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Spotted Dog Farm Blog

Graceful Chaos

I've been enjoying Lara Casey's blogs lately - she, the maker of PowerSheets (excellent for goal setting that acknowledges you might have an actual life, not just a work life), has been very honest about the challenges of running a business and parenting.  You know, at the same time.  Many of my favorite entrepreneurs appear to just run a business - and they do it really well - but I often think their advice ignores some realities for those of us with kids.  Like, your kid does not run on your business schedule.  For a little bit they will - and I think that's healthy, the whole world shouldn't revolve around them - but on the macro level kids are messy.  In the best possible way, but still, not so orderly.

Lately Lara's theme has been surrendering to the chaos of summer with grace.  Giving yourself grace to know that your schedule will not be adhered to, and that while planning is useful, your plans are probably useless (to paraphrase Eisenhower.)

And that's completely on point right now - yesterday was full of swimming and yoga and making jewelry, but also full of orthodontia emergencies and bizarrely fast-moving hives all over the boy child, and antihistamines.  Graceful chaos - that's where it's at for the summer.  I love summer, but sometimes I'm still working on the graceful part of the chaos.

And, because who doesn't love goats, I'll leave you with a picture of yesterday's spectator from the batting cage.  We put a cage in the trailer shed attached to our barn (because the boy child LOVES baseball), and the goats watch from above.  Never fails to me laugh.

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When Your Goat Needs To Go To The Doctor

 

So these things happen.  Your goat is not quite right, but not quite terrible either, but eventually not quite right enough that you decide she needs to see a doctor.  Because this goat is olddd.  Really old.  And it seems like maybe geriatric goat care is a special thing I should know about, since I now own geriatric goats.  (I inherited these goats, by the way.  I find them a particularly entertaining, if unusual, inheritance.)

So, having made the decision, the old goat and I need to get ourselves to the vet.  It didn't really seem worth hooking up the horse trailer - we're talking about a very small, old goat, and I'm kind of lazy, so I went with the easier option - tarp in the back of the old CRV. 

I texted my sister a picture, and she wondered if it was hard to get the goat in the car.  Not so much, I replied, in that I just picked her up and carried her.  All of that power yoga better be good for something.

In the end the goat is in pretty good shape, though my car may never be the same again.

 

           

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