges who often liked them almost as much as we did. Later, when halter classes were done, Minnett and I would throw grooming to the wind…sort of…and head into performance classes where he would prove that he was just about willing to follow me through fire. (Don’t worry, there was never actually fire at the shows, but you try convincing an adult male llama to follow you up and down steps (one at a time), under tarps, and into tunnels, and then tell me it isn’t sort of the same thing.) I always loved showing, even considering it’s early wake up time.

I haven’t been to a show since undergrad, but I have had plenty of cause to wake up at 5am. Whether catching an early flight for my job or tagging along with my husband on one of his shoeing runs (which almost never start after 6am), I still set my share of 4:30 alarms. (In an effort towards full disclosure, I really do try hard to avoid anything that makes me get up before 5am…) Still, this time, I wasn’t up early for any of those things. This time, I was meeting the vet.

Some of you might remember back in June when I was on vacation with Jeremiah and our stud got out with the girls. (Ah vacations…) It was determined that he had probably been out with them for 12 hours or so… I can’t say I know for a fact what he spent his time doing, but I have some very strong suspicions.

I got to the ranch about 20 minutes before the vet, flipped the lights on in a barn, and was greeted with some very sleepy, and very familiar, expressions. (Llamas have this uncanny way of asking why on earth you would disturb their slumber at such an unholy hour without saying a word.) Six of our females were shut up in a stall. In truth, any female in the herd could be pregnant, but those six were the “concerning” ones. I had two maidens, one that has a hard time keeping weight on, and three with genetic issues.

They watched as I got things set up, pulling the ultrasound out of the tack room and setting it up in the aisle. I haltered each of the girls, finishing about the time the vet pulled up in his diesel truck.

“Good Morning!” I yelled from across the barn feeling oddly chipper; I sometimes go through that phase when I’m stupid tired. No way it would last

“Morning. Thanks for coming out so early.”

I responded with a quick “no problem,” even though I would never have come out this early by choice; our llama vet only makes farm calls before dawn or in an emergency. I’d take the former over the later any day.

Without much ado, we pulled the girls out of the stall. By now I should know that it is worthless to try and predict their behavior. I apologized for one girl in advance; she had been born on the farm but come back as a rescue and could be very scared. She, of course, was perfect. I deemed another an “old pro” before we started. She was the only one of the group to spit.

In quick succession, they were pronounced “not pregnant,” and I breathed a sigh of relief. For the females with genetic concerns, a pregnancy would have meant a termination, and that is a serious deal for llamas. The vet explained that the drug could make them hypothermic. For the other three, it would have meant a lot of fuss and worry, especially come next Spring.

The vet turned off the ultrasound. I let the girls back outside. Everything was said and done before dawn.

“Well,” I told myself as I ran through barn chores after he left, “that’s one less thing to worry about.”

In truth, I will still be watching for baby bellies and udders come late May of next year. The possibility of a pregnant female is still reasonably high (and if there is a cria–cria, by the way, is the proper name for a baby llama or alpaca–next year, I’m still planning to name it Orlando), but all of my high risk girls are happily baby-less right now.

And that, my friends, is one less thing to worry about.

And, I’m panicking…

Published on October 5, 2014February 27, 2016 by almostfarmgirl13 Comments

Ever since we moved our horses to the ranch (very early in the pre-buying process), Jeremiah and I have been talking about, finally, being able to entertain large numbers of people. For the first time in our married life, we finally feel like we have the space to have big get-togethers.

A few weeks ago, in my eternal optimism, I decided that we would definitely be moved back in by the middle of October. (I have no idea why I thought that, but I did…) With that in mind, I decided we should hold a bonfire/housewarming at the end of October. You know, really celebrate moving back in after all of the set backs and “rug pulled out from under our feet” moments along this crazy ride. And what’s not to celebrate? We are, after all, moving onto our dream property. Our horses are there! Eggs are fresh every day! I have little ponies! I’m taking care of llamas who I have LOVED since I was a teenager! This place, and everything it is and can be, is amazing and beautiful and a huge gift to our lives.

I figured we could have a lot of our projects done by then. We could be moved back in. All would be more settled and right with the world.

But, the thing is, we’re not actually moved back in yet. And, the more I think about it, the more I have no idea why I thought we would be.

So that started me thinking. (I should not be allowed to do that…)

It’s going to get cold soon. In fact, the cold settled in for a bit over the last few days. Thus far, it hasn’t gotten cold enough to require turning on the heat in the big house, but it will. (And never mind heating a house I don’t live in…) Once it does, we won’t be able to vent out the house like we have been; since we moved out, it has been shut up a few times, and each time the mothball smell and mold issues came back like a raging flood. Jeremiah and I can’t even really work in there when the house is not venting. There is pretty much no chance we can consider moving back in, with the cold, until we can bring Serv-Pro in to clean up the basement.

And while we’re on the subject of things I’m vaguely panicked about, I’ve had Jeremiah’s truck for several weeks while he’s been running around God’s Half Acre with my car. And suddenly I’m realizing how much it costs us to keep the vehicles running back and forth to the ranch every day. (I think it’s around 10-15 dollars a day for the truck…) I could do the math, but I really don’t want to. I am pretty sure that amount would more than pay for our hay for the winter though…

Oh, and speaking of panic, the snow is coming guys. According to the Farmer’s Almanac, who totally nailed their predictions last year, the snow in my area is going to be another snowmageddon… Last year, going back and forth during the worst of the winter was pretty bad. There were times when the roads were so bad that it took over an hour to make the twenty minute drive to the ranch. We were hauling water from one barn to the other, coming out multiple times a day to knock ice off the horses (who didn’t want to go into their nice, bedded stall with the heat lamp), and the only thing that made all of that ok was the knowledge that we wouldn’t have to do that routine from the Heights again. And, it seems, maybe we will.

last year knocking the ice off of Vinny... — last year knocking the ice off of Vinny…

And, so, I’m panicking a bit over here.

I think I’ll go breathe into a paper bag now…

I miss sleep…and other updates from around the farm.

Published on October 3, 2014February 27, 2016 by almostfarmgirl12 Comments

Ever have so much on your plate that even sleep seems to get bumped out of the way? Not on purpose, mind you, just as an effect of your brain’s constant motion. For me, sleep has been tenuous for about 2 weeks,.

Maybe it’s the stress of everything–the move, living away from the ranch, buying Jeremiah’s new shoeing trailer (hopefully next week), renovations, caring for all the animals, work…believe it or not the list continues–but sleep has not been my friend of late.

Yesterday, I came home from morning chores and crashed for nearly two hours. Naps are one of those things that seem like they should help…but then actual sleep time comes around and you’re like, “Eh, I’m good. I took a nap.” Then you’re tired the next day, and come midafternoon you probably really feel like taking a nap again. (Don’t do it. It’s a trap.)

Usually my solution to temperamental sleep is to make myself busier, but I’m not sure that’s possible at the moment.

For those of you interested in updates, the new floor was put into the master bedroom about a week and a half ago. That is a huge sigh of relief for me, as it indicates that one room is basically done. (Hint: If you’re renovating the entire house, like we are, you need at least one room that doesn’t remind you of all the work yet to be done.)

The old, leaking window in the living room was removed and replaced. It was super weird to see the giant hole in the house while the contractors worked. The good news? Turns out, while the leaking did rot out the floor, and some of the sub-floor, the studs were in perfect shape. (Meaning we did not have to cut a giant hole in the living room down to the basement.) The bad news? According to the contractor, we definitely need to replace the roof ASAP. That is now on the top of the list of Spring projects. Luckily, our contractor is awesome and the price is pretty reasonable.

We’re also hoping to wrap up the dining room soon. Two days ago, I worked on pulling up the floor with a claw hammer. The floor that’s currently installed was popping up in a lot of places, some tiles were water damaged, and there wasn’t any flooring in the center of the room (where an area rug used to go). We will be putting in bamboo, the same floor we put in the bedroom. I got about halfway through before I had an ADD moment and started another project. Jeremiah finished before I came back to it.

And, on the ranch:

Remember how I wasn’t going to have any roosters but then ended up with one? Make that two.

Once "Henny Penny," now "Frack." — Once “Henny Penny,” now “Frack.”

Turns out my pullet, “Henny Penny,” wasn’t so Henny. His name is now “Frack” to match the other rooster “Frick.” Frick is pretty cool; Frack is kind of a jerk. All I’m saying is he better shape up; Jeremiah has nearly ended him at least once…

Also, awesome news, I’m riding Cinco! I’ve been having a trainer come and work with us once a week for a about a month now, and I’m fairly thrilled. (Of course, yesterday he was pretty much a turd, but we won’t talk about yesterday.) Now, after all these years of wishing I could keep my horse at home, I’m considering boarding him over the winter at the trainer’s. Somewhat ironic, I know, but I really would like to be able to keep working with him over the winter, and without an improved riding area at my place, it won’t happen unless I move him.

We’ve done a lot of work together this summer; I would hate to have to start over in the Spring…

Finally, just because it’s cool…

Albino Clover! Isn’t it pretty? I saw it on the way to the horse barn yesterday and had to take a photo…
By the way, my next post will be by a guest blogger. I will be taking over her blog for a day as well. Stay tuned.

Introducing the bitty babies!

Published on September 20, 2014April 2, 2019 by almostfarmgirl18 Comments

September 4th was our four year wedding anniversary. Let me tell you, we are not good at anniversaries. They always begin with the best plans, and somehow, by the end of the night, something has gone sideways, creating a day far different than imagined. For example, this year, we ended up taking care of emergency shoeing stops in Columbia, MO, five hours from home. Our anniversary dinner was especially romantic: Steak n Shake…drive through. We at burgers and fries and drank milkshakes while laughing at the absurdity of it all.

Despite all of this, I must say, my husband knows me exceptionally well: he bought me a perfect anniversary gift.

Meet Violet.

Violet is a yearling mini mare who was originally rescued by Guardian Oaks from the New Holland Auction with her mama when she was only a day old. She is tiny, barely standing past my knees, and is very sweet. Jeremiah adopted her for me.

Keep in mind, Jeremiah has often claimed that the four horsemen of the apocalypse will ride in on mini ponies. As a farrier, he’s dealt with some monstrous ones. Why? Because they’re small, and not intimidating like a bigger horse, minis are often owned by people who don’t know the first thing about horses: People who try to treat them like big dogs…which they are not. They often end up mishandled and difficult. (He is usually not a fan of minis, but he knows I like them, so he found one for me.) This little girl, unlike many of her breed, has been appropriately handled since the beginning, and it shows.

Oh, and did I mention we brought home an extra?

His name is Slash, and we brought him along as company for Violet. Right now, he’s a foster pony, but one of Jeremiah’s farrier friends may have a home for him. If she doesn’t, well, we’ll probably just send in his adoption fee and keep him ourselves! Isn’t he adorable?

We brought these little munchkins home on Tuesday–had to literally pick them up and place them in the trailer as they are both too small to make the jump–and they seem pretty happy with us. I haven’t decided whether or not to rename Violet yet. I can’t quite put my finger on the perfect name. In the meantime, I call them my bitty babies.

Bonus? Check out the llamas checking them out.

Once we move back to the farm and I have more time, I’m hoping to really work with Violet so that someday I can have her certified as a therapy animal for use in nursing homes, etc. (I have my eye on a couple of my llamas for the same purpose.) In the meantime, aren’t they just as precious as can be?

DIY: Renovating the kitchen

Published on September 18, 2014February 27, 2016 by almostfarmgirl17 Comments

So, as you all know, we have been undertaking massive renovations on not one, but three houses. Right now, the most important to me is the main house at the farm. It isn’t terribly functional yet, and it is the one we’re planning to live in. As such, we’ve kept busy with constant projects.

The thing is, there is a bizarre-o event that takes place when your house is updated: Suddenly, the rooms you thought were fine, the one you thought you could deal with, start to look shabby. In my case, that room is the kitchen.

Originally, we thought we would use some of the equity in our Heights house, once it sold, to re-do the kitchen. Later, when realizing the inherent troubles that come with attempting to heat such a large house with propane, it became obvious that the reasonable thing to do would be to use the money to put in geothermal heating. Given that gutting and reconstructing a new kitchen will probably cost us our arms, legs, and firstborn child, I decided to deal with the kitchen as-is. It became the “one day” project. One day, when we have less debt and fewer projects that HAVE to be done, I will get a new kitchen. I have no issue with that, but the more we updated around the kitchen, the more dated and out of place the kitchen started to look.

In addition, it isn’t terribly functional for my purposes. The oven works, but is quite small. The stovetop has one working burner.

That’s when the crazy voice inside of my head–let’s call her my Inner DIYer (ala Mother Hen’s Inner Comedienne )or Di–began to follow me into the kitchen. Every time I crossed the kitchen threshold, she was there.

I’m pretty sure I first met my Inner DIYer when I was seven, and she convinced me to cut my own bangs. That turned out about as well as you might imagine. Since then, she has gotten me into a lot of trouble…

“You know what would be nice in here???”

“What?” I mumbled, paying very little attention to her and sorting through likely the millionth llama halter that I probably don’t need. (Hopefully I will check “donate extra llama halters” off of my list eventually, but at the moment, it’s just one more thing I need to do.)

I have to be honest, it’s dangerous to let Di talk to much. She has big ideas that will quickly unleash chaos.

“A coffee bar.”

“No.”

“But why??? All you would need is a small island, and like, a few other things, but it wouldn’t be that hard…probably.”

“Because you’re pointing to the washer/dryer…”

“Oh yeah. Those would have to move, which, by the way, is totally cool because you don’t want house guests to see your dirty underwear on the way to the sunroom ANYWAY! Besides, think about how bad your barn clothes smell! Do you really want that in your KITCHEN! Your food is here.”

I glanced up. She had a point. I mean, who wants dirty underwear in their kitchen…and my barn clothes are pretty bad…and Jeremiah’s shoeing clothes are way worse. Gross…

Di grinned. She is excellent at reading the room and always knows when to push an issue.

“Know what else? If you knocked down the wall in front of the washer/dryer, you could put in a breakfast nook.”

“What about the coffee bar?”

She shrugged. “It will probably still fit. Or you can just put it in the sunroom. You’ll be repainting, right?”

“This room? No.”

“Because you’re in love with the orange and blue floral wallpaper?”

“Because it would require me to REMOVE the orange and blue floral wallpaper.”

“But just think of how good it would look. I mean, I wasn’t going to say anything, but this room looks ridiculous next to the new dining room.”

I glanced around. She had a point.

“And it’s dated.”

Also true, but holy cow, whining much?

“And really, I mean, I know it looks small now, but this is a big space.”

I looked around, confused. “It really isn’t.”

“No, you’re looking at it all wrong. You have to sort of wipe the slate clean in your head. Just, like, mentally remove all of the cabinets and appliances…and the washer/dryer.”

It took a moment, but once I did that, I realized she was right.

“So,” she continued, “if you take out this island with the cooktop,” (she slid a finger across it like it was going to infect her with unimaginative design or something) “which only one burner works anyway, and you took out the cabinet where the stove sits and replace it with a standard oven, you can maximize floor space and open the floor plan. It will look way bigger.”

“If we take out the island, we’ll have to replace the floor.”

“And…?”

“And that’s expensive and time consuming.”

“Well…yes. BUT, you could wait on the floor. Put a rug down in the meantime. You don’t even like the current floor so who cares.”

“That’s true…but really it’s the cabinets…”

“Yes?”

“I mean, if I could only change one thing…”

“Yes???”

“I would change them.”

“I knew it!”

“But it would be WAY too expensive.”

She scrunched up her nose and looked around.

“We’ll paint them.”

“Oh god…”

“Yeah, I saw it on Pinterest. Can totally be done. And it’s going to look great.”

She grinned.

“But first, the we’re going to take down the wallpaper.”

So, we’ve been tearing down wallpaper (big thanks to my friend Vicky who helped me remove almost all of it), sanding cabinets and prepping for paint, both on the walls and the cabinets. And we’re discussing tearing out the island, putting in a few new appliances, a new backsplash…

Maybe a breakfast nook…

This is the room I wasn’t going to touch.

A week at the ranch.

Published on September 7, 2014February 27, 2016 by almostfarmgirl15 Comments

It’s been an eventful week at the ranch. Despite not living there, we’ve been busy!

For example, I pulled in yesterday morning and found this. He started with power washing and proceeded to paint by the end of the day.

Not sure if you can really tell, but by evening most of the front of the house was done.

Fall has officially made it’s way to Central Illinois. The weather yesterday was perfect: sunny, no hotter than 70 with a beautiful breeze. We’re doubling down on outdoor efforts. Lady Fall is enticing and beautiful, but she’s followed quickly by Old Man Winter, and, according to the Farmer’s Almanac, he’s going to be a doozy. It won’t be terribly long before we get weathered out of the outdoor work, and neither of us want a half painted house all winter.

We also bought the most perfect dining room table last week. Jeremiah and I found it in an antique store a few towns away. (In addition to all of his other wonderful qualities, Jeremiah actually enjoys going to antique stores on occasion. I’m a very lucky girl…) It’s a farmhouse table, new construction, but made out of 100+ year old barn wood. I’m a little bit smitten with it.

2014-08-29 17.04.19 — Jeremiah and his little brother bringing it in. Apparently it’s absurdly heavy.

The table, moved into our dining room. (The middle piece of wood you see is actually a table runner made of a 200+ year old barnwood beam.)

One of our friendly neighborhood hummers got caught in our mudroom while it was opened up to dry. Jeremiah eventually got it to go outside. The little bird was not overly grateful. (If you’re not familiar with hummers, they are very cheeky little things. We love them anyway.)

This one may gross some of you out, but I think it’s funny.

The chickens have been thoroughly enjoying their free range time, and a few of them discovered the manure pit. I know the phrase is usually “happier than a pig in poop,” but as I understand it, pigs actually prefer to be clean. The chickens, however? They think it’s pretty great.

Also, see below for the inherent hazard of letting your chickens free range:

They are pretty darn thrilled with their discovery of the hay stall. It has excellent dust for dust baths, AND there’s a nifty, secluded corner to build a nest. Now I have to check for eggs there every time I let them out. But c’mon, how cute is the little nest with the colored eggs?

And finally, we took out Vinny’s stiches yesterday. I expected a total freak out, as Jeremiah wanted to try it without sedation first, but we were pleasantly surprised when Vin stood like a champ. He’s come so far since he came home with us! This horse used to run away like a maniac anytime we came in the pasture, and now, this.

He stood and chomped down grain the whole time. God love him.

All done! He’ll probably always have a scar, but this one ended up way better than it might have. It healed up very well. Thank God for great vets and good horses.

Over the next few days, we’re hoping to move back in. (We’re both losing patience with the constant driving back and forth.) The house is vented with airmovers exchanging air in the basement 10 times per house. The vents were cleaned earlier this week… Hopefully, that will be enough to make the place livable again. Fingers crossed. If not, the movers are hopefully coming at the end of the month to clear out the basement, and then we will be free and clear to get the mothballs and the mold professionally mitigated.

Because Science…

Published on September 6, 2014 by almostfarmgirl10 Comments

So, I have poison ivy. AGAIN.

If anyone is keeping track, that brings my count to, I think, five times this in the last few months. Given that it usually takes a few weeks to go away, that means I’ve basically had poison ivy to some degree ALL SUMMER.

Last night, as Jeremiah and I were winding down from our exceedingly exciting anniversary (Recap: We drove five hours to Columbia, MO. He put shoes on three horses while I watched him put shoes on three horses. We drove five hours home.), I was complaining about wanting to scratch my skin off. Anything that I knew had the potential to make the itching feel better (anti-itch cream, etc) was, you guessed it, at the ranch. Driving there to pick up such items wasn’t really an option, nor was high-tailing it to the local Walgreens. (Because it was late, and I was lazy.)

Instead, I did what any good millennial will do when in need of solutions to a problem.

I Googled it. (WordPress, by the way is flagging “Googled” as misspelled. At first I thought it was just jealous of Google’s success, until it flagged “WordPress” too…)

Turns out, Google’s first impulse is to assume that I’m trying to make poison. (To what ends, Google apparently does not judge.) It’s second impulse is to assume I’m a medieval sorcerer in search of potion making tips and tricks. (You have to go with sorcerer, by the way, because witch is just loaded with gender biased connotations. You probably don’t have to assume it’s medieval, but I did because I like the word medieval.) It is not until Google’s third impulse that we get anywhere near where we need to be.

You know what this means, don’t you? It means that there are more people out there searching for ways to make poison…or, erm, poison potions…than there are innocent people like me who just want to make poison ivy go away.

And, incidentally, Google still got it wrong because I wanted to search for “how to make poison ivy stop itching.”

Once I got passed my initial searching, which took a while because of the running commentary I was providing for my husband who really trying hard to get some legal documents filed with legal zoom, I finally found a fairly useful article on WebMD.

And by fairly useful, I mean that it provided quality information without suggesting that my poison ivy might be cancer.

I had been expecting all of the websites to recommend hydrocortisone cream or something, which I did not have. Instead, though, WebMD offered up some really basic suggestions. There were a bunch of things on this really long list, but I only read the first three:
1. Ice it.
2. Use a baking soda paste on the affected area.
3. Use watered down vinegar.
Now, these suggestions are all meant to be used individually, but, being the overachiever that I am, I decided to try all of them at once.

Go back and read that list again. Do you have it yet?

Yeah…I basically made up a batch of the contents of a third grader’s volcano science project, put it on a paper towel, and then threw an ice pack over the top of it. (By the way, overachievers don’t water down the vinegar…or the baking soda…because that would just be silly.)

Know what? Totally worked.

I’m not even kidding. Within about 10 minutes, the poison ivy rash that had been tormenting me all day stopped itching. And the itching hasn’t come back. Because science.

Now, if only I could come up with a delivery method that INCLUDED the 3rd grade volcano, this would perhaps be the best discovery ever.