Lambing Season

Got a dumb ewe lamb tonight. The black ewe lamb had a black ewe lamb and one can’t figure out how to nurse while the other won’t stand still. So I’m back out later tonight to get the lamb on tit or tube it. What else is a Friday night good for? (This is lamb number three for those of you playing the home game.)

Exhausted and aching again today. Beer and chocolate chips cookies helped. I mean if a beer and sugar rush (and profuse amounts of aspirin) don’t help a person really is sick. Got some writing done, some farm research also, but it’s not just physical exhaustion, it mental too. So everything feels like it takes ten times the effort. I can go deal with a lamb no problem, but anything short of life and death is a pain in the ass. I know, I know, suck it up.

Dad and I are making our Easter plans, a bit late, but seeing as I forgot it was Easter this weekend (despite taking my grandmother down to Ohio for Easter, that’s how slow the mental synapses are firing) anything is better than nothing. So far we may have people out or we may not. We may have lamb or we may not. And we may do a dinner or we may not. See? We’ve got it narrowed down.

Hopefully the lamb has nursed when I go down in a couple hours. I could write an entire book on livestock birthing stress. It’s less a case of nerves and more a slow thrumb of concern. Like bicycle shorts chaffing your unmentionables. It’s both annoying, unpleasant, and you just have to do something about it.