The Worth Of A Woman?



Just the other day I started reading a book by Marianne Williamson called “A Woman’s Worth”. Honestly, my whole life, I never really thought about what a woman was worth. What I was I worth. Mostly, I have figured I really wasn’t worth very much. As a money-earner, the bank account never seems to stay filled. As a mother, well, lets just say I love my kids, but was never the perfect soccer mom type. And in relationships with men? Well, I must say that my lack of self-worth has always been extra-apparent in this area. I strive to be the supporter, rarely the supported. I am the understanding one, never expecting understanding myself. I accept rules that don’t suit me. I accept being the last in line…the fall-back plan in case all of his other plans fall through…men can count on me. I put myself in their shoes, trying…

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What In The Tarnation?


19749335_10213460159880119_4196846_oIt’s summer now, and I just had my Pomeranian, Skippy, shaved down so he could enjoy going on hikes with us without succumbing to heat exhaustion…and it’s turned cold. Actually, it’s perfect weather for doing just about anything outside…but little ole Skippy is spending these cool mornings curled up in a fuzzy blanket on my bed. Soon enough, I’m sure, we’ll be back to humid, 90 degree southern comfort days and nights.

Until then, Skippy has taken to chasing the new kitten to warm himself up…and get himself in trouble. He has also taken a keep delight in pilfering the litter box contents and scattering them all over the living room floor. Mind you, this is not my kitten. It is my daughters kitten. Who does not yet have a name that I am aware of…and stalks me day and night with her pitiful mews and sad, tortoiseshell little face and eyes. When I finally sit down and allow her on my lap, she claws my legs from hip to toenail through my pajama pants and gets a couple good scratches on my shoulders too when she claims that spot as her final resting place…well away from the mischievous, nearly hairless Pomeranian. Our pit bull, Tonya, who considers herself a brave warrior most of the time, is embarrassingly afraid of the tiny monstrous kitten and her relentless hissing noises. I figure Tonya thinks she might actually be a poisonous snake and is taking no chances on getting anywhere close to striking distance.


It’s all pretty funny, and a bit messy too, as well as painful, so deciding to fix at least one problem, I took out the toenail clippers and nipped those tiny kitten death-claws back just as far as I could without drawing blood or causing pain. AHA! No more scratching me! Ahhh, now I can enjoy a cup of coffee without risking puncture holes all over my lower body…but the kitten has decided my lap is no longer a good place to hang out, probably since she can no longer thoroughly engage her claws in me. Good riddance I say. Oh but now she’s learned to sit on my computer…while I’m typing on it. Hmmm, got a water bottle handy for that…but now my computer screen and keyboard are wet…not sure if that’s a good thing or not…..Shoot.

Well, on a brighter note, I’m almost finished with the yard work. It’s only taken me a week or two…after carelessly filling my push mower with weedeater gas that somehow a had gotten water in it…probably because it didn’t have a proper lid and sat in a leaky shed all winter long. My lawn mower didn’t like that stuff at all and promptly stopped working. Luckily I have a really smart friend who took pity on me and took the whole thing apart and drained all the water out of the carburetor and hoses for me and the mower works beautifully now. He even sharpened the blade and so now instead of just knocking the grass over and kinda beating it up, it actually cuts it down. I even found my hand trimmers and can now trim grass around sheds, trees, fencelines, etc. I still have a few places left to clean up, and then a downed tree in my front yard to take care of, but first things first is what I always say. Trouble is it’s sometimes hard to figure out what things should be first. But, I digress.

I even dug out my garden. Actually, I was just trying to clean all the sticks and rocks out of it so I could mow it back into the yard, when I found out, underneath of 3 foot tall weeds, I actually had garden stuff growing. I have a dozen or more tomato plants, some cleome, peppermint, lemon balm, thyme, and some strawberries. So I pulled up all the weeds, spread old moldy hay over the whole thing, even where nothing is growing, and turned the space back into a garden again…without having planted a single thing this year. Maybe I’ll go get some more tomatoes or squash or something and plant those in the empty spaces. We have a ridiculously long growing season here in the south and can grow something just about year round, even if it’s just greens and cabbage.


Well, I guess I better get to it today. Got an insulation cleanup project planned for this morning, and then some horse feet to trim this afternoon. Might even go machete shopping later on so once I’m done with the yard I can get started on that jungle out back threatening to creep up to the house and swallow it if I don’t get it under control


Hey Remember Me?

Good Morning! I realize it’s been nearly two years since I posted on this blog. I have started another blog called 5acresandshe , and planned to blog from that site only, but I have so many people still visiting this site that I decided to blog from both sites, since that’s what I do. I blog. Not full time. But enough that I can call myself a blogger. And I aint in it for the money folks, cause I’ve never seen a dime.

This blog was started when my former partner and I were together and just bought this old fixer-upper farmhouse on five acres and were going to work together to make it beautiful. Once we moved in together, however, things quickly fell apart and it became a divided island, and then he left altogether. My new blog reflects my expanded awareness of how our thoughts and emotions always lead to the manifestations and things in our lives.  I have been educating myself by studying such people as Ekhart Tolle, Wayne Dyer, Neale Donald Walsh, and lately, and most importantly, Esther Hicks. My writings on 5acresandshe reflect a higher sense of awareness of how what we think and feel manifests into what our outer lives look like. It’s not a guide or self-help blog, just simply one woman’s experience.

So, now that we’ve got that little bit of housekeeping out of the way, lets get down to what’s happening around here! For starters, we’ve got KIDS on the ground. Well, one kid anyway. So far. More are due this week and next. Just two more goats to kid. We’re down to just 4 milkers right now. We lost 3 milkers and one wether last winter. It was a rough time around here, but things are much better now.

I’m still in the soap business. Of course. It’s growing, even though I took some time away from it for awhile when my partner and I split up and my grandson was diagnosed with leukemia. It’s those dark times that really force us to grow. The partnership dissolving was a true blessing. Ryland’s leukemia was rough on the family for awhile, but he’s in the maintenance phase now and doing super-great, with just monthly visits to the doctor for treatments. He doesn’t focus on his illness, and we don’t either. We focus on how good he is feeling, and he has just blossomed! His imagination is amazing. He has taught us all so much.

If you’ve enjoyed reading my posts, I hope you will continue to follow me here, and possibly over at 5acresandshe too. I promise my posts will be uplifting and hopefully add a smile or a laugh to your day.

Until we meet on this page again, Namaste’






So Much Rain! And Sleet! And other Yukkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkky Stuff.

This is supposed to be our last winter storm. They said it will knock our socks off. Personally, I need my socks ON to even TRY and stay warm… Trudging through 4 inches of mud in the pig pasture to bring more bedding hay inside the shed for my sweet 700 pound Priscilla meant that my socks got wet and my feet are stinky. But Miss Prissy is warm and dry….well, dry anyway, and covered in hay…I’m not sure anybody is warm today.

I’m okay with this rain today. By this evening the temps will drop 20 degrees and the rain will turn to sleet and then snow. We might not be able to get out of our driveway tomorrow. Next week’s forecast is calling for sun and higher temperatures, so this rain and cold winter weather is but a bump in the road. I’ve decided to like it.

Hank and Frank...two dumb roosters who wouldn't come out of the freezing rain. They are now inside until they are dry.
Hank and Frank…two dumb roosters who wouldn’t come out of the freezing rain. They are now inside until they are dry. Hank is quite tame, as this is his second foray into the world of climate control after a bout of extreme dumbness and possible brain damage from refusing to come into the coop out of the brutal wind and sub-zero temperatures we had a couple of weeks ago. Hank and Frank both have frostbitten combs. Hank is mostly Rhode Island Red, and Frank is Rhode Island Red with a smidgen of silky somewhere his background. He has really pretty silky red feathers. Both need new homes as my dominate roo does not like either one…although they are his children.
Our yard. This is the shallow end.
Jetaime (one of our milkers), and Wedgy (the brown wether with the white face behind her). Eating hay and watching the rain come down. When I walked inside they were all laying down but refused to allow me to take a picture of them like that.
Most of the herd inside munching hay. Malachai, their guardian is afraid of the camera. Silly dog. He thinks it will steal his soul.
A pile of wood waiting to go into the woodstove. The only remedy for a cold and miserable day.
Ahhhh, a nice warm fire.
Foxy Brown. She reminds me of a wolf dog. She’s the sweetest dog in the world though.
Happy Dog. Doing his favorite activity besides eating…sleeping.

Cold Winter Dry Skin Care

Many parts of the country are experiencing record-breaking cold temperatures right now and here in Virginia, we’re experiencing that cold, dry air too. Winter weather used to mean that my hands, which spend a lot of time in water, washing milk buckets, water troughs, and general cleaning both indoors and out, would become raw, red, cracked and bleeding and they HURT! Well, those severely dry hands are a thing of the past since I got rid of commercial, detergent-based soaps and started using hand made goats milk soaps. The vitamins, minerals, fats, and oils in hand-made, cold-processed soaps don’t suck moisture out of my skin, and in fact, actually add moisture back in every time I wash my hands. And when I add a nice goats milk lotion or salve over freshly washed hands, VIOLA! Comfort at last!

Our Soap Shop On Etsy

Love Spells Goat Milk Soap
Neem Salve
Neem Salve

Merry Christmas Eve!

Christmas Eve has donned cold and rainy. Now, why didn’t I know they were calling for rain? I fed the goats outside last night and so of course, their hay is ruined. Dang it. Luckily, they had leftover hay in their “barn” which is really part of my garage, which I will be stealing back from them just as soon as their new barn is delivered early this spring. I can’t wait.

This has been a nice Christmas season. School is over for me for the time being and I’m slowly letting the sand out of my head and can think again. Maybe not like a sane person, but at least now when I am trying to learn something new I don’t get the vision of my brain as a giant canvas bag of sand floating around inside my head. Someone mentioned to me that by exercising my brain it might actually be expanding, or at least getting less senile and feeble. I might even try some of that calculus soon. But not today. And not tomorrow either.

None of the goats have been bred this year…or last year either. I am still milking three of the seven does from their kiddings two years ago and I am getting all the milk I need for soap and household use. I have heard of goats milking up to three years without having been bred again, but I’ve not heard of any going any longer. I have a line that is very milky and nearly impossible to dry up, so maybe they will milk forever.

Of course, none of the girls are very happy about not being bred this fall. In fact, they are all very vocal about their lack of “dates” and stand at the gates wagging their tails in hopes of alerting me to the fact that they’d really like a visit from a stinky and ugly old Santa Buck. Nope. Aint happening sweeties.

Well, that is about all the news I can think of for today. I wish you all a very happy Christmas and New Year.

Four Tiny Blue Bird Eggs and a Happy Dog

These eggs are in a birdhouse my daughter made for me years and years ago. The lid flips up so we can spy on the babies whenever mom and dad aren’t looking. These little eggs just made my day. 🙂

003This is our little pup Foxy Brown who was a roadside resident until the day my daughter and I saw her. We picked her up and brought her flea and tick-covered little self home and she’s been a happy dog ever since. (She goes to the doggie doctor this week for spaying. )

007She won’t climb into the pool, but instead, hangs over the side of it trying to grab leaves and floating toys and drinks all of it she can hold. Yikes, it’s chlorinated!

The Lonely Rooster

Fluffy is a rooster. He popped up in a litter of chicks and he was very scruffy looking. Instead of calling him “Scruffy”, I decided to call him “Fluffy”…because his feathers were always fluffed up and didn’t really look like feathers anyway…more like hair with quills.


From the time Fluffy was a baby, all the other roosters would pick on him and not let him near any of the hens. I took pity on him and brought him inside sometimes, but mostly he hung around by himself and he eventually started following me around everywhere and pecking my feet. He let me pick him up whenever I wanted to and for a while I was worried he thought I was his “hen”. And in fact, he DID think that I was his hen. All that weird behavior stopped however, the day all the other roosters, who had been fighting amongst themselves, went to live on a goat farm to protect a goat farmers hens and eat bugs.

Fluffy started crowing the very next morning after all the roosters were gone. His crow sounded like someone getting murdered, but over time his voice evened out and he no longer croaks when he crows. He adopted the only two hens on the property, even though they did not seem impressed by his small size and creepy crow. He’s a persistent fellow though, and he finally talked the two hens into being herded around by him in a loving fashion, dust bathing with him under the cedar trees, and tearing up the garden whenever the chance arose.  Yes, he traded his strange friendship with me in for two hens, and I couldn’t have been happier.

However, things have changed a bit over the last two weeks and Fluffy is a lonely rooster once again. BOTH of his hens have gone broody at the same time. And not only that, they are both setting on the same clutch of eggs in the same nest and refuse to have anything to do with Fluffy at all. They won’t roost with him on the hay bales, or scratch for bugs in the manure pile, or eat dog food from the guardian dog’s bowl when he isn’t looking. Fluffy is very sad.012


His hens, however, are very happy with their new egg-sitting job.


020I’ve tried separating the hens numerous times, giving them each 5 of the 10 hatching eggs and making them a nice new nest of their own. But, they’ll have none of that. By the end of the day, the hens have rolled all of the eggs back together and are stuck like glue to each other in this heat. I can’t imagine. It’s kind of cool though to think about these two hens sitting on eggs in the same nest. They were hatched out together as chicks. I don’t know if they shared the same parents, but they had the same mother hen.

The eggs should hatch next weekend if they are fertile and not too dizzy from being rolled around by the hens from nest to nest.

022Meanwhile, Fluffy will just have to be content with hunting and pecking and dust-bathing by himself until his eggs hatch and I’m keeping my fingers crossed he won’t take to following me around and pecking my feet again.


Spammers Got The Boot! I Hope :)

I think I may have finally got rid of my spammers! I’ll see if anything shows up in the next couple of days. If it doesn’t, then I can quit holding my breath before I pass out. I was going to delete the whole blog, but then I realized it’s a nice way to hang onto lots of pictures and articles I’ve written so I really didn’t want to do that. Hopefully, they will be unable to access the blog again in the same way. But then again, there are people sitting around in dark basement offices right now, trying to figure out ways to hack into peoples accounts and steal their info and post sexual-dysfunction medication info to anyone’s blog that they can get into. Sheesh, what fun is that? Why don’t they grow a garden or something?


I learned not long ago that one of the major obstacles to men, young and old, doing anything valuable with their lives, is their addiction to filmed prostitution. Also known as “porn”, but hey, I say call it like it is. In my dictionary, the definition of a prostitute is: Person who engages in sexual activity for payment. It may be the oldest profession in existence, but people no longer need to leave their homes to engage in it, or pay enormous sums of money for it. It’s free, right at anyone’s fingertips. And like any other addiction, it clouds good judgement and important decision-making abilities. College-aged men are becoming impotent in record numbers because they have been engaging in filmed prostitution for so many years that they can’t get erections with a real woman due to their habit of “self medicating” with filmed prostitution many times a day. That’s why this country relies so heavily on viagra. Bet all you women out there didn’t know that did you? And that is why hoodlum spammers sit around all day in their parents dark and dreary basements and hack into people’s computers and attempt to sell the only thing they can think about; prostitution, and anything that will help them and their limp ding a lings engage in more and more of it.

Okay, my rant is over.

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