SCI-FI babe

When I was younger, Sundays were always the days my dad and I would sit around in the afternoon watching old Japanese science fiction. We rarely watched anything truly scary, I think my dad was into it totally for the entertainment value (minimal as it was in those days).
It was brainless entertainment, yet there was something about it that kept us coming back for more.

Most of those movies were silly, like Monolith Monsters, or I was a Teenage Werewolf,  or even Attack of the Crab Monsters.  I watched them mainly for the special effects.

I rarely followed the story line (if there even was one) but I really enjoyed movies that showed scenes of giant insects, like The Black Scorpion or The Deadly Mantis. 

I was always amazed how they could take a real insect and enlarge it, then dub it into a scene with people making the insect huge. Or like in The Fly where they put the face of a real man inside the body of a real fly then made it talk!. In some of of those films, you couldn't even tell (much) there was a splice or a green screen.

I'm still a fan of Sci-Fi but now, I'm much pickier. While I admit to watching The Ice Tornado recently (UGH!) it was so bad, I just had to keep watching it, moaning and groaning through the whole thing, it's very probable I won't be watching a "Made for the Sci-Fi Channel" movie again any time soon.

I like my Sci-Fi to have a storyline - one that includes characters that are mildly endearing, not sappy. I like to see a moral woven into the story, which all Sci-Fi tries to do, but only decent Sci-Fi does well.

I never truly appreciated science fiction until I attended Biola. My Ethics teacher used an episode of the original Star Trek series to teach us a lesson on humanity. It was amazing, so much so, I'll never forget it, and as a result I'm now always in search of Sci-fi with a soul.

Not all science fiction matches up. Recently, after having finished watching all re-runs of Star Trek: Next Generation and Battlestar Galactica, we all went in search of a sci-fi series we could watch, one with Baby Rosie in the room.  She has learned to love this genre, which I have to admit, makes me very happy.

Lately we settled on an old British Sci-fi series called Dr. Who. It's a silly, corny show but has years of re-runs in Netflix, giving us something to look forward to on the nights we sit down to TV together. We watch an episode or two each TV night and we've all grown attached to the characters. It's clean enough, yet not too scary, for Rosie to watch with us.

The other day, we were watching an episode that had quite a lot of ugly creatures, and loud screaming. Thinking some of that might scare Rosie, William covered her eyes to prevent her seeing the scene.

Later, Rosie climbed up on my lap to watch. When the music of the show started to build, and the screaming began, Rosie reached up and covered my eyes, while she bravely watched the scene, then proceeded to ask for "more" when the scene was over.

Sci-fi just has a way, either you really can't tolerate it, or you've been sucked in, never to return to a world without giant bugs, aliens, and time travel. I doubt I'll ever really enjoy films like The Deadly Mantis again, but who knows, when Rosie grows up and starts choosing her own films, I might just be sitting down to watch some of these old classics again. It's a possibility, since it's clear Rosie already has  an affinity for Sci-fi.

After all, she was born into a family of geeks. The two somehow  seem to go hand-in-hand.

Kidling mishap

Our newest babies are finally looking healthy, after a few weeks and a lot of tender care from all of us. But our goaty hospital is still open, with a new patient to care for after today.

One of my spring babies, Clover, had her horn broken today. It broke off at the base, but not all the way, leaving a heaving, bloody, sore mess on the top of her head. The horn was twisted forward and pointing the wrong way, and we knew we had to do something fast.

I prepared tetanus and penicillin shots, to hopefully keep any infection away. William made up a first aid bucket which included Cayenne Pepper (to stop the bleeding), Neosporin, gauze, stretchy tape, towels, and a sharp box cutter. We also had on had a piece of iron and a torch, in case William had to heat it to cauterize the wound. Luckily, the Cayenne pepper worked fine.

The real trick, we knew, would be to catch this baby. Clover hasn't been our most affectionate baby, and today didn't help. It took William and I a good deal of teamwork and effort to catch her, and even more to hold her down while we cut the horn the rest of the way off. Mostly I tried to hold her, while William did the harder work. I really didn't want to look.

Removing that horn was a lot harder than you might think. You try using a razor knife to cut a large, dangling toe-nail off the head of a wiggling, squirming, screaming animal, as she manages to throw up on you at the same time. If anyone ever tells you that goats can't throw up, don't believe it.

A lot of people dehorn their goats, but I'm not in favor of it. Horns are an important part of a goat's biology, and their primary way to release body heat. Horns are made of protein and have blood flowing through them. Some people use a hot iron to burn out a goat's horns, while other use a banding method to reduce the blood flow, so they die and fall off slowly. Taking off an essential body part seems pointless to me, not to mention unhealthy for the animal.

Goats use their horns to regulate their body heat and scratch their backs.  It's true, sometimes they do gouge one another but it really isn't all that often, and they rarely injure one another. One thing a goat's horns are NOT for is using as a handle, which I sadly, and regretfully, found out today.

At first I thought both Clover's horns were damaged, but after looking more closely, only one was broken.  A broken horn cannot repair itself and must be removed. Because the horn was pointing up and forward, Clover couldn't nurse at all until we removed it. Even though she's nearly as big as her mother now at only five months, she still nurses.

She seemed very happy to keep her bandage on once we let her go. She relaxed quite a bit, and even took quite a while to eat a nice meal. Afterward, all Clover wanted to do was lie down and rest. She was very happy to cuddle with mama when it was all over.

Clover's mama, Tahoe, was stressed out the whole time, making all sorts of noise. Even after we finished, Tahoe just had to let us know, she wasn't real happy with the whole situation.

I have to admit, neither was I. It still makes me feel sick when I think about it.

Fragrant Forest

I have a forest. It's not a typical forest of tall, woody trees, and a forest bed of pine or hickory bramble.
It's a shorter, bushier forest, entirely made up of mint.
The past few years the only place I would find mint any time during the year was behind the barn. There was a tiny patch there that grew well, sending it's tangy fragrance out to anyone nearby. But the past couple of years, and all the drenching rains, have changed the quality of the ground here, making the dirt far more acidic, moist, and fertile; the perfect breeding ground for mint.

The type I have is called Water Mint. It's actually the base plant of peppermint, and unlike peppermint, Water Mint is pollinated by insects. Peppermint isn't as easily grown, but is actually a hybrid cross between spearmint and water mint. Because it's a hybrid, it's  difficult to grow peppermint from seed.

Water mint is different. It's a plant not native to the US, but grows natural in Europe, particularly in the northern, wetter areas, like Ireland, Scotland, and England. Water mint is highly invasive, and under the right conditions, water mint will spread and take over an entire area. It produces not only seeds, but also rhizomes, much like an Iris, which means the roots are hardy and strong. I have no complaints about this; it smells nice, produces pretty purple flowers, isn't poisonous to goats, and can be made into a flavorful tea for humans. My one dusty, dry goat pen is now completely full of mint. The goats don't really eat it, just use it to escape the hot, humid days by hiding inside it.

Water mint makes a nice tea. To dry Water mint you first wash the leaves in cold water. Warm or hot water releases the oils, which is what you want to preserve for the tea. After washing, lay the leaves out on a tray to dry completely (the sun helps a lot) or you can hang the entire plant in a paper bag, so the bag catches the leaves as they dry. When dry you can crumble the leaves and store in a tin.

Water mint is a mild, gentle mint. It likes soggy, acidic soil and grows over 3 feet in height. It spreads quickly all by itself under the right conditions. It's really handy for hiding in, if you're a goat or a small child.

Click here to see more information on growing and using mint. 

An explosive taste

I'm a sucker for a salty garlic seasoning, trying combinations from all sorts of delis and specialty shops. But none of them match up to one I discovered from Frankfort, Indiana, from a small pork seller by the name of Shoup's.

I go to Frankfort Indiana on business at least once a year. This year, while in Frankfort, having run completely out of my stash of this tasty marvel, I stopped and got two big bottles of it, hoping to make it last until this time next year.


Airport security being as dynamic as it is, I was surprised when my bag was pulled from the x-ray for explosives.

Did you know that the chemical composition of a seasoning could also register as something more flammable?

To rectify the situation, I got to choose from a thorough body and baggage search, or the opening of my sealed seasonings for chemical testing. I chose the latter, not because I didn't want to be fondled, but because I was sure I'd never get all my crap back in my bag.

I watched as the agent performed a chemical test on the Shoup's, he said it was making him hungry. No one can resist Shoup's.

I guess it ended up being a good thing these were in my carry-on. If they had been in my suitcase, the agent said the bag would have been pulled for containing a bomb. That would have caused far more havoc, not to mention delays.

I'm imagining a bomb squad opening my bag and finding two containers of Shoup's.
Barbecue anyone?

This is NOT my car

Years ago, when Steve and I got married, my parents gave us this monster-boat-of-a-car they "inherited" from my grandfather. It was a white, not too rusty, 1965 (Ford) Mercury Monterey Luxury edition. When we received that car it was only 11 years old. BUT it was still a boat.

It had been originally owned by my grandfather, who loved the comfort and grandeur of that model. It had been the third Ford Mercury he owned. When a much nicer version of the Mercury came out a few years later, he gave the white one to my parents and bought a blue one. There was only room in his garage for one car, and the 1972 model was much nicer.

Eventually the white model was handed to me. I have to admit, I was not as proud of that car as my grandfather - not by a longshot. Don't get me wrong, I was grateful, just not proud.

I haven't thought about that car in years. Not until I arrived at the airport to pick up my latest rental this week. I usually order a midsized car, which is easy to park and easier on the fuel. I was shocked to find this car waiting for me instead, in a reserved spot at Avis. It even had my name on it.

Just like its predecessor, this car is roomy, comfy, and smooth. Also just like its predecessor, it's embarrassing to drive and even more embarrassing trying to park.  This car hasn't shrunk one bit, like many other luxury cars seem to have over the years.

If I were a Ford fan, I'd be telling you what a great ride this car is. But for all its good qualities, it's still a boat sized luxury tank. Not my style, and hopefully, it never will be.

I can say that lovingly, thinking of my grandfather.  After all, it's probably still his favorite car.

Doctor Bonnie, it seems

I do not want to be a veterinarian.  Human doctors do so much schooling and hardly know anything about the human body. Most human doctors can't be trusted to tell you much, especially if you're injured or ill. And human doctors only study one species.

When I was a little girl I had a friend next door who wanted to be a vet. We both loved animals and in the springtime when baby birds fell out of trees, we'd rescue them together. One spring we rescued a crow and my friend had that crow as a pet for years. He walked around our neighborhood in Detroit, always turning heads with that bird sitting on his shoulder. I'm a sucker for abandoned babies, and always have been. That's why I have so many cats.

Denver an hour old, and mother Addie

I love caring for animals. But I can't imagine being a vet and studying umpteen species. There's no way you could remember it all without a photographic memory. I guess that's why many vets only serve dog and cat populations these days. It's very sad, especially in an area that's agricultural, that hardly any vets serve the farming community. If you have sick livestock, you're pretty much on your own these days to figure out what the matter is, and hopefully reduce mortality rates in a herd.

As far as I know, only one vet in our area serves livestock. But if I took every sick goat to the vet, I'd be more than broke. So, I study all the time about goat health. I can tell you a goat's nutritional needs, how much protein is too much (and what the effects of too much will be), what minerals are essential for good health and what happens when your animals don't get them, and a load of other stuff you never hear from a vet, mainly because they don't keep goats. If they did, they'd be able to more easily recognize certain problems.

Earlier this spring I had some goats born whose legs didn't look right. After figuring out the problem and asking the vet for a bottle of the remedy, we cured most our babies. That experience taught us a lot, and it's a good thing, because a week ago we had another kid, who was born with crooked legs, which I now recognize immediately, as selenium deficiency.

This is Denver. Notice his legs bend the wrong way, in places they shouldn't. He's large, not under nourished, but his mother did not get the right intake of selenium. The classic sign is those ankles bending inward.

This little goat weight 10 pounds at birth, but right out the door his ankles were crooked. I knew what it was, and he got a shot of Bo-Se right away. He's also gotten a bucket load of other nutrients. Over the course of the past week, I have nursed that little baby with injections, extra vitamins, bottle feedings, and he is finally starting to recover. Today he even ran and jumped, real progress for barely being able to walk a few days ago.

This summertime baby was born last week, and has kept us busy.  Now I'm traveling again and Michelle is left to watch over him and the other two babies. Not to mention the baby she already has. Luckily that little goat likes to be out with the other goats, while mommy plays nursemaid.

Lazy 4th

The best part of holiday weekends is nothing.

Doing nothing, I mean.

After staring for hours at a goat not going into labor, I needed a change of scenery.

Now I'm staring for hours at my shoes, waiting for fireworks.
Tomorrow I'll be back to reality, doing workshops, washing clothes, packing, taking care of broken plumbing. But for now, I'll enjoy my lazy day just a bit more before hitting the hay.