There are a lot of people that don't really understand the level of work it takes to run even a small place like mine. When I say to them, "Yeah, I've got to put up some fencing this weekend," I'm sure 90% of them have never driven a T-post into the ground, no less 40 of them in a couple of hours. Even taking a large roll of fencing and putting it where you need it and rolling it out is probably harder physically than what most city people do in a week, nevermind stretching it and wire-wrapping it to the t-posts. And my place is tiny. While it's the same type of fence, and the same type of work as is needed for a large place, it's small beans in comparison. Sure, I need to fence in my six sheep the same as a real rancher would need to fence in his 2,000 sheep because sheep are sheep, and they poke their heads through whatever they can, and their feet are sure to follow, but I couldn't imagine trying to fence in a large place myself ... not with a full-time job and a life (as pathetic as it may be), anyway.
I have a splinter and I can't get it out.
Was cleaning off the BBQ tools off the deck yesterday, and a bee ... just as random as hell ... decided to sting me on the inside of my leg. The last time I was stung by a bee, I was pregnant with Justin and ended up in the hospital. So, when I got stung, the first thing I did was "phone a friend" in case I passed out. Good thing I called Teresa. She gave me some great advice as I was whining about how much the little friggin' thing hurt. She said, "baking soda and water ... make a paste out of it, and slap it on the sting." Worked like a charm. The good news is, I am not allergic to bees. The better news is, according to the numbers, I am probably not due to be stung again for another 21 years. The bad news is ... there are plenty of bees here. Oh well.
The fencing is waiting for me. I popped several posts into the ground this morning, laid out the other roll of fencing and propped it up, and laid out all of the needed t-posts. I actually sorted my t-posts, not only by size, but by color. Hopefully, when I am done, this won't look all obnoxious. The ugly white vinyl fencing give it a "Dallas" appearance, and who would want to mess THAT up?
I was fartin' around on the internet a bit ago, and popped on to one of the many "puppymill" sites I have save in my favorites, and found this gem. She was talking about and upcoming litter, and basically, paraphrased, the announcement went something like:
We couldn't find anyone else, so we've decided to use our own dog on her -- and he just happens to be a perfect match, which is why we have been looking all over the place for a stud dog in the first place. And the perfect one was right under our nose all along! Imagine that.
And then ... no joke ... word for word:
"He is a star hearding dog, and has loads of talent."
Yes, yes ... I'm sure. I wonder what he "heards." I am sure tons of people who need "hearding" dogs will be knocking down the door to get a pup from this litter.
Anyway, yesterday, I brought in a Great Pyr to see if he would stay with the sheep. I cried when I met him; I miss Jag so bad. Still. I promised myself I would keep my focus, and that if he didn't stay with the flock, he was not going to become a house pet. Well, as cute as he is, he didn't stay with the flock, and found jumping my fence in various places was quite fun. He liked to yap when I'd walk away from him, and he was quite snuggly. I had the rescue woman come back and get him before he wormed his way into my house, my life, and ... my heart. It almost seems inevitable. While I escaped it this time, I don't really think I'm going to remain that lucky.
Okay, okay. The fencing is screaming at me now. Back at it. More later,