A Problem with a Pot of Soup

Happily, Phil was functional enough on Tuesday to do his chores (including move the sheep). We had gone to the Bush's house on Monday night so he could take a bath, and I added a pound of salt and a pound of baking soda to the water. He said the water turned a shocking shade of yellow-orange (he had just bathed the morning before, and hadn't been outside much since then). I'm guessing he was detoxing something, as he started to feel dramatically better almost immediately.

But despite feeling better, he was still recouping his strength, so we didn't get much done besides basic maintenance.

We lost the rain roulette this last week. While the county south of us was pounded with two inches of rain, and the land north of us was also drenched, we watched the lightning streak all around, without a drop. Three days in a row: dark clouds rising, wind picks up, nothing on the ground but more dry hardness and dust.

Catherine continues to be a frustration. She was well hidden yesterday, but after fighting brambles, I found her, before her calf did! So we got a nice 3/4 gallon of milk. Today, we didn't find her before her calf did, and we got barely 3/4 of a cup. Phil has boosted the voltage running to the perimeter wire, so hopefully she will feel more compelled to stay in, and not require bramble searching any more. I look forward to a time when I'm not searching, milking, and moving cows for an hour and a half.

To round out the list of discouragements for the last two days, Phil moved the pig ramp down for tomorrow's expected haul to the butcher. And he broke the valve on a different tire, so he had the second flat in two weeks.

Just after he did that, I was making tomato soup for dinner. As I was pouring the pot into our bowls, somehow the potholders lost their grip. I have a vivid impression of the eight cups of steaming liquid balancing on the edge of the table, as I jumped back shrieking, just before scalding liquid splashed my feet and leg.

After I stopped screaming and hyperventilating, I took a bunch of homeopathic remedies and soaked my feet in cold water. My right foot is painful and red, although not blistered ... yet.

As I struggle through emotional crisis after emotional crisis, the boys seem to be having a good time. They ask daily to light a fire, and we often let them. They play and build, tell stories, work on critical thinking worksheets, read, and come with us when we go to milk. Abraham said today, "There's lots of ways to have fun on a farm! Like, you can go to milk!" Which is humorous, because I wouldn't say it's been terribly fun, and he certainly doesn't do the milking. But it was a nice vote of confidence, that he's pleased with where we are.