Bettie Bookish

Do you have one that hums Cure songs?

Are you kidding me? How adorable is that?

These were my two favorite animals at today's living history celebration of fiber breeds. They were absolutely beautiful.

Posey, who is beginning to learn what various animals "say," is particularly frond of sheep.

"Posey, what does a dog say?"
"Bah."
"What does a horse say?"
"Bah."
"Alright, alright, I give in. What does a sheep say?"
"BAA, BAA, BAAAAAA!!!"

I think she knows the right answers. She just wants to talk almost exclusively about sheep.

Today's outing only cemented that, as she was standing nose-to-nose with a mother sheep who showed Posey what "Bah" really sounds like. It was impressive. Had we wanted, we could have counted all the sheep's teeth while she Bah-ed.

Posey was very excited, and spent the rest of the afternoon emphatically ordering every animal on the farm to say BAAAAAAH!

She was less impressed by the a1pacas' sweet humming.

But she loved helping to make homemade ice cream and sample the fruits of her labor.

And the carousel was as popular as ever.

While I spent far too long chatting up the a1paca people, my HSH and the girls went and played games, 1840s style. Bee's favorite was a toss game with a hoop and sticks.

There will be sheep - and A1PACAS!

This weekend, the local living history museum where Bee had her birthday party will host its annual event of sheep shearing, wool washing, yarn spinning and felt making.

New this year: A display of fiber breeds! Sheep, 11amas, a1pacas.

I am so excited.

A few weeks ago, I interviewed a woman in her 30s who runs a sheep farm. She and her husband were working in high tech jobs in urban centers, but decided to get a little land and a couple sheep as a hobby. Now they live int he middle of nowhere with 400 or so sheep and they run a small farm and sell local vegetables, homemade bread and grass-fed meat to local people and restaurants.

I was all ready to sign myself up, but then I remembered that I really can't deal with all that poop. What do you do with all that animal waste? I don't think I'm really cut out for farm living. Sometimes, when the water from our tap smells a little too sulfurous, I gag the whole time I'm brushing my teeth.

I'm not the first person you'd choose to help you haul wheelbarrows full of a1paca crap to the ... where? Bonfire? Compost heap? Neighbor's yard under the cover of night? (What? That crap? It must've come from your witch-eyed horse.)

Whatever.

This weekend, I get to have fun with fiber breeds.

I will take pictures.

Happy Bee Day

This job of mine is really getting in the way of my blogging. Which reminds me.

Last weekend was Bee's birthday party. We held it at a living history museum. There's also a carousel there.

She loved it.

The other kids loved it.

It was a perfect day - sunny, but not too cold or too warm.

The museum has a working farm, and we got to see a sheep being shorn.

There were some lambs who had been born that morning. This isn't one of them (I don't think). But it's awfully cute.

This is one of the new lambs. It's knees were so wobbly. I wanted to put it in a tote bag and bring it home and start my new life as a sheep farmer.

There also are oxen on the farm. This one was eating grass under the fence line right behind one of our guests, who had bent over to look at his shoes or something. The ox bumped the little boy's backside and toppled him. And of course, that kind of thing never happens to the hale and hearty party guest. It happens to the shy, fragile, skittish party guest. Eff you, Fate. That's what I say.

The boy was fine - just dusty. And he'll probably never attend a birthday party again. Nor will he become a farmer.

We took one last ride on the carousel.

Then we drove home.

(Yes - that box in her lap is a toddler makeup kit.)

It was a great birthday.