Herding dog and the herd

Today when I got home from work the house was remarkably quiet with almost everyone out and about. Curious as to how my nearly 12 year old Beardie Lily would react without a fence between herself and livestock, I took the opportunity to introduce them all in the back yard. I had already shown the goats to the dog while they were safe in their paddock.

I figured the back yard would be a good neutral place for them to rub noses. Mama goat especially has had to endure many changes and I want her to feel her enclosure is a totally safe place.

Just as an aside: before I got the goats I kept imagining what having a baby would be like. It never occurred to me what it would be like for the mother. But she left her mother behind who was the herd leader plus 2 sister goats who also liked to be boss over her. Because Lunar Eclipse is so laid back she was very content letting someone else be in charge. However now she is the leader and not a role she is comfortable with. It is clear she misses her people family and her goat family.

She does appear most content if I simply join her in her pen. She then lays down to doze or heads over to her food to eat, apparently relaxed that someone else is in charge. Back to the dog and goat story…

I also wanted the opportunity to see how Lunar Eclipse walked on a lead and if her little son would indeed stay next to her. I need not have worried about Galaxy. He was thrilled to be having an adventure and did not stray from his mother’s side until she allowed it.

I put the leash on and Don stood ready to play goat catcher if necessary. The goats were happy to check out the yard until Mama spotted Lily. Donnie had to shoo Lil off the back porch where she had been snoozing in the sun. Mama immediately began to make a little snorting sound and protectively moved in front of her baby. It took me almost a half hour before I realized that she also kept getting between the dog and I. She was protecting me too! Isn’t that amazing?

Lily pretended not to see Mama but she was fascinated by the baby. Once mama stopped snorting Lily walked a few paces away and then lay down, watching the baby intently. Emboldened by the submissive dog Galaxy immediately went up to bump noses. Mama allowed this and thus began our slow dance. The goats and I moved as one unit and Lil would carefully try to circle us, all the while avoiding eye contact with mom. Each animal briefly sniffed each other and while neither Lily nor Lunar Eclipse (nor I for that matter!) totally relaxed Galaxy became quite confident.

After 20 minutes or so Lily finally disappeared up the steps and Mama began the important task of browsing for things to munch on. A short while later a more confident Lily decided on the tail wagging friendly dog approach. Galaxy was game but Mama was not. This time when she snorted Lily chose to ignore it. When Mama put her head down in warning and shake it at Lily she then decided now or never. She stepped right up to Mama with a Beardie happy face (bearded collies can smile, honest!). Mama gave a more emphatic glowering shake of her lowered head which Lily noted but she had to take one step closer. CLIP Lunar Eclipse neatly butted her head into Lily’s jaw. Lil gave a yelp and with a sad look at me she went back up the porch. What an adventure!!!!

After supper I got all the broccoli seedlings into the garden and transplanted the basil which had been growing this winter in the living room. I even managed to plant a few young tomato plants and started to plant bush cucumbers and pea seeds.

I kept wishing I had the goats with me but they would have made short work of the garden! I did prune a few apple tree branches and let me tell you Lunar Eclipse practically inhaled them. We better make darn sure unattended goats do not discover the garden.

All in all it was a lovely afternoon tending goats, collecting eggs, checking on bunnies (babies due next week) and working on the vegetable garden. We are a farm for sure now!

galaxy likes the camp chair

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joe playing a video game while the baby goat naps snuggled against him.

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Yon and Galaxy get better aquainted

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the first day

I am sitting outside in the goat pen dry but a little chilled. I am getting to know my birthday presents 2 year old Lunar Eclipse and 2 and a half week old Galaxy. 3 years of careful planning and research right up to this very moment. Of course all the book learning in the world is still not quite the reality. Let me tell you watching mama nurse her baby is better than any article! We picked them up from the little farm in Pembroke where they were both raised. The mother is placid and sweet the little son curious and frisky. Eclipse walked to the van readily enough and climbed up on the board we used as a ramp. She ducked into the dog crate we borrowed ( we will need a larger one for her . Thankfully the family we bought them from could not be more helpful.) Both animals seemed calm enough during the ride and both have been very quiet as they explore their new surroundings. Goats notoriously hate rain and ours are no exception. They have a dry loafing area ( see I even know some goat terminology. I am a real farmer now! ) the area is about 8by16. They will not budge from it to explore their attached paddock apparently until there is no sign of rain. I will keep them confined to this space until they are totally at their ease but after that they will have the loafing area the attached paddock plus a roomy connecting paddock to play in. We still of course have the large back yard fenced in although the dogs hang out there. But it offers them one more place to play (supervised of course. Our Lily will love them but I need to make sure the two younger dogs don't get any ideas). The goats will love the backyard because it has that giantly long low balance beam that they will get hours of enjoyment from.
Initially I thought Galaxy would come trained on the bottle and Eclipse would be comfortable being milked. But she is still nursing her boy totally and I do not have the heart to come between that. The 3 of us will have plenty of time to figure it all out. Meanwhile we are all getting to know one another. The cold rain has probably been a blessing since it has kept away eager visitors and reduced some of the typical neighborhood sounds while they adjust. He is totally relaxed, completely confident with his mom around. She was nervous initially and still goes on the alert at new sounds. But she has been very comfortable around the family( she really likes Nikki and I) and she has been laying next to me peacefully chewing her cud (a sign of contentment in ruminents.) I am sorry if I am going on and on like an obnoxious parent and I hope I am not boring you. But I am so wonderously happy sitting with my new charges. Just imagine in a few weeks, no more running up to Shaws for milk. Plus I will learn how to make goat cheese and creamy fudge ..... it is just so miraculous to me.
Thanks for letting me share my joy. Is it silly that a grown woman is all misty eyed over two little goats and the realisation of a childhood dream

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momma and baby relax

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Galaxy anf Nikki

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Close Encounters with the south

Oh my gosh my spelling on my Android (that is correct - my tricky little phone allows me to blog with it, amazing!). I spell poorly to begin with but between the tiny keyboard and the sun in my eyes and my bad spelling and the auto correct it is a wonder anyone can read my previous posts. I will go thru them tomorrow and try to tidy the spelling.
Just wanted to relate a quick wrap up. Last night the 'risque' tour was a bust. I guess I do not really mind that the tour was not truly racy (some of the stories the carriage driver told were much wittier and more sassy all while being totally PG because we had 2 young children with us!)
What bothered me was that the sanctimonious tour guide was condescending, a bit boring and oh ya RACIST! and he dropped "F-bombs" like he was sitting in a men's locker room. This man who said he was a preachers son actually used the name of Jesus and the f word in the same sentence more than once!
Now I have a friend (who sometimes reads my blogs) who uses the 'f' word the way some people use the word 'like' or 'you know'. She has used it as an adjective, verb and a noun all in the same sentence. Does not bother me in the least!!!!
But when you are paid to speak to the public and you are in a mixed audience, there is no need to swear - none. I mean, he was not even referring to activities in the brothel! Geeez.
I am writing to the tour group tomorrow because I don't think people should get away with racist comments and I don't mean vague hinted references . He actually said that when the men were brought over in slave ships straight from Africa they were manacled, not around the legs like you would expect in a chain gang, but around their necks because it calmed them down! Calmed them down while they were brought into the city to be sold off in the public auctions!
A grown college educated man who had great disdain for the rest of us. Who said he loved history but when asked questions (by others, not just me, although I had a few for him!) he only knew "Charleston" history, as if his version of history was the only one that mattered. Ok, I am gonna stop ranting to you because my words really need to be sent to the Tour Company that he so poorly represented!
This morning we toured the Customs House and its dungeon. There the southern belle guide gave a thoughtful informative compassionate talk about its history. She was knowledgeable and fascinating and had a keen interest in history. I couldn't even mind when she called me that dread word "Yankee" because she was so genuinely nice!
We then popped into a little cramped French Bistro that all the regular people of the city go to. It was definitely not touristy but oh did it have charm. You are seated along narrow counter like you would if you ate at a local diner. But the counter snaked along so when you sat you did not face the cook or waitstaff you faced other customers. Because the table is so darn narrow your silverware practically touches the people opposite you. There we met a woman my age, born and raised in Charleston (her family goes way back in history!) she had her nephew with her who had trouble speaking and was strikingly like my brother Yon. We had quite the cultural exchange with them!
We were each delighted with each others accents and she made you want to live down south the way she described her city, both its beauty and its struggles. The best part however came when the waiter gave Donnie the bill for our new southern friends. The young man started laughing so hard and insisted Donnie pay this time and he would next time. If that wasn't just something Yon has said to us before!!! It was to too cute.
OK I am off to bed. I am sure there is lots more to tell but I need to sleep and then work tomorrow for me. Oh yes and fasting!!!!!!
Lest you think I forgot it was Holy Thursday tonight... We had some turbulence on the 2 planes coming home. I prayed like a Holy Roller believe me!!!!!

poolside retelling of the days adventures

I've been sitting poolside all alone for a while now. An old hotel dating from the 1850's rises up next to me, its pink stucco walls and white porches (They are called piazzas around here and often run the side length of a building, shady and capturing the breezes, the piazza is typical Charleston).
I cannot get over 80 degrees in April and pool swimming. I practically have it all to myself too, except for a little five yr old redhead and his dad.
This morning we discovered our breakfast included did not mean free......ggggggrrrrr. This has happened before and normally I have every scrap of paper with me but this trip we have tried to travel light. Aggravated we headed into toast and did have a lovely breakfast......I tried grits and they were tasty.
Donnie then headed off to find the Piggly Wiggly looking for water bottles, fruit and peanut butter for lunches. Turns out it was a long long long walk to and from - poor guy we probably shoulda just lunched out but darn it we already had to pay for breakfast.
Yesterday in my solo wanderings I found a L'il Crickets which is their version of a Cumbys or 7 11. Inside I found jelly and bread but not so much as an apple! I also grabbed plates and napkins and the old drunk guy behind me was very humored that a Yankee would travel all the way to Charleston for a picnic of pb @ j. I swear that scruffy old guy is in every Cumbys buying scratch tickets. North south they r all the same.
This morning after Don's Piggly Wiggly adventure he explored the Slave Mart museum with me before he headed back to Erastus research.
The museum is well done, a sobering look at a horrific past. Its kinda nice to think of all that Dons ancestor did to help end such a tragedy.
All my ancestors every blessed one of them were toiling as poor Irish farmers at the time.
We did pose Don for a photo on the steps of the Mills House Inn. It was around during the 1800s and we have a letter from Erastus who while standing on the steps of the Mills House, was handed an envelope that had a cash bribe to expedite a case he was working on. He took the cash and gave it to the orphanage up the road. I took pictures of both the Inn and the Confederate house which served as an orphanage after the war.
I then tried to get into the dungeon but did not because it required an admission fee darn it. I wandered a out down Rainbow Row and clambered about grave yards. My fav had a water fountain or as we would say "bubbla" amidst the ancient graves. The fountain worked and on the ground in front of it was a Jesus quote about whoever drinks this and eternal life.... so funny like Jesus created the fountain. The best part was watching thristy hot tourists trying to drink without stepping on Christs words. I snapped a picture because my Mary loves her graveyard stuff. Bet she never saw a Jesus bubbla before!
I still cannot find the pink brothel that we were shown during the carriage ride, so I took pictures of the two most likely candidates.
Some how in one of the graveyards I got turned around and ended up lost. Charleston is a peninsula so go too far and u end up at the ocean. The roads are all neatly layed out at right angles too. Still managed to get lost though. Ah well at least I was smart enough today to wear Capri's so no flashing Charleston with my underwear....
Now I sit alone at the pool and relaxxxxxxxxxxxxx

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how do these things happen to me?

Soooooo... yesterday as I wondered the city I headed down one of those side streets that are not touristy where the regular Charlestonians live and work. It reminded me of one of those little side roads off the Main drag of North Conway N.H.
I ended up in a lovely conversation with two older women who were carrying a couple of bags of groceries. After they went inside I continued on my way past two workman. Suddenly the light breeze picked up and just as I stepped between two buildings something occured that could only happen to me and Marilyn Monroe. Yup you got it, a gust of wind hoisted my sassy dress up briefly exposing my white granny panties. There was a muffled laugh and shush behind me as the two workman got a sneak peak of something I am sure they did not want to see.
Oh brother! So much for bringing my natural dignity and class south.

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Yankee go home

The War of Northern Agression was how southern children my age learned about the Civil War. Even my own social studdies teacher in the late 70s and early 80s stressed that this war was about economics not slavery. HMMMMMMMMM
The south is beautiful but every time I am called Yankee I cringe and beg to be called northener, carpetbagger, anything but Yankee. They now see the term Yankee as one of affection. Thankfully when I mention the Red Sox they understand AND POINT ME IN THE DIRECTION OF A LOCAL BAR, its an Irish pub that is all about the Red Sox, across the street is the Yankees bar. The Charlestonians get a big kick out of it.
We have had 3 tour guides so far. All very informative but only one from the south. The first was an older black man South Carolina born and raised but a country boy. As much as he loves the history of the city he prefers the country where he can fish to his hearts content.
He drove us from the airport in a crowded 15 passenger van shuttle. It was cheap transportation and he started the trip very quiet. I smiled but he was an eyes on the road kinda guy. Until we got to The Citadel where he had to drop off his first passenger. The driver had asked a cadet directions to the cafe within the Citadel. The cadet spoke quickly, clearly not from the south! So the driver was a bit confused.
I sat in the front and he hesitantly asked me, "Did he say turn here?"
Eager to speak to a native southerner I said "Oh Yes." the poor man then began to drive up a one way street. Thankfully the southern folk in the van redirected him.
As he gave me a soulful look I said, "It was probably a mistake to ask me. I have no sense of direction and in Massachusetts we often go the wrong way down one way streets."
"Ma'am" he said firmly, "We do not do that he-ya." Then we both grinned at eachother and when I ever said although I lived near Boston I was actually a country girl that was all he needed. He spent the next 45 minutes sharing his love of his state.
The next tour guide, the horse drawncarriage tour thru historic Charleston was given by a Michigan transplant who finished her Masters in Charleston and has yet to find work in her field. She had a great time making Yankee comments once she knew there were New Yorkers and Boston folk on the carriage. I liked the horse Big Al and when he finished hauling us around the city he interupted his much needed water break to snuffle all over me and lean on me with affection.
The tour guide then gave us the scoop on the oldest tavern in America which is now a liquor store. Of course the proprieters instantly spotted our quaint accents and offered to take a photo of us outside their store!
Our final tour person was the waitress at the roof top dining. It overlooked the stables and all you could smell was hay and horse sweat. Of course I loved it but if it smelled like that in spring 3 stories up imagine the au de peu come humid August! Turns out our waitress was from New Hampshire. She graduated from KeeneState, thought she new our neice Emily(it is a small world) and moved down south to be warm and near the ocean. She too can find no work in her profession but makes a decent living waitressing.
Tomorrow promises to be another full day with temperatures hitting the 80s. I intend to be poolsidefor part of the day, exploring the rest.....

charleston south carolina

I am sitting all by myself in the midst of the historic district, in a small shady park. Don is inside the old historic society building researching good old Erastus. I am to be in charge of checking us in when the hotel is ready for us and securing our early evening horse drawn carriage ride through the old city streets. It is lovely here, bright blue sky about 75 five degrees. It is a bit humid but there is also a light breeze.
We ate lunch in a centuries old building at a little cafe called Petticoats. The waistress calls me a Yankee with warm affection as she was once one. I cringe of course but wearing my Red Sox necklace should keep the sobriqet from contaminating me!
During the meal the waitress mentions how surprised northerners are when they come here beacause the place is chock full
If Revolutionary War references and we northerners expect all Civil War stuff. I crack her up when I confide that of course there would be. After all South Carolina helped win THAT war. She bursts into surprised laughter and having decided we were ok people let's us know at the back of the house is a bar and we should stop by for a drink tonight. The bar is called "Bootleggers" Then Donnie is struck with the amused thought that good ole Uncle Erastus was despised here for breaking up boolegging moonshiners.
In the midst of the park is a tall oblisk dedicated to the brave South Carolinians who gave their all during the "War between the states."
The oblisk sits on steps that contain the carved names of southern victorious battles. The top one strikes me "Manassas" it reads. Of course in school I was taught the two battles fought there were "Bullrun."
Erastus suffered his most serious war wound there....the one rendering him incapable of having children.
Next to the Civil War statue, to workman are repairing a George Washington statue. One of the guys is black and I wonder what goes through his mind as he tends all the memorials here...
I am going to wander now and explore the city by myself. It still feels odd to do anything alone, never mind hundreds of miles from home. I feel very brave and grown up.

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A Getaway of an unusual sort

I work a good part of the day on Monday and Friday. Both weekends bracketing the week are spent in getting kids to various places and events. But ah...midweek. Midweek begins a world wind adventure for Donnie. My gift to him, the most of 3 days in South Carolina where he can get his geek on and research his Civil War ancestor. (I will come along for the ride!) Erastus Everson was a fascinating man living in very troubled times. He documented most of his adventures and as a newspaper man I am sure he had an eye to publishing eventually. He did have many of his letters home published during the war. His extensive war wounds took close to a decade to heal (he was shot in the testicles....imagine 6 years of an open wound there. ) He married after the war and it was not healed! Apparently better to be married to a man even if he could not procreate than to remain a spinster, in a time when men were in short supply. Erastus spent a number of years after the war in South Carolina reporting on Klan activities, breaking up illegal distilleries, and working as a librarian for the the University of South Carolina. The historical society down there has a number of his papers and photos. They of course are only open midweek for certain hours. So we shall head down there and Don can spend 2 or 3 days pouring through the info, copying what he can (Mary sent him copies of a quarter of the collection). Its a little strange to head to a place in America that I do not really have much knowledge about it. I never 'studied' the south much. The wild west, the Gold Rush all held romantic appeal. Alaska and Hawaii seemed so exotic and of course the mountainous states always held my interest. But the south... It will be interesting to wander the historic district which looks much the same as it did when Erastus made his home there. He was of course hated by many since who wants some northerner telling them how to run their library? (Never mind he broke up their distilleries!) He left the place in a hurry but it is a mystery as to why. Really a hurry, like dead of night hurry. Was he ill? Marital troubles? Did the locals decide to silence him and he caught wind? Who knows? ONE HUNDRED YEAR OLD MYSTERY to be explored by an ancestor. The war prevented him from leaving any direct descendants. His grave over in Pembroke is even missing its American flag, it is not tended by anyone.... All that is left really is an old family portrait and a small island in Marshfield at the mouth of the Green Harbor river. But the curiosity of a relative, over a hundred years later brings Erastus the man back alive again. He and his times, and this the 150th anniversary of the start of the Civil War. The actual anniversary was of course last week in -you guessed it -South Carolina, Fort Sumter. I keep all my fretting about leaving the kids and animals to myself. Donnie is keen on this adventure. He is sure there will be time to wander Charleston, hike around the city, check out a few museums, a boat to Ft Sumter perhaps or a carriage ride, maybe even a plantation visit. I think he will become submerged in another time and place and there will be precious little time for anything other than Major Erastus Everson. But that is ok too. I have a few good books and a new bathing suit so the pool and I will become acquainted. Also there are plenty of interesting places within walking distance of the hotel so I can adventure all by myself, something that almost never ever occurs. If nothing else I will have to find a grocery store since although breakfast is included we are on our own for the other meals. I have heard nothing but glowing praise for Charleston's cuisine of course. But on the budget plan we may more likely be peanut butter and jelly-ing it! I shall let you know what we discover down south. Perhaps I shall blog about it while i am there, Mint Julep at my side!

Henny Penny and friends

Here are the surving kindergarten chicks. Well six of them anyway. Another four went to a different home. Others wanted the baby chicks until they found out that Rhode Island Reds really cannot be sexed until they are almost grown. Seems everyone wants fresh eggs, but no one wants a rooster.

Well we cannot keep a rooster either but we do know about the live animal auctions and so we will keep our fingers crossed that all are lady hens:>)

Of the class chicks only our two classroom ones were named, K.C. and Lovechick. I have secretly named the chicks from each room by their teachers names however so we have two Mrs Harjus, two Mrs Lakes, and two Mrs Lynches.

Right now the ladies are happily warm in the teen area of the cellar. I am still working out how to introduce what are now 3 ages of hens to one another when the time comes with a minimum of pecking order meanness.

All the children in the classroom were fascinated by their visitors and spent quite a bit of time as budding scientists observing them. We did chicken math papers and chicken story papers and chicken color papers. But now the ladies have retired from their school career and as soon as they outgrow their Mason and Mason paper box, shall begin their lives in the barn as farm hens.

I think they will spend some time in the nursery part of the barn in a large wire dog crate where they can see their older chicken mates without being bothered by them until they too reach their adult size. Apparently I will shortly there after introduce the teenage chickens to the 6 adult hens under the cover of darkness.

While all the chickens sleep so the theory goes, I am to slip the 22 teens in with the 6 snoozing adults. Then come morning I am suppose to make a big ruckus startling them all out to their outdoor pen while I rattle feed and water buckets around. Then they all rush in to eat. Evidently chickens are meant to eat and flee together and doing this will thus help bond them all, therefore reducing hen pecking. Think it will work?

You think your life is complicated? Imagine trying to design order from chaos in the chicken world!

Meanwhile I get to enjoy the thrill of baby chicks again. Although now I am on the lookout for 2 fertile duck eggs because we have a mini incubator that fits 3 chick eggs or 2 duck eggs. Since we have our fill of chickens we thought two duckies would be just right. They are a hoot to watch play in a paddle pool. Plus they remove unwanted ticks. In addition their eggs, much larger than chicken eggs are a dream for cooking with.

So we work with the buns and chicks, prepare the farm garden and get ready for our own little milk supply, who arrives the day before Easter, little son on a bottle, little mama ready to eat the poison ivy and briars around and pay us back in rich goat milk.

I plot, plan, and prepare....thankful for the warmish days and hopeful for a nice long productive summer!

Lucky

So our incubator project in kindergarten has proven to be somewhat of a bust. 6 classrooms and only one class had a hatching (10 out of 12.) We could not have all screwed it up....must be faulty eggs! One other class did have one little chick who has been trying for well over 24 hours to push out of her egg. Today when children were not around we gave the egg a tiny nudge and then she broke free on her own. But something is not right with her and so at days end I snuck her out in my insulated lunch bag. I planned on putting her down. But during the car ride home I suddenly heard her peeping. Intrigued I took her out and kept her warm in my hand. I am sure driving while holding a baby bird is safer than say texting and driving, something I would never do. But how could I as a mother ignore her little peeping? Just as I pulled into the driveway she suddenly looked up at me and lifted her head and for a moment got in a little chick sitting position. Well now what do I do? Named her Lucky of course, and pulled out a tiny box, a warm light, and some sawdust. I have tucked her in the corner of the box so the light can dry out her little yellow chick fuzz. She has something slightly swollen and dark along her back right hip and bottom. Did she just bruise herself in the birthing process? Did her body parts not form correctly? I will look it up and consult my chicken books. You would think there was not much hope for her. But the little peeps sound like cheerful newborn chick peeps, not those of one in pain. So she lays under her heat lamp next to me while I type. I won't put her down if she is not suffering. She may end up dying anyway but when she sat up in my hand and looked at me with that beady chicken stare, well what can I say? She was comfortable enough, bold and brave enough to take a chance on me so I will take a chance on her. Say a little prayer for Lucky! ps: Tomorrow morning a little chick replacement will be put in her classroom incubator at school. Those kids have been rooting for her all day to hatch from her egg. They deserve a happy ending. Lets just hope brave Lucky has one too. ADDENDUM. Poor little Lucky breathed her last about an hour after this post. Her little peeps quieted and she just drifted off, safe and warm and snug.

Big Plans and Ode to Spring

Well in spite of the cold dark wet day today, according to the calender at least, it is spring. As always my mind is buzzing with a hundred different ideas to do, to try, to grow, to change. I cannot even remember if I have even kept you all updated. The big thing is Tadaaaaa I have applied to Graduate School. I was going to keep it a secret because funding my latest challenge is still a bit murky. But I have decided to publicly embrace my plan and one of those self help gurus is always telling people to make it happen you have to 'say' it into being. I am not sure how true that guru is. I am of course a Pollyanna sort of person in general. Certainly I believe we all have the power to make our lives better or worse depending on our attitude. But I am not sure that just wishing it makes it so, no matter how hard we wish it. Lets face it, if it did I would have created money growing on tree branches and be in the midst of a torrid love affair with my second husband Johnny Depp. On the other hand I do think visualisation can have a place in the grand scheme of things. So this year I am visualising a slimmer me who gets into Grad school. I will be able to fit in Grad school and possibly a Grad Assistant-ship while still working in the kindergarten and as a personal care attendant for my little friend. Oh yes, and we will have an abundant harvest of eggs and produce to make the Farmers Market a reality. And my bunnies will do well in bunny shows. And Donnie will find a job he loves. And the kids will all be doing swell. And...... Back to reality. I am running again. I have not really run since my triumphant return in November at the Edaville race. Those 5 miles run/walked 4 months after my surgery was a sweet victory to me no matter what the clock timed me. But after that run, as I focused on fully recovering with a combination of physical therapy and other adjustments, the running fell by the wayside. However last week I decided to carefully try it out and my neck has responded beautifully. I became quite braggy on Facebook when I ran 2 times my 2 mile loop at 22 minutes. Then as I was running it a third time I suddenly remembered that it was not actually 2 miles. Sure enough as I drove the run it was 1.7 miles. So today I ran the actual 2 mile stretch and my 11 minute miles are really 13 minutes miles. Still, the very first time I ran 3 years ago that first mile took me 16 minutes. Heck I walk faster than that! 3 years ago I hated running. In all this time I have never once, not for a second, gotten that mythical runners high. But running burns calories like nothing else and really tones those large muscles so run I have for nearly 3 years. But my injury and long recovery gave me a new respect for running and I can honestly say I no longer hate it. I absolutely can say I appreciate the fact I am still able to run. You will not find a more grateful person than I. This body certainly has a few inconveniences. For instance the first weight I always lose is in my boobs NOT my belly, and that just does not seem fair. I am often hungry like I have a broken switch in my hunger signals. I need these darn glasses, my back (lower and mid) are still very iffy. My neck muscles and those around it still bunch up as if preparing for a blow instead of totally relaxing. I can grow a beard courtesy of my good Irish genes and those same sturdy genes make walking as a weight loss tool unavailable to me because aerobic shape comes way to easy for me, if I do not do heart pounding jogging or elliptical or bike work the scale remains stubborn. Now this new stage has added a few more little annoying tidbits like insomnia, night sweats, and a lady time that looks like a crime scene if towels are not strategically placed! But the preceding paragraph is really nothing but a few gnats buzzing about! This body can still run and swim and hike and play. I can still garden and farm my little yard. I can strut my stuff onstage and dance the night away. There is of course no one sexier when I get going, what is that phrase? Its OK to be sassy as long as your classy? So this spring I have farming plans and education plans and work plans and health plans. Most of all I am going to treasure all the relationships, both people and creatures around me. I have big plans and lofty goals and getting healthier and stronger will help me achieve them.....now if I can just stay away from the spring colored Oreos.....