I got nothin' - now in bite-sized chunks.

You know that capitalism has run its course when you learn, through a baseball-oriented blog no less, that there is an entire series of NASCAR-themed Harlequin romance novels. Go on. Click Here. You know you want to.

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For all those who are wondering what I decided to do about our cow issue... After consulting with two different vets and one choose-your-own-adventure poll, I did dry off the cow. For those who care about the details, here's what I did: I stopped her grain and kept milking for 3 more days. Then after milking her out completely, I treated her with a dry cow treatment. Then I waited 3 more days and milked her out again and treated her again. For future reference, I also found that changing technique can alleviate carpal tunnel problems - the key, apparently, is to use more wrist and arm instead of relying mostly on finger and hand muscles alone. I made some adjustments just after I posted that poll, and it did help some, but not enough for the moment. Next time I will definitely start that way from the get-go. And keep an eye out for a good deal on used milking equipment, just in case.

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My older son has determined, using a line of reasoning available only to those five and under, that the person doling out punishments is to blame for all the problems of the recipient. Punishing is mean and unfair. He'd behave better if only we wouldn't punish him any more. So, yeah...

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My daughter has determined, using a line of reasoning available only to her, that all clothing from the waist down is considered optional. It is her solemn duty to remove shoes and socks within 3 minutes of having them put on. It is also her solemn duty to remove all pants, skirts, dresses, overalls, pajamas and diapers at every opportunity. I'll spare you the story that really pushes this over the top, but let's just say she's practicing to be the Michelangelo of fecal matter. The Picasso of Poo. The Dada of Doodoo.

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Speaking of special needs and artistic talents, check out this guy, dubbed "The Human Camera":


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Our youngest, Owen, is well on his way to taking over the world by the force of sheer cuteness. He's almost 7 months, and bursting the seams of his 12-month clothes. His latest skills include crawling, saying "Mama," and eating everything he can get his hands on. He gets really mad when you don't share your food with him. Beans, peas, carrots, rice, cookies, crackers, pasta - and none of that pureed crap. He wants the real thing. In fact, when I tried to spoon feed him some bits of apple scraped off the one I was eating, he rejected it in favor of gnawing on the apple itself. Those one-and-a-half teeth don't do much, but apparently there's a lot of satisfaction in being self-sufficient.

He also imitates cat noises. Seriously. When we take him out on the front porch to sit on the swing, Kiki, our resident barn cat, almost always comes running. She greets everyone with her squeaky little meow, and Owen replies with a fantastic cat impression. If I can capture it on video, I'll post it. Assuming I can figure out how. I'll also try to capture his absurd laugh. It sounds like a cross between a baby dinosaur and someone choking. I don't think he can top this laugh though:



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In other news, Lori's blog is back from the dead.

Our tractor, however, is not. I guess I'll be headed to the parts store one more time...

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