It was only last week that I was working in the garden. Good thing I was done before the snow arrived. I pulled up the onions and put them in the garage to dry and picked the last of the tomatoes. I have a few dozen that just didn't want to ripen, but they are in the house now and doing well.
The beds are all empty and I have some prep work to do for winter. I miss the garden already; I am really surprised by how much I enjoyed being in that space. I have to sit down and make some notes about what worked and what didn't, so next year can be even better.
I imagine a day like this is what first time chickens owners live for - the first egg. Well, today was that day here on the homestead. One of the girls laid the first egg!
I headed up to the barn like I do every morning to open the run and give the chickens fresh food and water. I opened the door to the coop and if I hadn't been looking down, I probably would have stepped on it. Yup, it was on the floor on top of the straw.
I wasn't expecting anything to happen until the end of the month, so I didn't even have straw in the nesting boxes. I read that laying can start anytime between 16-24 weeks and the girls are 17 weeks on Monday. Needless to say, the boxes are now full of straw.
It's just a little bitty thing, as a chicken's first eggs usually are. Kelsey thought it was funny to put the egg in this cast iron frying pan that is actually the top to a candle burner I keep in the kitchen.
That's right, my dogs are allowed on the furniture. All of the furniture. If that isn't enough to send you over the edge, then wait for it....
My dogs sleep in my bed. Not ON the bed, but IN the bed and under the covers.
No, it is not!!!
I wouldn't own a piece of furniture that my dogs couldn't jump, sleep or play on. They deserve to be just as comfortable as the human members of the family, if not more considering how I feel about humans.
If you are of the thinking that pets should never be allowed on the furniture, then know this...
Your pets are miserable and think you don't care about them. Show them some love - let them stretch out and take a nap on the bed or have a cuddle on the couch. If you really loved them, you would do it.
What kind of fool owns three black dogs and a beige couch?
I am going to start this post by saying that I hope everyone out there never, ever, EVER takes something as simple as having a bedroom for granted. The simple act of walking into a room that is yours, where your prized possessions and belongings are shouldn't be seen as a celebration, but a normal, ordinary act. For Kelsey, this common, every day occurrence finally came to fruition this past Saturday. 378 days after we moved into this house.
Think about that - 378 days. That is more than an entire year. More than an entire year of Kelsey sleeping on a piece of crap used mattress that caused her pain. More than an entire year of having just about everything she owned packed up and put in storage. More than an entire year of having no room for anything she needed except the bare essentials. More than an entire year of having her clothing crammed into one drawer of her parent's dresser and a small section of their wardrobe. More than an entire year of Kelsey not having any space to call her own.
It makes me sick when I think about it. It makes me sick that we had to listen to her father making jokes about Kelsey never leaving the dining room. It makes me sick to know that her father could work on project after project, but never make his daughter a priority. It makes me sick that I finally had to threaten to hire tradespeople to come in and do the job before her father would get started. It makes me sick.
I won't be posting pictures of Kelsey's room. There is no way I could stomach Jim's ego being massaged by any positive comments about the new room after what he's done. Instead of giving compliments, maybe people should be asking why the hell did it take so long.