Yes, I have bad days

I'm breaking one of my cardinal rules -- don't cry and blog -- because sometimes I think all of this might look too easy. It's not easy. But I feel like I can't complain, because I chose this life. You're going to have bad days, regardless of where you are or what you're doing. And I'd rather deal with the frustrations of this life than most any other.

But regardless of what life you choose, there will always be things that get thrown into your life, over which you have no control. This morning, I discovered via Facebook that a close relative would be having surgery. And based on what the message said, I couldn't help but feel that other family members were blaming us for not doing more. Well, how can you do anything for people who don't tell you something is wrong? I may be talented, but mind reading is not among my gifts. I wish it were.

Then I had a very frustrating conversation with a vet at U of I. I should devote a whole post to my older llama problem, but I really hate it when vets start reading from the textbook and don't listen to what you tell them.

Then I realized that I have set myself up to do more than is humanly possible in the next couple days. I feel like we should be there for the family on Thursday when this relative has surgery, but my week had already been booked solid before we knew about the surgery. Tomorrow, I have appointments an hour away with a chiropractor and massage therapist, which I really need to see, because I live with chronic pain. And I was going to get my hair cut because I'm speaking at a conference on Friday and Saturday. Thursday I was already scheduled for my own medical issue -- a thyroid ultrasound, which I don't take very seriously, but I suppose I should keep an eye on the nodules that have taken up residence on my thyroid for the past couple years, just to make sure they don't grow into a problem. I'm not sure when I'll have the time to sit around and wait for the llama to poop, so I can catch a stool sample.

All those seeds I've started in the last couple months are now at a point where they need to be transplanted into bigger pots. I got one done today and then started to feel overwhelmed and decided they could wait until next week.

And I hate to break this to everyone, but I don't have perfect children. They're on spring break, and they've been slacking. There are so many things that need to be done -- trimming hooves on about 30 goats, for starters. And all the stalls in the barn need to be cleaned out, because it hasn't been done since November. Mike has been gutting the pump room, and they should be helping him as he pulls out paneling and insulation to replace it with new insulation and paneling. The old insulation had fallen down about halfway, so the upper half of the walls were not insulated at all. This may come as a shock to everyone, but they'd rather be on Facebook than doing any of these exciting projects. So, they don't always do everything when we ask the first time.

Today, I did manage to get the fruit trees pruned, although only because five of the 16 didn't make it through the winter, so now we're down to nine fruit trees. And Jonathan helped me to make seven pints of orange marmalade using organic oranges and lemons I bought at the store. I got almost everything lined up so we can start back on 305-day milk test with our goats. Before I go to bed tonight, I still have to put together a soap and yarn order, and between appointments tomorrow, I need to get outlines together for the six sessions that I'm doing at the conference. I also have to make a list of things to take for my presentations -- all the supplies for making soap, my vermicomposting bin, spinning wheel, roving, yarn, a raw fleece, and oh crap -- I seriously just realized that I'm supposed to have enough drop spindles for everyone in the spinning workshop.

We have to figure out how to make the milking machine work before Thursday and teach Mike to use it, since Katherine and I will both be gone, and we're the only two who know how to milk goats. It's not as easy as it sounds since we bought the belly pail for the milking machine, which would fit perfectly under a big goat. Supposedly for our little Nigerians, we'll have to cut a hole in the milking stand for the pail to sit in there while the goat is being milked. I suppose there is also some kind of learning curve for the goats who are accustomed to being hand milked? Guess we'll find out soon.

At some point in the next two days -- probably sooner rather than later, because ligaments have loosened up -- two goats are going to give birth!

And when am I supposed to get any of this done with all my appointments tomorrow and a relative having surgery on Thursday? Is it a surprise that I collapsed in tears around six o'clock tonight? If my life were a movie, this would be when the assistant comes in with her steno pad, and I calmly start dictating all the things she has to get done in the next two days! At least, if I were writing the screenplay, that's what would happen.