Saturday, June 25, 2011


That is the sound of a chainsaw.  We've been cutting and clearing the perimeter of the pasture.  We took a break during the hottest part of the day to get water, diesel, gas, and run a few errands.  When we came back, it was still very hot.  A little more work was done, but we aren't pushing it.  It will be done by the end of next week at which point we will get a round bale of hay to drop in there for Casey and the goats.  We're also going to put Maggie in there with them.  We will still need to pick up a water trough.  That is on our to get list.

We are working on a summer schedule now with heavy work being done in the morning and school work being done later in the day.  Unfortunately, the children are trying to interpret this as "Play in the morning and play in the afternoon because we alway play in the afternoon" and nothing is getting done without argument.  So, if they don't do their schoolwork, they go to bed when family movie time comes in the evening after dinner.

Lumber will be gotten for the roof raising on Friday.  (Hopefully, the fence will be up by then.)  Once that is done, the project is to raise the roof between Bethany's and Hannah's loft and make theirs a large room.  We will put up a half wall and remove one ladder since they won't need a second one.  At the same time, we will be putting a ceiling over the bathroom so I can pee in peace at night without little eyes looking down on me from above.

Hannah drew a picture today.  She had Husband, me, Bethany, and her.  But, Charlie was missing.  I asked where Charlie was.
"He's in hell.  He was bad."
"How was he bad?"
"He was mean to me.  He took my paper."

This morning, I was trying to get Bethany to clean her room.  Finally, she says (as she is oh, so gently cradling her baby doll) that she doesn't want to clean her room.
"I didn't ask you what you wanted.  I'm telling you what to do."
"Cleaning my room ain't fun that's why I'm not doing it."

And people think my children are incapable (or unwilling) to express themselves.  They say something like that and I just look at them and ask in disbelief "Have you met my children?"

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