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Milking Goats, Falling Down and Offering a Hand

An hour ago, I was milking a goat.

This is not a metaphor, like brunching.

I was actually, truly milking a goat.
Here’s proof:

I’m farm-sitting for a friend and that means goat-milking, egg collecting and sheep wrangling.

It also means chasing down runaway kids (young goats, not human children), chasing off errant dogs and trying to convince the goat not to kick the bucket of milk.

Today was my second successful milking and just as I finished up, let Emily off the stand and went to reach for the door of the barn, I slipped.

It was a truly I-Love-Lucy slip with booted feet in the air, back flat on the barn floor and head cracked against the milking stand. We will not go into detail what I was covered with. Let’s just call it “mud”.

I laid there stunned. And promptly started crying.
I was covered in “mud”, hot and sweaty and my head hurt.
I wondered if my husband heard and would come running and help me up.

I laid there for a few moments, snuffling and waiting. Then I realized that I had the milk bucket in my hand and that it had not spilled. I also knew that Jay hadn’t heard me and that I was on my own.

Although I couldn’t stop crying, I could stand up.

I stood slowly up, gathered my breath and stopped crying.

I hadn’t spilt the milk. Nothing was broken. Even “mud” washes off.

As I filtered the milk and cleaned off, I thought about that moment on the barn floor. What was I waiting for? Why the crying?

Did I really think someone was going to swoop in, pick me up and finish my farm chores?

I’m 28. I work for myself, in the business I built.
I clean my house, pay my bills, do my own taxes (shudder).

But sometimes, I still think someone is going to swoop in, clean off the “mud” and make things less messy and more easy.

And this is the point in the story where someone more adult than me would say that we need to stop waiting around for someone to save us and we need to learn to save ourselves.

To pick ourselves up, gather our breath and go wash off.

But that’s not my point. We have enough moments, both real and metaphorical, in our businesses where we pick ourselves up.
Sometimes, it’s nice to have someone else reach out a hand.

I'd rather offer you a hand than tell you to stop yer cryin' and pick yourself up.

The past few weeks I have been enjoying  corresponding with a few crafty business friends. We’ve been providing each other with ideas and reassurances and ideastorming and just…companionship. It’s been lovely.

The ability to ask that one question you’ve been wondering about…or hearing that this isn’t a silly idea…or to get help with the steps to get from here to there;  it’s all this that provides the support you need when you feel like you’ve fallen down in the goat barn.

The conversations have been so invigorating and so inspiring that I want to have more of them. I’d like to have them with you.

What’s going on in your business?
What questions do you have?
What do you just need a sounding board for?

Let’s talk about it.

I’m thinking a few paragraphs via email may be all it takes to get you up out of that barn. What do you think?

If you could use a hand or you've wondered what to do next, fill out this contact form with your question, your concern, your struggle and I’ll reply within a week with suggested resources, ideas or whatever you need.

I know this is…well, completely bizarre.
But there’s no trick. No hook. I’m just wanting to connect with more crafty businesses and to learn how I can best help you.

If you enjoy  tales of farm antics applied to business advice, make sure you subscribe and catch every pratfall.

New Goats!

Ok, it has nothing to do with National Craft Month, but I just had to share.

Yesterday, the very first day of spring, my mom's dairy goat, Emily, gave birth to two sweet little babies:

Baby Goat!

We all went in to check on Emily in the midst of celebrating my little brother's 11th birthday. We had no idea that she had just given birth, until we saw sweet little brown kid standing there shivering:

Next to him was laying his little white brother, still, uh, shall we say, freshly born?
In the pen

Within 30 minutes they were both trying out their new legs, mumbling to their mama and searching for their first meal.

Milking!