Amish, Crunchy, Hippy

I've been called all of those names recently by my friends. I don't mind. April has already been a busy month for us. I took my craft business, "Katie's Customs" online to Facebook (more websites to follow), and have had some fun filling some orders. I really thought that my wood burnings would be the big sellers. I was hoping for people to have some sort of spiritual experience as they gazed upon my art. However, I have ended up selling a bunch of sock monkeys. It has been a humbling experience.

Also, after much research and contemplation, we decided to get ourselves a milking goat. I know, weird. But, I figured with all that I'm making and cooking myself, why not get my own milk, and make my own cheese, yogurt, and ice cream? It will cut back on grocery costs, and do a lot for the environment (no plastic milk jugs, yogurt containers, cheese wrappers, etc.) I really expected Shawn to say I was crazy and finally put his foot down, but to my surprise, he thought about it for a few weeks and decided that I was on to something. It's so awesome that we're totally on the same page when it comes to our new lifestyle.

Locating people with milking goats took me a very long time. I conversed with Mennonites and Amish, and it's not like I could just call the Amish folks up to ask them. I had to cruise around to each farm. No one was selling, but they would tell me about someone else that they thought might be, and I would drive to that person's farm. Finally, Uncle Harry got us a number off of Craigslist. We called and made the plans to pick up our new goat. As soon as we pulled into the driveway, I swear I heard the faint strum of banjos. It was horrifying. Trash and animals scurried away from the car as I slowly crept up the lane. There were geese, ducks, cows, pigs, horses, goats, dogs, sheep, and even a quail in a cage. Some random people wandered around. A Doberman mauled a baby goat in front of us, and no one seemed to care. Shawn and I looked at each other with wide eyes. It was too late to turn around, we had already been spotted. We cautiously opened our car doors and stepped gingerly in the mud. I instantly snapped at the girls that they were to stay near me at all times. A young man with some nasty teeth gave us a nod, so we headed in his direction. He led us to a tiny, rickety barn that I was afraid was going to fall in on our heads, so I changed my mind and told the girls to wait outside. Six goats stared back us once we entered. Only one milking nanny didn't have horns, and she seemed to be the only one that seemed not just social, but healthy. This place was festering with diseases. My common sense told me that I should turn and run before I caught something. Since we technically live in town, I knew we should get a companion for our milker. The last thing we want to do is piss off our neighbors because our lonely goat bleats for attention all night. The cheapest option for a companion is a young kid. We asked to see the kids, and we were brought to the garage (it just looked like several other decrepit buildings, but that's what the guy called it). As I walked in, my lungs withered. The stench of animal urine and feces was overwhelming. and my eyes burned as much as my lungs. When I could finally see, I realized that there were at least 20-30 little kids crowded into a pen. There were cages of puppies all over. I tried not to act appalled. Why? Because I was afraid. Olivia and Genevieve sprinted in, and instantly picked out the most unhealthy creature that I have ever seen. This baby was the smallest by far. It was not simply a runt, it was starved and so ill. Green gunk covered it's tiny face, coming from it's eyes, nose and mouth. It's eyes were also cloudy. This time my common sense screamed at me to not buy this wretch. Now, I was raised a farm girl. It's not like I'm someone from the big city that has never seen a sick animal before. I'm not a bleeding heart, and I like to think I'm logical. But it was so pathetic that I couldn't say no and leave it in this place. We paid for our social, seemingly healthy nanny, and the nasty little case of death clutched to Olivia's chest. The nanny hopped in the back of our station wagon, and we got the heck out of dodge. I have since called the police.

It has been a couple of days now. Quite frankly, I'm surprised the little baby (now named "Nibbles") has made it this far. Our milker, "Socks," has gotten the nose gunk too- big surprise. I went to the Fleet Supply and picked up antibiotics and a syringe, and have started them both on it. I think that's the only thing that has saved Nibbles' pathetic little life. We have since found out that contrary to what we were told, Nibbles had not been weaned and started on solid foods. She doesn't know how to eat yet. Socks doesn't give a whole lot for milk, but I milk her and feed it to Nibbles. I picked up some milk replacement, and feed Nibbles bottles of that as well. Aslo, I have realized that Nibbles in completely blind. Some research on the internet says that she could possibly regain her vision if her disease hasn't progressed too far. I don't think there is any hope for that, but she seems much happier now. In just a few days, she has gotten strong enough to walk! I have also de-liced the goats, since they were covered in the little buggers (thank God that they girls didn't catch it!) Today we experienced a dip in temperatures, to the point that even Socks was trembling a bit. I couldn't believe I was doing it, but I brought Nibbles into the house. She is in a cardboard box with a blanket, sitting next to the heating vent. I have gotten so soft! I'm not ashamed, though. This little creature was moments from death, and we have saved her. How many times has God looked upon us and seen something festering, pathetic, and blind?

Shawn and I have been tossing around the idea of having a baby, and we are discussing doing foster care. Seeing baby bottles in the dishwasher and mixing formula makes me chuckle. I seriously thought the next time I would be doing that would be because we had brought in a foster child. Here I am, feeding a goat. In the laundry room.

April has been so different than I had expected. I'm busy making bottles, squeezing teats, and mending fences. I'm preparing for our huge garden, and I got a wild hair up my rear and repainted most of the house. I'm sewing sock monkeys, and cramming stuffing into their crotches. Isn't it funny how our plans go in complete opposite directions of where we think they should be going, but it all works out in the end? I've seen the bumper sticker that says, "If you want to hear God laugh, tell Him your plans." How true is that?!