Healing From Burnout

 

  There is a legitimate ailment that affects all people, no matter your age, experience, social status, or how careful you are. There's no bottle of pills to cure it. Doctors and herbalists can't help you with it. You're alone, for the most part. And only you can figure out how to fix it.

  This mystery disease is known as "Burnout". And it is a very, very serious thing. You never know when it will strike, or how long the healing process will be. It simply settles on your shoulders one day, like a damp, gloomy cloak; stealing the joy from the things that used to light you up, stealing the energy from your very bones, stealing the point to life. There it will stay; that ill-fitting, invisible piece of cloth that enshrouds you in mediocrity and depression.

 Don't worry though. There's a light at the end of the tunnel. There's a cure for it. It will take time, and effort, and gentleness. But you can beat it. Though it hangs on with the stubbornness of a tick, you can shake it and come out stronger. I'm positive about this. I'm positive, because even after wearing my cloak of gloom for three years, I am finally healing from it.

  When I left Oregon three years ago, I knew I was burnt-out from farming. The years of struggling so freaking hard to make the farm work, while living with family who didn't want it to work, took its toll. I thought perhaps a change of scenery would help, so I moved to Missouri. But that didn't help. The joy of working with plants and animals was gone. I felt tired and drained. There was no joy in any part of my life; not in the beautiful area that I lived in, not in being married to be best man on earth, not in welcoming our firstborn son, not in starting up a farm of our own... Life was dim. I slept a lot. I cried a lot. I began dabbling heavily in paganism and self harming. I was burnt out and knew it. I also knew that I wanted to heal. I just didn't know how.

  It took a very abrupt piece of news to start the healing process. A piece of news that took me 4 months to come to terms with, and one that ultimately changed me for the better.

  And the news was? 

  Well, it came in the form of a positive pregnancy test.

 Yes folks, I am pregnant with Kiddo #2. *insert bombshell dropping*

 This was very much a shock to Hubby and I, as we were hoping to wait a year or two before adding to the family size. Being the superman that he is though, it only took him about three days to get used to the idea and then become completely ecstatic over the news. Me? Not happy. Not. Happy. I hadn't even figured out how to be a mom for the first one! And we were just starting the farm! How on earth was I supposed to do everything while pregnant and then do it with a newborn!?

 So there was more sleeping. And more crying. And more being depressed.

 And then I'd had enough. I didn't know what I was going to do, but by George I was going to start fixing these problems. I wanted to be excited about this baby. I wanted to have tears of joy when I finally met this new little one; not have tears of dread like last time.

  It took four months, but I can now say with a smile that I'm on the firm road to recovery. It took time, and effort, and gentleness. It was baby steps of fixing my faith in God through reading just one small chapter of the Bible each day and finally stepping foot inside a church again. It was learning to love being a mother through a special book gifted by my mom and taking delight in my chubby, smiling son. It was realizing that making this house a home and being cheerful for my husband gives far greater rewards than globe trotting to Bali and Aruba ever would. It was accepting the gift of a new child. 

 And now it is learning to love farming again.

 Like all the other areas in my life that needed fixing, it's taking time and gentleness to heal from this major burnout. I'm taking tiny steps back into finding the joy of it. It started out with things like buying a couple books from Amazon ('Woman-Powered Farm', and 'Made From Scratch'), and going to the feed store to simply look at chicks and flip through magazines. Then it went to slowing barn chores down and taking the time to enjoy the veal calves that we've raised over the summer (and will be butchering in 4 weeks!). Then it was pulling the spinning wheel out and making yarn... Then it was ordering 2 dozen Sapphire chicks (Sapphires are a F1 cross between a male Cream Legbar and a female White Leghorn.). And then I felt ready for the next big step: Three Ossabaw pigs, and a working dog. 

  These tiny steps weren't rushed. I waited until I was champing at the bit to do each one. I wanted to feel the joy again! I wanted to remember how fun it was at the beginning to simply hold a fluffy chick in the palm of my hand. Or to outfox a crafty calf or pig. Or wake up in the morning feeling excited at what might happen. I'm getting there. I can feel it. I don't have my pigs or my dog yet; but they're coming in the next week or two. And I am so, so excited. Life has joy again. Life has purpose. 

 And I am happy.

  If you're feeling burnt-out, my friend, take heart. You can conquer it. I know you can. Focus on finding the joy. Do something tiny that brings a smile. And do it every day. The gloom doesn't last forever. Joy will always win.

The Butterfly Came

 This week I made a big, scary, important decision about this blog:

I need to change it.

 Five little words... Yet so much trepidation behind them. For three years I've fought the nagging sense that 'To Sing With Goats' did not fit me any more... I even made a few comments about that here on the blog. But I could never bring myself to change any of it (except make it look a bit more professional). How could I even THINK of changing it!?!? I'm that "Goat Song Girl", for goodness' sake! People all over the world Google the blog name just to find and read me! I've built a readership, established an online name, made an icon of the tag "Goat Song"... Nopenopenope. Can't change this blog, quothe the scared farm girl.

  I've left this blog, and come back to it more times than I can count. Each time I leave, it's because I can't bear the feeling of 'not belonging' in my own online space. Each time I come back, it's because I miss the writing so fiercely, and want to try making it work again. But it never works. You know why? Because every time I try to come back and write regularly, I'm faced with a monster of my own making. This blog is my monster. It's not me... It looks something like me, it even sounds like me, but there's no soul here. It's an empty mask of a person, trying to please everyone who comes, and in doing so she loses herself. I. Can't. Do. This.

  Let me tell you a little secret: I've never held down a "real job" for longer than two months. And I've had quite a few jobs. Even working at the vet clinic, which was a total blast, only lasted precisely two months. The reason? I couldn't be my authentic self at those jobs. I had to follow someone else's rules. Those jobs, even though I enjoyed most of them, were soul sucking. I unconsciously rebel at anything and everything in life that doesn't allow me to completely and joyfully express exactly who I am.

  This blog became that soul sucking job. Something I did every day, did well at, loved doing... But there was an element missing: Me. 

  Granted, this blog used to fit me like a glove. I started it as a young teenager, living under her parents roof in Oregon. Now I'm a married woman, with a 4-month old son, living in the heart of Missouri. I've changed so freaking much in these last three years that it even scares me sometimes. But it's also exhilarating. And joyful. And full of surprises. The caterpillar in Oregon turned into a butterfly, here in Missouri. And the butterfly looks shockingly different from the pudgy bug it once was.

 So, I made the decision. This blog is going to change radically. The old posts will all remain, but the name is going to change, the look is going to change, the focus will slightly change (still lots of farming stuff. But I'll be expanding into other topics as well). And yes, I may very well lose readers when I change it. You make come here and be too freaked out to ever come back. But that's okay. This is for me. I need to stop hiding. Stop masking myself. I am an acquired taste, and not everyone may like that. I am ready though. And I am excited.

  This change will not be immediate, mind you. I want to have this website overhauled by a professional, and that is going to cost me about $3k; which I most definitely do not have right now. But I'll come up with something. It'll happen. After all, butterflies can only wait so long before testing their wings out...

 -Caity

Farm Mom Diaries: No Such Thing As A Pain Free Labor

  I'm going to come right out and bluntly state that for the most part, Hypnobirthing is hogwash. Water birthing is close to that. Prenatal yoga? Same group. Eating pineapple to take away pain? Oh that goes on the top shelf with hypnobirthing.

  Yes, my friend, I really did try all that. They all had some good points, to be sure, but there was one glaring lie that they all held: That a pain free labor can be achieved. Fellow mothers, you can laugh with me at such an idea.

 I am a wimp when it comes to pain. A total, complete wimp. I practically buy ibuprofen in bulk, and take it almost daily (yeah, I know it destroys your liver and that I'll regret it when I'm old). And while I wasn't stupid enough to believe in such a thing as a "pain free birth", I was sure as heck gonna' try everything I could to at least decrease the pain. I had nine months to research and prepare, and that's exactly what I did. Reading through the books and websites for Hypnobirthing, water birthing, prenatal yoga, and herbal remedies, I noticed the very common thread of each practice claiming that "if you followed their method perfectly, then you too could have a gorgeous, pain free, relaxing birth that you would treasure in your memories forever!" Please read that sentence in a corny, sales-pitchy voice. 

 Well shucks, I don't know about a pain free birth, but I'll sure try it out and at least hope for a more comfortable one! So for nine months I prepped... I did the prenatal yoga every single day, I took a 1.5 mile walk whenever the weather permitted, I drank that nasty raspberry leaf tea twice a day (confession: it's actually not nasty; but after you've had it twice a day, every day, for months upon months, you get really tired of it!), I told the midwife to plan for a water birth, and by golly I memorized that entire hypnobirthing book AND listened to all those CD's that came with it. I know, I know... I sound like such a typical "first time mom" doing all that. But hey, remember the whole pain intolerance thing? 

  December 10th rolled around, and my water broke at 7am that morning. I dilated from 2cm to 10cm in a span of three hours. And you know what I very quickly learned? Contractions hurt LIKE THE DICKENS! Like a good girl, I did everything that I had learned over the months. I ate the pineapple to help calm the pain, I relaxed as much as possible, I did the slow, deep breathing, I got in the nice warm tub... I did it all, but I sure didn't feel like I was even getting mild relief despite all my efforts!

  The irony of it all peaked when I was five hours into heavy labor, and my midwives (by now I had amassed four of them) began telling me to push. Push!?!? I just spent almost nine months reading material that told me that under no circumstances should a woman push if she wants a gentle, pain free labor! And here I was, being told by everyone in the room to push as hard as I could! It was in that crazy, foggy-brained moment that I declared all my learning to be a load of crap. And I began pushing for all I was worth.

 After twelve hours, little Travis was FINALLY born, and I decided that I wouldn't waste my time with that hypnobirthing book again. There is no such thing folks, as a pain free labor. Some people may be blessed to have less painful birth if they're built right and they have a small baby, but I don't think anyone can claim to have had a comfortable time. 

  Now, I will admit that each one of those methods did help a little in some way or another, and the accumulated efforts of it all was probably what saved me from having to have an emergency C-section. The raspberry tea helped strengthen those necessary muscles, and helped me heal completely by 3 weeks postpartum. The hypnobirthing helped me handle the early, less-intense contractions, the prenatal yoga allowed me to regain my original weight and waistline by two weeks postpartum, and the water birth... Actually, the water birthing didn't do a thing for me and turned out to be more detrimental to my situation. Oh, and the pineapple sure didn't help the pain in any form or fashion!

 Moral of the story: save yourself some time and trouble; instead of memorizing the hypnobirthing book, go take a nap. You'll gain more from the nap. 

Farm Mom Diaries: Adaptation

  Little Travis is now three weeks old. I'm still trying to figure out how we've gotten this far already, while simultaneously despairing at the long road ahead. I have to agree with everyone who meets him that he really is an easy going, sweet, smiley baby. He eats every 2 - 3 hours, *usually* only wakes up once in the night, and is generally content to sleep throughout the day. Now, this isn't every day routine by any means, but more often than not it is.

  And yet, despite how easy and sweet he is, I still find myself struggling to settle into all of this. I was never a very "motherly" person; growing up, I eyed other people's babies from across the room, but never desired to get very close. Babies always made me uncomfortable in the way they would randomly cry without ceasing, and seemed to have such staunch nocturnal habits. I've always been more comfortable with calves and goat kids; they're easy to care for and to understand. 

  Nevertheless, I'm giving this whole "mothering thing" the best shot I've got. I love this little fellow, but it's still a huge learning curve to handle. For the first week and a half I was constantly in frustrated tears because he would hardly sleep and would always cry as if in pain. Eventually I found out that he takes after his mother and is sensitive to cow milk, which was giving him bad stomach pain. Sigh... I tried going completely off of all forms of dairy, but it was pointless in the end, as my milk supply dried up. So yes, you guessed it; my son is now on Similac soy-based formula. Hoorah. But at least now he's back to being his happy little self, most of the time... I promise folks, he's still an average baby, and I have spent many a night on the couch, trying to get him to go to sleep. 

  As we've come to each new problem, we've managed to solve it in one way or another. Except for one thing: Sleeping at night. Yes, I did say that he usually only wakes up once at night, but it's certainly not always, and it's still a wonky schedule. He stays awake until 1am to 2am, sleeps till 3 or 4am which is feeding time, and then takes a cat nap until 6am. So we're averaging 4 - 5 hours of sleep each night. And for the record, I require 8 - 10 hours of sleep to be any good to anyone. See the problem here? The Caity needs at least 8 hours, and is only getting 5. Big. Problem.

By the time we hit the 2.5 week mark, I was a wreck. Tired, depressed, grumpy, and not feeling very motherly at all. Thank heavens for an amazing midwife though; she concocted a beautiful plan, and now once or twice a week Travis spends the night with his grandma and grandpa (who are pretty sure that he hung the moon), so hubby and I can have a whole night to ourselves. We tried this for the first time on New Year's Eve, and wow... A full night's sleep makes such a huge difference!! So this has at least solved part of the problem. Now we just have to work on fixing his sleeping schedule...

  I'm sure as we go along things will get easier, and I'll adapt to this new role in life. It's just the here and now that's difficult. Everything's new and challenging, and I'm always TIRED! 

 So there you have it. We're still alive; resembling zombies perhaps, but alive. If Travis and I can just figure out a good nighttime pattern, then I do believe we'll be good to go. 

 For now though, I make sure that I have stout tea and coffee at hand at all times. 

Travis Owen

  If you haven't figured it out by now, yes, that's his name. Although I admit to calling him "Small Mailman" more often than "Travis"... (nickname gets a nod towards Pixar's movie 'UP' in reference)

 My apologies for the silence! Our internet server had problems that took a week for the company to fix! Oy vey. I *think* it's good to go now, but only time will tell...

Launch Postponed -- Due To Baby!

Early bird registration for the 'You Can Succeed' e-course has been postponed for just a couple days, due to lack of internet here, and a newborn baby!!

 Yep, the little man himself *finally* decided to make an appearance! I will post pictures shortly; once I have enough time and internet to do so... His arrival was December 10th, at 8:30pm. T'was a long... Long... LONG labor. Ugh. Fourteen hours all total, and he came out at 9 lbs. even, and measuring 21" long. All I could think of during the labor was that 1) He was NEVER going to come; 2) That I was surely going to perish from the pain; and 3) If I survived, then I wanted a really greasy cheeseburger ASAP. Yes, I was having cravings even while in labor. Don't judge. 

48 hours later, I'm slowly starting to figure this whole "mama-thing" out. It's taking time, and I'm pretty exhausted from it all, but he's a cute (and pudgy!) little fellow. Hubby and I think we'll keep him... ;) 

Any Day Now

  Today is my "guesstimate due date" for this wee little babe. And the exact date that I came to Missouri on for a dairying internship, two years ago. I'm finding this fact amusing and rather ironic.

 Two years ago today, I landed in a state completely unfamiliar to me, 1,900+ miles away from home and family. My worldly possessions consisted of two small suitcases of clothes, a laptop, and my trusty dog. I intended to stay in this state for 6 - 12 months, learning the fine details of running a farm business (and how to garden, make cheese, and keep bees) before moving on to another state. That was the plan, anyway.

 On December eighth, 2013, just four days after getting settled on the snowy farm, HE showed up. The young brother of my internship host. Three and a half years younger than me, and with the looks and personality that made pretty much every girl in the county swoon, this young buck decided that of AAAAALLLLL the girls he could possibly go for, he wanted me; the odd, secretive farm girl who hailed from Oregon. 

  I wasn't interested. At. All. But that didn't phase him in the least. He just tried harder.

  And yes, y'all know how THAT ended. He got his prize, we got married 11 months after meeting each other, my "6-12 month internship" turned into becoming family, and now here we are: In the midst of living our "Happily Ever After", we've landed on the 2nd anniversary of my coming to Missouri, and I find myself quite heavily pregnant! Life is strange, my friend... Life is so strange. You never quite know what will happen, and where it'll take you.

  I am 41 weeks pregnant, today. And I feel every bit of it. The last 24 hours have been nothing but solid contractions, which have been bearable but leaving me with the feeling of having been hit by a bus. Not cool. Until my water breaks though, I'm to stay put here at home; more specifically, I'm supposed to stay put on the couch. Which, all things considered, isn't such a bad gig. Until I look at the dishes that need to be washed... Oh well. They'll get washed eventually. Today I am dutifully following orders and staying on this couch with my chocolate chip cookies, raspberry leaf tea, and all the online articles I can find on keeping water buffalo (raise your hand if you start mentally singing Veggie Tale's silly song at the mention of these critters). No, I don't know what's up with the water buffalo idea either. It just came to me this morning and I decided I needed to research them. And -- email a dairy in CA to ask how much their bottle heifers are. *Cough, cough* Did I just say that out loud? Pretend you didn't hear/see that! 

  But seriously... WATER BUFFALO. 

  AAAAAAAANNNND back to the original subject. Ahem. Sorry guys; "pregnant brain" makes me rabbit trail something fierce! Hopefully it'll go away soon, seeing as this small person is running out of room in his current living quarters and needs to come OUT! But then, I guess it might just get worse. And if that's the case, then hang on to your hats, folks. Blog posts might start to get reeeeaaally interesting.

  I'll keep y'all posted on what's happening, and when the little man *finally* makes an appearance! He's due any day now. Any... Day...

  For now though, I think I shall go back to my research on the imposing water buffalo.

  Just smile and nod, my friend. Smile and nod.

A Logical Dog Lover

 The past couple of days have been a bit heavy for me as I've gotten back into the writing world and have been given the jolting reminder of what people can be like through social media. The same people who might politely hold their tongue when talking to you face to face, may be fire-and-brimstone hurlers when hiding behind a computer screen.

  Over the last month and a half, I've had an idea brewing that I wanted to try. I wanted to work with a English Shepherd breeder, and together we would raffle off a pup here on the blog. The perks to this idea were that the breeder would have a pup sold, get some free publicity, and maybe get a waiting list down for future litters. The English Shepherd breed would have gotten some much needed limelight, which was my main focus; I love this breed, and wish more people knew about them! I know of no other breed that is as intelligent, useful, or unique. The only perk I hoped for myself was maybe a few new readers. I wasn't in it for the money at all. I just wanted to make someone happy, when they found themselves the new owner of a working farm dog to help them with barn chores.

  Now, I am not stupid. I could easily see that there could be some bad outcomes of this idea. The pup might go to a bad owner, or a pet flipper, or what-have-you. But I figured with some very careful rules and guidelines, we could pretty well avoid the kind of people we didn't want.

  I got all the details written out; hours of evening work, scribbling away with pen and paper. My goal was to start the raffle at the beginning of December, and pick the raffle winner on January 1st. It took me days upon days to find the courage to put my little brainchild of an idea up on the English Shepherd Breeders Facebook page... I don't believe one knows true vulnerability until they've tried handing over their writing to the public. The public tends to have very sharp fangs. But I did it anyway. My plan was sound, the idea was fun, and someone would be blessed with a young farmhand to start their new year with.

  Three hours after posting my idea on Facebook, I deleted it. In frustrated, emotional, hurt tears, I took it down.

  The public has very sharp fangs.

  "Dog people" are an interesting breed of human. And I had forgotten just what they're like. The breeders, whom I had gotten to know over a year of being a member, were mortified and disgusted that I would even think of doing such a thing. They accused me of exploiting the breed and wanting to turn it into something as common as a Labrador. They claimed I was unfit to own an English Shepherd, if I thought we could simply give a puppy away without doing a home check first. And went on and on about how "their" breed was much too precious to share with the public. They call these dogs "the farmer's best kept secret", and couldn't understand why I would want to expose the breed to publicity.

  Trying to maintain my politeness at their harsh condemnations, I replied with an apology at bringing the idea up, and that I would wait until I had pups of my own to hold such a raffle.

 That comment only fanned the flames instead of diffusing them. Breeders who I had been working with to reserve a spring pup banned me from their wait lists. The comments became more abusive. The core message from them all was that I am not fit to own a dog because I am willing to give one away to a person who needs one.

 I love dogs. Always have, always will. All animals are special to me, but there is something that feels particularly right about having a good dog at your side. BUT, they are also "just dogs" to me. I retain a level of logic towards them. They are dogs; not furry children to have their picture taken with Santa or wear costumes. They are not creatures to be idolized above humans. They are not family members that need a cemetery stone, or an ash urn.  And they are certainly not too precious to withhold from decent homes, which is what most animal shelters believe. Shucks, I spent my entire summer trying to adopt an amazing female Akita that desperately needed a home; but the shelter wouldn't let me adopt her because she would have been in a one-income family, and they preferred a two-income family.

They would have preferred that she stayed locked up in a kennel all day, and gotten a quick 15-minute walk in the evenings, instead of being loved and exercised all day!

 America has gone to pot in a lot of aspects, but most notably where dogs are concerned. They have become our idols. Something to violently stand up and fight for on social media. I still remember all the flack I got when I rehomed Gyp. He was an amazing dog, but my life was changing and he couldn't cope with it. I was getting married, my husband was joining the military, and we were looking at living in town, where we most likely wouldn't have had a backyard. Gyp was high energy and needed to run a minimum of 5 miles a day, and be able to work livestock on a daily basis. Anything less than that made him hyper, explosive, and unpredictable. Knowing this, I did the kindest thing I could: I gave him to a gentleman who lived nearby on a farm, and wanted a running partner. It's been a year and a half since doing that, and I still get emotional when I think about him. But I don't regret putting him in a better situation. The "dog people" were horrified that I did it. To a dog person, you're supposed to keep a dog until it dies; no matter what. This sounds quite noble, really. The loyalty and perseverance of it all is not lost on me. But their passion is skewed; and so many of them own unpredictable, unhappy dogs that would be better off with a different owner who could give them what they need. Keeping a Border Collie as an apartment pet because you refuse to rehome him to a local shepherd is not kindness. America thinks it is, but the harsh, cold truth is that it's cruelty. There is nothing noble, loyal, or honorable about keeping an animal in the wrong situation. There is nothing kind and loving about forcing a Border Collie (or any other high energy, working breed) to live in an environment that turns him into a menace due to lack of exercise and mental stimulation. It's far kinder to sell the dog (and there is no shame in getting money for an animal!) to the RIGHT owner, and look for another one that better suits your needs.

  Buying a pup is often times harder than adopting a child these days. And that saddens me. Having to fill out page upon page of forms for the breeder to look over, give at least five references, get a signed paper from your vet, AND have a home inspection before you might get a "yes" from a breeder is insane. But that's what America is now.

 I am a dog lover. But a logical one. Yes, I do hope to have litters of English Shepherds and Scotch Collies in the future, but I refuse to stoop to the disgusting level of all too many breeders these days. There will be no forms for you to fill out, stating how much money you make in a year, how many kids you have, and if you smoke or not. There will be no home inspections done. And there will be no references required. Because I TRUST YOU. And it's really none of my business. If you're willing to pay $500 for a pup, and an extra $350 to ship it, then you're obviously committed to some level in caring for this creature. It's time we put dogs back in perspective of importance. A child should not be easier to adopt than a dog. We cannot expect this nation to make any progress while we sit around and dust off the pedestals that we've placed our pooches on. In fact, I really don't think there's much hope of change until we start making humans more important again, and dogs go back to what they should be: Fun pets that have a job. Nothing more, nothing less.

  And so, I deleted the Facebook post. Getting a spring pup will most likely be quite difficult now, since most of the breeders have my name. But I still think it was a great idea. The English Shepherd is too good a breed to keep a secret. And too good a dog to not share with one of you readers who would really benefit from having a working partner around your place.

 Oh, and for the record, Gyp is doing great.

Balancing my Yin and Yang

  This morning I found myself washing dishes while pondering the eight limbs of yoga, and dancing to Dierks Bentley's epic song, 'Drunk On A Plane' (which happens to be the current favorite country song of my husband and I). Soap suds splashed on the floor as the just-washed whisk became an extension of my arm and got waved in the air with unabashed enthusiasm, and this little baby inside me jumped and wiggled along with me as we did an awkward but joyful dance that only a 39-week pregnant woman can pull off.  It was a moment that has taken me months to find peace about. A celebration of finally balancing my yin and yang. Balancing two sides of me that I've felt were incompatible.

  In the months that I was absent from writing here, I found myself really struggling with what sort of person I was. I didn't seem to fit in anywhere, and there seemed to be two starkly different sides of me that were constantly competing to become the "whole Caity". I called this dilemma my "yin and yang" and day after day during those dark months I could be found draped across the couch in a depressed heap, wondering why life had to be so confusing.

  One side of me I knew well; it was the "country girl" side that loved hunting, mudding, farming, big trucks, guns, Chase Rice, and everything else that comes with being a person who loves her eyeliner and rifle equally. This side of me was familiar, fun, and I couldn't help but love the sexy feeling that comes with wearing tight jeans, gorgeous boots, a fitted top, and my beloved Mossy Oak ball cap (I can't pull off the "cowgirl hat" look; ball caps for me!!). 

 Then there was "The other side"... Bum, bum, bum, BUUUUUUM!! (that's supposed to be epic music) This "other side" had been lurking quietly for years upon years, and finally decided to rear its head and make something of itself. It was more of the "natural/spiritual girl" kind of thing. I couldn't deny it; there was a part of me that adored yoga, desired to become a more spiritual/wise person, and was very seriously considering getting a degree in working with healing crystals (yes, it's a thing). This person ate chia seeds in her yogurt every day (after drinking her lemon water, of course), meditated on her yoga mat for at least 30 minutes every morning, could list all the yoga sutras, and knew that congo citrine could help balance your solar chakra (if you understand any of that last line, then I am impressed and would love to shake your hand). 

  These two sides did NOT get along. Or so I thought. I was too "crunchy" to be in the country girl circle, but too redneck to completely get along with all the others at yoga class. Which side was really me?? How do I choose!? I felt so horribly alone and awkward in my desire to have a definable label for myself. The thought of blogging here was unappealing, since it's all about farming and I occasionally wanted to share my learnings from the yoga world. But starting a new blog that focused on "the other side" never felt very right either, since I would inevitably find something exciting going on in the agricultural world and wanted to share it online... But it didn't fit on those new blogs. 

  There had to be a decision, surely. I can't be both of these sides; it sounded absurd and I had certainly never heard of anyone else doing both! 

  A couple weeks ago I had the breakthrough... There's a private Facebook page for all the people doing the business/marketing course that I'm taking and about 98% of the people there are all on the very "spiritual" side of things. Many of them are crystal healers, tarot card readers, reiki instructors, etc. Great women, for sure, but I did feel rather out of place among them. Then one day, a woman posted something that really shook me. She explained herself as being a retired Army sergeant who loved hunting, and was now a yoga teacher. She said she felt out of place; like she was struggling with two worlds and didn't know how to combine them. Fifty comments followed that post; every single one of them from other women who were in the exact same boat.

 "Wait a minute! You mean I'm not alone!? There are others who do Vinyasa flows to Blake Shelton music??" Turns out there were. A discussion ensued, and what I learned was this:

  These two worlds ARE compatible. It's completely fine to have steak and Jack Daniel's after evening yoga class. You can still practice meditation and then go to a Luke Bryan concert. And you can sure as heck ponder the eight limbs of yoga while dancing in the kitchen to Dierks Bentley!! 

 For so long I've fought these two sides, when I should have embraced them and let them meld to create the whimsical, unique person that I am. I'm no longer ashamed of who I am, nor am I conflicted about who I should be. It sounds crazy and impossible, but I am melding two very different worlds. I'm a country girl who wears a mala. I'm a yoga girl who loves hunting. I've given up some things over the last few weeks (Hubby and I decided that dropping the "healing crystal" thing would be a wise move, and I did make some changes in my meditation habits...), but that hasn't been a bad thing. It's made life a lot easier and simpler, for which I'm grateful. 

  It's taken me months, but I've finally learned to balance my yin and yang. And you know what? It's a beautiful thing. 

A Day Of "Nope"

  I had this HUUUUGE list of things I needed to get done today. Blog posts to write, writing projects to work on, dishes to wash, a house to clean... You know, normal life stuff that people do. Unfortunately, my brain seems to have missed the memo, and is determined to make this a "nope" day. Writing? Lol, nope. Dishes? Nope! Cleaning? Definitely nope! I don't know if I'm coming down with a bug, or just having an off day (most likely the latter), but I am so zonked. I accidentally slept the whole morning away, and have spent the rest of the time guiltily perusing Pinterest. *cough, cough*

  Maybe I'm just loopy, and in need of another nap, but I saw this dye job on ye' old Pinterest and all I can think is, "I should totally do that for my 24th birthday..."

 

  For the record, I have never, ever, EVER dyed my hair. I've always wanted to (granted, the idea of something this drastic never occurred 'til now), but I've never had the guts or money to do it. But hey, maybe I should make a big splash when I finally do it?

 And as an added perk, at least I'd be recognizable in public.

 "Hey! There's that Goat Song girl!"

"How do you know that's her?"

"Well who else would be walking around with hair like that??"

"Where The Rivers Run": My County Made PBS News!

  Check it out!! My county here in Missouri got highlighted on PBS! I watched this with the family last night, and we all had a blast saying, "I know that person! I know that place!" A few things highlighted are the Katy Trail, which I LOVE biking on as often as possible, the Missouri river, which I've canoed on, some local goat cheese makers whom I've gotten to know (they have lovely Saanens...), an artist who is a staunch milk customer at the family farm, and best of all... A little clip about my hometown, New Haven (clip starts at 38 minutes)!

  So if you've ever wondered what it's like, right here in my neck of the woods, this'll give you a great feel for it. If you've ever wondered why I chose to call Missouri my permanent home, instead of moving elsewhere, this will explain. And if you ever happen to find yourself travelling through this state, well... I highly recommend giving Franklin County a try.

Enjoy!

E.coli Came To Town

  There is a very specific reason that I haven't been posting much lately. And that is that I've been sick from drinking contaminated water. Yuck, yuck, yuck. I felt slightly "off" on Wednesday, spiked a fever by Thursday, and basically have more or less been a fixture on the couch since then. Missouri has been experiencing a very WET summer, complete with lots of flooding. I guess this flood water somehow got into my county's water supply... And now ALL of it is contaminated with E.coli. Yup. Thing is, I didn't know this until Saturday; and apparently all the town's had put down a "boil order" on all city water just the day or two before. While I definitely don't have E.coli, I am for sure feeling the effects of drinking bad water.

  Not having access to news is usually a great thing in my mind; keeps my stress levels down. LOL. But, I could see how it would be very handy to know what's going on in the town when we suddenly have to boil our water because of an E.coli breakout!

  This whole thing has been a bit of a shock for me. Things like this always seem to happen to "someone else", in "some other state". And yet here we are: my town alone has almost 30,000 people; and none of us can use our water unless we boil it first. For the record, boiled water tastes horrible. My husband assures me that it's better than water with iodine tablets in it, but that really doesn't make me enjoy my boiled water any more. 

  And then with the problem of now boiling all water, I'm going through my day thinking, "Wait, how do I wash dishes now? Can I still do that with tap water? And what about taking a shower?? Or doing laundry? Surely laundry will be fine, being washed in yucky water, right???" 

  It's a mess.

  I've been reading through a library book that's half about preserving/stocking food to be frugal, and half about preserving/stocking food in case of an emergency. Now, I have to admit, that up 'til now, I've been skipping over the emergency section. The idea of storing jugs of water made me think of my mother who stored multitudes of jugs in our spacious bathroom closet, many years ago... And then dumped every single one of those jugs out years later because they never got used. This E.coli thing is probably the first emergency/disaster I've experienced (and thankfully a mild one to start with!), so up until now the idea of "prepping" seemed like something for folks who really think zombies are coming. And yet now... Here I am, wishing I had been smart and stored away bottled water, disposable plates/bowls/ utensils, and bottles of hand sanitizer. Live and learn, folks. Live and learn...

  But if nothing else, this crisis has at least opened my eyes to the fact that emergency preparedness is a good thing, and need not be taken to a crazy level. 

  And now, methinks I need a nap. Being sick is no fun guys; stay away from dirty water.

I Am Home

Contentment.

  You know, I always thought I had a good handle on that word, that character trait. Turns out that I thought I did, only because I hadn't been tested on it yet. When the rubber meets the road, and your life isn't what you wanted/imagined, then you learn just how strong of a characteristic contentment is in your life.

  And in my life? Well, if I were in high school, being tested on it, I'd be lucky to find a grade 'B' written in red ink on my score sheet.  A score of 'B' isn't so bad though... Considering the fact that I've worked my way up from at least a 'D-' in the past few months.

   Yes I will admit it. I've really been struggling to be content in the last few months. Caught up in a selfish, ungrateful attitude, I couldn't see the blessings right in front of me even when they hit me in the head (quite literally sometimes; I tend to bump into walls). Transitioning to living in an apartment, in town, has been a shock to the system, and one that I have not gracefully adapted to. All I could see were the noisy neighbors downstairs, the lack of countryside, the rather annoying landlord... When what I should have been in awe of was the fact that we found a FABULOUS, affordable house to live in (clean, well taken care of, no leaky pipes or heating problems), we live ONE BLOCK away from the city pool, behind our house is a small fishing lake with walking paths and lots of wildlife, and we're five minutes away from historical, downtown; which has a plethora of awesome stores, the local farmer's market, library, and is also the happening ground for my yoga classes.

  But adaptation happens to all of us. An inner evolution of the heart. And this funny little house is growing on me. Sure, there may be a stark lack of counter space in the kitchen, but the 1930's vintage flavor of the whole room really does make up for it. And heck, cleaning is a cinch here.

  I'm sure this revolution should have come to me sooner, but being the mere mortal that I am, and not a perfect one at that, it didn't. But it hit me last week as I finished cleaning the whole place from top to bottom and surveyed the square footage before me, I realized... That I was quite content with this little place. A smile of satisfaction slid across my face. I was home. You don't have to live in the country to be a country girl (or guy). By golly, I could still have a booth in the farmer's market, make hog's-head cheese, and wear my cowgirl boots while living smack dab in the heart of downtown. As a matter of fact, it's a very fun challenge to merge and intertwine the two lifestyles. Country at heart, city at home.

  Kale yeah.

   ^The new, hip, way of making a point without quite swearing. I'm rather smitten with it.

Farm Girl to Farm Mom

  So... I left out a part of the story the other day when I gave y'all the latest scoop. A bit more has happened. I just needed some time to think about telling that part.

  To say it bluntly, my friends: I'm pregnant.

 Yeah. For real. Like, there's a tiny, little human inside me. *insert slightly creeped-out look*

 This makes the first time to publicly announce it. I figured it was finally time, since I'm just hitting my second trimester and I'm starting to show. LOL. And yes, I really am excited! Although, I think the dear husband just might be more excited than me. We're both pretty tickled though. 

 And this is why the veal operation is waiting until next spring. 'Cause I'm about to get all fat and roundy, and then I'm going to have a little newborn to bring along everywhere before Christmas hits. A new farm business and new baby all in one fell swoop is even a bit much for this girl. But hey, next spring I WILL be setting up electric fence, and buying calves; it'll just be with a wee babe strapped to my back with a Moby wrap. ;) 

 I will admit that it's taken me quite awhile to become excited about this baby... My husband and I found out that we were pregnant way back in February, and I was over the moon with happiness. I felt great, still had energy, and we planned on popping the news during an upcoming family gathering. Three days before that gathering happened though... I miscarried. I was 5 1/2 weeks along. That crushed me. I had wanted that little baby so bad, and then I lost it. God was good though; and less than a month later, we were pregnant again (ahem). 

  I should have been excited when I found out about this new, sweet babe. But I wasn't. Still depressed over the loss of the first, scared to death that I would lose this one too, and constantly sick to my stomach, there was very little joy for many, many weeks. Through the faithful help of my sweet husband though, I began to rise; both physically and mentally. And I'm pleased to report that I'm now on day #5 of NO morning sickness! Folks, I haven't felt normal since mid-February, and have been on semi-bedrest since the beginning of March! Yesterday was a celebration of not just Memorial Day for us; but also that little ol' Caity ('le Me) is finally able to act like a normal human again. So we went swimming at the local pool (which we live two blocks away from right now), and had a hilarious round of road bowling with the family in the evening. Normal things perhaps; but for a girl who's been struggling to simply walk up and down stairs for two months, it was big.

 I'm still pretty nervous about becoming a mom in the very near future, but I guess I'll just roll with it and take it one day at a time. That seems to be what most moms do... ;)

 The Farm Girl is graduating to Farm Mom... Now there's a plot twist I wasn't expecting. LOL.

It's All So Crazy

  Well here's something I didn't think I'd ever do again; post on this blog!? But here I am anyway. Why? Because I've missed it. Simple as that. Yeah, I tried a new blog, but this one feels so much comfier (and finished. LOL.). I think I may start blogging here a bit more frequently, too. And with that announcement, I guess I owe y'all an update.

  So, where am I? What's new? Oh dear... It's a long story. I'm in Missouri, living with my husband. By some weird twist of fate, he got discharged from his dream job in the military. A few years ago, this wouldn't haven even been a possible happenstance, but for some reason the military is letting a lot of people go. And he was one of them. We. Were. Devastated. So he came home from California, and we were left wondering what on earth to do. We had no jobs, no house, no plans... But God was good. My husband's sister (who I was interning under) allowed us to spend a few months in the loft, where I had already been living for the last year until we found a more permanent situation, and his dad's boss just happened to be looking for another employee, working construction. 

  We spent the winter scouring Craigslist ads for a place to rent. The loft was great, but it cold... So cold. Every morning we'd wake up to the INSIDE of the house hovering around 25 degrees. It was so cold that we couldn't have running water. Heck, it was so cold that if you wanted to warm up, all you had to do was open the fridge door and stand there. But despite the hardships, that loft is still a pleasant memory in my mind. It might have been cold, but we had each other; and being together again was a true blessing.

  After weeks and weeks of searching, we found ourselves a place to call home. It's a small apartment (duplex really; a 1930's style house that's been turned into a top floor and bottom floor apartment for two families) in the next town over. We signed the contract and promised ourselves for a year of living there. I figured I could put up with a year of apartment living... Right? Turns out it's a lot harder than I thought. The hardest part for me is that pets aren't allowed. And for a farm girl who has always had at least one critter? It's TOUGH. It's a nice place, I can't argue that. ButI do miss the countryside... So now our weekends are spent back on the in-laws place, enjoying all the open space and critters. LOL. 

  So what are our plans now, if the military is no longer an option? Well, I'm pleased to say that we're looking around at local properties for sale/rent. This girl gets to farm again! I've had my long break from it, and now I'm ready to come back. I've been busy writing up business plans, and getting buyers lined up. We're looking at starting up a small-scale veal operation come next spring! We've had a huge amount of interest, and the net profits should be enough to support living in the country again. So I'm excited. Beyond veal, I'm considering the idea of having a small/medium scale lavender field to go with it; but it depends on where we end up living. I wouldn't mind getting sheep, either... What their purpose would be though, I haven't decided yet. I like the idea of dairy sheep, but that's a huge investment. Wool sheep are awesome, but there's not much market here. So we'll see. And yes, I have every intention of getting another farm dog. I still have such mixed feelings over Gyp... Best dog I ever had, but he's so happy where he is that in my heart I know giving him up was the right decision. I have no idea what breed I'll get next. Part of me wants just a relaxed English Lab to pal around with. But then the other part of me wants another English Shepherd. Maybe I should get both. ;) LOL. 

 I think that's the majority of things for now. I wish I could blog daily, but alas we currently have no internet at our house. So I have to wait for the weekends when we're visiting family. It's all so crazy. Life has not turned out to be what I expected, but it's not a bad life either. It's just crazy is what it is. 

Mr. and Mrs...

   You know you're desperate for a picture when you copy an unedited image from your sister's Facebook page. But yes, I was desperate (Emily, I'm considering withholding your Christmas present if I don't get my pictures soon!). Anyway... I'll fuss at her later. But here's a teeny, tiny teaser picture for y'all! Ze' farm girl done got herself hitched last week!! The wedding was delightfully small, very fast (30 minutes from walking down the aisle, to getting into the getaway truck!), and overall very relaxed and enjoyable. I had no wedding decorations, there was no theme, only a dozen people were invited to come, we had no "custom vows", I had a simple bouquet made entirely up of sunflowers, all the music was done by one guitarist, only my dad and one of my sisters could fly out for the event, my sister took pictures, did my makeup, and my hair, and my husband and I drove away in my blue Ford pickup truck. ;) 

  To me, it was a perfect wedding, and exactly how I wanted it. 

  The honeymoon was amazing and now here we are: Mr. and Mrs.! I am so, so happy with this new stage of life! A few of you have asked what we'll be doing now, where we'll live and all that. I really can't give you a whole lot of information, but suffice to say, I married a military man. He leaves the state in just a few weeks and I won't set eyes on him for 3 months. My hope is that maybe by April we'll finally get to live together again. We both knew this right from the start, and it was one reason why we decided to have a short engagement; at least then we would have a little bit of time together before the first round of his military absence. This is why I'm no longer farming... This is why Gyp had to leave. This is why y'all never had answers before about him, and will probably never be able to know his name, or even see a picture of his face. Because he is a military man, and I am now a military wife. I have agreed to this lifestyle willingly though; while knowing full well that his career may make me a widow sooner than my mom, or possibly even my grandma. But I pray every day that he'll be safe wherever he goes, and we'll have a long, crazy, joyful  marriage together. :) 

 And for the record, having a new last name takes a lot of getting used to. ;) 

Oh, and P.S. I do have a new blog in the works; I'll give the link once it's finished, and then we can all move over there and be all sociable again. :) 

Once Upon A Time: A Redneck Fairytale

   Once upon a time, in a faraway land filled with lush greens, high mountains, and seemingly ever-present liquid sunshine, there lived a girl...

   Looking at her from the outside, there was not too much to see. Twenty-One years in age, she was fairly plain, was very quiet and unassuming, and kept to herself as much as she could; she was almost gangly in proportions, had thick brown hair that never cooperated, and had blue-gray eyes that many people found to be unnerving in their appearance. In this faraway land, the girl lived on a very small farm that she kept going by sheer stubbornness, determination, and because she didn't know what else to do in the large, large world except milk cows and tend chickens. Forever by her side was a young dog that looked more like a fox; rusty red in color, with white fur streaking brilliantly on his face and chest. This duo of girl and canine were inseparable by day and night; working together to keep the animals where they were supposed to be, and together they rambled through the dark and ancient forest that was adjacent to her home. The girl's life was very methodical, and very predictable. Every day she milked her cow and goats, fed her chickens, moved her sheep to new pasture, and took care of whatever other animal was around at the time. The only part of her day that kept her guessing was her journey into the old, old forest. One never knew what might happen in the depths of that silent world, where the moss on stumps grew thick as cushions, or swagged from tree to tree like a Christmas garland; and where the only tracks in the red clay were that of deer, bear, coyote, and bobcat. Hers were the only human steps in this forgotten place... She and her faithful dog came here every day, and as their feet wandered, so did her thoughts... "Was this to be her life forever? Milking cows and trying not to get pecked by mean cornish cross chickens?" She didn't mind so much if it was; she could make it work. But each day, as she mazed through trees that looked like Ents, she had a small, niggling, quiet thought: "What if there's more to life than this? What if... There's one more adventure in store for me?" For as quiet, plain, and unassuming as she was on the outside, her life was a churning turmoil on the inside. She wasn't happy. She felt like she didn't belong anywhere. She could barely even understand herself and what made her tick. She didn't know who she was, or what she liked, or where she fit in. In the end, all she had was her dog to help take her mind off the swirling confusion in her head. And so, she walked the deer trails in that old, old forest each day; forever followed by that thought... "What if there's more to life than this?"

   The thought haunted her. The "what ifs" were like a plague in her mind; stealing her sleep, and distracting her while awake. She had to know. She needed to go to a completely unfamiliar place, and see if her true self came out in the seemingly unstable situation of being surrounded by strangers. It was a big and surprising decision for such a quiet girl who normally hated to go anywhere, and many people scoffed at her. But she couldn't escape the haunting thought, that she was supposed to leave this land of green mountains. She told very few, if any, people why she was really going away. To most she simply said that she was going to "learn more about farming". Which was true in the end, because she figured after this adventure she would settle down somewhere and begin farming again.

  So the girl packed two suitcases, loaded her dog in a kennel, and took that frightening, but very modern, mode of transportation known as an "airplane", and flew over 1,900 miles away from the land of green mountains which she had known for the last 17 years. She landed in a much different place... One of rolling hills, fields of corn, and roads full of lifted pickup trucks. To say that the girl experienced some culture shock would be an understatement. But strangely... She quickly became happy here; and settled into a new routine, with new people.

   Three days after she arrived, something happened that changed the rest of her life. The family she was staying with decided to have a game night, and the wife invited her two neighboring siblings to come over as well. First through the door was the wife's sister; who turned out to be the same age as the girl, and had many of the same interests. Stomping in through the door behind the sister, came her younger brother. A tall, brown haired, blue eyed, smiling 17-year old. The girl was shy and quiet, so she simply smiled briefly at the lad's cheerful greeting, and then retreated into a reserved shell of disposition. Her thoughts that night were of trying to figure a confusing card game out. His thoughts though... Oh his thoughts were different. He was intrigued by this quiet girl, who seemed full of secrets, and could quip movie lines at a moment's notice without batting an eyelash, and could talk about rifles and trucks as easily as she spoke of cows and goats.

  The girl however, was quaintly oblivious to the young lad's immediate interest. Even when he began coming to the house every evening, or took her sledding in the winter snow, or tried to learn more about her personal history, she was oblivious. She saw him as a fun person, and was content to keep him at arm's length. She'd been hurt in the past by others, and felt that she was too confusing and complicated of a case to ever let herself be close to someone again. So while she enjoyed the sledding, the games, the movies, and the talks, she kept her secrets close. She would not allow anyone to hurt her again.

  But he was as patient as he was stubborn, and took his time. Never forcing the girl to share anything, never putting her into a situation that made her feel uncomfortable... He waited. And over a course of weeks, the girl slowly began opening up to this young man. She didn't know why; and she kept waiting for him to suddenly up and leave, scared off by something she said. But he never did leave. Instead he just proved a loyalty that she couldn't understand. Where she was wary and untrusting, he was patient and trustworthy. Where she was insecure and doubting, he was solid, and encouraging. She was prone to panic attacks and nightmares, but he gently helped her through the problems without a trace of disgust that she had such problems. He helped her to find herself, and disentangle all those confusing thoughts. 

Life continued to tiptoe by, with each day falling away with the grace and subtlety of a snowflake. And then one day, the realization dropped on the girl like a bombshell: She liked this person. A LOT. And that realization utterly terrified her. Had she gone too far? Had she let her emotions come out too much? She couldn't handle being hurt again, so she retreated into herself again and tried to shut the young man out of her thoughts, her life. She was unlovable. She knew this. She was a train wreck that couldn't be fixed; she couldn't bring herself to let her new friend wade into the mess and possibly get hurt too. So she went back to who she was: A fearful, insecure, questioning, wandering nobody.

  But the young man refused to let her go and even when she pulled away with her emotions and trust, he just hung on all the harder; still finding her every day and hanging out. It wasn't until late one night, at the end of a party, that her emotional wall of aloofness broke with all the force of a hurricane hitting it. She had tried playing a prank on the young man earlier, and it turned out wrong... The girl felt so horrible and guilty that she discarded all propriety and hugged that  unprepared lad as hard as she could; sniffling back tears and apologizing all the while. And it was all over from there... She let him in; into her thoughts, fears, hopes, and crazy ramblings that no one had ever heard before. She gave him her trust, and just hoped that she wouldn't ever regret that decision.

  Four days after the young man turned eighteen, he asked that farm girl for permission to court her. Stunned, but happy, she wholeheartedly told him, "YES!" 

  They went on their first date the day after that. She drove, since he didn't have his driver's license just yet, and they went to the local theater to watch the first showing of "Frozen". It was in that dark room, watching a Disney movie together, with his arm around her shoulder that they both silently realized the end of their own story: This relationship was going to be forever. Come hell or high water, they wanted to get married some day, and knew they would.

  Months passed, and seasons changed. And as could be predicted, hell and high water did come for this young couple. Hard things happened, arguments came up, stress reared its ugly head more than once. But they made it through each problem, and the relationship became stronger each time. There were more good days than bad though, and this young couple could often be found doing strange activities for fun; such as canoeing in giant puddles, frog hunting, joy riding in their pickup trucks late at night, and watching what could probably be called an "unhealthy" amount of 'Doctor Who' episodes.

   They were both dirt poor, this farm girl and country boy. But they loved each other. Late one night, the boy asked the girl to go on a ride with him down their favorite back road. The girl was confused, since it was indeed very late at night, but agreed anyway after some convincing that she would enjoy this. So they got in his pickup, which she had always adored from the start since it was a big, noisy, diesel Cummins; and away they went... There wasn't another soul out at this hour; only them, and their rumbling truck. After ten or fifteen minutes, the boy pulled over on to what looked like a forgotten dirt road; right next to a bridge, and surrounded by corn fields. He helped her out, and in the dim headlights he knelt down, and asked a question the girl never thought anyone would ask her: "Would she marry him?" The girl didn't even hesitate in her answer as she gave him a resounding "Yes!".  He gave her a beautiful, silver ring, and after awhile they eventually began their way home again...

   They decided on a short engagement, the two of them did... Only six weeks and then they'd be Mr. and Mrs. At the time of writing this story, the farm girl and country boy only have nine days left before their wedding day. And while I am no prophet, I am going to make an educated guess as to how their story ends. It goes like this...

And they lived happily ever after...

From The Abyss... A Forgotten Voice

 This blog is "dead". I, the writer, deemed it that some months ago.

  And yet, out of the black abyss of nothingness comes this little voice today...

  "I think I miss blogging..."

  Thus begins the internal turmoil of a writer who feels she has a forgotten voice. A writer who doesn't even know what to write about right now. But misses it nevertheless. 

  I'm not yet sure what to do about this conundrum. Or even if you'll ever see another post here. I just randomly had a strong hankering to "blog" today.

  I think I miss you guys too. I liked our chatter we had going. 

  We'll see what happens... I may have to break down and start a new blog (which I doubt any of y'all would be interested in reading since I'm no longer farming). Or maybe the mood will pass (doubtful). Or maybe I'll suddenly sprout wings and then I'll be so busy flying around and being awesome, that I won't feel the need to blog (worldwide statistics of this phenomenon happening aren't very encouraging though). 

 P.S. Yes, you read that right. I'm no longer farming. And I'm okay with this. Why am I okay with this? *Ahem* Guess who's getting married in about a month! ;) Oooooh the evil tease. Hehehe...

It's Been Grand

   This post has been a long time in coming... I've been avoiding it, really. Thinking to myself that I'd wait another week, another month, another whatever. But today is the day.

  This blog is retiring. To Sing With Goats is being turned into a dusty archive; still readable, still view-able, but the cobwebs will begin to collect as time goes on, and no one will be here to dust them away.

  I was originally planning on starting a completely new blog, and even had a professional web designer working on it over the last month. But... I wasn't excited about it. So I emailed the designer a couple days ago and cancelled everything. This girl needs a sabbatical from social media. A very, very, very long one. I may someday get back into blogging, but I don't know for sure. And if I do, it will not be about farming. My days of farming are coming to an end, and to be honest, I'm glad. I'm ready for a break even from this. 

 Farewell my friends. Y'all have been wonderful to get to know over the years, and it's been grand, getting to ramble and rant here. Good luck with your ventures! As for me? I'm not entirely sure what adventures lie ahead, but I think they'll be pretty good. :) 

 Toodle pip and cheerio!

Finally

   I've waited a long, long time for today.

   Today, this country girl finally got a truck of her own! It was a gracious gift from my grandparents, and I couldn't be more pleased with it. It's a little, Tardis-blue, '95 Ford F-150. And oh she's a grand little ride; even if she is a gas, and not a diesel. (hehe)