Procrastinating

I was trying to think of a more flattering title than this one, but the truth is, I'm procrastinating.  I am meant to be working on my National Board entries one and two, and I am, sort of, but I keep bopping up to check on things:  turn over the vinegar lemon peel cleaner that's sitting for the requisite two weeks to get properly lemony (which doesn't need me to check it), wander outside in the rain to check if there are eggs or raspberries, chop up some carrots in case someone wants a snack, check my email for work.  I briefly ponder making a huge batch of waffles for the freezer or putting the ingredients for beef stew in the crock pot for tomorrow's dinner (I promised the son pizza for tonight).  I look over the fence to see how the mamas and lambs are doing out in the rain (they're fine, of course).  

What I should be doing is watching that video of me teaching (yuck - hate myself on any kind of recording device, always have) and analyzing what I could have done better (plenty), writing about that particular process, and moving on to the work selection.  What I want to do is bake, or read, or plant lettuce in the greenhouse (which tells you how desperate I am not to be watching videos of myself teaching - the greenhouse is a mess right now and usually not my favorite chore). 

I am very grateful for the rain, but I think if I could go for a long walk and think about what I want to say, I might get a lot of things sorted out and could sit down to write without the bopping about.  It always worked in college and grad school - walking was an important part of my writing process.  

Besides the slow and frustrating process on my writing, the good news is the bottle lamb has decided whoever is holding the bottle is officially not scary.  We no longer have to run around obstacles and other sheep to catch her to give her the bottle.  She runs right up to us now, chows down with a will, and staggers away with a full belly.  She's nibbling grass, as all are all the lambs, but she isn't nibbling on grain, yet.  None of the lambs are, except the two very oldest who are about 5-7 days older than her (I'll have to look at my records).  I actually enjoyed slogging out in my big rubber boots and my big jacket with the oversized pockets (to hold lamb bottles, dog biscuits, hoof picks, and such) to do the morning chores.  This is a big improvement over our past rather frustrating experiences with orphan lambs. 

I do have to say one of the lambs is about as goofy as can be.  She never fails to miss the gate and run into the fence a few times before she finds the opening.  Her twin is a lot more nimble, so I just don't get it.  She was a tiny thing when she was born - lively and strong, but not the brightest gal in the flock, I suppose.