Learning to be a Cashier in Las vegas

By Sheila Donnelly
Learning to Be a Cashier in Las Vegas

I have been in Las Vegas six months. The winter here has been great for a southern Minnesota girl who spent so many years living in a drafty farm house, wearing layers of clothes and not taking her long johns off until May each year. Long Johns! Not many people in this part of the world even know what long johns are.
Since November, I have been working at a gas station owned by the corporation Terrible Herbst. There are over 100 Terrible Herbst gas station convenience stores in Las Vegas. The one I work at is number 266 located at Decatur and Meadows in central Las Vegas.
It has been challenging for me working in a convenience store that takes in over $10,000 in currency daily. My past work involved being creative and using words when I worked for the Austin Daily Herald. This job requires accuracy in counting money, taking inventory, keeping records and trouble shooting with the many customers that filter in all day long.
When I began work here November 2007, I had just arrived from living in the sleepy town of Albert Lea, Minnesota. I was excited, upset and bewildered. I did not know how to use a cash register, count vast amounts of money, or how to keep records. I was constantly making mistakes and Pat, the woman who trained me had been a cashier most of her working life. She rolled her eyes at me, sneered and snorted and yelled at me every time I made a mistake. The manager of Terribles 266 was Ken, a short in stature Hawaiian, with a missing font tooth, and a small paunchy stomach. He would come to my register when I was in training and say, “You must work faster! Faster! It so easy! Why you make so many mistakes?”
Being a cashier, I know is not rocket science, but the cash register came with many, many different buttons. My biggest problem was learning how to correct mistakes. All gas pumped must be prepaid. Customers would come in and tell me, “Thirty dollars on pump six.” I would type in $30, press the pump 6 button, along with the prepaid fuel button. When this is done a check mark goes on pump 6 to show it is activated. The customer would leave the store, and not go to pump 6 but be on pump 4! Now, I had to take the money off pump 6 and move it to pump 4. It took me a while to figure out this transaction. I kept coming up short at the end of the day, because when a customer paid with a credit card, I was not properly trained that I had to start the transaction all over when he or she was not on the pump that was stated. I also had to go into the records and print out a receipt that showed that the customer’s credit card was not charged. Try and explaining this to a customer that is in a hurry and there are 7 other irate customers in front of the cash register waiting to make their purchases. In the midst of all this learning process, Pat turned on me the day I told her to quit yelling at me. The rage and wrath of this woman spilled forth. I had seen her turn on other workers, demean customers and snarl and snap at her down-trodden husband, now it was my turn to be her whipping post. Now, she screamed at me or would not answer my questions. Last week when I came to work, she snapped at me, when I told her once again to not yell at me and she hollered, “Go to hell, Sheila! You put everyone through hell.”
I laughed and she started circling around and stomping her feet like Rumplestilskin when the princess found out his correct name. Seeing me not get upset, did something that day… yesterday, for the first time when I came to work, she talked to me about her grandchildren and how she had brought her two year old granddaughter a purple and pink tricycle. I acted as if she spoke kindly to me everyday. It probably won’t last, this pleasantness, but her ire is her problem and not mine.

Working at the Teahouse

I am going on my second year since my divorce in 2006. It has been difficult, invigorating, lonely and I have been scattered in the ,direction to go in my life. I quit my job at the Austin Daily Herald in February 2007. I quit when I was hired to be a home visitor for Freeborn County. I lasted one month in the job as they wanted someone who spoke Spanish better than I could. I can speak conversational Spanish, but it was not good enough for the position. The month of March I was without a job and panicky. Every morning upon rising from my bed, I lit a green candle, did a Tarot card reading and prayed that I would get a job. During this month, I could not eat or sleep. Finally, in April I got a job at the Turtle Dove Teahouse and Gardens in Albert Lea, Minnesota as a cook. I have been here ever since. The proprietor is Gwen Reiss. Gwen has worn many hats, as I have too. She is a RN and has sold corn seed and cars in the past. Gwen has a main of hair like a lion, wears teals, oranges and over sized earrings, bracelets and ankle bracelet on her left foot that accents what she calls her "fuck me" sandals, which she wears daily. This teahouse lady is no shrinking violet. Bawdy, down-to-earth and don't fuck with me is her attitude each day in thi Victorian teahouse located on Main Street in Albert Lea. The Teahouse is in a hard to find site, as it is off the beaten path on a north frontage road of Main Street. Flowers, herbs, a fountain and a rippling pond surround the premises of the Teahouse. Gwen and her husband, Ed built the pond and did all the renovations on this house that was built in the 1800's. It is a beautiful place. The inside decor of the house, Gwen has decorated with silk flowers, flowered wall paper and flowered carpeting. Guests to the teahouse are in awe as they wander the ten rooms that are decorated with themes such as the teacup room ( a tree decorated with teacups and a teacup chandelier give this room its name), the Red Hat Room, Garden Room, Christmas Room and others. No room or corner is left bare in this establishment. My friend, Carli calls the climbing silk rose decor that encircles a pipe in the bathroom a "peony tornado".
The Teahouse is where I now work Tuesday through Saturday starting at 10 a.m. I usually make three entrees each day and serve them with salad,scone and soup. The servings are ample and include such items as spinach fritatta, lemon herb chicken, and crab orzo.
Every day there is an offering of at least five choices of killer desserts that the ladies that come to eat ooh and ahh over.
I like the cooking, don't have to wait on the guests, have to think quick on my feet and am constantly moving. It is creative work but I miss writing. I will be writing a blog every week and will keep you posted on my new directions. I am struggling, as I make very little money. I am making ends meet and living extremely frugal.

Best Costume, no Costume at All

By Sheila Donnelly


The month of October has just flown by with Halloween coming upon us next Monday. Because Timmy and I are not eating wheat and sugar he isn’t going Tricks or Treating this year. He doesn’t mind as we both feel so good from eliminating these two foods from our diet. I have always liked Halloween and the celebration on November 1, the Day of the Dead that the Mexicans celebrate. I have been talking about Halloween and I have encountered several men that do not like this holiday at all. Their main reason is that they do not like to dress up in costume. Reporter, Josh Verges said, “I think it is a waste of time and money spending it on a costume that you wear for only a few hours.”
I don’t agree with him, as I have never spent much money on costumes but have gone to thrift stores and put articles of clothing together. These type of costumes are the least costly and usually the most clever.
My husband, Tom never liked to dress up for Halloween. But one year I talked him into wearing a white dish cloth wrapped on him like a diaper and he carried a baby bottle. He thought it was funny when he was at home and the kids thought he looked great, but when we arrived at the Halloween party we were attending, he didn’t last long walking around like that! I couldn’t get him to dress up for Halloween after that incident and he would say, “I don’t know how I let you talk me into dressing like that!”
But he likes to be the center of attention and the year I was pregnant with our fifth child, Theresa, he came up with his own Halloween costume. He wrapped his hand and taped his middle finger down and told everyone at the Halloween gathering we were at that he had sliced part of his finger off when he was cutting wood with the buzz saw. Right away the hostess of the party was very sympathetic to Tom. But one couple, David and Sue were watching Tom sip away at his beer and the two commented, “What kind of pain medication are you on that you are able to function and still drink alcohol?”
I was sitting near by and didn’t say a word as this was his prank. Tom slowly took a sip of beer, clutched his wrapped hand and said, “Darvon. It is really helping; I don’t feel too much pain. I do feel a little light headed though.”
David and Sue started to laugh as they did not believe him. The hostess of the party was angry because these two didn’t take Tom’s injury seriously. She came to me and said, “What is wrong with those two? I can’t believe the way they are carrying on. Anyone can clearly see that Tom is in such pain. I am so amazed and grateful that you made it to my party. I feel really bad for you as you are having this new baby soon. What a strain this is for you…”
I didn’t know what to say, so I kept my mouth shut and because of this the hostess thought I was in great stress. Several people offered me comfort about what a tough time our family was going through. I started to think that they were going to set up funding to tide us through this “terrible time”.
Tom didn’t know I was getting all this sympathy and he went on with his prank by going into the bathroom and took the bandages off his finger. He had a small cardboard box with a hole cut in the bottom and cotton wads in the box. He put red makeup on his finger and than put a lid on the box. Tom came out of the bathroom and walked up to the hostess and said, “The doctor gave my finger back to me today after I got it cut off, do you want to see it?”
The hostess looked horrified, but she gingerly opened the box, saw Tom’s “bloody” finger and gasped. Then Tom wiggled his “cut off” finger and boy was she ticked off then! His un-costume costume was a hit at the party, but he has never been able to repeat it again.

By Sheila Donnelly



One of the most delightful things about raising children is their sweet innocence and curiosity to learn new concepts. Last winter my son, Timmy had spent a week with his three older sisters, Bridget, Molly and Theresa. The girls speak very openly around him and often after they have gone is when I find out what they have spoken so openly about. I was sitting in the living room reading and Timmy was sitting next to his dad, who was doing a crossword puzzle, while at the same time watching television.
Timmy turned to his dad and asked, “What it is the difference between orgasm and masturbation?”
His dad was listening to the television and was not paying attention to Timmy.Timmy cleared his throat and asked once more, “What is the difference between orgasm and masturbation?”
I pretended to be reading intently as I wanted his dad to answer this question.
Timmy cleared his throat loudly one more time and asked, “Dad, dad. What is the difference between masturbation and orgasm?”
This time his dad heard him and looked up startled but he answered Timmy truthfully and in simple terms.
Timmy said, “Thank you. I didn’t really know what they meant. I thought I did, but that makes more sense.”
I was glad that Timmy was comfortable to ask this question. If I had asked my parents such a question when I was his age, I would have been interrogated about where I had even heard such words, slapped and then sent to my room.
When my daughter Molly was 11 she was at her friend Tara’s house watching a movie. In the movie the word masturbation came up several times. Monday morning when she and Tara went to school they asked several of the boy’s at the small Catholic school they attended if they had ever masturbated.
Most of the boys answered, “Huh? Gee, I don’t know. I don’t think so…”
A couple days later, one of the boy’s mothers, Laura burst into my kitchen her hair all array and said she needed to have some words with me.
“I was at the school today helping teach sex education to the girls and I mentioned to the principal that the girls were very open and asked very intelligent questions. The principal said that yes, the girls were very inquisitive. Why just last week the principal overheard Molly Donnelly asking my son, Ralph if he masturbated. This is not acceptable behavior. I will not have Molly asking my Ralph if he masturbated.”
I heard giggling in the other room.
I sighed and said, “Well, let’s ask her if she did. Molly, come out here.”
Molly slowly came out to the kitchen with pigtails in her hair and her head down.
“Molly, did you ask Ralph if he masturbates?” I asked.
“Noooo…” Molly stammered.
Laura shook her finger at Molly and said, “Listen. Don’t you ever, ever, let me hear you asking my son if he masturbates again, do you hear me?”
Then she left quickly slamming the door.
We all burst into laughter, and I said, “Poor Ralph. Okay, Molly what’s the deal. Why did you ask Ralph if he masturbates?”
“I don’t know what it means, and he didn’t either. Tara and I asked all the boys if they did. No one understood what it meant,” Molly said.
“Well at that little conservative school please be careful what you ask the boys. Next time come and ask me first,” I said.
I went to the principal the next day and told her what had incurred and she was embarrassed that Laura had gotten in such a huff. The principal thought it was a normal question that a young person would ask, and it is. I suggested that the school have someone with more experience teach sex education as Laura was too naive to see that Molly’s inquisitiveness was normal. But, she continued to be the teacher and her Ralph is now a man and I am pretty sure that Laura sees now that it was not such a big deal the day Molly asked her son if he ever masturbated.

Playing the Slots in Vegas

Sheila Donnelly This week I am in Las Vegas, Nevada with my sister Kate and our friend, Laura. We have been here since Sunday night. We are staying at the Excalibur which has the resemblance of a medieval castle, but really looks like we are staying at Disney Land. We are here because I have joined a side business called Prepaid Legal. Twenty thousand people from this organization have come together for a convention at the MGM Hotel here. I know most people have traveled to Las Vegas for one thing or another, but this is my very first time here. It is not some place I would ever choose to come to, but we are having a good time. All three of us women like to eat, but don’t like to spend eight dollars at a restaurant for eggs and potatoes. Because we are so frugal, we rented a refrigerator for our hotel room and than had to rent a car to go and purchase groceries. We are now eating very well and often. Sunday night, our first night here, we went to a party at an Italian restaurant. The food was great but we had to buy our own alcohol. I spent nine dollars on one glass of wine! I sipped at the nine dollar glass of wine very slowly. Before we went to the party, Laura, Kate and I got all gussied up. We wanted to look sparkly and ready to party. I wore a red beaded dress and had gotten some really cool thigh high black nylons with seams down the back. Kate and Laura said I looked really hot. When we left the hotel to walk to the car, I realized that my really cool, seamless thigh high black nylons were not staying in place and had slipped down to my knees. Kate and Laura started laughing at me in hysterics. When I got to the car, I tore the tops of the nylons to make strips and than, tied them on me. They did not fall down the rest of the night. Thank goodness! Now, I know Las Vegas is often called Lost Wages because of all the gambling. We three are not gamblers. But last night at another gathering, Kate and I were talking with two other women from Minnesota and one had made $450 and the other had made $250. Kate and I decided, "What are we waiting for?" So we hit the casinos last night, with $20 each. We were intimidated at first, but we asked one woman how to do the slot machine the Wheel of Fortune. I put in my dollar bill and lo and behold I won $25! I cashed it out right away and went to another machine and won another $20! Oh, I felt rich but I was afraid to play anymore. Kate decided to play a Wheel of Fortune game where the stacks were upped by nickels or depleted by nickels. She lost $5 on that game. I decided to try the same game, put in $10 and watched it get eaten up. We decided since we lost $15 we only had $3.50 left to spend for a game called Monte Carlo, Kate made $12.50. We were ahead and decided to quit for the night. Our total loss was $3.50. We are definitely not high roller gamblers. We are having a really good time on our trip and the people are very, very friendly. Everyone has been so accommodating and helpful. We did drive out to the desert yesterday and smelled the pines and fresh sage. Being in nature away from all the noise and people revived our spirits. I won't becoming home depleted of money from this trip nor will I have a full pocket book, but we are having a great time.

Please Ask Me the Definition First

By Sheila Donnelly



One of the most delightful things about raising children is their sweet innocence and curiosity to learn new concepts. Last winter my son, Timmy had spent a week with his three older sisters, Bridget, Molly and Theresa. The girls speak very openly around him and often after they have gone is when I find out what they have spoken so openly about. I was sitting in the living room reading and Timmy was sitting next to his dad, who was doing a crossword puzzle, while at the same time watching television.
Timmy turned to his dad and asked, “What it is the difference between orgasm and masturbation?”
His dad was listening to the television and was not paying attention to Timmy.Timmy cleared his throat and asked once more, “What is the difference between orgasm and masturbation?”
I pretended to be reading intently as I wanted his dad to answer this question.
Timmy cleared his throat loudly one more time and asked, “Dad, dad. What is the difference between masturbation and orgasm?”
This time his dad heard him and looked up startled but he answered Timmy truthfully and in simple terms.
Timmy said, “Thank you. I didn’t really know what they meant. I thought I did, but that makes more sense.”
I was glad that Timmy was comfortable to ask this question. If I had asked my parents such a question when I was his age, I would have been interrogated about where I had even heard such words, slapped and then sent to my room.
When my daughter Molly was 11 she was at her friend Tara’s house watching a movie. In the movie the word masturbation came up several times. Monday morning when she and Tara went to school they asked several of the boy’s at the small Catholic school they attended if they had ever masturbated.
Most of the boys answered, “Huh? Gee, I don’t know. I don’t think so…”
A couple days later, one of the boy’s mothers, Laura burst into my kitchen her hair all disarrayed and said she needed to have some words with me.
“I was at the school today helping teach sex education to the girls and I mentioned to the principal that the girls were very open and asked very intelligent questions. The principal said that yes, the girls were very inquisitive. Why just last week the principal overheard Molly Donnelly asking my son, Ralph if he masturbated. This is not acceptable behavior. I will not have Molly asking my Ralph if he masturbated.”
I heard giggling in the other room.
I sighed and said, “Well, let’s ask her if she did. Molly, come out here.”
Molly slowly came out to the kitchen with pigtails in her hair and her head down.
“Molly, did you ask Ralph if he masturbates?” I asked.
“Noooo…” Molly stammered.
Laura shook her finger at Molly and said, “Listen. Don’t you ever, ever, let me hear you asking my son if he masturbates again, do you hear me?”
Then she left quickly slamming the door.
We all burst into laughter, and I said, “Poor Ralph. Okay, Molly what’s the deal. Why did you ask Ralph if he masturbates?”
“I don’t know what it means, and he didn’t either. Tara and I asked all the boys if they did. No one understood what it meant,” Molly said.
“Well at that little conservative school please be careful what you ask the boys. Next time come and ask me first,” I said.
I went to the principal the next day and told her what had incurred and she was embarrassed that Laura had gotten in such a huff. The principal thought it was a normal question that a young person would ask, and it is. I suggested that the school have someone with more experience teach sex education as Laura was too naive to see that Molly’s inquisitiveness was normal. But, she continued to be the teacher and her Ralph is now a man and I am pretty sure that Laura sees now that it was not such a big deal the day Molly asked her son if he ever masturbated.

Tom the Leprechaun lives it up

Happy St. Patrick's Day to every one tomorrow, on March 17.

My three daughters Mary, Bridget, Molly, along with their Roller Derby Garda Belt teammates will be skating in the St. Patrick's Day parade in St. Paul at 12:30 p.m. After an afternoon of revelry in St. Paul, they are heading over to Minneapolis to skate in the St. Patrick's Day parade there at 6:30 p.m. Their dad, who now has a green shirt emblazoned with Tom The Leprechaun, will be walking besides the girls in the parade. I will be staying closer to home as Timmy has school. Timmy and I will celebrate St. Patrick's Day with friends.

Last year on St. Patrick's Day, Tom spent all day in St. Paul. Our son, Danny and daughter, Mary met up with him for the day. Most of the people in the St. Paul parade were dressed in bright Kelly green wearing green hats, many pins announcing their Irish heritage and holding colorful banners with their clan name.

Tom, Danny and Mary were at one of the Irish bars when they saw a man who was 6 feet 2 inches tall, and he was wearing a fake red beard, short green pants, a green top coat, green socks and a high green top hat. The man was wearing a pin that had written on it 'The World's Biggest Leprechaun.'

Tom went up to the World's Largest Leprechaun and tapped him on his back. Tom said, "Nice costume." The large leprechaun appeared startled when he looked down at 5-foot, 90-pound Tom with his curly hair and real beard. The World's Largest Leprechaun said, "Whoa! you are the real thing."

Tom does look like the real thing even though he was dressed in his faded green hooded sweat shirt and olive green corduroy pants. He doesn't have to wear any cute leprechaun outfit to look like a leprechaun. Mary told me that the day was wild with all the attention the three of them received. People were buying them drink after drink. Their table at the bar was loaded with jars of Guiness that the revelers had bought for the leprechaun and his son and daughter. Mary said it was just too much and they couldn't even begin to think about drinking all those Guinesses.

Later that evening, Tom drove over to Minneapolis to Irish Pub, where he shook hands and had his picture taken with the Grand Marshall of the Minneapolis parade. He was stopped all day long by people to have his picture taken with one or two of them.

After his long day in the Twin Cities, Tom came home at 10:30 p.m. When he drove into the yard, I watched him walk up to the house. It was very dark outside, and with every step he took, a small light attached to his shoe lit up. I knew with these sparkly lights that he had a very good day. I am sure it will be equally as fun for him this year on St. Patrick's Day.

The girls have gotten so much press and attention from their roller derby, Tom will be the envy of many young men as he will be walking with pretty girls in one of the most popular groups in both parades.

Mary, Bridget and Molly also tried out for a Miss Blarney contest that was held two weeks ago in Minneapolis. They didn't have to do any talent, but were asked questions about why they wanted to be Miss Blarney. Molly won first runner up and Mary won second runner up in the contest. As first runner up, Molly gets to ride in a car in both parades with Miss Blarney. The girl who did win the Miss Blarney contest has a last name of Norwegian origin and is very Scandinavian looking with her pretty blond hair.

My daughters said that they didn't care they didn't win the title of Miss Blarney as they would rather put their energy into their roller derby. Their next roller derby bout is this Sunday in Coon Rapids.

Albuquerque's high-tech bathrooms

I am on vacation in New Mexico with my sisters, Joann, Kate and Mary.

Monday night we spent in Albuquerque at a bed and breakfast called Sarabande. It is named after a beautiful rose that grows here. The owners, Janie and Scott, have their kitchen filled with bundles of dried roses.

One of the first things I did after checking in to the B&B was take a bath in a huge whirlpool tub that was in our private apartment. My sister, Mary, took her whirlpool bath first and I got in after she was done. Kate took her bath next, and Joann, who is the oldest, took her bath last. The tub had a shower head that was attached to the bathtub faucet to fill the whirlpool.

When Joann turned the water on in the tub to fill it up, the shower head was loose, and water sprayed all over the bathroom. Joann was screaming to one of us to come and help her. Besides this, Joann didn't know which button to press on the tub to start the whirlpool, as there were three buttons on the tub, and you had to press the start button very lightly to get the jets on the whirlpool to start working.

I had the same problem when I took my bath, but after pressing just about every button in the entire bathroom, I did finally get the jets to turn on. I acted like I was an expert on whirlpools when Joann told me that she didn't know which button to press.

I had trouble with the shower head too, and couldn't figure out how to get the hot water turned on. Mary told me after my bath was over that the hot water was on the right side, not the left. When Kate heard that I had trouble turning the hot water on, she wondered if this place was like England where the hot water runs out in homes and B&B's all the time.

But no, we told her there was plenty of hot water here. Sarabande is a very nice bed and breakfast, but we are a bunch of hicks when it comes to using electronic gadgets like a whirlpool. Well, I am a hick, but Mary, who is the youngest, appears to be the most worldly when it comes to all the gadgets. Joann, who has a PhD is the one that has the hardest time figuring out how any machine works.

I stayed in the bed and breakfast only one night. Tuesday we are heading up to Santa Fe to go hiking on Tent Rocks and then are going to some hot springs. Wednesday we are going to Taos. It is very pretty here. I am only staying four days which is not long enough.

Kate and I didn't arrive in Albuquerque until late Monday afternoon. Mary and Joann had already spent a night together at Sarabande.

Before Kate and I arrived they drove to Acoma Pueblo. This is the oldest settlement in America that still has the same ancient tribe living on it. It was settled in 600 A.D.

The people settled here, one legend says, because the mesa that Acoma is on resembled a piece of corn. About 13 families still reside at Acoma. The only way to see this place is by a guided tour.

Mary and Joann were very impressed with Acoma. Mary, who is my youngest sister, liked the fact that the youngest girl in the Acoma tribe family gets the property and makes the decisions for the family, as she usually lives the longest. Being the youngest of us four sisters, Mary has made some good decisions, like helping Joann and me to understand how to use a whirlpool bathtub.

We are having a great time together. This is a rare treat getting together as Mary lives in Arcata, Calif. and Kate and Joann live in Minneapolis. Sisters are great to have.

It's hard to find good horse milk

I am looking forward to spring, though I did enjoy the storm last week.

Timmy and I were hunkered down in the house, but we had to shovel our way to the woodpile. Fortunately the wood was under a tarp so it stayed dry. The wood pile is very low this time of year, and now with all the snow, it is difficult to get out and cut more. But it will warm up soon.

There are many changes in the air and now with this season of rebirth, people's energies will soon be renewed. I am surely ready to be renewed. My son, Dan and his wife, Mary will be having a new baby any day now. It is great to see their family growing. They have one son, Tommy, who will be two in April.

This season of rebirth reminds me of an April 21 years ago, when our draft horse, Nancy, gave birth to a filly. On this day, Tom had been out planting oats with the horses. He had returned to the yard with Nancy and the other draft horse, Sadie. Tom put the horses in their stalls, still in their harnesses, and came into the house to get something to drink. Our neighbor John was visiting, and we were sitting in the kitchen having a snack.

Dan was 8 years old at the time, and he burst into the kitchen all excited and said that Nancy had a baby horse lying behind her in the horse stall. We all ran out to the barn, and sure enough a very wet filly was laying in the straw behind Nancy. Tom and John quickly took Nancy's harnesses off while I dried the filly with towels. The filly was strong and alert. She got on her feet to nurse and was nuzzling for Nancy's teat. We were all watching for her to latch on to start sucking when John said, "Oh no! We've got a big problem."

It was a big problem. It turned out that Nancy's bag was ruined from having mastitis. We didn't know this when we had purchased her. She had gotten bred by a two year old stud that we had sold the fall before. We called up our other neighbors who had horses on to advise us what to do. Our neighbors, Dick and his wife Ada drove up right away to take a look at Nancy and advise us on how to feed the filly.

Dick said, "Yeah, her bag is ruined. But the filly's got to get colostrum. You can't feed her straight cow's milk. That will bind her. Mare milk is very rich, but it is thinner than cow's milk."

I asked, "Would goat's colostrum work?"

Dick said, "Yeah, that would be a good start."

"Okay, I know where to get some," I said.

My neighbor Shirley had goats, and she was in the midst of kidding. I drove to her house and she had only a small bottle with fresh goat colostrum left over from the latest goat to give birth. I took the colostrum home and added it to watered down fresh cow's milk along with molasses in a large bottle with a nipple attached to it.

The filly sucked the mixture right down. She wasn't out of the woods yet, as Dick told us that we would have to feed her every two hours. We were milking a cow to have milk for the house, but this wouldn't give us enough milk for the filly. We brought up another cow from the pasture and began milking her and also bought one of Shirley's milking goats.

The filly did get a naval infection the second day, but we had the vet out right away to give her penicillin. For the next six weeks, Tom slept on the couch and fed the filly every two hours. We named her Blaze because she had a small white strip on her forehead, and the rest of her was coal black. Blaze knew when it was time to be fed and she would come to the kitchen door every two hours for her bottle.

She grew fast and was extremely gentle and friendly. She grew to be one of the largest draft horses we had. She in turn gave birth to three mares and had no trouble nursing them. We were really proud of Blaze and all the effort we put into keeping her alive. She was a great addition to the farm, and we kept her for a while even after we kept farming. It was a sad day when we sold her, but she needed to be worked, and our interests were elsewhere. Happy Easter to everyone in this time of rebirth and renewal.