Hot as Hades all day yesterday. The kind of day that makes you want to cut that hay, for surely it will dry enough in one day to bale it. The same heat and moisture results in thunderstorms almost every day. Sure enough the sky began to darken around six and the White Boys told me the rumbling had started before I heard it. I see some fields have corn growing, but others have standing water on them, dooming the crops to failure. This was going to be the year that I would finally get all the hay I need for the winter in the barn. Short of a miraculous shift in the weather, like that high moving off the coast, that will not happen. So life goes on, and I am going about my summer, but the hay issue is an anvil hanging over my head. Father AJ went back to New Jersey yesterday morning to do Army things before he flies back to Nevada for National Guard annual training at Fort Irwin in the high desert of California. Loren came and we got to work on the milk house, or milk room which used to house the gigantic bulk tank. The concrete addition to the barn has a seperate roof made of some strange panels that leak. We can't find anything like them in building supply stores. The milk room is where I keep my dye stove, slop sink, and wool washing machine. Over the winter I would store bales purchased on my way home from work after the round bales ran out as it is close to the driveway. The feed sacks for chickens, goats and rabbits are stored in there, too. When the roof leaks the spilled hay gets wet and sticks to the floor, an invitation for barn kitties seeking shelter from the cold and rain to use it as a latrine. Forgotten fleeces get buried under pans, buckets and other farm paraphernalia. All contributed to a very messy situation. Loren was asking for work and I warned him, this is a messy one. He came and we got to work. Four hours later we had everything dragged out, the floor scraped, raked, swept and hosed off. We discovered a hidden drain that actually worked, making the hose water easier to deal with. By one Loren was done in and I needed the sofa. Lukie, smart kid, was keeping a low profile on the sofa with his little book machine and the dogs. He's such an easy keeper, and faithfully comes out to help with chores every night. My nap was short lived as I wanted to attend the Bouckville post-festival board meeting at Quack's Diner in Madison. Half hour away, but the AC in the old Saturn was working fine. Was a bit put-out when Madame Director said she was not exactly sure what to call me, in terms of what I produce. I know she was referring to all the stuff I make in addition to the wool. I am of the sheep, for the sheep and by the sheep. Everthing else is extraneous, insurance to be sure I can hustle a buck to feed the sheep. I was also called to task why I didn't get the free-to-vendors coffee and tea table set up early enough Saturday morning. There were three complaints about it on the surveys. Golly, gee, whiz, she asked me to bring animals, which involves much chasing around and a seperate transport from my booth, which is ample. I made six 40 cup pots over the weekend, all free to vendors, and there were still complaints. Next year I'll go over there on Friday night, set up the coffee, and ask an early bird to switch it on at the crack o' dawn. On deck for today, let Lukie sleep - he did one 14 hour stretch Friday night - then look for a movie for him. I have to call the used appliance shop for another used washer. I have more wool backed up than ever before, after unearthing about a hundred pounds of wool in the milk room. If I don't get to washing, dyeing, and shipping out wool to the carding mill, I won't be ready for the fall shows. Woke up to rain this morning.