The buck stops here (at least for a couple months!)

Yesterday was ... a Monday.  It started off innocently enough, but then at 6:59 the ear piercing screams of the carbon monoxide detector filled the house.   I jumped up from my desk and turned off the heater, quickly opened up windows and doors and turned on fans, then sighed.  A deep sigh.  Our heater is now DEAD.  RIP. ("Santa, can I have a new heater for Christmas?")

Hunter came running down the stairs at the horrible beeping and reminded me that the heater repair guy warned us recently that this was coming.  Then Hunter continued to talk about heaters of all kind, all ... day ... long.  Except when I made him stop for school time or he was talking to the furnace he built:

 

(He explained all the parts to me, but I can not duplicate it here, other than to say the fan pulls heat from the light.)

The rest of the day was filled with moments of crying children (all three at different times), an overflowing toilet, spills of every kind, and miscellaneous bizarre irritations on every level from large to small.  Amidst all that we rushed to get together projects for 4-H.  Then later in the afternoon we went to that monthly 4-H meeting.  No one was there.  We finally went back home so I could check email to see what was going on.  Oh.  It had been cancelled. (Santa can you bring me one of those smart phones too?  But only if you can pay the monthly fee for me.)

The trend continued during supper and then at devotions, when we had to stop yet again, Frank said "I can't believe this is taking so long."  I replied, "I told you it was this kind of day!"

But you know what?  Somehow ... I managed to keep my temper all day.  I know that was only by God's grace and I am SO grateful that my kids didn't see their mama throwing a fit. "And God ... please let us have a "normal" day today!"

"And let us not grow weary of doing good, for in due season we will reap, if we do not give up." - Galatians 6:9

I did have a few moments of peace and calmness during the day though, one of which is when I went outside to collect eggs.  I took my camera and got a few pictures of our new goat, Billy:

"Hi ... I'm Billy!  I know Billy isn't a very creative name for a goat, but Tabby wanted to name me that and my original family called me that so my name stuck."

We bought Billy last Saturday from a homeschooling family I found through CraigsList.  The family raises and sells Nubian goats as a hobby.  (Nubians produce one of the less "goaty" tasting milks.)  They were thrilled that we wanted Billy for breeding purposes and not for eating.  (Apparently, to the dismay of their children, they had been getting a lot of calls from people wanting to buy him for meat!)  We are planning to keep Billy for several months, and then re-sell him.  We are hoping our 3 girl goats will get pregnant during Billy's stay.  (Billy may not be the handsomest goat - but we saw that he helped produce adorable babies.)

Billy and Christa

When we got Billy home, we put him in the goat pen and watched to see what would happen.  Pippi and Nutmeg stared at him calmly.  But Christa, the Queen Goat of the herd, reacted in a surprising way.  She jumped around some and kept wagging her tail.  (It's called "flagging.")  She sniffed Billy and started chasing him around.  Tabby commented, "I've never seen Christa so lively!"  I found the sniffing part amusing.  She certainly didn't need to sniff him up close to see what he smelled like.  We could smell him from a distance.  Bucks smell very ... musky.

All throughout the rest of the day, whenever we looked out at the goat pen, there was Christa, following Billy around.  Poor goat!  He looked like he just wanted a break as he jogged around trying to avoid her.

We've heard a lot of stories about how you have to be really careful around bucks (male goats) especially when they are with female goats, as they are very protective of them.  So I when I read that Billy had been bottled raised by children, was good natured, and did not have horns, I decided he was "the one."

Billy, Pippi, Christa, Nutmeg

Still, we again heard warnings from the man we bought him from and he told us how he handled Billy.  (If he's with his girls, just ignore him.  Don't make eye contact.  Don't touch his face. etc.)  So later that afternoon, I went into the goat pen.  Suddenly Billy started running straight at me!  I froze, my heart pounding, wondering what he was going to do to me.  When he reached me, he let out a "meeehhhhh!" and leaned on me.  Christa came following him and Billy moved behind me, still pressing against me.  Ha!  He was trying to use me as a shield to get away from Christa!

I started petting him, saying "I'm so sorry about her Billy!"  He responded nuzzling me gently.  And ... he wanted me to rub his face.

Tabby's encounters with him are the same.  We have declared he is the sweetest, most affectionate goat we know.  We pet and pat him some, and would do so even more if only he wasn't so ... musky smelling.  ;)

Billy in a rare Christa-less moment