I’ve been hearing voices in strange places lately. Last week, I distinctly heard Sydney (the ram) bellow out, “Baaaaaaaaaaaandrew!” I’m not sure what Andy did, but it must not have been good to have been called by his full name.

The other sheep haven’t been speaking…at least not in English. I’m guessing they speak in Icelandic, but I can’t really say. On Sunday, Andy and my dad moved the sheep to a big pasturey area (aka part of our front yard). Andy built cool sheepy shelters so the sheep can stay out of the elements. There’s only one in this field right now ’cause the sheep have trees to shelter under, too, but there will be more than one. Just so ya know.

Back to the voices, my boobie pump talks to me. I’ve been dealing with “supply issues,” and so I’ve been pumping to help keep things flowing. The pump says lots of things, and I have lots of time to listen to it. My favorite phrase is, “Donna Reed don’t you leave NRA.” Sometimes, the pump is conflicted and one moment says merely, “Run away!” and then “Don’t you leave.” (not necessarily to Donna Reed). It also seems to know where it came from as it frequently talks about Roanoke.

You can see the talkative pump in the upper right of this photo. This is my view from Baby Feeding Central. In addition to the pump, you can see my friend the clock (who does not speak). Also the trash can into which I toss things like kleenex (which I use plenty of now that I had to stop taking my allergy medicine) and Hardee’s bags.

I toss in this last picture because I think it’s silly. Yesterday (or the day before…or maybe it was last week…who knows) I took Aniela in the sling down to the garden to do some weeding. I also lugged down her bouncy chair and made a little roof with the sling to keep the sun off. Don’t worry. I covered up her feet.