Meet the pigs

The granddaughters named these two "Snout" and "Piglet".  We've warned them that we'll butcher the pigs in a few months, and they were fine with that concept until they actually met the pigs.  Now Natalie is having difficulty with it.  It's no big deal:  When we have pork chops or sausage on weekends they're here, she doesn't have to eat.  I think, though, if we use the "don't ask, don't tell" policy, she'll be able to eat chili or meat loaf, or other things that more-or-less disguise the meat.  She informed her mom yesterday, "I'm never eating meat again... I'm gonna be a veteranarian!"  Rachel pointed out that the word is vegetarian, and 7-year-old Natalie responded glumly, "Whatever." 

The neighboring farmer who sold us the pigs priced them at $1 a pound; the way we weighed them was this:  I weighed myself on our bathroom scales, stepped off, Cliff handed me a wiggling pig, and I weighed again, holding the pig.  We ended up paying $107 for the two of them.  Cliff couldn't be the one to hold the pigs and weigh, because our scales only go to 300 pounds, and his weight plus that of a pig went beyond that.  When it was all over, I wondered why we didn't think to get a picture of me holding a pig.   

We've started the "Purpose-driven Life" at Church, and Cliff made his appearance with me in Sunday School.  He's a little uncomfortable with the small-group discussion, since the people are practically strangers to him (I don't know most of them that well either).  But he took it like a champion.  I did not encourage him to participate in this at all, because I figured it wouldn't be his cup of tea, and he likes to salvage his Sunday for fun things.  But when the preacher came by and asked, Cliff said yes.  Monica and Natalie love going to Sunday School and Church, so we'll have them spend Saturday nights.  With my not working, it isn't so important to me to have time alone with Cliff on weekends... we're alone together each day, all week long, from the time he wakes up till 2:30 PM when he leaves for work!  Well, not entirely alone:  The 13-year-old home-schooled twins next door practically live in the shop with Cliff, most days.  (Don't ask me how they can be home-schooled and not be home all day; I don't know.)  But we do have lots more quality time together than when I'm working, since we work different shifts.