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Keeping on

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Good morning to the Goat House followers,

I awoke a couple hours ago in a semi-trance, tuning into the steady tap of rain on the metal roof in the loft. December rain could not be more depressing, but there is this one delightful perk.

As the year draws steadily toward a close, there are many reflections to make. Since the high season for airbnb has passed, I’ve been having a very difficult time. The reverberations of societal discord have been pounding in my ears. Lots of fear has welled up about my ability to sustain myself solely through a hode-podge of hosting, freelance editing, pet-sitting, and other random odds and ends. Self-esteem has wavered in the face of countless homeowner tasks which I feel incompetent to complete single-handed.

Being thrust back into a situation where I need to accrue income to sustain myself has also thrust me headlong back into societal disillusionment, which money can quell, for a time. I suppose if you have enough capital, then you can, theoretically, live disillusionment free — if you keep well enough inside your privilege bubble. Even if you step outside of it, fighting doesn’t have the same urgency when you have a warm pillow to lay your head on at night. I have always been fortunate enough to have that privilege, but I fear as a whole, this might be more unfortunate that we’ve been so physically coddled by the system that is making us emotionally ill.

In the face of extreme self-doubt, there is only one course of action: persist, as best as possible. Try anything. I’ve been hiking with the goats, taking photos of the beauty of urban decay, exercising, attending ecstatic dance, and I’ll sign up for another Improv class through the Blue Door this winter. That really kept me somewhat sane, last year.

Guests help immensely. They inject a needed dose of diversity into the mundane daily life, sharing personal perspectives that remind me of hope, joy, the struggles, and the triumphs of others. This week, I led a goat hike with two female friends. They had met while one of them was walking her dog, “Muchacho,” on the centennial trail. The other woman had just moved to town, and they bonded that day and exchanged numbers. 

The woman who had moved to Spokane experienced a back injury 2 years ago that completely altered her lifestyle. She was an avid outdoorswoman, summiting peaks and backpacking regularly. When she got injured, she had to sell her rural home in beautiful Wenatchee, and move to Spokane to be closer to medical care. She said this was the hardest thing she’d ever done in her life. I felt that so deeply, because more than anything, I would love to live that life that she’d had, and I couldn’t imagine attaining it — only to have it stripped away. 

The other woman, the owner of “Muchacho,” had booked the goat hike as a surprise for her friend. It was so nice to be a witness to this sweet friendship. We talked all the way through the hike, and the women left me a wonderful review. We exchanged numbers, and we plan to keep in touch, as they are local! 

For those others of you who are down and depressed, anxious, confused, afraid, and angry, disgusted, exhausted, hopeless…. I am your witness, and you aren’t alone. This world is scary and divisive, and it sometimes seems that it seeks only to rip apart our bonds and shatter our dreams. I can only say that goats, and kitties, help.

Always,

Tanya, John, David, Petunia, + Shop Kitty

Giving Thanks

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Goat Morning, fam!

Today is Thanksgiving. I remember the historical context that was taught as a part of my childhood, in regards to this day. I remember watching classic Western films wide-eyed in front of 90s TV sets, where indigenous peoples were portrayed as barbarous brutes in contrast with the honorable cowboys. I remember the classic image of a bunch of colonizers and indians sitting around a big log table and sticking olives on the tips of their fingers, with wide and goofy cartoon grins. 

Now, capitalism has colonized us all, as the drone about black Friday infiltrates my ears from all angles. I want to take this opportunity to ask you all to NOT buy anything on black Friday just…. Don’t do it!!!!!!! And I’d also like to highlight the “buy nothing” movement — a national initiative to stop needless consumerism, to reuse what we have, and to gift what we don’t need ourselves. I recently received a brand new French press through my local “buy nothing” group on Facebook; I also gifted a bunch of nice pairs of my dad’s wool socks. It doesn’t sound fancy or glamorous, and that’s why it’s important. If we aren’t the actual 1%, then we need to stop trying to look like we are on instagram. Posturing is driving our own financial demise, I have been an example of this, and I am striving to mitigate these behaviors. 

In other news, my dinner will be taking place at my mom’s this year, as guests will be hosting their own dinner at The Little Goat House! I met my guests yesterday, and they are two wonderful people who run their own homeshare in a beautiful mountain lodge outside of Stowe, Vermont. After looking at photos of their home, I cannot wait to return the visit in the future! Check out their listing, the Adirondack Lodge, below: https://www.airbnb.com/rooms/3786636?s=67&shared_item_type=1&virality_entry_point=1&sharer_id=6212554

As of today, I also have 8 animals under my care:

  • The Queen, Miss Petunia, whom I am caring for during my guests’ stay;
  • Shop Kitty and the goat boys;
  • Beau, the older yellow lab I am dog-sitting while his owner is out of town;
  • And my neighbor Haley’s two cats Goober and Angel, as well as their dog Koda (Haley is one of two neighbors who take care of the goats when I travel, so it was time to return the favor!).

For those of you who don’t know, this is just a couple animals more than the usual number we had in my family when I was growing up. We always had at least one dog (Trooper, Brandy, Peppy), several cats (XO, Penelope, Bat Cat, Kitty Kitty Gumdrops, Sanchez), a bird (Birdie), and the occasional tadpoles or — once — some baby snapping turtles we raised for a while in a fish tank!!

We lived on a 7 acre property in a semi-rural part of Southern Massachusetts, had a pond, and our home was completely private, surrounded by tall trees and lush New England greenery. Raspberry bushes grew up along the side of our long, sloped driveway that led down from the quiet street to our little oasis. I always loved picking the berries, eating them right off the bush as I passed by in August! The Little Goat House has exceptional raspberry bushes, and it has been one of my favorite summer features of the home.

I miss that property in New England, the home that my parents designed and built themselves. As they divorced and experienced financial hardship, the home fell into disrepair. Eventually, my dad had to sell the house. The new owners cut down our beautiful trees, and built a second garage with a mother-in-law apartment on top of the soil above my old pets’ graves, in front of my childhood home. I sometimes wonder how incredible that place could have been, if only I’d had the resources to revive it.

Wishing everyone a warm and safe day of thanks,

Tanya, John, David, Petunia, shop Kitty — and all the others animals!

Missing Friends

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hello goat house fam:

today i’d like to write about friends. 

it’s insanely difficult to have long distance long term best friends. at least for me. i like being with my friends in person. that’s what does it for me. long conversation over a phone, on text, or via email rarely compare (although in certain rare circumstances, the delight of a written correspondence can exceed the appeal of a real life hangout).

it’s been three and a half years since i moved away from one of my core centers of friends, and i might actually feel the interminable void of the absence of these relationships even more, now.

its not that i’ve found no one to replace them, because those aren’t the right terms. finding your space in a new place is not about replacing old with new; yet sometimes when your new place feels more habitable than the last, the old place slowly fades. eventually, very few relics from your former location hold any ties on you at all. 

when this doesn’t happen — especially with people — you slowly start to forget how you ever connected with humans at all. you miss intimacy. you miss the mutual understanding that you want to spend a lot of time together, because of how richly good that time always feels. 

and suddenly, your most healthy relationships become luxury items; something you can no longer afford in your schedule or with your bank account.

your time is constrained by distance, and your finances are unable to support the load. the result: you spend about 1-2 weeks a year with your most cherished companions.

as i sit alone in my living room, i muse about what compels me to feel so strongly for these people on the other side of the country, whom i barely speak to anymore at all! an occasional offbeat movie or book recommendation, a happy birthday or a reminiscence: a random face time call for a rousing sea shanty recitation on speaker — when you’re 2/3 naked in the changing room at the gym.

i’m watching a film entitled “Woman in the Dark” that was made in 1934, and i think about this group of friends and how’d they’d watch it with me, if i so desired. i can imagine some of the jokes we’d make about the hilarity of the sequence in an opening scene: a gangster shoots his dog in a random stranger’s house and then leaves, and the owner of the house and his lady guest simply cover the dead dog with a blanket, making no attempt to move it — then Mr. Macho turns to Escaped Damsel and says “Want a cigarette?” while enticingly holding out an open box of smokes. 

my friends are regular people. i really hope that once they’re all settled, we can still play monopoly and watch star trek over pasta deep in the snow and the woods in New Hampshire on New Year’s Eve. 

i’ve explored many places with these friends, experiencing the beauty of land and sea scapes, waterfalls, boulders, snow, lakes, sun, and wind together (this summer, we nearly blew whimsically away off a peak in east glacier!). there is a certain resonance of shared enjoyment. tastes in worldly things align. philosophical perspectives are echoed, enhanced, or challenged. hearty debate abounds. all with a good, heaping side of mutual roasting. 

we don’t use our phones much together. i know that my instagram account doesn’t have to look cool for them to want to hang out with me. we just genuinely revel in each other’s company; and most of the time, we feel truly safe and secure. it is not an easy feat, to find friends such as these. i’m thankful i have them somewhere, if not right here, at least.

New Cat, and Other Adventures

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Hello again friends — yes, we’re still out here!!!!

The last few weeks have been incredibly busy. As things stand, October was our best business month of 2019 for The Little Goat House! This is really exciting news, and also means I’m a bit relieved that November is looking slow. We have so many projects to tackle, and it can be difficult to get to anything when you are checking people in and out, and spending time with interesting guests.

To give you guys an idea of the craziness, we had 11 different people and 3 dogs stay at the goat house over the past 7 days. Two groups of visitors were renters, and the rest were friends — some friends from town, and some traveling through! 2 dogs came with friends, and one was a pet sit for another local friend. 

Last weekend, we had a group made up of a dad and his step-daughter, who were visiting the dad’s other 3 kids who live here in town. Having 1 adult and 4 teens all booked in for a stay at my place was a bit anxiety provoking at first, especially if you know how neurotic I can be about my home and all the art and antiques inside it!! 

As usual, these guests completely dispelled my anxiety by being calm, easygoing, and totally fun people to have around! The teens raised exactly 0 havoc, which was perfect for me. I even joined them in some family trivia time playing  “Jackass” — a board game my dad gave me for my birthday this past year, that had as yet been unopened (turns out it’s a great game!). 

After the family checked out on Monday, we got new guests Tuesday-Saturday for the loft rental. This party of two consisted of longtime internet friends who were meeting in person for the very first time! Right as these new guests were getting settled, our friends Tara and Chris Chiasson of “The Lucky Caravan” blew in as well! 

On the way from their most recent motel management position in Lava Hot Springs, ID, to their next house/pet-sitting gig in Northern California, Tara and Chris stopped off for a couple of days of R+R at the goat house with their mooing German Shepherd, Maya, and their crazy little Boston Terrier/Chihuahua mix, Bear, in tow.. All the humans AND dogs were really excited to join me, John, David, and some other guests for our “animal encounter” — “In-town hiking with Urban Goats” — on Wednesday! Check out the epic photos captured by Tara here in this post, on our instagram, or on theirs @theluckycaravan.

Halloween eve was spent out and about getting drinks and playing pool with one of our bnb guests, and our local friends Greg and Aziz (for those of you who don’t know, Aziz and I solidified our “bestie”-ship last November, when Judge Judy flew us out to LA to film episode 83 of season 23 of her show, hilariously entitled: “Kicked back to Saudi Arabia?!” The spot is constantly being illegally uploaded to the internet and then getting taken back down again. It was the first ever Judge Judy episode featuring a Saudi Arabian in the history of the show!). 

After some recovery on Friday, I picked up Nimbus, the awesome Husky/Yellow Lab mix that I was boarding at the goat house over the weekend. On Saturday, my friend Branden and I drove the goats and the dog out for our first “off-site” hike in the Dishman Hills Conservation Area! The boys did amazing hiking in a brand new environment off-leash, and we were even able to let Nimbus get some off-leash time with the goats!! Everyone was well-behaved and the scenery was beautiful. I still have to get around to posting the photos from that hike. In the meantime, here’s a shot of Nimbus and the goats getting acquainted 🙂

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got a nimbus 🐕 for the weekend, looks like him and the boys are gettin along just fine! 💁🏼‍♀️💘 did you know that we also offer pet-sitting services @ The Little Goat House?! well, its true. we love animals and we want to sit your best friends – we can stay at your place, board @ the goat house, or just stop by for walks/playtime/affection, depending your animals specific needs! bonus: you might even end up with some cute pics of your animal(s) interacting with #johnwatersthegoat and #davidlynchthegoat! drop us a line here, on fb messenger, or by email to thelittlegoathouse@gmail.com for rates and availability for the holiday season!! 🦃 🎄 🎉 . . . #spokane #spokanepetsitter #spokanepetservices #petsittingspokane #petsitting #petsitter #dogsitter #catsitter #goatsitter #airbnb #superhost #animallovers #spokanesmallbusiness #spokanesmallbusinessowners #smallbusinessowner #spokanedoesntsuck #keepspokanekindofgross #visitspokane #thelittlegoathousespokane #pnw #pnwonderland

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We finished off the weekend with a visit from longtime friend from undergrad, Emma, who drove over from her home in Missoula to celebrate her birthday with fancy dinner and Spokane ecstatic dance. It was such a nice way to conclude a crazy week, which hopefully drops me here, in the land of calm and productivity…

To conclude this post, I’d like to share the exciting news that The Little Goat House has acquired a second cat! Last Saturday evening, we took the Scamp camper out for her first off-site rendezvous since I purchased her back in May!!!! It was high time to actually take her out somewhere, although she was certainly well-enjoyed as my temporary home/an additional rental throughout the summer. Our destination? Regional burning man unofficial decomposition party about an hour North of Spokane in Newport, WA.

I had the most incredible time burning it down in the woods with good friends, old and new. I also discovered a “spare cat” while mingling around the fire — cold, hungry, and desperate for attention. I quickly realized that this cat needed to come home with me in the Scamp, when the owners of the property explained that he was an abandoned barn cat the neighbors had decided they didn’t want. The cat had been wandering the property for a couple of months, and he’d had a sibling that had gone missing in that time. 

So, on Sunday morning, I gathered up the cat into the Scamp. I always keep food, bowls, and a litter box inside the camper for Petunia — so I had all the necessary cat supplies on hand. However, before I even had a minute to get out the cat food and fill up a bowl, the cat had identified an unopened coffee cake as the most readily available target for his consumption. Without a minute for me to comprehend what was happening, the cat had cornered the coffee cake, eaten through the plastic wrapping, and was devouring sugary, coffee-infused bread crumbs like he hadn’t eaten in ages (he clearly hadn’t).

I quickly subbed in the cat food, pulling the ravenous cat off the defeated coffee cake in a quick swoop (and yes, I still ate the remaining coffee cake later). Anyway, the cat is adjusting magnificently to his new home as a shop kitty and goat companion at the goat house. He is such a happy, snuggly, loving kitty! If you have any name suggestions for him, please feel free to drop them in the comments below. 

Thank you for reading, and to anyone who came out to stay with us, hike with us, and anyone who hired goats for events from us this month or any month in the past, our eternal gratitude is with you!!!!!!! Thanks for making October and the entire 2019 high season a success at The Little Goat House!

<3 Tanya, John, David, Petunia, + Shop Kitty!!!

2nd bathroom reveal party

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Good morning, welcome back fam!

Up early again, trying to ingrain more productive habits into my largely haphazard existence. Sitting in bed, admiring the short and portly stature of my new Thomas Hammer mug, a “Christmas present” gifted to me yesterday by mother. This estate sale gem reads, matter-of-factly and in all caps, “I LIKE IT HOT,” on the side that faces outward while you’re drinking (if you’re right-handed, that is, and/or you don’t drink coffee like a contortionist). The sentiment is accurate.

To obtain the piping dark substance that currently occupies the mug, I had to do a fair bit of creeping around on the main floor of the goat house. I had a couple check into the shared listing last night, which consists of private use of the loft space in the home, and shared use of the common areas (main floor — kitchen, living area, office, and bath).

When I don’t have guests, I typically occupy the loft space myself. Every floor of this small abode has its own compelling charm, in my personal estimation. But the loft — with its skylights above the bed, the occasional pinging of rain on the metal roof, the “kitty observation deck” overlooking the tall lilac tree — is my preferred sleep space.

When I have guests, however, I enjoy sharing the best space in the house with them. And with that, I move myself into the basement bedroom, which provides its own specific intoxicating elements.

The basement bedroom has a full-scale, south-facing window, with a large ledge perfect for placing beverages poised for consumption. I’ve set the queen bed next to this window, and the effect is somewhat nautical. It feels like a porthole to nature, as flat earth sits outside, just below the windowsill.

Several months ago, I obtained a large fabric frame with a dramatic sleigh headboard and footboard to bookend the downstairs mattress. I can stack a sea of pillows behind me, beside me, and at my feet — and none fall to the floor!! This indulgently palatial resting place, gives one the sensation of being cradled in a plush cocoon.

The most delightful aspect of the basement space, however, is the sense of containment and privacy from the rest of the house. The emotional experience of being down here harkens back to the days of youthful pillow forts, and adolescent hideouts. Having guests upstairs, attending to their own business, heightens the sense of indulgent secrecy and almost forbidden autonomy.

I light a joint, peruse a handful of black and white 30’s films on the internet, snuggle the cat, and even invite visiting friends and associates down to “the foxhole” — my name for the woman cave/tv room that adjoins the basement bedroom.

Soon, we will be embarking on a full-scale 2nd bath implementation in the third and final room contained within the basement, which currently serves as a dedicated laundry space. Plumbing for a toilet and sink are already roughed in, but I’ll need to add a drain, plumb for a tub/shower, and am planning to do some slight demo and reconfiguration of the walls…

Once the 2nd bathroom is added, a door will go up between the main floor and the basement staircase. The back door will become a separate entrance, and an entirely new and contained unit within the goat house will be born! I’m excited and terrified, as the work of drafting architectural plans, procuring contractors, and sourcing tasteful yet reasonably priced finishes for a tiny efficiency unit seems rather grueling. However, all’s fair in love and the avoidance of desk/office/corporate jobs.

‘til next time!

Tanya

blog post II, alternately titled — “why I don’t make goat soap” or “goats’ milk is an udder mystery!”

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Hi, and welcome back to The Little Goat House blog. I’m happy to see you here again! (Pictured above — David bucks with joy at my return, and last evening’s release for a free romp on the neighborhood cull de sac).

I woke up early this morning to snuggle with Petunia, and write. I love everything about dawn, except when it becomes full-blown daylight. Nothing ruins a peaceful, hazy vibe more than the sun blaring down on you at full force.

Fall seems to have set in here at a rapid pace while I was away. Not only are there leaves everywhere — much to the goats’ delight — I’ve also observed that John and David have taken up the goat shed as their primary venue for shut-eye, once again. During the hotter weather, John and David’s preferred location for sleep was the mini trampoline gifted to them by my neighbor. “My kids* keep trying to jump off the big trampoline onto the little one,” Mia said, “and I don’t love it.” So, John and David were the beneficiaries of this plight.

It’s nice when John and David sleep in the barn, because it often means that their initial bleating is forestalled a little bit longer into the morning. The boys have a keen ability to detect motion inside the house, and, once discovered up and about, John and David require my presence in their pen post haste. When ignored, there is a drastic uptick in the frequency, pitch, and overall plaintive nature of the bleating. Luckily, “kid” bleating is far more tolerable on the eardrums than human baby bleating, and can be reasonably withstood for a significant period of time without wanting to claw the eyeballs out.

So for a typical morning with goats, one can expect that it proceeds in the following way (that is, if you’re me). I get up and make coffee. Usually, I neurotically pluck my eyebrows for about 35 minutes in front of the bathroom mirror in an attempt to mute the mounting anxiety of not knowing which of my interminable list of duties I should tackle first. This ritual is punctuated by my flitting back and forth to attend to the demands of my telephone, the cat, and the watering of the front porch plants.

At some juncture, I am spotted by the goats through the large picture window and the full-light French doors that look out onto the back deck and over the goats’ pen from inside the main living area in my home. I begrudgingly don my goat attire (yes, you need separate goat-designated wardrobe for this lifestyle, unless you want all your second-hand Vince sweaters to have small nibble-holes in them), pull myself out the back door, and attend to the morning disbursement of hay flakes.

As this scene unfolds, Petunia becomes increasingly dismayed that she has been left out of the morning meeting of the outdoor social club (I no longer allow Miss Fish outside other than under my strict supervision, as coyotes patrol our neighborhood with alarming frequency). Hopping onto the big windowsill, the Petunafish begins to chatter and “meep” — all the while dragging her side-body enticingly back and forth across the window screen, with a backwards look over the shoulder to pique my interest. We usually engage in a hearty banter of conversationalist trills as I finish up the goat duties before heading back inside.

Now this is where I stop you to point out that no, I have not mentioned milking the goats in this illustration of an average morning of goat motherhood. This is because, yes, my goats — “John” and “David” — are gender conforming males.

Since acquiring goats, I have discovered that a high percentage of individuals I encounter (notably mostly White, high to moderate SES persons) have no idea about the process by which milk is procured or cheese is made. Truth be told, I was even a bit mystified myself, at the beginning. However, I’ve had about 5 years since I mentally decided I would be obtaining goats to do my research, and the time has been bountiful enough for me to grasp the biological difference between “male” and “female” goats. I have included a helpful diagram below for you benefit:

The important part to note is this: female goats have udders — when they “kid” (give birth to baby goats), they produce milk to feed their babies. Male goats do not have udders. Male goats do not kid. Male goats, therefore, do not produce milk.

My goats are male, therefore, I do not milk my goats. Is this revelation as prolific as the one what’s-his-face, Descartes, made?

A helpful way to shut this inane conversation down is to calmly look your interrogator — usually a lady — directly in the eyes, deadpan, and counter-query: “Well, have you ever tried to milk your boyfriend/husband/SO?”

The parallel isn’t lost on them, and a whole new dawn of recognition can be spotted swiftly crossing the face of your interlocuter!

I started to digress here into some other information about the goat-milk process/associated topics, but realized that this commentary is probably better saved for a later, solely-dedicated post.

Singing off for now, with the final note of my sincere apologies for the verbose language today. I tried to limit my indulgence, but was rather unsuccessful.

See ya later!

Tanya

*The word “kids” in this context denotes real human children; for those of you who don’t know, “kids” is also a term commonly and accurately used to reference baby and adolescent goats. As someone with 0% desire to breed Homosapien offspring, you’ll find that I frequently employ this designation ironically with a great deal of joie de vivre.