In Case You Were Wondering . . .

The lamb is still alive and kicking.  I did bring it inside yesterday morning to give her (yes, definitely a girl) some milk replacement by the fire.  I figured it couldn't hurt her to make sure she had some food and got warmed up a little.  I saw her nursing later in the day, so she should be okay.  No more lambs have been born yet on my solo watch, for which I am EXTREMELY grateful.

And continuing with some more things you most probably don't care about, but since you're here you will read what I write (AND LIKE IT) . . .

I just canned seven quarts of pickled beets.  A local farm is still pulling beets and turnips from their gardens, and the MiL bought a bushel.  Each.  That is a shitload of root vegetables.  They're delicious--thanks to the very cold temperatures we've had that have made them very sweet--but goddamn are those things filthy.  They are literally caked in mud.  Washing them takes almost as long as prepping the cooked beets for the canner.  But I do love pickled beets, so I did it anyway.

Canning in January is WAY better than canning in July.  For obvious reasons of kitchen temperatures and boiling pots.

I bought Cubby his own backpack from L.L. Bean for his upcoming third birthday, and while I was on the website, I checked their 2-a-day daily markdown.  It's this thing they do, uh, twice a day, where there's just one item they sell for way cheap.  When I happened to check it, the item was a big flannel-lined corduroy shirt for twenty dollars.  I have a big corduroy shirt that I have owned for more than a decade now.  I've worn it a lot, and it's past time that it be laid to rest.  So I bought the one from L.L. Bean as a replacement.  It just arrived.  I tried it on and it fits.  I have worn it for less than five minutes so far, but I can already tell I'm going to live in this shirt.  It ain't gonna win me any fashion awards, but holy hell is it comfortable.

In preparation for a seriously frigid stretch of weather coming our way, I cleaned the ashes out of the woodstove today.  Then I had to re-start the fire.  Man, do I ever suck at starting a fire.  It took me a few days' worth of newspapers and probably six matches before I finally got it going well.  I would never survive in the wilderness.

Both of my children have colds.  It's gross.  Snot everywhere.  I have not yet been struck down myself, though I pessimistically anticipate the pestilence will be visited upon me anytime now.

So maybe on that note, I should go to bed.  You know, get a good night's sleep to boost my immune system.

HAHAHAHAHA.  A good night's sleep.  Oh, I kill myself*.

* But only if Charlie doesn't kill me first.  The sleep battle rages on.