Family event!

I wanted a fence fixed, not a difficult task, but as usual it turned into a family event. I have noticed lately that everywhere I go I am shadowed by four legged animals. Even in the bathroom, one will appear staring at me in that way that a toddler does, when they want to ensure you are going to get no peace!

I mentioned to hubby that a fence needing fixing, off he went to complete the task followed by one of the dogs. I went to help, so followed two other dogs, and a cat. Shortly after this my daughter appeared to offer assistance, well to stand around pretending to help.

During the fence building activity I soon noticed that there was three humans, three dogs, two cats, three kittens, a duck, a chicken and a rooster all being part of this activity. When did we need this much attention, in fact, I then noticed that the neighbour across the way was also watching!

FFS, if everything and everyone that was getting in the way, watching and generally not being much help, did in fact help the task would be done far quicker! I love all the animals but there does come a point where my own personal space would be nice.

So, new rule unless you have a purpose to be there, or you can hold a hammer and use it effectively, will you please go somewhere else!

Head or Heart

When I begun this journey I had no clear idea of what animals I wanted, or how we were going to feed what we had. I was so filled with enthusiasm that I would have taken anything and everything just to fill the place. However, the practical side has kicked in a few times, and I have said NO!

I was always adamant that everything had to have a purpose, make either money or food. However, my ice heart appears to be melting as slowly animals are staying here in Casa Chaos. Therefore, the debate about the baby goats (still unnamed) begins.

A friend of mine believes the moment you name an animal it becomes yours, which is why goat 1 and goat 2 are just that for the moment, although a suggestion of Mork and Mindy did make me chuckle! I have to decide whether I want to go bankrupt being kind, or sell the babies, which was always the intention.

I love all animals, but there has to be a line where we can afford to care and feed what we have here. There is no unlimited supply of money, therefore, practicalities must be considered. The biggest problem is they are just so cute, but this does not pay for their feed!

So, for the moment I will keep admiring the babies, deciding on names, and thinking about the financial implications of having two more goats, hmmm did I get wiser, or did my heart begin to melt that is the question.

Goat Hospital

Some people make me smile, and others make me cringe, however, the innocence of others makes me wonder. Whilst having a conversation about Jill having her babies, a lady enquired where the goat hospital was on the island. This question stopped me in my path, and made me wonder what the hell she was talking about.

It seems that she was under the impression that we would take Jill, in the car to some form of hospital, where she would have her babies. Every part of this bizarre scene then played out in my mind, as I imagined Jill on a hospital bed, gas and air in hoof, surrounded by midwife's and doctors.

I very slowly explained that Jill would be having her babies in her pen, surrounded by trees, straw and no expert team of physicians. The lady then looked at me like I was mad, for not considering the use of the goat hospital.

I am always fascinated to hear what people have to say, and it continues to amuse me that people simply have no idea what actually happens with animals. I am sure there is some conspiracy to send all of these people to me, ensuring that I go completely mad!

Finally the Day Arrived....

Wednesday started like any other day, everything was going about its normal daily activities of eating, sleeping, and some more eating. Then over the peace and quiet like an air raid siren I could hear my daughters voice "Jill's giving birth, Jills giving birth, Jills giving birth" It was like rapid machine gun fire.

As I went to investigate, all I could think was oh hell, I should have been better prepared, and please let them be alive. As we approached Jill there was no doubt that something hanging out of her, and I knew we had to separate her from Jack. Jill was extremely calm, in fact, I wish I had been as calm as her when I went into labour.

My next shout of bring me some towels, made me realise that this was really happening, and hopefully it wouldn't be a lengthy labour. The next hour passed quickly as Jill, calmly and with ease gave birth to two cute kids.

My son's running commentary kept us amused and he was most concerned that the baby goat was in a plastic bag when it was born. We pointed out that wasn't a bag, and that it was fine. In all fairness to Jill I did very little, I was there to clean off the babies, and unblocked their airways, but apart from that Jill did the rest.

Once all gunk had been licked off, Jill decided that eating the umbilical cords and the placenta was the next plan of action. Whilst rapidly Googling to check Jill hadn't turned into a cannibal and that she wasn't going to eat the babies next, I discovered this was perfectly normal...Phew!

So, Casa Chaos is now the proud owners of two un-named kids, Rosie and Jim has been suggested, not happening! Now do we eat or keep, eat or keep, decisions, decisions....

Stay Calm and Never Panic

A lady said to me the other day "You must be so brave" now I know Casa Chaos can seem daunting , but it isn't really that scary. However, it wasn't Casa Chaos she was referring to, but living abroad. This made me chuckle, as to be honest what am I really risking?

Living abroad provides numerous amusing amounts, and whole new ways to mess up on a daily basis. Any dignity that you may think you have built up over the years, soon vanished as you go through the linguistic and social pitfalls of daily life. The language here is filled with sneaky ways to trip foreigners up, and ensure that you make an idiot of yourself.

For example the word "huevos" literally translates to eggs, but this is often used by the old Canarians to describe their testicles. Therefore, be careful when you are at the farmers market asking whether they have eggs, as often they will reply with "yes, two large ones" This of course causes huge amusement, and you will have no idea.

There are dangers everywhere, but to be honest GC is not an active war zone, there are no flesh eating zombies, in fact, there are very few risks when living here. What this lady considered to be terrifying, I deal with every day, and have come to love the quirks and issues the island brings.

I once asked a Canarian man if he had ever been to America, this was met with shock as he couldn't think of anything worse. His reason was that he could not wander down the street with an open can of beer, which was enough to put him off ever travelling to the US.  Everyone is scared of different things, but living abroad, piece of cake!

Please, Pick Up The Dead Animals

Since the gun has arrived, hubby can often be found wandering around the place searching for his next victim. He is a cross between Elmer Fudd, and a game keeper. In fact, more Elmer Fudd, but he is happy and does seem to be shooting the right animals.

Every time he grabs the gun I find myself shouting, "don't shoot the goats, chickens, ducks, dogs, cats or children" Not that he would ever intententionally shoot one of these but it makes me feel better knowing that I have advised him on the correct animals to be killing.

There is often evidence of his shooting spree, as he tends not to go and investigate what he he has shot, and we often find dead pigeons laying around. Even a polite conversation of "will you please, pick up your dead animals" is falling on deaf ears.

The only animal that he has bothered to go and retrieve was a massive rat that he shot, and in true "man" style we had to have pictures of the dead animal. An egg was used for a size comparison, and then the delightful picture was sent to friends and family. Oh well, he is helping with the vermin issue, and men will be men after all.

Well You Don't Do Anything all Day

There is a lady that I know that truly does believe that I do nothing all day, and on several occasions she has uttered the words " Well you don't do anything all day" this causes me to stop for a moment and want to beat her with the nearest object. However, I find myself smiling sweetly, and replying "Of course I don't"

The logic it seems behind this statement is the fact that I work from home. Therefore, this must mean that  I sit around all day playing on FB, drinking coffee, and performing very few tasks. Although some of this is true, I do also work, and run Casa Chaos and maintain a home.

I don't expect a huge medal for what I do, I am just talented at juggling several balls, and 90% of the time I do not drop any of them. I love my job, I love the flexibility it provides, and the only time it annoys me is when small minded people think I do nothing all day.

The irony is that the woman who claims I do nothing, in fact sits on her arse all day doing precisely that, and when I mention this, she gets all defensive. She claims that my social skills must suffer, and questions whether I miss interaction with other people.

Err hello I do leave the house, and am not stranded on a desert island with only a football called Wilson! Although, I did find myself having an indepth conversation with the goat the other day! Hmmmm maybe it is time to get out more!