Dear Diary

When I was in 8th grade, one of my favorite things to do was write in my diary in the quiet of my room, writing down many made-up ideas of what I thought was happening in my world. I remember vividly how I'd written about Rex, a tweenager in the Youth Group at church. He and I would 'eye' each other. And while Rex was probably just glancing my way at the door behind me or something like that, I was thinking in my head that it must be that he likes me. I mean, he's looking at me. So in my diary, I would write about this like-affair I was having with Rex, although probably just a one-sided like-affair that I now realize. But I remember writing about Rex on a regular basis because I would see him several times a week in the youth group on the 4the floor of the church. 

Then, my sister got a hold of my diary and in a random act of sisterly meanness, she recited a line from my diary that I had written about Rex, while we were all in the family room which was the former 1 car garage area that had been enclosed to make us this 'big' family room. It felt like a big area at the time, whether it was or not. I remember standing on the stairs that went down into the garage/family room, onto the indoor/outdoor carpet into the room with everyone present including my mom, dad and other sister. I froze in my steps, realizing that she had gotten a hold of my diary and not only read it, but would recite my words back to me at the most inopportune times which happens to be all the time when you're in 8th grade. 

So the next time I was at a store, I would spend my saved money on a locked diary. You know that hardback diary with the teeny tiny key of which to lock/unlock it. Somehow it kept my sisters out of my diary from then on. But it was too late. The damage was done. I felt exposed. Granted, Rex never knew anything about this, and to this day, has no idea I had a crush on him. We were just 2 young tweens passing each other in the hallways at church with occasional random conversation, if even that.

Somehow, the memories of 7th and 8th grade creep up on me even now. At work, whenever I'm taking a 7th or 8th grader (somewhere in that age range) back to the operating room, I make conversation with them and it's usually about school. None of them seem to like school. They feel odd and awkward, and it's a tough age to be in an environment where there's hundreds of other odd and awkward people around you of the same age. Why is it that we can't do something about this? I feel their pain and tell them how awesome they are. I can try to encourage them, and let them know they are special - and that this can all feel hard but it won't last forever. Or will it. We often look each other in the eye just connecting on the hardness of middle school. I still feel it. When I see their middle school pain, I still feel my own along with them. I often want to ask them if they, too, write in a diary, but silly me, it's called a journal now. They journal. And here I am, still writing in my diary. For me though, it's now called a blog. Some things never change.

A New Little Spoon In Town    

Sugar has been my little spoon since Dec of 2018. I brought home this most scared and broken little girl who was an adult of just over a year old. M-156 was ever her only name, and apparently she'd lived her life in a crate for breeding and once they got tired of trying to breed her unsuccessfully, they sold her. To me of all people, unknowing of her sad life. 

David named her Sugar and I thought it was perfect. Sugar was scared of everything, and esp people. The rest is history, and her bonding to me was relentless and undying. She rarely allows anyone to touch her except for David, as she runs away from most everyone. The cutest dog on the property and she's untouchable. But she and I spoon as we lay sleeping, and it's her safe place. I've never been so bonded with an animal in my life. 

I love her little crooked smile 💖

So the hawk attack on sweet Sugar was bittersweet. Mostly all bitter, because she was in such pain and she was so sad and therefore I was sad. It was hard to watch her go through the recovery. Sweet, only because she got away from a predator who wanted her. She's a strong girl with a will to live and she has proven herself a champ in this recovery. I'm happy to report that Sugar is close to being completely healed, and her spirits are high once again. It's dangerous out here, and that was a reminder of how predators are constantly wanting what we have for lunch or dinner. We are so fortunate to have 4 livestock guard dogs to protect all the animals on the farm, as I am sure that if we did not have them, I'd have no livestock left.

The privilege of caring and having these amazing beings is 
beyond words. 

Penny and Dutch are rocking the guarding of the livestock, and we even let the chicks out of their nursery coop to now free range and after a few friendly reminders that they are not a treat, the guard dog pups (now 7 months old) left them alone. It's a miracle, I'm telling you. 

Wow, I fell down a rabbit hole on that one, but I'm back. Where was I, oh yeah, the new little spoon in town was where I was going with all this originally. I have absolutely no way to tell you how it all happened. It just happened. Okay, you know how I look at the Farm and Garden section of Craigslist every morning while drinking my coffee. I'm just looking.....most of the time. I like to see what people are selling and what their pictures look like (I gather tips from other people's farm pics while they are actually just showing what they are selling). I'm that person looking in the background of the photo. What does their animal shelter(s) look like? What's their fencing like? I'm such a farm nerd. 

And one day, I saw someone in Oklahoma post for a couple of French Bulldogs for sale. There were 2 male puppies left. Let me back up a minute to tell if you that for the past 6-8 months, after David saw a Frenchie at the vet, he's talked about it randomly, and I bet if he had a diary, he would have wrote about it.

And I thought about it and decided how much David would love a pup of his VERY own. David had no idea I decided this for him, but once I mentioned it, he was all in. And to Oklahoma we went. 

Those eyes, he was scared and away from his mama.

David fell in love with the smaller of the two males left, and we left with a brand spanking-new 12 week old puppy in his lap. David's smile was wide and his heart seems to have exploded. We decided that he would primarily bond with fill-in-the-blank name. What would be his name be? David decided that since he calls everyone buddy, that he would name him Buddy and that way it would just roll off his tongue. Buddy. There's no chance of calling him the wrong name, Buddy always flies out of David's mouth. It was the perfect name. 

Not to worry, he's made himself at home.

David's face says it all.

I'm here to tell you a few things about Buddy. He's very bright.

Buddy rings the bell to come in and out of the house. He now also knows how to sit and also, shake. He looks up at us and is asking for more information, please. I just ordered from the website fluentpet.com the buttons that dogs press with their paws that say words. Like for example: outside or potty or dad or today or now or whatever words you want your dog to learn. David is going to try and teach Buddy to talk, using the buttons. We all see those IG reels on Insta with dogs (and cats!) communicating to their humans through the buttons, and thought Buddy would be a good candidate for this. We'll start with 6 buttons. Potty will likely be the top priority on a button. He rings the bell to go outside, but really, he just loves being outside. I get that, Buddy. No better place than outside. 

If Maybe and Sugar do it, so does Buddy.
They are unsure of this new delivery.

As I was mulling this puppy thing over, I realized the last time we had an actual indoor puppy was when Maybe was a puppy. That was 11 years ago. Let's just say that we are adapting to what it's like to have a puppy in the house who loves to chew things, potty where ever, and needs lots of attention. Luckily, Buddy knows how to go in and out of the back doggie door, and also knows how to ring the bell to ask to go out the laundry room door to another doggie door we have there. He's still putting it all together with the potty outside concept. He loves to go outside, and will hopefully understand that he should only be potty-ing outside. It's a process. We are not there yet. Maybe and Sugar are here to help with that concept, so that's nice. Sugar likes Buddy best, as Maybe is an old lady who really only likes you if you have treats. And Buddy is all about the treats, so the competition is great for who gets what around here. Sugar does not do treats, as her teeth only allow for soft foods. So she could care less about treats. 

So far so okay. Buddy's main danger on the farm right now is a big swat of the front paw from Dutch or Penny who merely just want to play with a fellow puppy. Their paw swat is hard and heavy, and even though Buddy is sturdy and strong at 8 lbs, he's no match for a 86 lb puppy whose super excited to play. Yes, I said 86 lbs at 7 months old. We took Dutch and Penny to the vet recently for heartworm test and meds, and they were 86 lbs (Dutch) and 77 lbs (Penny). They are going to be ginormous dogs, as both their parents were around 120 lbs. 

Most amazing 7 month olds #huge

Penny is already taller than Whisper. We adore them all, and want to keep everyone as healthy as possible. We have to be diligent with the heartworm meds for all the dogs because Winston is heartworm positive. It only takes one mosquito bite from an infected dog to carry that to another dog in the form of a mosquito bite. Seems the vet thinks he's been positive for some time due to the nature of his symptoms, and maybe even why a family might have let him go into the world on his own. The vet does not recommend treating him, as his timeline is shorter than they feel is worth heartworm treatment. I've not come to terms with that just yet, but I do understand Winston is old and why a vet might think it's not recommended to treat him. He was given antibiotics to destroy the baby heartworms to keep it all at bay. He'll be on that for awhile. Sweet Winston. He has such a good heart (the vet even said it's nice and strong sounding) yet has such a hard time getting up and down off the ground. Once he gets up and moving, he does pretty good. There is no run left in his life, just a walk and I'm happy he's still walking. Senior dogs are great. They appreciate the basics in life. Just like Maybe and Winston do. Yes, they can both be semi-grumpy but senior dogs are granted that privilege around here. Food, sleep, food, a nap, treats and more rest. The smiles I get from them is simply amazing and they can never get enough pets and cuddles. They are simply happy to be alive. 

And while Buddy is on the other end of the life cycle, he's in his most formative months. We, being older pawrents, are able to focus a little more on what we might be able to teach him. And David may be having more time in the future to do just that.

Buddy with the bling

A different kind of excellence

I'm not here to give any certain spoiler alerts, but I can tell you one thing for sure: cancer has brought us closer to the retirement process sooner rather than later. We hear over and over how you should wait until the maximum age to retire so that you can get all the money from social security. And often told what a travesty it would be to retire early and miss getting all that money. I also realize that many of these people say this because they think they will live forever. I used to be one of those people. Ahhh, I remember those days. Most people have no idea that we may indeed have something that makes it clear to us that we won't live forever, and that likely our expiration date is sooner than we would have originally thought. But you know our story well. We are a couple with cancer who has their eyes wide open to understanding that we will likely need to be a caregiver to one another, just not sure at this point what those details look like. And many couples are caregivers to one another at different parts of their life for various reasons. It's just that our wedding vows include full-time caregiving til death due us part. We've made a pack. We will care for the other one. No one knows us better than we do, and we can only hope that we are given the opportunity for one of us to care for the other. 

This is nothing new in the world, that couples care for each other. It's just we happen to know we are going to need that from one another, so we are able to openly talk about it. Death is something we discuss in the most healthy way we are able. We take time to ponder death. And with that said, we talk about retiring before we step off the curb. Why wait when someone has told you the possibilities of what's to come? David's PET scans are showing good results at this time, and we are most grateful. But yet that does not give the future a shoe-in. And David wants some time to be a different kind of excellence. 

He wants to excel in fishing, doing nothing if he wants, golfing and not caring about his score, and doing whatever he wants to do day in and day out. It's a new kind of philosophy that takes him from innovator at work to instructor at home. Like teaching Brooks how to fish, or teaching the awesome kiddos that come over to the farm how to pick up a chicken (it's not as easy as it seems to pick up a little dinosaur). He wants to spend the back half of his life sharing in a different way. He's likely to become the most relevant he's ever been while sharing his wisdom and knowledge on everything from wood working to stain glass. If something needs to be done around the farm, he's got something in the garage to help make it happen. But before he finds what he needs in the garage, he's already imagined it in his head. His innovation will now be solely placed in areas of his life that he desires it to be placed. 

And while there's no doubt that aging brings about challenges and some things become harder, we will acknowledge this and showcase it. Some things take more time, others take more thought and creativity. He's embracing what comes with time and is not an anti-ager. We are instead, agers. Bring on the age. The skin that shows the age. The mind that shows the age. It's like wrapping your arms around a long lost relative and noticing the changes in them and how good that change looks on them. We notice the changes in the mirror and in all we do and understand that we will make modifications as needed.

David's retirement plan has one main goal: Happiness. He's still finalizing the details of the timing of retirement and knows that time is not promised in life. It's hard to give up the money you make, the self-worth that work brings, and the people you've know for years and years. It actually takes time to process this idea of going from working to not working. It's harder than we thought. But once you round that curve, you are never able to look back. I guess that's where the swerve comes in. We often try not to take the curve, and swerve instead. David is taking this new curve with the gas pedal down, rounding all the tiny corners of that curve, and feeling all the feels from it. 

Hip Hip Hooray!

David and I traveled recently to the San Benito area (down in the valley close to South Padre Island) to visit my mom and dad. When mom and dad were younger and I was a child, we did not speak of age. Now, they are open to age discussions and they can because they are rocking the 80's, and I don't mean like the Flock of Seagulls '80's. It was an absolute lovely visit and we just talked and talked and felt no need to do anything but talk and connect. It was my favorite kind of visit where the expectations to go do things are low, and we get to sit around and talk. Oh, and eat at mom and dad's favorite places. It was a very magical visit and I can't wait to do it again. 

They are showing us how it's done.

Prior to planning this particular trip, I had thought "if I was in my 80's, what would I want for a visit from relatives?" and my answer was: an easy visit with minimal work and planning. After I told David (and Lauren) I prefer a day trip to fly down in the morning and fly back that night, you'd thought I had told them I would be flying the plane myself. It just didn't sound like what a trip should sound like, esp visiting parents. 

I held strong and booked the flights and off we went. Lauren, Ryan and little Brooks came over to man the farm for the day and wrestle the new puppy, Buddy. Thank you guys so much!! All while David and I flew to Harlingen and were picked up by mom and dad who drove us to an awesome Mexican food restaurant. Yum! Then, back to their house to talk and odd how the time literally flew by, as there's so much to talk about and I just loved being with them and catching up. All while siping on iced tea and lounging on a comfy couch. Before I knew it, it was time for dinner and back to the airport. Mom and dad picked bbq for dinner and it too was yummy. I hated saying good bye, but will be back sooner next time. After all, Dad is having his hip replaced on June 30th and I look forward to checking on him after he settles in with it. Mom is a wonderful chauffeur, and our visit was full of wonderful memories that are still fresh in my mind. Just a lovely lovely relaxing time. Thanks, mom and dad for having us! And thanks to Lauren, Ryan and Brooks for helping keep things under control at the farm. Best day trip ever.

Dear Diary, 

As my parent brain transforms into a grandparent brain, I've noticed a few things:

He's not sure why they keep saying cheeeeese

It still amazes me that my own child has a child. For some reason my brain is on 'skip' and processing this fact may take a lifetime.

Ahhhh, these days are the best

My new grandparent brain does not miss the day-in and day-out of having children around full-time, but instead loves every minute with grandchildren and then returning them (safe and unharmed) to their parents.  

You're hired. When can you start?

My new grandparent brain sees everything grandchildren do as absolutely adorable. 

I just can't even. That face.

What I've learned with this new grandparent part of my brain is that this kind of love is exactly what grandchildren need and at the same time, exactly what grandparents need. A type of love unlike any other. The best kind of love. Grand love.

Til next time,

Cyndi

Monday, Monday

Sometimes on update on expectations is a good thing. I expected to write this week, but instead have worked a little more than expected. 

So it seems work is getting in the way of time this week (boo! it's my "late week" at work in the OR this week). You know how much I enjoy taking time to put my thoughts into words, so it will be Saturday before I can make this happen. I'll see you then!!!

C

Hawk Talk

So this is me, according to my family. Constantly pouring words from my fingers. I feel like this whole post today could be updates of many things circling the universe around here. So let's do that.

One does not simply stop buying chicks. Seemingly a repetitive theme in my life.

The 10 chicks we purchased a few weeks ago have now moved out of the house and into the barn. They are currently confined to a chicken coop there, with a heat lamp area available, should they chose to use it. They are all mostly feathered now, and are eating and drinking like a boss. 

The chicks watch the Chicken Show on the daily

The Guest House, until they grow big enough to look like real chickens

It appears by the chicks frantic (and also sweet) peep-peep noises that the guard pups - and Sugar - all think the chicks are calling them for dinner. Therefore, these chicks will need to be mostly grown before they are allowed to free range.

Penny and Dutch. Is this not reminiscent of 
Levi and Whisper?!

Another wonderful update is that the guard pups, Penny and Dutch are 1) starting the process of patrolling the parameter of the property and barking appropriately at possible predators. Esp in the back pasture where the sheep are kept and a creek runs behind that area, which many predators use as a means of water source, and 2) They are not eating or pursuing chickens in or out of the barn (except for a fascination of the chicks) which basically means they will be able to remain as backups and eventually our replacements for when Levi and Whisper retire and decide they don't want to work so hard every night. We'd love for Levi and Whisper to be able to relax and grow old not working too hard. I've always felt like 5 acres was a lot for them to constantly protect. They do it so well, and we cannot imagine life without them. We just want them to have time in life to not work so hard. Maybe I'm projecting my own desires upon them as they age, and that as livestock guard dogs, they will always work hard. So maybe what I'm hoping for is that Penny and Dutch can manage some of the load of protecting each night. Watching these 4 majestic dogs perform using their natural instincts of protecting their livestock is one of the greatest liberties that I have in life. I try to tell them how much I appreciate them. My touch on their face, wiping a sleepy from their eye, is all from a place of love and I try hard to send my love to them through ways that they would feel it. 

Duck's Up

This pup-talk leads me into ducks up with the ducks. We've had 7 ducks for a long time now. Yes, the new pups had been bothersome to them, but not harmful to them and we resolved that situation with  further training so that they understand that the ducks are not for them to play with. Luckily, no one ever got hurt. 

And now there's 4

The 4 biggest ones are left

And then, I noticed one day that we had only 6 ducks. I walked the whole property and found no evidence of a duck situation. Yes, some of these ducks can fly, and have actually flown over to the neighboring pasture, but have flown back. So I'm thinking it flew, and never was able to fly back - whatever that means. Or it found a better pond. I don't know.

Fast forward to another day the following week, and now there's 5 ducks. What the duck. Again, I walked the property for evidence of fowl play and there's nothing. No feathers, no body, nothing. I look at the pups and they just stare back blankly at me. 

Then, after a day spent in Fort Worth with Brooks, I arrive back home to the 5 ducks, I then fed everyone and headed off to bed. In the morning, I notice we are now down to 4 ducks. Again, no evidence of any duck-gone-wrong around the property. They are just gone. Vanished. And now I have 4 ducks. Frick. 

There's options of what's going on here, and I'm happy to say none of the options include guard pups involvement. I'm thinking a hawk maybe, coming back again and again for dinner. There are a million hawks around here and they are always trying to get my chickens. Or maybe these ducks have flown up and away either to another pond (there are several close by) or they flew away and got lost. Each time, I listen and listen to hear their quacks. Nothing. They are just gone. 

So here I am, with 4 ducks. And what does David say? "4 ducks is the just-right amount of ducks we wanted in the first place, right?" So I guess the universe is giving him the exact amount of ducks he always wanted anyway. I may not understand this logic, but I'll go with it for now. Stupid hawks. I blame them.

My Little Spoon

She enjoys being the little spoon,
curling up close every night

My little spoon, Sugar, who David claims came directly from my own womb is going to be 5 years old later this year. I adopted her as an adult at 1 1/2 years old with no name and likely living in a crate most all, if not all, her life. I was told they had tried to breed her for awhile, and since that was not working out, they were going to sell her. Her number/name was M-156 when I took her home, shaking and scared out of her mind. She was scared of everything for a very long time, and will still not allow touch or pets from humans (with only rare exceptions) despite Maybe's best efforts to show her that dogs do love pets and treats. She weighs about 6-ish pounds and is white as snow. Some say she's broken. I say she's pawfect. The one thing Sugar has no clue about is the hawks above her, in the sky. The chickens know when hawks are there and circling above and they run to the barn. It's in their DNA. Sugar does not have those same chicken instincts. 

One day recently, I came home from work, and as usual, Sugar and Maybe came running out to the car to greet me as they do every day after work. But something was different today. Sugar was lethargic and not her usual excited self. She just wanted me to pick her up. I grab my stuff from the car, and with Sugar in hand, we go inside. For a little more clarity, The Littles (Maybe and Sugar) stay outside in the afternoons if it's nice weather while David works upstairs in the house. And when I come home from work in the afternoon (because I go to work at 6 am) then The Littles come back inside the house with me. Typically, Sugar acts each day as though she's not seen me in weeks, even though it's only been hours. But on this particular day, things were different. She just seemed so sad.

Maybe, Sugar and I go inside the house and I set Sugar in front of me on the counter to take a look at her. She's bleeding. From multiple areas. As David comes downstairs from a break from work, he finds me inspecting Sugar. We are both shocked. At first, we thought she had been shot by a gun. That's what the holes on her looked like. They were perfectly round holes puncturing her, with one particular area that was more torn apart and a deep puncture wound, perfectly round, going inside her. I immediately called the vet and they said to bring her up to the clinic. 

David and I get in the car and take Sugar up to our local vet and find out she's not been shot, but likely a hawk attack. And Sugar had gotten away from it. The vet says we'll need to leave Sugar and he's going to do surgery on her, as he'd need to put her to sleep to inspect the damage, sew her up and get it all managed and sorted out. 

As David and I leave Sugar, we go home perplexed that a predator had in fact tried to get Sugar. I'm not sure why we are so surprised by this, as she's small and white like a bunny, but it's just not happened before and we didn't see this coming. As David and I wait for the call from the vet to go back up and get Sugar, we review the happenings of the afternoon, look at the Ring app for activity out the front door, and review the Barn Cam. Nothing unusual there. Therefore, it must have happened in an area such as the side of the house or in front of the garage. We were still trying to figure it all out, and confused and shocked by what might have happened to her. Then, we got the call that Sugar was waking up from anesthesia and we could come get her. 

Sleeping off the sleepy medicine

We are so grateful to Dr Shelton for quickly taking such great care of Sugar. He said the wounds look to be from a hawk or owl, and one talon in particular went so deep in her, it pushed all the hair up inside her and he cleaned it all out, but that he would need to leave a drain in her for 10 days. She had stitches in several of the areas indicative of a hawk's claws/talons, and the one laceration might be where Sugar was trying to get away and the talon tore her skin open. 

Three areas on this side

Bruising and smaller puncture wounds 
on her undercarriage

We are fortunate her bowel was not punctured

Sugar came home with a cone on, but we were told she could have a sweater or shirt on instead to keep her from licking and chewing at the stitches and drain. I ended up purchasing a couple of onsie infant outfits, cutting the bottom snaps off and the soft material would cover her wounds. She did well with the onesies, as she was not having the cone and would be frozen in place whenever it was on. 

Not feeling well, just stiff and sore

For 10 days, Sugar's drain drained lots of ick and gunk. Technically, as a nurse I'd call it serosanguineous fluid. She was on antibiotics and pain meds. Then at our follow up appt, it was noted that the 'worst' wound had not adhered together due to the necrosis of the skin edges, therefore the stitches could not hold it together and heal. So Sugar was left with an open wound in one area. (I'll leave that photo out because it could be a bit shocking). In addition, after the drain was removed by the vet, she had a hematoma of fluid collection in an area of close proximity, whereby the fluid had not made it out of the drain, and instead collected in a pocket nearby. The vet took a syringe and aspirated several syringes of the fluid, and then poked another hole nearby to pinch and get the rest to drain out. The vet then offered us: 1) surgery again to attempt to close the wound, or 2) to give the open wound time to heal and close on its own (will take time) while continuing to stay on antibiotics.

10 days out and feeling better

For the meantime, we picked option 2, as the vet recommended it and we'll give that a go first. So here we are, changing her clothes each day, washing her wound and trying to keep it from getting infected. It's still draining, even with the drain out. But we are hoping it will dry out soon. Sugar is doing well overall now. She's beginning to feel better, but is still a bit clingy which is expected after the trauma and treatment. She will need more time to heal from this. Even though we can never be sure of the source of her injuries, all signs point to a hawk. Sugar is not afraid of any of the animals on the farm, which leads us to believe that it was a predator. Her first time out to potty after the event, Sugar made sure to look all around (and up) before stepping too far out the door. 

After talking about this at work (in the OR) I learned that several doctor and nurse friends had people they knew that had small dogs taken up and away by hawks. Literally off the ground and up in the air, taken right in front of their eyes. After listening to other people's experiences with hawks and dogs, it's hard to believe that Sugar actually got away and survived. If I were to come home from work and Sugar was gone, I would be devastated yet not have considered a hawk, but rather someone picking her up or her getting lost. Now, I understand. You hear about these things happening. It's like us with cancer. It happens to other people, but never really realizing that it's about to happen to you. We, too, had a small dog almost taken by a hawk. I shudder at the thought of losing Sugar. She's my dog soulmate, and it's a special relationship that I'm not able to put into words. And I know a lot of words.

 

Yes, hello, I was supposed to get a delivery of love and affection (Hope and Dora every day)

The irony of my last post being about my so-called conundrums brought about escalating dilemmas. Maybe God thought he'd show me what conundrums really are, because what I was speaking of were rather small issues. So here, here's some bigger issues for you, Cyndi. Nothing you can't handle. But try these out. 

And sure enough, what I thought was an issue with Hope (in my last post) has escalated to her skin condition doubling in size within a matter of days. I cannot for the life of me figure this out, and have been unsuccessful with a regular vet's help. So, I called an equine vet this time. And Dr Nancy from Mid-South Equine came over and took 3 punch biopsies from the area in question. A punch biopsy is a device that is like a small, circular sharp cutting tool that is poked into the affected area, and the skin and tissue underneath it is then brought out and sent to a pathologist for review. Dr Nancy did not know what is happening with Hope's skin/wound/hair loss on her right shoulder, so maybe the biopsy will tell us what it is so that we can treat it accordingly. Dr Nancy gave Hope a sedative to calm her so that the procedure could be accomplished. What I learned is that most vets, and even farriers, feel like mini horses are difficult, mean and ornery. Yes, mini horses are super cute, but they have a reputation for being badly behaved. Hear me out, I do make excuses for Hope. She came from a Kill Pen after being abused most of her life. Hope is not going to be that sweet, trusting soul right now. She's just not. She's come a LONG way with us, and only time and continued loving care will propel her forward. Dora, on the other hand is just a sweet nugget. No, she did not come to us that way, as she came to us as a biter and a kicker. But over time, she too has sweetened up to the point of being a lovey-dovey. I trust her impeccably, and feel like she trust me that way as well. Mini's take time. Sometimes I think Dora would love to come live in the house with us. She's like a big dog, following me around. Hope is right there, too, but keeps more distance. She halters easily, so I know she trust me. Her memories haunt her at times, and I have to understand that. These two horses teach me patience, require me to calm my energy before asking them to do anything, and always bring me in the moment when interacting with them. And Hope's favorite thing is to do when I halter her is look square into my eyes and stare, looking straight into my soul. She's searching deep inside me, finding the love and peace she needs so badly. I stare back and let her know she's safe, with no words spoken. We'll get you fixed up, my girl. We will. 

Season 3 of the pandemic continues

As we start to unmask a little bit more, and wait for the next variant, it feels good to take a breath for a minute. Spring has arrived and the weather warms our bodies and soul. It's time for those spring projects to come to life. One of ours is bringing in a dump truck of dirt (12 yards is the term they used) and spreading it. So as I watch youtube videos of How To Operate a Skid Steer, we will spend the upcoming weekend repairing a portion of the side/back pasture that the huge concrete truck tore up. Yes, the concrete truck had to get to the back pasture and we are glad it did (love the concrete floor in the back barn). But repairs are now needed due to the deep gouges in the dirt causing irrigation issues and further dirt erosion. So, on Saturday, the dirt will be delivered and we'll be the ones to spread it. After that, we'll get a delivery of rock that will be spread on top of the dirt. Wouldn't that be fun if we got good enough at this, we could make it a retirement job. We could buy a Bobcat skid steer and spread dirt for people. Some people charge $100 an hour to do this. I digress. For now, we'll see how this goes. I gotta get back to watching Skid Steer 101 and how not to accidentally flip it over. And check my insurance policy.

In other news, John (rooster) and Paul (turkey) are co-existing together very well. Can you believe I still have that rooster? The chickens are all glad it's getting warm and laying eggs like you wouldn't believe. I get so many eggs a day that even I'm amazed. I shouldn't be that surprised because I have so many chickens, but winter took the egg production down so low, that I'm just now seeing just how many of my chickens are actually laying eggs. And it's a lot. 

Besties who roam the land during the day

Maggie and Prissy are busy being pigs who squeal loudly to get what they want. I now now what a real pig squeal sounds like. The sheep are scheduled to be sheared this spring before summer. The guard pups survived the eating of the coban/gauze dressing and their dew claw removal sites have healed up nicely despite their attempt to sabotage it. They'll be 6 months old and are huge. And in doing something I thought he would like, Washington has had the privilege of going outside in a fenced area during the nice weather, and much to my surprise, he's not liking it.

Washington and Sugar are fond of each other

He prefers his inside home over the opportunity to visit the outside grass and sun. I guess not every rabbit loves the outdoors. He's more of a home bunny. 

All the barn cats are enjoying time outside with the warm sun. The Cat Room (our laundry room) is more vacant than ever as I watch the cats have the freedom to roam. And Little Brooks is enjoying more time outside in this warmer weather. He says 'outside' and is a lover of all things outdoors. Recently, he and I walked to the Fort Worth Stockyards to a Quarter Horse Show - and it was amazing. 

He's always up to trying new things and going new places. He turned 17 months here in March, and it's hard to believe that in October, we will start with years and no longer go by months. I love it that he says Nana, and that he brings me to a simple place in life of appreciating the articulation of a new word. Any new word. It feels like a blooming flower every time a new word flies out of his mouth. I imagine you have your own loved ones in your family that are young, and watching them flourish is amazing, despite that humans have been doing this forever. It never gets old. 

Monkey see, Monkey do

Time to go rest my body so that I can seize the opportunity of working in the OR with pediatric patients during the week. It's the sunshine in my day when it's raining outside. Their little faces. Their sweet smiles, their trust, their innocence, and just knowing that we are helping them in life brings such a sense of satisfaction and purpose. I'm forever honored with the trust these parents have to hand their child to a nurse to head into surgery. It's also a constant reminder of how fragile life really is. 

May you have all kinds of happy today,

Cyndi

Happy 60th Anniversary, Mom and Dad! 

I'm heading out to visit these two cuties
in a couple of weeks 💕

Gated Community

I've always wondered what it would be like to live in a gated community. Gated community can have various meanings, but I’ll reference it to the farm version instead of the ever-desirable suburbia version. When David and I first moved to Gunter almost 6 years ago (in June) I was content with keeping the front gate to the property open at all times. I never seriously considered an automatic gate opener but as you know, after time, we made the purchase and had our front gate opener installed (for various reasons). 

I used to wonder why people had them, whether they were convenient or not, and were the residents keeping people/animals in - or trying to keep people/animals out. I never seemed to be able to make sense out of the automatic front gate of a property. You have to sit and wait in your car while the gate slowly opens. You have to figure out who you will give the code to, or to have the gate open for workers and such. What if the gate stops working, then how do you get out? So many questions. 

Even after we had ours installed, I still do not have all the answers to these questions, but I'll tell you what it mainly provides for me: a feeling of security and safety. It may be a false feeling, but at night, it just feels safer that no one can just drive down the gravel drive to your house at will. 

I'm not sure where this is going and what my point really is, but when I think about all gates that are attached to our fencing, I have a grand appreciation for it all. My favorite thing about gates is that I can put my sheep/horses/pigs in one area, or another area, and they stay there thanks to all the gates. It's vital that I move the animals around to the different pastures so that the grass and forbes can regrow and the ground can recover. Plus, the animals poo so much that needs to reabsorb into the ground as well over time. When all the animals are in their appropriate places, it's easier at feeding time to make sure everyone eats only their food. The sheep, pigs and horses are all really bossy to the dogs at feeding time, and want their dog food. Several of the guard dogs can growl the farm animals off their food, while others just allow another animal to eat their food. Hence, the gates and movement of the animals is important. It's also worth mentioning that having the front gate shut all the time (besides when we come and go) is that now when any animals escapes (yes, you sheepies) you cannot get to the road. 

One morning while having coffee, David looked over at me and said,"I could not fall asleep last night, so I decided to count the number of gates we have on the property". I look at him quizzically as my mind processes this information. I'm thinking, why gates? He then says, "We have 22 gates". I'm still staring at him with my mouth open like a baby waiting for a much anticipated spoon of food coming towards its mouth. I'm able to mumble, "22 huh? Seems like a lot" while I'm still trying to figure out how one thinks about counting gates when they cannot sleep. Then he says, "Well, I counted them several times. But let's see....." and David starts looking into the air and counting them out loud one by one, with an "wait, I missed one" on several occasions and starts over each time. All I'm thinking is we have sheep. Why not count sheep. Oh yeah, there's only 5 sheep. But my mind keeps coming back to 'why gates?'

David completes his mental and verbal count of the gates and proudly says, yep, we have 22 gates. While my first instinct is to review his accuracy, I refrain and conclude that I had no idea we had that many gates. To top it all off, he then begins to give a tutorial on who made which gates for us, and which ones are the best and spoke of the ones that could use repair. All while I'm sitting there thinking 'how did we get to this place in our lives over coffee'. 

My mind drifts as David continued to review everything gate-related on the property with an analysis and review of each gate. Wow, he must have really had a hard time falling asleep to have gathered all this data in his mind. Monkey mind is no joke.

Are we all gated?

Living on a farm gives the term 'gated community' a whole new meaning. 

There's not a farm animal that does not live gated around here. Every animal has their own gated community, and just like their humans, they do get to come and go out of the other farm animals gated communities. Sometimes I realize they enjoy time together with their community of various farm animals, and then are content to go back to their own home. I get that, y'all.

If there's a gate, they want through it. 
There's actually a children's book dedicated to this 
actual scenario with sheep and gates. 

Allen B and Charles B are sheep who are 
normally agreeable. Until a gate is left open.....

The farm animals are always pleased and openly excited when a gate opens. They feel a compulsion to go through it to the other side, always seemingly thinking there must be something better there. That's when I realized I do that very same thing, and have all my life. Something better must be around or through that 'gate', and I've lived life striving to go in and out of gates that seemingly had something more enticing on the other side. 

I'd like to tell you that I've stopped moving through all the gates in my own life, but I've not. And doubtful I ever will find that final gate. That is, until I step off the curb where there are no more gates - or just one last pearly gate anyway (I hope). 

No one is exempt from gates or fences around here, so it seems.

Wash has a certain amount of free range.
Probably more than some would think okay.

Even Washington lives in his own gated community. Turns out, he enjoys long walks up the stairs and chewing on electrical cords under the bed. 

Who wants to put this story away

Covid. Icy roads. 20 degree weather. I feel like I'm whining now. Between dodging covid and trying to keep farm animals alive when it's 59 degrees one night and 29 degrees the next night is challenging. 

Turns out, Ryan (son in law) got covid a little over a month ago and somehow Lauren did not get it at that time. 3 weeks after Ryan had it, Lauren took her turn with it. And oddly enough, if Brooks did have covid during any of that time, Ryan and Lauren could not tell (they did test him once or twice to check for day care reasons). Brooks was always negative and doing well. Ryan and Lauren are like many people who are dealing with left-over lingering covid effects. Ear ringing, congestion and a lingering cough are their gifts from covid. There's so many people who have multiple lingering symptoms after covid makes its exit. Stupid covid.

Then, add in 2 bouts of snow and ice during this same time, and it's the story of many peoples lives. Covid and cold weather. The farm animals are not facing covid, and neither David and I have taken our turn with it yet (that we know of) but what the the farm animals are facing is ice cold temps for hours and days for that matter. 

As I've mentioned prior, we have heated water buckets for everyone (as long as there is electricity) and plenty of straw for snuggles. The most common question we get is, "how are the farm animals doing with the cold?" and I usually can only attest to the fact that they are hanging in there. They have no choice and somehow make it through. Yes, we do give extra food during this time as they are burning lots of calories to stay warm. All the guard dogs and Winston have dog beds of their own in the barn. And the piggies have a little house with lots of straw that cannot be blow over by the big bad wolf. We unfortunately usually wind up losing a chicken or two when it gets this cold, but it's typically the ones that are either older or just not able to survive as they are not the strongest of the chickens. The harsh cold puts their lives on fast forward. 

Sugar keeps her jammies on and 
enjoys a warm fire.  

Luckily though

While one gate shuts, another gate opens (metaphorically) and David and I recently purchased 10 new chicks: 6 ameraucana's and 4 black stars. 

I bet you're thinking I live in a petting zoo.

We name every ameraucana chicken, Walter.
It's just easier that way and they do have those
interesting puffs coming out the sides of their face

It's like they have a moustache and beard 

I've never had a black star chicken before. Wonder if
they'll look like this black star? 

Then, add in that I meet a lady on Craigslist, Anissa is her name, who lives in Windham, Tx (which I now know where that is) and I purchased 3 laying hens from her:

I know, I know, she looks like all my other
white chickens, but she's different.

According to Anissa, this is a rare type of chicken
but darned if I can't remember the name of it?!

And this young lady has some unique features such as fluffy 
feathers on top with a full size body, and an ombre coloring.

Oddly, the deal Anissa dealt me for these pretty new and unusual hens were that I would have to take the rooster that was living with them (in their pen). Anissa said she wanted to empty out "that" pen, and so the deal was the 3 laying hens AND take the rooster with them. 

He's tall, light and handsome

I took the deal, and brought all 4 chickens home to the unknowing of the Sheriff. But guess where the rooster is living temporarily? With Paul!

John, the Rooster (the Sheriff found out, and then actually named him) is now enjoying the bachelor pad with Paul - and he loves the mirrors, too. 

So now I have 3 pretty (and laying) new hens who have joined the flock seamlessly. Oh, and John, who lives with Paul. For now. Bright side? John cock-a-doodle doo's very little. Here and there, but nothing worth noting or bothersome. So for now, John is hanging in the crib with Paul. He's actually the least of our worries.

Who's the worry then?

I'm glad you asked. On Feb 17th, merely days before David was to leave town to head to Houston for his PET scan/MRI/follow up visits at MD Anderson, we had scheduled for Penny and Dutch to be neutered/spayed and have their hundred dewclaws removed. I swear they each had about 30 claws on them total. 

Granted, this appt was made months ago so that when they turned 5 months old, they would have this done. And we did, we had it done that day as scheduled. 

Precarious Penny (notice her pristine cone)

Not sure who chewed on his cone, Penny

Although it was not the spaw day the pups were hoping for, the surgery's went well and the pups were brought back home and placed in a pen in the barn for what was to be a few days of observation (and pain meds). 

I'm sorry sweeties, they took the fight out of you.

It wasn't exactly optimal, but keeping livestock guard dogs in the house for a few days seemed like holy terror. So the barn it is, in Dora's horse stall they will stay. The irony in all this is that the vet office had told us how Penny was so adventurous (she is) and how Dutch was the one trying to tell Penny that "that doesn't seem like a good idea" when Penny was being mischievous (she is). Dutch is cautious and careful in life. He's the wise one. Somehow, that all changed.

The 5 month old pups are now around 70 lbs each mind you. They are now neutered and spayed, along with a dressing and coban (sticky elastic wrapping to hold the gauge dressing on each surgical site) on EVERY leg of both dogs. Oh, and they each were dressed with a cone to not allow them to access their sutures (on their private parts) or the coban dressing wrapped very tightly around each lower leg of the pups. 

Penny and Dutch came home late Thursday and spent Friday sleeping and resting. All seemed well. Uh huh. Then, Saturday came and David and I left them quietly resting in the barn in their stall to go to Fort Worth to watch Brooks while Lauren worked (and Ryan resting from covid things). 

Fast forward to Saturday night and us finding 3 of the coban and gauze dressings on Dutch's legs GONE. Vanished into thin air. Actually, vanished into Dutch's belly, as he mistakenly thought he was supposed to eat it all. 

Great. Really? Look at Penny all behaving and keeping her dressings on. And then Dutch, chewing everything off 3 of his legs and then eating it all. Come on now. This is Saturday evening and the vet is closed until Monday. 

We learned the hard way that these cones are not the correct size to keep the pups from accessing their dressings on their legs. Too late though. Although Penny has no desire to take her dressings off, it could have been that she took off Dutch's, I don't know. We found Dutch licking his incisions on his legs and could only image another trip to the vet, this time, a little more expensive than the first. Let me correct that, with David leaving for Houston on Sunday, it would likely be me to take the pups back to the vet for who-knows-what, maybe a bowel obstruction. I found my $hit Show Supervisor shirt.....and put it on. David left for Houston. 

I spent Sunday watching the pups to monitor their eating, drinking and pooping. Fun times. I'll save you some heartache and tell you that Dutch did indeed poop that coban and gauze dressing(s) out late Sunday evening. Dutch is okay and so is Penny and we did not travel back to the vet. Although I did call the vet and tell on them, like a 3rd grader telling on Johnny who just pushed me in line. Remember that? Having to line up at the door to leave the classroom. Ms. Myers! Johnny just pushed me. That's exactly what I did, except to the vet office. I just did not want to take responsibility of this $hit show. But turns out it is exactly my responsibility and luckily it all turned out alright. That was a God thing because I assure you it should not have gone the way it did. God decided that despite the pups behavior and me leaving town for the day (to go see Brooks) that He would make everything okay in the end. Thank you, God for always being there. The pups are on the mend, and hopefully this story will have a happy ending by the time they are fully healed. The cones and dressings are off all 4 legs on both pups now and there's still time for things to go astray. Here's hoping for the best. 

Penny, the dog astronaut

Wait, did you say Brooks?

I sho did. Brooks is now 16 months old and no matter what his age, I love spending time adventuring with him. On this particular day, we did one of our favorite things to do and that's to go to the Children's Museum in Fort Worth. It's within walking distance of Ryan and Lauren's house, and so we loaded up the stroller and made our way across the street. 

One of the first places we go once inside the Children's museum is the pretend grocery store. It's fun watching Brooks change and grow, but it's even more evident each time we visit familiar places. On this grocery store visit, he was all about the corn.

As we moved from the grocery store to the boat, he really enjoyed the freedom to run around and explore. 

This particular area of the museum allows for younger children to explore on their own, and he loves all the areas from the grocery store, to the boat, to the post office, to the pretend restaurant, to the trains, and much more. 

On this visit, we explored the older children's area as we usually do, but this time Brooks was interested in some of the exhibits he's not explored prior. 

As we made our way around the museum, his favorite is always the huge "light bright" (as I like to call it) area where by he can pull and push the large plastic colored transparent pegs into the light board.

And here we are again 💙

He's not old enough to officially make any designs just yet, as he's still understanding the in and out motion of the pegs to the board, yet this is the beauty of it all. Each visit, children get to explore what is age appropriate for them. And as Brooks grows and his little brain expands, he's able to view the museum a little differently each time he goes. I love the opportunity to take him to the museum, over and over, and watch the huge leaps and the minuscule changes. Children are tiny miracles who turn into humans that will take on this big world that does not deserve them. For now, I'll enjoy all the opportunities I'm given and each time I return him safely to his mama and daddy, I relish in the fact that I am trusted with their most precious gift. It's a grand responsibility to keep someone else's child safe, esp when that child is the child of your own child. Of which you could never have imagined many moons ago. There are not words for how magical this really is. 

💛

How'd David's visit go? 

On his 1 year cancerversary of the completion of chemo and radiation, David shows up at MDA for his regular PET and MRI scan, along with a visit to his main oncologist, Dr Hanna. He's had a PET scan and MRI every couple of months since his SNUC diagnosis, but this trip was a special one. It's exactly a year out from his cancer treatment, and for a long time, we were unsure of what this timeframe would really look like. Would we be back for more treatment? What does a year out from treatment from an aggressive cancer be like? Uncertainty is the definition of 'life with cancer'. If you have cancer, you too can understand this cloud that follows you constantly. It never leaves above your head. Ever. The cancer cloud does not blow away. Sometimes it pours down rain on you. Sometimes it's dark and gloomy. Sometimes it's light and airy, and lets the sun shine through it. But it's forever there. There's no stepping to the side quickly to get out from underneath it. Just let it be and try not to fight with that silly cloud. 

David was whipped (this is my term I'm using to replace 'amped up' or 'keyed up' or 'ill at ease'). David himself was whipped up about what to expect regarding his PET scan results. I think it was the 1 year thing and the desire to get another A+ that was weighing heavy on him. David and I have worked so hard at life these days, making future plans, nurturing our own relationship, practicing different ways to change patterns and cycles in our lives that we've so wanted to improve on. The hearing of bad news would be counterproductive to a life we've been focusing on to improve. The anticipation felt heavy. To help lighten the load that David carries mentally, he expresses outwardly to those he's grateful for. Dr Hanna and his office staff all received BBQ that David had cooked himself, along with his own special BBQ sauce that David cooks and cans. It's his way of showing thanks to those who care for him. For those who helped save his one wild and precious life. 

After David's scans, labs and appointments, he again got the news he wanted to hear. His PET scan looked good. And again, his oncologist said I'll see you again soon as we must continue this diligent monitoring for a type of cancer that is not kind.  A+, Mr Graves. And we'll see you again soon.

David cried. I cried. How is it we are so fortunate? God's plan. He still has things for us to do. So we will continue to honor this gift of life and press forward the best we know how. 

Let's celebrate

On this day of February 28th, it's deemed Rare Disease Day which is a day intended to raise awareness and generate positive action for the rare diseases in the world. These are the approx 7,000 rare diseases, cancers, conditions and syndromes that do not get the attention, research, and media coverage that the more common diseases tend to get. 300 million people in the world are diagnosed with rare cancers and diseases who then attempt to find health care and doctors who are able to treat these rare conditions. Polycythemia Vera is one of them. SNUC is one of them. And there's many other diseases and conditions that people like us have never heard of. After all, I worked at an ENT office and myself had never heard of sino-nasal undifferiented carcinoma. So on this day, and every day actually, we take time to celebrate the notion of what it's like to live with a rare disease/cancer and share that journey with others. 

Who knew David and I would both would be gifted a rare cancer

I'm next up for an appt with my oncologist in a couple of days. More labs and a blood draw/phlebotomy to keep my 'numbers' in a livable range. 

 

The lens from which you see

With farm life, cancer life and my regular life (whatever my regular life is?) I continue to become, un-become and become again, and I find the range of emotions from which I feel can be plentiful and confusing. I'd blame it on covid, but it's not covid's fault. It's just that the pandemic has shown this to me, not done this to me. The lens from which I see can swing from wishing I was a goat just head butting anyone who annoys me, to ignoring the new term 'toxic positivity' and knowing that I do feel fabulous when others think I shouldn't. And it's okay to feel fabulous even when others do not. My lens is also able to see that feeling sad is my soul's way of saying something mattered. My lens allows me to understand that I have to learn to live inside of a life that may not be perfectible. Thank you Kate Bowler for teaching me that one, as she's a fellow cancer patient that showed up in my lens awhile back. My lens is far and wide these days, and I continue to practice what Eckhart Tolle writes in his book, "Stay rooted in your being and not get lost in your mind" and I've come to realize that's the Recipe for Cyndi. I just need to stay out of my mind, know it's okay that my life is not fixable, and enjoy all of the joy that bubbles inside me day in and day out. I mean, after all, I live in a gated community. Fancy, huh? My kind of fancy. 

Sometimes though, intruders arrive.....

Just living its life. Since my mom and dad are
birders, I bet they know exactly what kind of hawk
this is. I like to call it a chicken-eating hawk.

And just know when that hawk is sitting on your balcony wanting to take what is not theirs, they too are simply trying to get the things in life they want. 

Cyndi