The Art of Fencing

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Wet, wet, wet here in the Gers.  The posts keep going in.  We use white, ceramic insulators because they don’t break.  And even when struck by lightning, they stay on the post.

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Brent rolls out the wire all by himself.  Along with cows, I keep Zélie away from the steel wire should something go, uh, hay wire.  He has his technique down and everything.  We make the insulators by the warm fire usually to the hot tunes of French 80’s or 90’s video countdown or Teletubbies.  And where there are Teletubbies, there is little Z handing out insulators while keeping up with the tricky twists and turns of Teletubbie story arcs.

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Tosca’s New Tattoo

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While, yes, we had a rowdy roddy boy party yesterday, we had no idea that Tosca would seize a moment. She’s getting on, old “Toss-Pot.” with all the excitement, she waltzed in after the guests left with her new marking. Grasping on to any sign of youth, she seems very proud of her little “tramp stamp.”

He’s Eight and It’s Great

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Seven is rough with kids. Lucy’s seven was strong. Otto has been also strong. I look forward to the time of eight.

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The boy party went well. You see, girl parties are full of giggles and dress-up. Boy parties are filled with running and climbing and hey are those baby cows? Yeah, so my routine is

3- arrive
3:30 food/snacks
4 – everyone gets a garbage bag and we do a jumping race
4:30 cake –
5 – total chaotic running testing the boundaries of our fencing ( and we thought the cows needed the fences ) while simultaneously keeping track of Z and keeping the kids away from the lake.
5:30 check the time twice and again to see if maybe it might be 6pm yet. But it isn’t
5″45 Goody-Bye bags. Goody Bye, thanks for coming! Now where are those parents??
6- parents arrive and finally I can tuck into that Madiran that one of those lovely parents brought over as a “bon courage” present.

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