This isn't a blog-vacation...

...as that would imply that I have made a conscious decision to stay away from this space, which I haven't.  It's just a new level of crazy around here with my eldest trying to get ready for her very first standardized test in October, and Bret trying to get the house finished by spring and and get a roof on this house before winter sets in and we get to spend more time picking up shingles from all over the yard.  Me, I'm schooling, making a list of things to make for the Etsy shop and for Christmas, trying to help Una with her PSAT prep and trying to prepare my house for my mother-in-law's visit (some cleaning, but mostly menu planning).  She will likely be here for the new roof construction, the panic before Una's PSAT (Una's panic, not mine--I'm an Ex-Over-Achiever.  My attitude now is "work hard, do the best you can, and if that's not all that great, meh."), the great Changing of the Wardrobe hell, and a lot of other household nuttiness.  My thoughts on it boil down to this:  How can I make her enjoy being here, when most of the time I don't want to be here?  Most of the time, I want to be here:

Hunting lodge on an island off of Iceland.  Perfect.

I have been trying to spend some time practicing my French and German so as to be a bit useful to my kids who are learning French and German.  My French was never great to start with--two years in high school--and my German is suffering from a quarter century of disuse.  And I am writing--just a little piece of fiction--because sometimes a story presents itself and you feel the need to tell it.  I like writing, but it is not easy to do in a homeschooling household--with a farm, and an Etsy shop--unless one sacrifices some sleep.  So I'm a little short on that these days.  I rarely get to bed before 10:30 and am frequently up later than that.  And I rise at 5.  If I don't awaken at 4 and find myself unable to get back to sleep...

I need to get back to my knitting. I am suffering immense guilt over this...

We finally took the kids' sofa to the dump, as we need to make room in the little boys' room for the big boys' bunk beds.  Yep, four boys in one room.  If they don't kill one another, they will likely still be lost among the piles of clothing and Legos.  Bret's mom is staying for a couple of months, so if the boys all survive the experience of rooming together, they will be able to have things back as they were. 

The rickety crib with the stripped-out screws also took it's last trip, which felt a little bittersweet, having held all six of my babies.  

Nothing significant here.  Just a cute shot of Dominic.  Photo credit goes to Una.  In other news, our cow Nuala is out romping in our neighbor's pastures as we make a last-ditch effort to overcome her fertility problem.  If she isn't bred by the end of next month, she goes to the butcher.  Not a fun decision to make, but as much as I love her--I chose her myself and named her--I am too practical and financially strapped to bury a few hundred pounds of grass-fed beef in the ground.  Nuala's granddaughter, Fiona, needs to be bred, too.  Her supply has dwindled to the point where we are now buying milk.  We've a neighbor who has a Jersey bull, so we may leave Fiona with him for a spell.  Sebastian says it feels weird not milking, but I'm sure he is enjoying the break.

They just paved our road...our driveway (see below) now looks 250% worse than before!

I don't know why Gabriel is doing this, but it looks like a great idea.

An oldie-but-goodie from 2011: Happy International Talk Like a Pirate Day!  Arrrrgh!

I rather understand him.  I feel odd not blogging, but I am enjoying not feeling any sense of pressure to do it.  No anxiety over loss of subscribers, no worry about not getting in this post or that, no wracking my brain to be clever/insightful/crafty/brilliant/amusing.  And my French and German are improving...