Cheese Making Classes

I mentioned earlier that from August through November, I was milking my Nigerian Dwarf goat, Dottie Belle, and making cheese, butter and best of all yogurt. Dottie Belle is the first animal that it has ever crossed my mind to milk. If fact, this whole goat, milking and cheese thing is way off path for me, unless one considers that I am always up for a new adventure.

The most milk I ever got in 1 milking was 34 ounces.  Nigerian Dwarf goats give very rich and sweet milk, but not a large quantity.  But they are very small animals compared to a cow.  So I would have to save up to make a batch of cheese or yogurt.

 I bought 2 books.

A friend loaned me this book.

It's great to have all this information along with many internet sites, but none of them exactly agreed.  My first attempt was a failure, because this former 4th grade teacher forgot how many ounces were in a gallon and I only used 64.  That was the "simple" recipe I got off the internet where you add apple cider vinegar.

Anyway, I did manage to be successful at making a strong traditional feta and ricotta.  But I went crazy over the yogurt it was so good. I will share that in a post by itself.

For a combination Christmas/Birthday present, my children went in together and paid for me to attend 2 cheese making classes on February 8th and 9th.  http://www.sustainlife.org/ On Friday, we learn to make soft cheeses and hard cheeses on Saturday.  The classes are in Waco, TX a little more than 4 hours away.  My husband is taking 4 vacation days to drive over there with me.  He's not interested in taking the classes.  But we will come back through Dallas and visit with his daughter and my son.  So it's a long weekend that we both look forward to.

Honey Bunny

After I have acquired all that cheese making knowledge, I will have to wait until my doe, Honey Bunny, kids hopefully in early April, so I can have milk.  When we left town for 3 days in November, I hired someone to milk Dottie Belle for me.  When I returned she had decided she was not going to produce milk anymore.  That was a big disappointment.  Have any of you had an experience like that with your milk animal?

Gypsy Visits a School

Last week Kennedy and I loaded up the truck with Gypsy and 2 chickens, Gracie and Moonshine.  The Pre-K classes at Shreve Island had been studying the letter G.  They had also learned the song "Gus the Goat."  

When we drove up to the school, Kennedy pointed to the playground and wanted to go play.  But I told her we had to show all the children her goat and chickens.  The children certainly enjoyed petting Gypsy and the 2 chickens.  As I was holding Moonshine and passing her around so the children could feel her feathers, we heard a splat/crack.  I was so shocked. Moonshine had laid an egg and it hit the concrete.  It almost hit a child on the head.  I can't believe I didn't get a picture of that, but I was just too surprised.  Now the children know first hand where eggs come from.

Moonshine right before she lays an egg.

By the way, the first Pre-K class took Kennedy to play on the playground while I showed the animals to the next class.

On Friday, I took 10 eggs to one of the classes to put into their incubator.  Hopefully, by the end of February they experience chicks hatching.

Goodbye to Jazzman

Last July, Dottie Belle was the first goat to kid here at Thornhill Acre.  She had 1 buckling that weighed 5 lbs.  The average size for a newborn Nigerian Dwarf kid is 2.5 lbs. So he was a big fellow and I was so lucky that the birth was easy.  He had great coloration and clear blue eyes; but I can't start out keeping every kid that is born here.  So when I got a chance to sell him to a good home, I did.

Jazzman

Anyway my grandson, Connor, came over and I told him that the lady had just left who bought Jazzman.   Connor was very disappointed that I would sell a boy.  He believes the farm has too few males.  How do you explain to a 6 year old boy that a farm doesn't need very many male animals?

Billy Shakespeare

I told him that it was okay to sell Jazzman, because Shakespeare was now living with Honey Bunny, so we should have some new kids in March or April.  He replied, "No, Shakespeare is Dottie Belle's husband."  I told him that boy goats could have 3 wives; since I have 3 does. His eyes lit-up and I knew what that little boy was thinking. In the past few months he told me there were too many beautiful girls for him to have just one girl friend.

Honey Bunny

Therefore, I quickly added, but people can only have 1 husband or wife.  His expression quickly changed and he said, "But what if there are just too many beautiful women?"  I then said, "Well then you are not in love, so you can't get married." There are such tough lessons to learn.

Presidential Goats

During the all day coverage of the inauguration, one reporter started mentioning all the different kinds of pets that the First Families had brought to the White House.  Of course, my ears perked up when I heard some had goats.  But they did not say which Presidents they were.  So I googled it.

 Benjamin Harrison had a buck named Old Whiskers.  Wow! They had a great little cart. One day, while the President was waiting for his carriage at the front of the White House, Old Whiskers darted through the White House gates, pulling the children behind him in the cart.   President Harrison ran down Pennsylvania Avenue holding on to his top hat and waving his cane, but the goat kept running, only stopping after numerous Washington, D.C., residents had seen the Commander in Chief chasing the runaway goat cart! 

Yep, folks have seen me running down Thornhill and Delmar chasing a goat.  Goats don't care how they make their owners look.

Tad and Willie, President Lincoln's two sons had two pet goats named Nanny and Nanko. The boys would hitch the goats to kitchen chairs or wheeled carts and have a ride through the White House as the goats pulled them along.  Nanny was often seen sleeping in Tad's bed.  The goats also outraged the White House gardeners by ruining the flower beds.  

I haven't found that my goats mess up the flower beds much.  What they like best is to trim the rosebushes. So I find that rather helpful, if they would just wait until the bloom is gone.

Here on Thornhill, we love our lap goats.

 

The Sunshine House

Goat Shack

The little Goat Shack, made out of recycled wood, sat needing a new coat of paint for a year and and half.  I had sanded and scraped one side twice. I had bought the paint and brushes.  But they sat in the garage/barn. I had many excuses; it's too hot, too cold, raining, I have Kennedy.  Anyway when I got the call that the Kindergarten class was coming to visit the mini urban farm, I found the motivation I needed.  I scraped the other 2 sides in one day.  I put 2 coats of paint on the goat shack in one day!  Now it has been upgraded from the goat shack to the Sunshine House.  My dear husband said, "I didn't know it was going to be that shade of yellow."  No matter, it is not visible except if you walk down to the goat yard; though it may glow through the slats in the wooden fence.  Whatever, I don't have to keep coming up with excuses and that is a relief.

The Sunshine House

29 Kindergarteners Visit My Mini Urban Farm

Neiman Marcus Heritage Hen Mini Farm

The principal of St. John Berchman's School, Mrs. Cazes called me to arrange for the kindergarten classes to visit my mini urban farm, Thornhill Acres.  She had told me before that they wanted to come, but when they saw the cover of the Neiman Marcus Christmas book, http://www.neimanmarcus.com/christmasbook/fantasy.jsp?cid=CBF12_O5415&cidShots=m,a,b,c,z&r=cat44770736&rdesc=The%20Fantasy%20Gifts&pageName=Beau%20Coop&icid=CBF12_O5415  
they thought about my farm and called. I don't know if any of you saw it, but one of the fantasy gifts was a Heritage Hen Mini Farm. No one that I talked with about this fantasy gift got anywhere near the price, even knowing it was Neiman Marcus.  For $100,000 a would be urban farmer would receive the coop, 3-12 chickens and up to 3 visits with recommendations and evaluations by "chicken experts." 

But I'm now off topic.  I think I was fantasizing about receiving the "expert's" portion of that price.

Before the students arrived, I ordered farm animal suckers and tatoos from Oriental Trading Company to give to each of the 29 children. I started by showing them a carton of the very colorful eggs my chickens lay.  Even the adults remarked that they did not realize that chickens laid different colors of eggs.
 

I put my Nigerian Dwarf goat, Dottie Belle, on the milking stand and told them about her "udderly" amazing udder that was full of great tasting milk.  Then I showed them how I milk her.  About half the class yelled out that they had milked a goat before.  That made all the adults laugh. Remember these are city kids who likely have not seen a live goat or chicken. Then one child asked could he milk her and that was followed by all of them lining up to take a turn.  I was shocked that every child waited their turn to milk.  Dottie Belle was a great sport and stood still for it all.

Next week I will be taking my goat, Gypsy, for her first trip to visit a class of 4 year olds.  They have been learning the song Gus the Goat and reading The 3 Billy Goats Gruff.  The teacher texted me today that they children are very excited about Gypsy's up coming visit. 



 










Of course I love my animals and the milk and eggs I get from them; but even more I actually love sharing them with children who otherwise would have no first hand experience with them.  I have never stopped being a teacher.
  

Blogging Interrupted

Dottie Belle and Jazzman

I didn't exactly decide not to blog from the middle of July until January; it just fell by the wayside.  The last blog I wrote was about my Nigerian Dwarf goat, Dottie Belle, giving birth to Jazzman.  





What then ensued was a change in hobbies.  

Feta Cheese sits and drains for 48 hours

I became completely absorbed in learning to milk the goat and then make butter, cheese and yogurt. 

Plain strong Feta cut into cubes.

 I actually had made butter from cow's milk when I was a child. I used the electric mixer. I found that to still be be best way to make butter.  
I was worried that because goat milk is naturally more homogenized, that I wouldn't be able to separate the cream. I looked into buying a cream separator, but wow they are expensive for something as small as my operation. But by letting goat's milk sit in a jar in the refrigerator for a couple of days, I was able to skim off enough cream.  Sometimes I put it in a bowl, so there would be a larger surface.  But the bowl took up more space. I remember when I started dating my first husband, one day he opened my parents' refrigerator and all that was in there was a huge bowl of milk.  He was a city kid and totally did not know what was going on.  But at our house out in the country, in you wanted to eat, you had to go pick it out of the garden or kill it.  Of course we had canned vegetables and fruits and meat in the deep freeze. But our refrigerator was mostly just for milk and eggs.

Anyway, my hobbies of sewing and blogging mostly ceased while Dottie Belle was in milk.  I'll go back and blog about some of the fun and hopefully interesting things that happened during those months. I wish I had documented things along the way, but now all I can do is say, " I'll do better next time."

How Do You Spell RELIEF

I planned to sleep in today, since my doctor's appointment was for 1:30.  I have always liked staying up late at night and sleeping till late morning. Those days are treats.  But I had not anticipated that one of my children would read the post I made late last night before I could get back from my appointment.  But sure enough my phone started ringing around 8:30.  At some point between 11:00 pm and 8:30 am, my daughter-in-law noticed the picture of her son on my post and decided to read it.  So it was a very unpleasant surprise to her and my son that I may have a health problem they knew nothing about.  Anyway, on the fourth call I answered and talked to my daughter, Jacquie.  They had all talked and were upset with me that I had not shared my concern with them.  I appreciate it and know they love me.  I wish I had not published the post before I told them.  I was likely hanging on to hope that there would be nothing to tell them.  That I would not really have a problem.  I found writing it very cathartic. I published it because I know there has to be many people with frightening bridges to cross.  My daughter, Bridget, even decided she must go with me to the appointment.  It was good to have her there. I usually feel awkward taking a companion on such a dreadful mission.  I went to all but one of my breast cancer appointments by myself.  In my case, misery does not love company.  I find myself wanting to take care of the other person, so I don't have enough strength left for myself.  Maybe I'm just weird.  I did notice most people had someone with them when they went for their chemotherapy or radiation treatment.  But I didn't want to be there, so why would I take another person too?  I also think I can block it out better if no one else is experiencing it with me.

Anyway, the title tells you that the ultra sound showed that the "mass" the doctor referred to during my November appointment was not something dreadful.  It was that same old fibroid that was discovered 27 years ago in an ultra sound taken during the pregnancy of my son. I even called it Paxton's twin that I failed to birth.  That was another bad interaction with a doctor.  Then a Middle Eastern tech, who was doing the ultra sound, said she needed to go get the Radiologist.  The doctor was Middle Eastern also.  They both started pointing at the screen and talking in their native language, so I had no idea what they were saying.  But I could see the baby and then something else they appeared to be talking about.  So I started crying.  The doctor said, "Oh it's just a fibroid tumor.  Don't worry."  But I was 30 years old and knew what a tumor was, but had never heard the word fibroid and didn't want anything near my baby.  So that was of little comfort until I met with my obstetrician and she gave me a better explanation.

Today my doctor walked in and said, "Well I guess that mass I felt was just that fibroid."  I kind of wanted to bite him, but I was so relieved, I'm sure I just smile and said great.  He had just forgotten and not checked his record before the exam.  I have been going to him for about 25 years (minus the 4 years I recently skipped) and with every exam he would comment on baby fibroid.  He had also told me years ago that when I went through menopause it would go away.  I talked to a friend today and she too has fibroids and was under the impression they would go away when she finished menopause.  So that was the main reason the word mass scared me.  I thought baby fibroid had been gone for 10 years; when I had chemotherapy that caused menopause.  Now I know that fibroids never go away, often they shrink, but not always. 

I also know that I will always schedule my annual exam for the second week of January; right after Christmas and my birthday.  And hopefully, I will learn to share any concerns like this with my children.  I really doubt that I can change that behavior, but hopefully I have a long time before anything else comes up.

 

Déjà vu

I don't know how I got into the routine of going to get my yearly exam just before the Christmas holidays, but I think it might have something to do with being a teacher, so I was out of school.  Also my birthday is January 7th, so that too is an annual event.

Anyway, off to the gynecologist on November 29th for what is suppose to be an annual legs up in the stirrups event.  When I checked in I asked the receptionist at the desk to look up my last time in.  She told me December 2007.  So it looks like I have to revisit that term annual.

I truly like and respect my doctor, even if I have waited 5 years for this exam.  He starts right out with, "I have good news.  A recent study I just read says that we are actually 10 years younger than the generation ahead of us.  So you are actually only 47.  Isn't that great?"  To tell you the truth, I have a hard time getting into all that. I still don't believe that I am even 47 years old, certainly not 10 years older.  As a child, I always acted and felt much older and as I have actually gotten older, I seem to be reverting back to acting younger.

Well, as the doctor was engaged in all his examination behaviors, his face got very serious and he started mumbling under his breath, "I can fell anything because of this huge mass."  I likely stopped breathing at that moment and the doctor looked up with that deer in the headlights stare.  Then he sat down and said, "Oh!  We're not going to worry about this until after the Christmas holidays.  This just gives you another reason to come in the first of January.  So stop by the desk and schedule an appointment for a pelvic ultrasound after the holidays.  Don't worry. It's probably nothing."

He said no more and promptly left.  You have to know he is well into his seventies and I attribute that to his lack of finesse in handling this--whatever it is. I know I'm being generous with that; mostly likely it is due to the failure of his patients to give him a good cussing.

The reason for this post's title of Déjà vu is that in December of 2000 when I went in for my annual exam something quite similar happened.  I had a rather large thickened area at the top of my right breast.  It wasn't that little pea shaped lump one is looking for in their breast exams.  I had noticed it about 6 months earlier, but I had just been for an exam in 6 months before and was going back to the doctor in December.  During his exam he found the mass and said, "What is this?" And asked the nurse to go get the mammogram I had when I arrived.  He went through the same behaviors I experienced this year.  He said, "We are not going to worry about this until after the holidays.  There's an 80% chance it is nothing.  So just go by the desk and schedule an appointment for early January."

Now I have done exactly as instructed twice.  But if I live through whatever it is in my lower abdomen,  I will never get an annual exam in December and have 4-6 weeks of terror and nightmares wondering what the New Year will bring. I'm sure my doctor did his part of not worrying about it during the holidays, but no way was that going to work for me.

My husband was the only person I told about the exam before Christmas.  He told me to call and get the next appointment; to forget waiting until after the holidays.  I thought about that for a couple of days, but decided to stick with the January 10th appointment because I don't actually have anything to tell anyone right now; just fears and worries, so I can keep those to myself.  If I changed my appointment and found out something bad, it would really ruin the holidays. 

In 2001, I did have stage 2 breast cancer.  The doctor told me to just forget 2001.  That it was going to be a very bad year.  And with surgeries, chemotherpy and radiation it was indeed.  But I got through it. And they say what doesn't kill you makes you stronger.  What I know it did, was make me not put off doing things that I really want to do.  In 2002 I ran for School Board, which I had wanted to do for a while. Then a few years later I started my mini-urban farm.  I had wanted chickens and goats for a long time, so I needed to not put off getting until tomorrow what you want today.  In other words, we don't have time to waste.  

Jack Michael Kennedy

I wanted to get my thoughts down tonight, because there will be a big change tomorrow. Not that I believe I will have an actually diagnosis; but there will be either relief or heighten concern. Right now I am very depressed, but appear to be functioning normally. Most likely because I can't quit imagine not existing.  I don't feel comforted by an afterlife religion.  I love living here and now.  I want to see my grandchildren grow-up.  One continues to live until the last person who loves you dies.