Out of town

I took the boys to visit a friend in the country. This family has a farm. I tried to explain to the boys not to leave the kitchen door open or the goats would get into the house. Four chickens follow me around the yard. I was careful to make sure my car doors stayed shut as the goats had already chewed the upolstory of my friend's husband's new prius. He was now looking at the goats with the hunter's eye thinking goat meat might tast something like venison or better.

We had a lovely time. It felt a little like being dropped into some winter children's camp as my friend also had staying in her turn of the century two bedroom farm house, some of her own relatives children, for a couple of days. They were all in the house as the weather was wet and rainy. It was Mother Goose living in her shoe. We had a delightful time feeding the goats and chickens and exploring the property in the rain.

She had a pellet stove in the dining room off the kitchen that cranked up the heat to 75 degrees. I sat in my chair feeling quite balmy considering the weather outside. We were all toasty warm with children running around everywhere.

This friend of mine is a project queen like me. She has turned a neglected farm into an adorable vintage cottage. I did find one novel concept I would like to steal from her. She had ordered a new stove and it arrived broken. She had sent it back leaving herself without anything but her microwave and her George Forman. I am envious. Take out often or it has to be microwaved. I was truly in my kind of heaven including the chickens and goats.

We did have one scare. One of her children went running ahead down a path by a creek near their home. In the summer this creek is a small trickle. This day it was a swiftly flowing creek full of mountain run off and heavy rains. The boy slips and falls into the creek and is pulled along by the current. He screams for help as his mother races to the rescue. We see him down stream a good twenty feet from where he went in clinging to a root in water up to his chest, unable to pull himself up the three foot embankment. My friend grabs his arm from the shore and manuevers herself into a position where she can lift him out of the water.

I wait a little further down stream in case he escapes her grasp and I have to go in and grab him. I took longer to get there as I had to stop the other children that had been walking with us from coming down the path to the stream and falling in also. By the time She tugs her son out of the water. He is chilled to the bone. He made it a few feet walking before he collapsed in shock. She wrapped him in her coat and carries him to the house to be warmed up in a bath and then sat by the hot fire. Resilliant as children are, an hour later he is fighting and wrestling with his brother and being put in time out.

We drive home later in the day. I want day light driving. I hit rush hour in the city which puts me in a foul mood. I tried so hard to miss rush hour. I make a wrong freeway choice and end up bumper to bumper in traffic. I do not like to drive. I can't wait until the boys do drive. Riley is somewhat of my mind set. He has no urge to learn even though he is way past the age restictions now. I tell him even if he doesn't like it, he needs to know how to drive a car for his own safety and security. I am putting him in drivers Education this spring. Perhaps a none family member will give him a better comfort level.

The trucks kick up rain from the road and the rain comes down from the sky. We finally make it home where I enjoy putting my feet up and hanging with my husband. Tom has been home enjoying the empty house reading the new books he recieved.

As soon as I flop down on the bed the cats and the dog hop up to cuddle with me. Tom looks at the animals and says "That is bull shit". For two days he has barely seen the animals. The dog slept downstairs by the front door waiting for me to come home. He wouldn't even stay with Tom when called to bed. I asked if Tom had fed the dog. His reply was that he gave him his left overs, pizza crusts. The dog should be happy with table scraps. Well, no wonder my poor adorable dog was waiting for his mommy to come take care of him. No wonder my dog poops in the man cave when not let out. I have to say my dog is brilliant with none verbal communication. I gave the dog a big belly rub as he lay between Tom and me on the bed. Then of course I had to give Tom the same thing, so no one felt neglected.