Baby Blue Eyes

Blue eyes in an alpaca, although striking, is considered a bad thing. The blue-eye gene is linked to deafness. Not all blue-eyed alpacas are deaf. For instance Frankie here can hear just fine. But he still would be eliminated from any responsible breeder’s program to ensure he doesn’t pass on the gene to his offspring.

Even through selective breeding a deaf, blue-eyed alpaca is sometimes born. So what does a responsible breeder do with a deaf baby alpaca they can’t use for breeding?

They call me.

Yep, they call me and they say “Hey Christine, I heard you were interested in some fiber boys. Why don’t you come over and check out our herd?”

Not being one to resist an opportunity to play with animals and learn from other like-minded folks, I agree.  Then once I’m there, and starting to feel comfortable, they casually lead me right to him.  Of course, I realize he’s deaf and tell them “I’m not sure I’m interested. I’ve never had a deaf boy.”

While I’m saying this they’re holding him and motioning for me to touch him. This is when it happens. My face starts to contort and from my mouth I suddenly hear a Gollum from Lord of the Rings-like voice saying “Precious! Must have Precious!”  I am entranced.

Baby alpaca has to be the softest fiber in the world.

Then they have the audacity to tell me he’s FREE. And they’ll deliver him to my door. For FREE. As in nobody can say anything, I didn’t spend any money, FREE.

“MY Precious! For ME! Must have Precious!”

I mean, I really needed a Joey Bishop to finish the Rat Pack anyway, right?

(From left to right: Sammy Davis Jr., Frankie “Blue Eyes” Sinatra, Dean “Dino” Martin, Joey Bishop and Peter Lawford.)

Even though he can’t hear, he’ll do just fine. Alpacas have a herding instinct so he’ll stick close the the other boys. In fact the only reason I know he is deaf is because he didn’t get up and move away from the loud lawnmower like the other animals did. Otherwise he seems perfectly normal.

Normal with fiber TO DIE FOR.

“My Precious!”

There’s Something Tattooed on My Forehead Isn't There?

I don’t see anything but, I mean, there must be. How else could I be such a pushover for every living thing on the planet?

It’s not just Popcorn who has me twisted around her little hoof so that I cater to her every whim. It has become abundantly clear lately that I’m a total patsy.

I’ve quit that temporary part-time job of mine twice already. The evening hours stink. The pay stinks. There are absolutely no benefits. Yet I just agreed to continue to work through the end of the year. Why? Because even in this economy they can’t find anyone else willing to do the job! Why? Because it STINKS!

I have got to figure out a way to get this tattoo removed. Laser surgery?

Off to Google…

It Was a Dark and Stormy Night

The farmer pulled her bedroom curtain aside to get a better look.  There it was, a lump in the darkness lying in wait next to the pasture fence. It instantly struck fear in her heart. Earlier that day she witnessed the stray dog lurking about. Luckily the guard llamas did their job and herded the sheep to safety but at this time of night the llamas are asleep. Apparently the guard dog on night duty was doing the same.

“Crap,” she said. “Where’s that stupid flashlight?”

As much as she hated going out at night she had to protect the herd. She just knew they must be hiding in or near the barn, trembling in their hooves.

After fumbling around a few seconds she located the flashlight next to the shotgun shells, tossed them all in her pocket and headed downstairs. While slipping quietly out the door, she loaded.

“I’m a big girl. I’m not afraid of the dark,” she reminded herself. “It’s a dog or a coyote. Not the boogey man.”

The wind was crisp and blowing her long hair into her face. It made it difficult to see but still she could make out movement at the fence line. It looked as if the head was bobbing up and down. Sniffing the scent of the livestock no doubt. Her hands trembled.

“You can do this. You know you can do this.”

Inching ever so quietly she made her way across the driveway toward the dark corner of the pasture.

“Wait a minute?  What the…”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“OMG, seriously? A feed bag? Wow, that’s not embarrassing.”

Baa, Baa, Black Sheep Have You Any Wool?

Yes, I dare say she has three bags full.

Shirley is a bit of a full-figured sheep. So much so she sometimes has difficulty fitting through the gates around here.

“Laverne, is she calling me fat?” she asked.

“I thought Shetlands were supposed to be fine-boned?” I replied.

“I’m fluffy damn it. Really, really fluffy.”

“Okay, okay, don’t go getting’ your wool in a wad.”

Oh for Crying Out Loud!

Q: How many triangle rulers can a quilter buy before she FINALLY gets the right one for her project?

A: More than 7.

Back to the store I go…

Get ‘em While They’re Hot

I’m doing some spring cleaning. Yes, I’m fully aware it’s darn near winter, I’m a tad bit behind.

Anyhoo, In an attempt to further organize myself and make way for this new venture that I’m undertaking I need to clear a few things out. I’m ebaying the remains of my rubber stamping and scrapbooking business. If you are interested you can peruse the goods here.

Some of you already noticed the link to my etsy store over there on the right as well. Yes, I know it’s empty. Geez, ya’ll are brutal today. I’m working on it.

I’m not much of a self-promoter so consider that your official notice.

Hmm, I guess I need to work on that as well if this is going to work. Ugh, the to-do list never gets smaller.

Goodbye Goats

They came.

They saw.

They ate.

Now that the pasture is cleared, Daisy, Bo and Luke packed their bags and headed down the road today. Like, um, literally. They only moved two miles away. I’ll be able to wave at them and toss them a cookie when I drive to town.

The Dukes are going to go live with a neighborhood farmer who has lots of goats. I think I actually heard their collective sigh of relief when they found out they wouldn’t have to live with sheep anymore. I’m trying not to be insulted by it.