Andrew's Blog

A City Boy Making His Way in the Country
April 2011

I was strangled by a llama today.

I was almost strangled (to death) by a llama. I never thought I’d type that. And I’m sure you never thought you’d read that. This picture to the right is evidence of the rope burn from around my neck. A llama wanted me dead. I felt the tight pull of a rope around my neck, and as I screamed, Donnie stood their watching. It must be quite a site to see someone being boa constricted by a camelid.

Forgetfully, I placed a lead rope around my neck when I went to get some grain. We were trying to remove the halters from two of the llamas – they had grown into their faces. And so, while coaxing Cybil with some food, I sleekly latched the hook of the lead rope to her halter. She didn’t like that. And started running. I, however, was on one side of the fence, she on the other. Within seconds, I was up against the fence, a rope pulled tight around my neck. Donnie stood there. (As I pointed out earlier.) Quick thinking saw me, like a ninja, find the loose end of the rope and unfurl it from my neck. Sweet freedom! And all the time, I kept my grip firm. The halter was eventually removed.

This happened in the afternoon. This morning, I chopped off the top of my left thumb. I mean, it’s still there, kind of. Under copious bandages. Maybe I’ll inspect the damage, and avoid fainting, in a week or so.

What a day. What a day! We also attended the “Fully Committed – A Gay Wedding Affair” gay wedding fair and made some wonderful contacts. Delicious cakes, beautiful flowers, and the fancy Athletic Club. And then some antique shopping and martinis. All in all, a jam-packed Sunday. Oh, and we have a full house of guests. And I’ve made brownies from scratch. Tasting TBD.

One can only handle so much in a day. An attempted strangling by an animal, chopping part of a finger off, and three blue lemon-tinins have reminded me that my cup does, indeed, runneth over. So some wine and get me to bed. Tomorrow presents a whole new set of adventures to be experienced. Do my ducks have any daggers? The lamb a machete?

No comments

Head-butting. And other favorite pastimes.

Waterloo is a head-butter. He attacks the leg. Attacks the palm. Even the innocent water buckets aren’t free from his rage. But I get it. He’s teething. Through his skull.

I don’t mind it though. It’s cute. And he leaps with pure abandonment. Today he ran by me, in what I can only believe to be his circuit routine, and you could actually hear him breathing hard as he whizzed by. Too cute. Get the boy a Gatorade! A lamb with emphysema. He needs to build endurance. Maybe a Snickers will help him. Or a Cliff Bar. With some milk to dunk it in.

The ducks went swimming today. In their baby pool. It’s already too shallow. They enjoy it. Like they’re an 800 lb. man swimming in a pool of Triple Carmel Chunk. But, you know, you can tell when the ducks are done swimming. When the water has grown old. When too much poop has made it into a true kiddie pool. And then they stand, waiting to be removed to their warm home with food and aspen wood chips. And their peeps are like sugar coated marshmallow wannabes.

Also, the daffodils are coming up. Daffodils I planted. It warms your heart to see something you planted inches under the ground, find its way to the fresh air, where neither rain, nor snow, nor sleet, nor hail keeps them from pure destiny. They’re everywhere, and of all different kinds. My front lawn is the Benetton of front lawns. Although not truly spectacular in Granville style (we live in a daffodil capital fo’ sho’), I am proud of their growth, their grit, their determination. And I really should be cutting them for a bouquet. Life is fleeting. Learn it early.

Tomorrow promises to be a busy day. And so does Friday. Oh, and I guess the weekend too…and everything to follow. Guests, animals, broke-down cars, and landscape architects are on the itinerary. And a little head-butting. We’re no Ike and Tina mind you. We have a mutual love. As life should be. Although, with his looks, he may be the Tina. Or the Cher. And I’m little Sonny in the corner making my Orchard House, and little Waterloo, the best they can be.

No comments

Broke but not poor.

I’m not complaining. I have it good. I don’t work in a mine. I don’t work at a trash dump. I don’t clean toilets. Well, err, ummm. I like what I do. I cook, I make things look fabulous. I take care of a baby lamb that runs up to me whenever he sees me. Life is good. But this girl is tired! I’m sleepy. I drink Diet Coke – and not the can either, but by the liter. (Oh, I’m Euro chic in my metric system!)

We’ve had guests the whole week! We’ve been waiting for a baby llama to be born! We have ducks that are demanding more space. Quaking divas! Like they’re Kate Middleton in the Windsor vault!

I’ve learned, when you get tired you forget things. I drove all the way to the grocery store today without a wallet. But I also learned you can take afternoon naps, while the Waltons are on T.V. There is little better than half-listening to Johnboy experiencing a valuable Appalachian life lesson. Today he had a crush on his teacher and was jealous of the local preacher who was courting her. He came to terms with it. Like me and my aggressive llama. We’re learning to work together. We’re frenemies.

B&B’s can tire you out. So many people say when they retire they want to open a B&B. Ladies and gents, you insane. When I’m retired, I best be on a beach smelling the salty spray as it brushes my face. I’m not waking up at 6…a.m. that is…and cooking muffins at 11…p.m. that is. But I’m here, (and if you’ve read this blog) I’m queer, and I’m getting used to it…the B&B that is. I won’t be broke but not poor forever. Olympic champion horses are broke before they jump 7 foot fences. And our own Wally has even started to calm down. But he’s on Paxil. I don’t need to go that far. My Franzia does the trick. For now.


No comments

Attention, attention…is this thing on?

I’d like to make you all aware of something. Something major. Something BIG. Something as deadly as the violent torpedo of truth.

Our Spring Open House is this Saturday from 4 to 8 p.m. Come one, come all! We’ve even hired a bartender…so there is a treat for everyone! You can see the rooms, spy on all the things you love to spy on at people’s houses, and meet baby Waterloo.

I’m baking. I’m cooking. We have a great florist doing crazy arrangements. I’m cleaning. That’s special. The house will be at its prime. Oye, I have some more pictures to hang and some wallpaper to fix. Wait, is the open house this Saturday?! Ught oh, I need some minions. Some help to make the house a dream, and the dream a reality.

But dreams do really come true. Just ask me. I have llamas, a baby lamb, some very messy ducks, and a gorgeous bed and breakfast. Oh, and I’ll have a fabulous open house. Delicious foods, great drinks, wonderful friends – both old and new, and share six hard, long months of work with the local community. And we’re excited to have you come! And that, my friends, is the honest truth.

No comments

We’re getting an elephant!

Hahaha, j/k! But we are going to have some zebra. And maybe some giraffe. I hear they’re easy to take care of. Some hay,  a little tse-tse, and a boat load of Hakuna Matata. In all honesty, I do have my eye on a zebra around the corner. Ever since Swiss Family Robinson I’ve wanted one. Throw in the oldest brother and I can check two boxes on my bucket list.

Wait. I think I’ll get a kangaroo. I’ve been reading recently about an injured ‘roo that a city was trying to take away from a woman. He can come live here. As long as he can’t jump over 4 ft. fences. Actually, I lived in a 16th century home in Chester, England for a summer, and they had wallaby’s in the backyard. It was neat. And pheasant. One morning the lady of the house was talking about the majestic pheasant she saw in the pasture that morning, while she was preparing a meal of roast pheasant. I guess that’s called full circle. Circle of Life. Hakuna Matata!

But seriously folks, we’re not too exotic over here. But while we may be conventional, it seems we’ve started a trend in Granville. Everyone loves Indian Runner Ducks and dwarf goats! But who can you blame?! Walking bowling pins and little goats the size of lambs. At Orchard House, we’re happy to give ideas to others. To be taste makers. In the spirit of Martha Stewart or Paul Newman. It’s an honor.

Please remember, like the elephant and his long memory, that our Spring Open House is this Saturday from 4 to 8 p.m. Come, see the original dwarf goats, give the lamb a kiss (he’ll head butt you with love), and embrace the country ambiance of our Farm Style (and) Modern Comfort. It’s the least you can do. If nothing else, come for the devil dog cake. It’ll blow your mind. Like the amount of peanuts an elephant can eat!

No comments
Contact Us or Call 740-651-1850