Name Ten Things You Can Do With A Hay Bale


On our drive to Judo, Otto makes me asks questions.  Usually preoccupied with beef sales, cows, kids and the rest, I can only draw upon some old favorites.


Name n things you can do with x.


He loves this one.  He starts with the obvious and quickly moves to the obscure.


Vacation day today.  Bored kids.  Anxious kids because two weeks off is but less than four days away.


Otto opened up his Unbored book to find a bit on jumping, rolling, moving or lifting yourself over stuff.  Hey look!  A hay bale!


Everyone joined in to see what they could do to get over this grassy knoll.


Dogs helped out.


Then Dragon II joined in.


Hay bale fun arrested.


… unless of course, you wish to take on the Dragon.

Two Pink Plastic Eggs, One Pink Tutu, Not Z Impressed


Lucy placed the egg hunt.  If it’s pink, leave it for Z.  But we only have two pink eggs.  No matter, treasures inside were worth her effort.  Not sure if Z agrees.

She runs around in this tutu like it’s warm … but it’s not warm.  But let’s keep pretending it is warm.

Today is Easter.  The kids woke up early to find their secret Easter Yum via cryptic clues.  Clues written by a tired bunny chillin’ with her homeboy, sittin’ by the hot Mr. Green.  A bit of wine and the clues made their way to the livestock.  “Let them work hard for their chocolate!” says the Easter Bunny.


Chocolate was found.  Surprises were collected.  Easter egg hunt successful, but it was close.  ( Note to parents: hiding eggs in tufts of grass is a great idea until you have very many tufts of grass.   Then, top up your drink, keep searching and be thankful for all that vitamin D you are absorbing. )

After an hour in the blazing sun, all eggs were found.  Which was great because the egg hunt had a bit of money in the game, so loosing an egg is like loosing a mini nest egg!

Mint Mint Is Eight


I don’t really want to talk about it. Nothing but chubble.   She’s my little Chub Chub.  It’s not possible that she could be this old.


A very interesting creature, little Mint.  Great ideas.  Amazing interests and perception.


I made food the other day.  I snuck in some mushrooms.  I chopped them as fine as one can chop mushrooms so no one will notice.

Duck Fat Fries

Dinner went swell.  No one noticed.

The Pout

Minty pulled me aside, ” you put mushrooms in this. ”


” Uh, yeah, I did, ” I gulped, ” Can you tell? ”

minty pink

No words.  Just a look.


She has a lot of looks, our Mint.


And lovely to cuddle.  Even at eight.  Happy Birthday to Clementine.

Well, Well, Well

Doesn’t that make you nervous?!  Me, too.  Don’t worry, it was covered with concrete.  It’s one of those things that’s on your mind.  Way back on your mind.  You don’t think of it often, but it’s always there.  ” We should really fix that.”


We’ve been wanting to get this well going for the cows for ages.  It’s on The List™.  Our friend popped over today to get a proper lid fitted and made.  Well, there’s the first step.  Now we are motivated to get the rest of the steps moving.


It’s not that we’ve been sitting on our arse.  We take on each project when the time is right.  Our water gets shut off from time to time due to silly reasons ( usually involving a trench or hole … not by us!! ).  The well is our back-up water for the cows.  Or if there is enough water, our main plan for the cows.  We’ll see.

Here is my #wellfie.  I’m the little pixel under the line.


The Fish Of April First


On the 31st of March in France, the children eat dinner, take a shower, brush their teeth and make little paper fish before going to bed.  We don’t know about the secret paper fish making.  They do it in bed when no one is looking.

The early morning of April 1st, you can feel a giggle in the air, but it’s held deep inside.  You have to be sneaky when you stick a paper fish on someone’s back.  One small smile and you’ve lost your chance.

I’ve written this before, but it never gets old.  Sticking paper fish on the backs of friends on the first of April is great fun.

No one is spared.

Not the dog.


Not the baby.


Not the cat.