How Quaint

My friends really enjoy my status updates on Facebook, and my blog entries on here because they think that the things we do are hilarious, in a "Isn't that quaint?" sort of way. And I have to agree. There are times when I am doing something, and it makes me think, "Awww! This is cute." For example, I absolutely love our wood-burning stove. It sits in our cozy, orange dining room, and I decorated around it with antique pots, cookie cutters, and and a bundt pan. I am a terrible decorator, but am quite pleased with this particular corner of our home. On top of the stove, we have an old teapot, and a cast-iron chicken that holds water to help keep the humidity up. Sometimes I put a cinnamon stick in there, or dried marigolds from our garden as a potpourri. It's all very quaint looking. In the evenings, the girls and I will sit at the dining table by the fire, so we can keep warm while I read to them. We drink hot chocolate or tea and go on booky adventures. How quaint!

Of course, some of the not-so-quaint aspects of this are things like having to unload truckloads of wood into the barn. I unloaded a few cords and stacked them myself, which I was quite proud of (just ask my husband- he heard me boast about it for days), but it was certainly hard work. Even that has a little appeal, kind of like, "I'm a real pioneer now!" Another drawback to wood heat is, by the time I get up in the morning to get the girls ready for school, all that remains of our fire is a couple of glowing embers. Our master bedroom is the furthest room from the fire, and boy is it hard to convince myself to get out from under the covers! Very chilly. I now wear slippers at all times, which I swore I would never do. I mean, who am I, my mother?! (When I finally confessed to my mom that I wear slippers daily- just like she does- she replied by saying, "Turning out like your mother is a bitch, isn't it?"). If I start wearing long underwear all the time, I'll be mortified. Anyways, when I finally get brave enough to throw back my covers and hastily put on my slippers, I scurry out to the stove to stoke the coals and put more wood on. The cats and I glean as much heat as we can, then I go to wake the girls. As they groggily come out of their slumbers, I put their clothes over the chairs at the dining table so that they can be warmed by the growing fire. When the girls get out of bed, we all get dressed around our stove, and once again, I am thinking, "How quaint is this?!" It makes getting bundled up and heading out to the barn for an armload of wood worth it.

My friends and family still think that us milking goats is the funniest thing they have ever heard of. My relatives additionally expresses their amazement at our lifestyle, claiming that I was the last person that they ever expected to do this. This always surprises me, since I was a farm girl that has always loved animals and the barn. (In fifth grade, I begged my parents to let me live in a tee-pee and live off the land like an Indian. My dad had to be all logical and ask me how I would survive the winter with an allergy to the cold.) My family explained that this is what doesn't add up to them- I was the tomboy, the jock, the "won't take any crap from anybody" kind of girl. To them, all of this is about the most domestic lifestyle they can imagine. I guess I don't see it that way sometimes. When I'm struggling to load the truck with heavy hay bales or cleaning the goat pen out, it all seems very un-feminine and not domestic. Then again, I consistently wear aprons and my small income comes from making and selling goat milk soap and crafts. I own the traditional "woman's role" in the house and do all of the (exceptional) cooking, (indifferent) cleaning, and (satisfactory) mending. Maybe I can see what they're saying.

After a year of living in this house, so much has changed. It went from being the perfect set for a horror film, to becoming a home. I have learned how to can, make much of our own food, milk a goat and make stuff out of it, and how to get a fire going (which is not easy, trust me). Olivia and Genevieve have gone a year without television in our home, and Shawn and I have been a year without cell phones. All of us have experienced a shift in our senses of humor. Shawn thinks it's funny when our new milker, Maple, gives him kisses on his cheek while he milks her, yet she stabs me in the ribs with her horns when I milk her. Olivia thinks it's funny when Socks poops in a corner right after I finish cleaning their pen. I will say something to Socks to express my gratitude at her audacity, and she'll cock her head at me and lift her tail, letting another string of black goat pearls fall to the ground. Olivia nearly chokes, she laughs so hard. The other night, Olivia had a friend over for a sleepover. The little girl asked me what time it was, and I was busy making her a bracelet, so I murmured, "I don't know," distractedly. Her eyes grew round. "You guys don't even have clocks?!" she yelled in disbelief. This time I laughed so hard I nearly choked. I told her that we did have clocks- one is even digital! Our perspectives have changed so much, and the novelty is not wearing off. This lifestyle appeals to me even more than it did in my imagination, and I have a feeling we'll be homesteaders for quite some time. How quaint.

For more quaintness, be sure to check out my website! www.katiescustoms.com I will also be in my very first craft show in Rochester on Dec. 4th at Christ Lutheran Church from 8:00am-3:00pm. I would love to see you there!

Katie