No one should live this way....

Remember when we did the goat petting thing for Wilbur's liquor store? Well, I met a couple of people who for dietary reasons wanted to buy goat milk from me.

This puts me in a conundrum (good word - conundrum).

In CO you can not legally sell goat milk for human consumption unless you are a Grade A dairy and there is NO way I'm becoming a Grade A dairy... see this post.

But good God. This woman called me tonight from this Wilbur's liquor store deal... and she's telling me she can't drink cow milk and can only have goat milk but she's bought the goat milk from the store and it's horrible. (I've never tried it but I've heard it is completely and totally disgusting and non-edible. Like me trying to get whiskey past my nose I expect only much more thick and milky...gag)

I told her about how we have taste tests at our house with all our friends who are completely grossed out over goat milk. We buy some whole cows milk from the store and we put it in a glass side by side with our goat milk... ONE person in 6 yrs picked the goat milk correctly (and I think it was a fluke and he just got lucky since it's a 50/50 shot). Everyone else chose the cow milk, just SURE that one was the goat milk - and I'm talkin' young kids, teenagers, old people like us... not any of them could detect the true and for real goat milk. When we tell them nope.... they are so shocked, they all exclaim how sweet our goat milk is and how good it tastes and GASP there is no goatie flavor.

And I hate, hate, hate, hate, hate the bad rap goats get. If you handle the milk properly, you shouldn't get a goatie flavor... they are wonderful little critters and we love, love, love the milk they give us!

K - so now that I'm all full of goat love and I know you are too... everyone is feelin' the goat love in the room right? Right?! How can you not think that is cute? Oh I love me those goaties!

This lady calls me... she has dietary issues. She's been making almond milk and other nut milk and drinking it and making yogurt from this nut milk. She wants to come out and see our goats this Saturday and try the milk.

How do you say no to someone like this?

No one and I mean NO ONE should have to live on nut milk. Dude. Seriously. That just ain't right.

I called our favorite goat people, The Larsons, and asked for advice. I call them for everything. I really love the Larson family. Each and every single one of 'em. Luckily, they had the number of a woman who runs a raw milk dairy and she has both raw cow milk and raw goat milk.

I called the nut milk lady back. I gave her directions to our place and told her I'm happy to give her a gallon of our milk to try for free. She can have the goat experience and see the goats and know they are happy and fun and we can all geek out over the wonderfullness of goats. After that, she can go to this raw milk dairy and I explained the milk laws in CO to her.

I really hate passing up an opportunity to promote the goat. I love them. They have a bad rap and it's my personal mission to change the world's mind one person at a time. Like the Blues Brothers. "I'm on a mission from Gad."

I called the raw milk dairy and picked their brains a bit... they were WONDERFUL and gave me a website to visit about raw milk and the rules about selling milk via dairy shares. People can sign a contract and buy a part of your goat for milk. I'm gonna check it out cuz I feel awful telling people who are drinking NUT MILK of all things that no, I can't sell you my goat milk, but boy howdy is it delicious! MMMMM, MMM!

Cheese mishap...

We are down to one milking doe, Spot, and it takes a few days now to save enough milk for a 2 gallon batch o' cheese. I wanted to make a big ol' batch of feta cheese and I was going to try to infuse the feta with basil...

Yum-MY right?


Well Furry Husband and I were cookin' dinner while I was doing the cheese thing and we started having a couple glasses of wine and the next thing you know it was time for the next feta step but I was busy drinking wine and I thought, "Oh, I'll get to it in a minute..."

Famous last words.

I forgot the cheese.

I woke up at 3am and thought about the cheese.

I didn't get up. But I thought 'bout that cheese....

The next day, in my sleep haze and rush to do something with the forgotten cheese, (yeah, like why the rush? It was already like 9 hrs past when I was supposed to do something with it - duh Shanster)

Anyway, I skipped 2 steps.

I didn't look at my directions.

Instead of cutting the curd and cooking the curd, I dumped a bunch of basil in and poured it in cheese cloth to drain.

It smelled strong like feta cuz I added lipase in the very beginning..... but it was soft and creamy like chevre. It was my "Basil Infused Feta/Not Feta Cheese Mistake".

This is what we did with it and it was DELICIOUS!

Pita bread spread with my "Basil Infused Feta/Not Feta Cheese Mistake", topped with roasted red peppers, artichoke hearts and cubed chicken breast. Toasted those lovely little pita rounds in the oven til things were all toasty and melty.

Can you say MMMMM?

I hope I make more cheese mistakes like that!

The BIG bug....

Furry Husband and I like to go to The Rio for margs and Mexican food to wind up the weekend some Sundays. Rio is downtown in Ft. Collins and we parked about a block away.
ohhhhh - yeah. Come to Mama.....

We were walking past a big crowd of people and all of a sudden Furry Husband startles, slaps his face (HARD) and screams like a woman.

His sunglasses went flying off his head he slapped himself so hard and landed on my chest, making me think that whatever HUGE ASS bug he just swiped at had landed on me.

I screamed like a purple assed baboon and jumped about 10 feet sideways as his sunglasses (not a bug) deflected off my chest.

And before I could stop myself, I yelled in that very wife-like, accusatory, whiny voice that I only acquired AFTER marriage.... "HONEEEY!"

You know that tone? Like it was HIS fault a muther huge bug tried to burrow into the side of his skull, he smacked at it and I thought it landed on ME?

Where does that stupid wife voice come from anyway??

The large crowd of people stopped everything, they turned as one in slow motion to watch the screaming, spastic couple on the sidewalk, swatting at unseen large bugs....

Furry Husband laughed a little nervously and said he thought it was one of those giant bumble bees cuz it was so loud and hit the side of his face. I think it was one of those evil flying grasshoppers.... gawd I hate grasshoppers always jumping out and surprising your ass. The flying ones are the worst.

After we picked up Furry Husband's sunglasses, dusted ourselves off and made sure there were no giant bumblebees or flying grasshoppers anywhere we laughed so hysterically, all the strength went our of our legs and we stumbled like drunken sailors into the Rio....

Still the same...

Anyone who was wondering? Roller skating is exactly the same as it was in 1982. It was so completely bizzare!!

I walked in with Kylee and there is the concession area with the tables - a birthday party in progress with a cake, pitchers of soda and pizza.

There were arcade games, including Ms. PacMan. OMG, I loved Ms. PacMan! Then the cave like area with the roller rink - the ugly dark carpet - the bench you sat on to put your skates on....

the gaggles of girls in flocks giggling... the boys who were ZOOMING around and yelling stuff to bug the girls and try to make them fall down.... it's like I was 12 again.

Only with much more body hair and the fat roll around my middle named Sheila.

Kylee had a great time - she was red faced and sweaty by the end of it and I didn't fall down, so I'd say it was a success.

Roller Land

Jumpin' Jaysus on a pogo stick... I'm taking my little sister thru the Big Sister/Little Sister youth mentoring thing roller skating on Saturday.

I'm thinking I'm gonna be o.k. cuz I played inline hockey for a few years on the StorageTek (now Sun Microsystems) hockey league. I haven't been on real roller skates with the big orange toe stopper since 6th grade.

Ahhh good times, good times.... roller skating in circles to Xanadu, YMCA, the BeeGees, Andy Gibb, doing the hokey pokey...

I hope those mellow 1970's sixth grade vibes stay with me vs. the inline hockey years.

I'm pretty sure people would frown on the whole body checking children randomly against the wall as I skate round and round...

Voles...

Vole tracks

A vole is a type of field rodent... shorter tail than a mouse and smaller ears. Punkin, the orange tabby, likes to catch voles.

Most often the voles are dead and this doesn't bother me. However, lately Punkin has been putting me in the middle of her war on the voles.

I've talked to her at length about this.

"Punkin. Really. STOP putting me in the middle. Either kill it or leave it alone.

Besides, what is the sport in these little wriggly babies anyway? They can't run from you Punkin. They just lie there wriggling.

Geez Punkin. Seriously. (me shaking my head in disappointment)

Like shooting fish in a barrel, Punkin, like shooting fish in a barrel.

Now, you stop bringing me these helpless voles and I won't hold out on your cat nip... you need a fix? Then STOP with the baby voles Punkin. I mean it. I'm serious."

And still, she comes along singing her little kitty death song, spitting out this little baby vole with eyes not yet open, wobbling and wriggling on the ground in front of her. She watches for a time, grows bored that it isn't playing the run and hide game and she leaves.

I can't kill the vole.

I know it's vermin. I know people set out traps for these things. I know people kill them regularly.

But it's a baby.... it's helpless.

I pick up the little, teensy, tinsy, baby vole and I bring it in. It's the size of a grape. (an eatin' grape, not a wine grape) I put it in a plastic shoebox lined with paper towels. I have a sock filled with rice that I heat in the microwave to provide warmth and I found instructions for orphaned rats and mice on the Internet.

(This drives Furry Husband crazy by the way.)

I actually BOUGHT Enfamil soy milk powder for human infants and I mix it according to the rat/mouse website. I hold the itty bitty vole and I squeeze a drop of soy milk from a syringe, put it to the vole's little tiny mouth.... nom, nom, nom.

I do this every 3-4 hrs. I actually wake up in the middle of the night to feed this minuscule baby vole.

I sneak the vole into work and every 3 hrs I go to the first floor bathroom with my vole hidden in a lunch sack for it's feeding.

Oh - and rodents that small can't pee or poop without the mother rodent licking it's genitals... it's a cleanliness thing evidently so the burrow doesn't fill up with vole waste. So I get a small piece of a napkin, paper towel or t.p. and I flick it across the baby's bottom... sho' nuff', the teeny thing pees and poops on cue.

The first one lived 3 days and I thought for sure she was gonna make it. I named her George.

Nope. She expired on day 3.

The second one lived 2 days before it died. I named that one George II.

I really think it had to do with not having a good, constant heat source because they can't regulate body temps at that size ... my office just isn't conducive to vole body temps and the rice sock doesn't hold heat long enough.

Punkin brought me one even YOUNGER than George and George II. I kept her alive over the weekend.

We discovered if we set our oven on "warm", I could keep it at 100 degrees and that kept the baby voley vole nice and toasty.

Of course we put a big sticky note on our stove top that said, "VOLE!" so we wouldn't pre-heat the oven for something, forgetting about the vole in the oven and cook George III.

Monday rolled around and while I know the saying is "Third time's the charm..." I took George III to the Wildkind wildlife rehab center. I made them show me where George III would be housed... they had a litter of pinky mice they were rehabbing so maybe George III will have some friends to play with!

Yes.

I know.

I am a complete freak.

I keep telling you this!

Wine Dinner

Furry Husband told me about a Keenan wine dinner at the last minute and we decided to go.

Keenan Winery is his new, I LOVE THIS WINE, vineyard. He visited them on the advice of an industry friend during his last trip to CA - (which he won for being a Super Salesman but spouses aren't allowed cuz it's a "work trip" - and yes, that's me making those quotation marks in the air with my hands)

He came home with a Keenan baseball hat, a Keenan sweatshirt, he brought home a bottle of each Keenan wine varietal and told me he joined their wine club. It was all Keenan this and Keenan that for a while.

When he found out that Michael Keenan from the winery was coming to town and hosting a wine dinner at The Melting Pot, a fondue restaurant, he just HAD to go!

It turned out to be a really fun event. It's so interesting listening about the wines and the vineyards - the history behind it all and how it came to be. I get my geek on cuz it's really all about agriculture and producing a crop ... Furry Husband is getting his geek on with the wine speak... and there is great food in front of us and glass after glass of yummy, yummy wine.

I took notes so I wouldn't forget to tell you the highlights:

**The Melting Pot sommelier was born in 1983 - young punk! I was 13 in 1983. (no offense to anyone born in 1983 ... I'm just bitter that I'm old and have no specialized skills to pay the bills...)

**A couple we sat with told us the lake we walk our dogs around was owned by his great grandfather, a Russian immigrant and in 1914 his great grandfather sold the farm with the lake to two brothers, with the same last name as his great grandfather but no relation, and not to his son. There are no old family photos cuz the great grandfather was a penny pincher and wouldn't pay for anything so extravagant...

**At one point a few people at our table were discussing the Keenan label. Michael Keenan came over to help clarify...

He told us that he was a general contractor in the San Francisco area in the 70s, was hired to build a house in Napa and he came to Napa in search of a local crew to help build this house. He stopped by his father's winery - of which he was not yet involved....

He saw one of the new label designs, said it was this dark bottle with dark juice inside and the label was dark - you could barely see the trademark K. He said, and I quote, "That's a pretty fucked up label."

The person at the winery told his Dad and evidently his brand-new Stepmother had designed the "fucked up label". This caused a big family rift - he referred to his Dad's second wife as "the woman" and said he didn't talk to his Dad for a couple years. Once "the woman" was called back by Satan and died from leukemia, he stepped in to console his Dad who was "for whatever reason" torn up by "the woman's" death.

They reconciled, his Dad told him to take over the winery and he did. He soaked off all the "fucked up labels", which started the feud, on the rest of the bottles - two years worth.

**He talked about the movie Bottle Shock - the story of Americans beating out French wines back in the 1970's (if you haven't seen that movie - rent it - it's MARVELOUS!). And how when American wine makers went to France, the French would hold these secret meetings in order to dupe them.

Michael Keenan spoke in a French accent at this point: "Fill ze Americans with bullshit! Tell them ze vines must really struggle, zey must be on ze verge of death to make good wine! Show them ze worst vines in your vineyards! Then we take them back, give them ze best wines from our cellars, ze wines from ze healthy vines and we send them on their way!"

He described how his Dad came back to the States and would walk around casting withering looks at his vines - the vines were full of struggle and barely clinging to life... and then when his Dad died and "the rein of terror ended", he, Michael Keenan began to water the vines when they needed water, he improved soil health and focused on vine health....

Now his wines are all free run juice, they get everything off - the skins, the seeds and fermentation completes in the barrel. The healthy fruit just gives up the color - it's magical.

(I get a bit lost in the wine speak with the fermentation and pressing and talk of "one week in 2005, the sugars and acids rose together - it was freakish!" I have no idea what that means but understood from the murmurs it doesn't happen... well, except for that ONE week in aught-five.)

** He talked about the movie Sideways and how with that movie, Merlot sales died while Pinot Noir sales skyrocketed which is pretty funny because it was all an inside joke.

Miles from the movie says he hates Merlot and yet he covets wine from Cheval Blanc , a vineyard in France growing 57% Cabernet Franc grapes and 40% MERLOT grapes. Michael said there was also mention of a French wine, Petrus, a 100% French Merlot... oh! NOW I get the inside joke... hahahahahahahahahaha!

Chateau Cheval Blanc

Yeah, whatever. Now, just fill my glass up you 1983 sommelier punk you!

** Someone asked Michael Keenan what his favorite year was. He replied, "07, hands down, best vintage. It's fuckin' awesome!"

** We ended the evening with a fondue pot of flaming chocolate which was a little scary to me. Chocolate = good. Fire = pain. (I confuse easily) Paired with Keenan's meritage, Mernet. A 50/50 blend of merlot and cabernet.

A blend of only two of the five meritage blends... he was trying to think of a name for it and thought of Cab-lot... no, no, no! That sounds awful! He's in the shower one day, trying to think of a name when it hits him - Mer-net! He gets out of the shower dripping wet and runs into the kitchen to tell his wife, "Honey, what about MERNET?!" His wife looked at him, told him, "That's great dear, but you are dripping all over the fucking floor!"

We ate up our chocolate-y fondue goodness paired with Keenan's Mernet until there was no more and the bottles ran dry.

Horrifying!

Um.

I'm warning you.


This post could cause your skin to crawl and your scalp to itch.


I was in the garden square working around my tiny pond. I was fertilizing the water hyacinths and I wanted to pull some of the spent leaves/flowers from my lily pads.


I'm on my hands and knees face near the water and I see something move out of the corner of my eye...


"Water bug", I think.


I see it again. (do you hear the Jaws music? cuz I do)


I turn my attention to it and look closely...


It is a tadpole.


I squint my eyes and peer into the water.... (que the shower scene music from Psycho)


THERE ARE A MILLION GA-ZILLION QUADRILLION TADPOLES IN MY POND!

All sizes... swimmin' around in there!

Those damn toads! They weren't just eatin' bugs and singing with contentment... it was a complete toad orgy bow chikka bow bow in my little pond and they squeezed out millions of eggs and now I can picture the water churning and frothing and erupting with toads one day.... like The Birds only much more amphibious.


Now I'm afraid to stick my hands in the water .... what if there is some big mother toad at the bottom squeezing out eggs like that mother alien Sigourney Weaver had to battle?


What are they even eating in there?? The big ones are eating the smaller ones? Are they damaging my lillies?


Furry Husband is amused at my horror. He added the movie, Frogs, to our Netflix account.

He is so supportive and loving.....

Huntin' dawg...

Funny story this morning - Furry Husband had Toe out on a flexi to make SURE he peed and pooped before bringing him in....(he sometimes forgets to poo and then tries to go in the house)

Well Punkin, our orange tabby, comes along singing her death song... anytime she meows in a particular way, it means there is some creature in her mouth... she brings it singing her death song, drops it and walks away; satisfied to let her humans know she is THE Great Hunter of the West.

Furry Husband didn't hear her singing her death song cuz he was all focused on Toe and getting him to potty. I heard her singing her little death song but I was on the toidy inside peeing! (see? everything happens when I'm on the toilet peeing)

Then I hear Furry Husband, "TOE! NO! .... Toe... Toe... Toe..... OH! ... GAAAA!!! TOE!"

I come out - "uh - is everything o.k.?"

Bequia, the cattle dog, had been sniffing something. Toe ran over and grabbed it up in his mouth... Furry Husband didn't know what he had in his mouth .... went in, fished it out and was completely shocked it was a big, dead vole! He told me later - "Thank God it was DEAD!" That had me laughing for a while this morning....

Toe is definitely a HUNTER dog... and he has lots of DRIVE for the hunt...

He went out in the yard yesterday and the chickens were out... and this was total bone head on my part... Booker never chased the chickens (I chalked it up to the fact they must not smell like wild birds - quail or chukkar or whatever) and Bequia and Sammy don't chase chickens... and well.... Toe does.

He REALLY chases them..... with intent... so he was chasing the chickens and I'm chasing Toe.... (ever see Rocky anyone? Chickens is FAST!)

Toe caught one - was on top of it, had his mouth on it and then another chicken must've run past, distracting him. The chicken he had got away and he looked up with a mouth full of feathers... it woulda been really funny if I wasn't trying so hard to catch the little son of a ...!

And of course all the chickens keep trying to go thru the fence but we Toe proofed it by blocking off the bottom two wires so Toe can't go under the fence. Evidently this was the preferred chicken route as well. They keep hitting it and bouncing off and hitting it and bouncing off....


I finally caught Toe...

I put him inside and went looking for the chickens to make sure they were alright. The rooster, the supposed protector, of the "harem" was all the way out by the manure pile. When I was looking, the rooster poked only his head out from behind the manure wall - totally covert like a spy - to see what was coming. It was like something out of a cartoon - hilarious.

He came out when he saw it was only me. He was the ONLY one over there... I'm like - nice, you yeller bellied chicken! Leaving all your girls to be torn apart by the dog while you high tail it for the hills.

The hens emerged from their hiding places, the flock reunited and went about happily hunting bugs like nothing had happened, tho' I expect we won't get eggs for a few days!

Goat Obstacle Course....

oh - wait. This isn't a goat.

That'll do pig. That'll do.

Goat royalty. Aw man. I want a tiara.

Furry Husband wanted to take me on the ferris wheel for some good old fashioned smoochin'....

Ooooooo - Furry Husband and I are conferring.... is this contestant on steroids? Do we need a goat urinalysis over here?

This may have been one of the more reluctant participants. The look on this goat's face is classic...

Uh oh. I think these dudes are trouble.... check out the headband and sunglasses.

The stands are packed with spectators... all 2 dozen of 'em.

The course in it's entirety...

Fun was had by all.... well....OK. Mebbe not by some of the more reluctant goaties... they may not have had much fun.... but everyone made it through.

Eventually.

Steve Martin

OH how I love this man. LOVE him. I wrote in and signed up for his fan club back in like 1976 or 1977... when he was at his height of the song King Tut... bunny ears... wild and crazy guy.

Sometimes I have dreams with Steve Martin in them and in my dreams I am always laughing ... so hard in fact that I wake myself up LAUGHING. Which is so much better than waking up screaming...

He wrote two novellas recently - I was afraid to read them because I have Steve Martin on this high pedestal and what if he couldn't write? What if his books were awful? Would he be a pompus jerk?

I don't know what I was worried about, both books were great! Shopgirl, was made into a delightful, wonderful movie if you haven't seen it and The Pleasure of My Company actually brought tears to my eyes.

Now the multi-talented man has released a CD called "The Crow" - a compilation of banjo songs he's written. It's not a comedy album - it's a real, live, music album. In fact one of the songs, Late for School, hit the Bluegrass charts.

Steve Martin is the reason I love the banjo... it didn't hurt that my Mom took me to a lot of bluegrass music festivals when I was growing up and several of her friends played... I sat through many a pickin' session 'round a campfire and the banjo was always the instrument I loved best.

Guess what? Steve Martin is coming to DENVER in Rocktober! (our favorite month - both my and Furry Husband's birthdays fall in Rocktober)

When I was done having full on conniption fits (and folks that ain't pretty) at the table after Furry Husband read the news to me from the paper, I bought tickets today at 10am when they went on sale... I got third row seats - off to the left vs. center but still.... third row to see STEVE FREAKIN' MARTIN!

Oh happy day!

Good-bye John Hughes

Writer and Director, John Hughes, died of a heart attack today at age 59.

This man made movies that were a HUGE part of my life growing up and being riddled with hormones, teenage angst and the longing in my soul to just "belong".

Sixteen Candles
Pretty In Pink

Breakfast Club

Ferris Bueller's Day Off

I probably did belong... it's just when you are a teenager, it never feels like you do. You are all pimply and hormone-y and out of control emotionally as well as physically - growing boobies and hair in weird places and feeling all funny and tingly inside.

Thank-you Mr. Hughes for helping me know I wasn't alone... thank-you for Molly Ringwald and "Jake" from Sixteen Candles... Thank-you for the completely accurate picture of teenage life, our bizarre parents and what we all had to go through. Thank-you for all my teenage heart-throbs... "Duckie" in Pretty in Pink and my love of Andrew McCarthy (who looks like a complete nancy-boy to me today) Thank-you for the soundtracks I listened to over and over and over and over ad nauseum.

Mr. Hughes also made some classic, classic, GREAT comedies - Planes, Trains and Automobiles, Uncle Buck, National Lampoon's Vacation, Christmas Vacation...

His talent enjoyed by many - good-bye John Hughes. Safe travels wherever you may be...

"Crazy" Cat Lady? Crazy like a fox...

Tidy Cat has a contest... submit 175 words describing how your life is abundant and fulfilled by owning multiple cats and how you are redefining "cat lady". Submit two photos - one of you and you alone with at least two cats and one of a favorite room in your house (either with you and/or your cats or without).

http://www.tidycats.com/EndCattiness/Submit/

YOU could win $5,000. Or a year supply o' cat litter and who can't use cat litter when you have more than one sweet wittle snookums at home?

I'm so going to enter.... because I am THE crazy ass cat lady of Waverly CO.

Snowballing, greegree, bad voodoo

Here are some very wise words about Rosso, the naughty horse, from my trainer that I love and trust and have known since I was 18 yrs old.

I know you are bugged about Rosso. Just chill. It will be fine; seriously. Honestly, any one of our horses has the capability to dump us on our ass at any given moment.

When he really understands that dumping you is a very BAD option he will stop. He is not stupid or mean.

No snowballing, bad voodoo and greegree.
Quack.