It plumped up, as I had hoped. Before & after washing:
I should probably schedule in some time to properly design the sweater so I don’t do my usual frog-and-reknit-seven-times routine. In my imaginary world of make-believe, I want to start scheduling stuff so I don’t constantly live in my dropping-everything-to-address-the-unnecessary-crisis-that-throws-off-my-whole-week style. What’s with the hyphenation?
My week-throwing activities this week: finishing the hay shelter, which I’ve known I’d need since, what, last year? I do congratulate myself on actually making sure the posts were set well in advance. That’s the one part that just doesn’t work last-minute. Likewise, I had the pallets all set up on concrete chunks so I didn’t have to restack 75 bales (just the 8 that didn’t fit). Then there was batt club, which is also no surprise, at least theoretically, but which always sneaks up on me. I actually got them done before the end of the month, which I haven’t done since early spring. Then making some inserts for the city’s utility bill & setting up the web registration for the new Art Share pinhole camera workshop. And of course, the last-minute run for duck eggs. More on that later.
All of that (well, except the eggs) could have gone on the calendar & I wouldn’t have had a zillion dishes stacked up in the sink. Plan ahead! Plan ahead! Plan ahead, dummy!
It’s funny, on the way home from our DSLR class, Marta was howling about The Calendar, and how important it is to schedule things, or they’ll never get done. I was tickled because she’s apparently a known Calendar Nazi, but I completely agree. I completely agree, but I am also completely incapable of actually doing that.
As long as I’ve been old enough to understand the concept of a schedule, I’ve longed for a routine. When I was growing up, my mom would always go to the gym after work, then come home, and immediately decide on and set out her outfit for the next day, down to the accessories, shoes, and panty hose. She’d even try it on (I’m assuming because, like me, being a chronic dieter and optimist, she had a range of clothes which may or may not flatter on any given day). Very smart. I’m more the sleep-as-late-as-possible-and-then-frantically-try-on-and discard-to-the-floor-twenty-outfits-that-make-me-look-fat-and-leave-near-tears-twenty-minutes-late type.
I also have a hard time saying no and I’m willfully optimistic about how long things take, all evidence of the actual passage of time to the contrary. What’s my point here? Oh yes, so today I canned beets with June (and learned canasta! Ohmygod it’s so fun!), and aside from a few chores, I don’t have any soul-crushingly pressing tasks, so I’m thinking of taking Ron’s laptop outside and making up my super amazing master plan for home domination, then strategically festooning my calendar with a few key things that I’d otherwise delegate to do lists and continually ignore until they were caving in around me. And then, here’s the key part: actually do them. Maybe there should be some prize if I succeed.
What leaves a little tender, hard bump with a dark spot in the center when it bites you? Something new has been biting me.
Okay, so the duck eggs!
Since I couldn’t get Faith out of the nest, I decided to get her some duck eggs to (hopefully!) hatch out. I contemplated getting some chicken eggs, maybe a new breed, but I didn’t want to deal with roosters and eggs are obviously luck of the draw. And with ducks, apparently the girls are the noisy ones. I figured if the ones not earning their keep were relatively quiet–and didn’t have pointy beaks and spurs–I’d be cool with freeloaders. I settled on Indian Runner ducks because they’re hilarious and good layers. I’m not sure if it will work–ducks hatch in 28 days, compared to a chicken’s 21, but she’s been sitting on the nest FORever, so apparently she has the patience of Job and will persist until she gets something out of it. I’m hoping having a nice big clutch I don’t steal twice a day will keep her enthusiastic. Andrew from Geek Farm Life (yes, I called the Farm Phone. Farm Phone rocks!) said the other trouble could be the humidity–ducks splash around in the water & keep the eggs moist. Jennifer, who I bought them from, suggested misting them a couple times a day toward the end, so I’ll give that a whirl.
If it doesn’t work, it doesn’t work, but in the meantime, she seems pretty into her new job, and if all goes well: ducklings! Followed by: hilarious upright ducks!
She takes her job very seriously.
When you disturb her, she gets all riled and puffs up her feathers and clicks. Luckily, duck eggs are larger and smoother than chicken eggs (as well as lighter than most of ours), so it’s easy to grab the chicken eggs out from under her. Well, easy for me. I’m well acquainted with eggs. I think I may need to label the duck eggs somehow so when I’m out of town, whoever collects them doesn’t take the wrong ones. I wouldn’t want a dead duckling omelette or an exploded rotten chicken egg under Faith.
I guess I should read up about ducklings, in case this works…
Here’s what she’ll hopefully hatch out for us:
Too funny with the eggs. Faith i’s going to think her chicks are changelings!
We have a friend in Oregon that had Upright ducks….The looked like elongated lightbulbs. All the wanted to do was run in the corner of the pen.
Ducks! That’s a great addition to Cupcake Ranch! Faith looks like she’s a very good surrogate mother. All you need now is a pond.
We had Indian Runner ducks, among our other breeds. I really liked them. Not only were they funny to watch, but they had great personalities. If you think of any questions, feel free to ask me. I’ve had experience and would like to help. I miss my ducks.
Oh, how I identify with this post (except that nothing is biting me). Spending my vacation finishing all the things I should have been able to fit into life, I think … except that I’m really too busy. Maybe you need an 8-year-old to give you perspective. Mine reports that I “lead a very hectic lifestyle.” Too bad it doesn’t involve finishing tasks or traveling the world like I meant to do!
I used to have some ducks. We got ducklings for Easter once as kids. One was an Indian Running Duck. He was so funny. Every time people came over, they’d say, “what’s the matter with that one duck?” Sorry your eggs didn’t hatch. :(