I jump up and run the doggies outside to pee before they have a chance to do it inside. Cold and wet out there. Brrrr. Still training young Bertha, who is now spayed and officially out of puppyhood, but not really. She discovered she is now big enough to reach up real high and knock the pots off the stove. The mess on the floor is no problem for her - she gobbles it all up. My fault. I made chicken soup from Saturday's roast carcass and picked bones out of it, leaving them in a dish on the stove top. It was more than Bertha could handle. I came in from chores last night and the gas burner was on underneath a big pot with a ten pound plastic bag full of rice in it (this is how I protect my rice from the mice). Spouse was sitting on the sofa and didn't smell or hear a thing. Bertha had turned on the stove. This morning I made a soup out of rice and eggs for the barn kitties and Bertha thought I can get this. Crash boom bang. I scooped most of it up with my hands while telling Bertha BAD DOG. She cocked her had back and forth so sweetly I could hardly yell at her. Now I know I can't leave food on top of the stove. Maybe this will improve my housekeeping skills. Not hardly. I keep everyone fat and happy, hold down a job and a farm, and they still want a clean house????? Better get out there. Matt helped me roll round bales near the hay holes yesterday which makes throwing hay down a little easier. The sheep love this hay and are eating every blade. Next year - two cuts and even more bales in the barn. I will still have to buy hay this year the way they are eating it now, but I'm optimistic for the future. Farmers - the most optimistic fools that God ever created. We'll be lying in our graves thinking "Next Year..."
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