It's been a heck of a week.

First, the turkey came back from the dead. I know. It was a weekend miracle.

As we are coming home from the barrel race I see, in the field across the road from our farm, our turkey, lying on his back, spread eagle, legs flopped off to the side. He was a beautiful Red Bourbon Turkey that we had raised from a chick. I thought, Buddy, the new Boxer rescue, was probably the culprit. He slunk off behind the house as we pulled in. There were feathers Everywhere.

We had plans to go to the Pancake and Sausage Feed at the Grade School so we had to unload horses and load up kids with only a second to mourn Yosemite Sam. I had no doubts that he was dead. There are few things I refuse to do on the farm. I build fence, shovel poop, do all of the doctoring, take care of the kids, house, animals, and yards...BUT....I will not deal with dead things or taking out the trash. That's where I draw the line. So I asked Dustin if he would deal with the turkey first thing in the morning and he said he would. I hated to leave the body lying out there all night but our LGD Emma keeps the coyotes at bay and there wasn't any further damage that could be done anyways.

The next morning we had another barrel race so I hustled out at the crack of dawn to feed chickens, bottle feed the baby goats, take care of the rabbits, and do horse chores before loading up the trailer. I got a bucket of chicken feed and looked out across the field. My poor Yosemite. Then, I squinted my eyes. Had he moved? No. Damn, I really didn't get enough sleep last night. Then another twitch.

"Dustin!"

I yelled his name with considerable force and he came running out of the carriage barn. I pointed, "That turkey is alive!"

His face saddened and I could tell he was thinking that I was nuts. And it was sad. He shook his head, turning to look at the same time.

The turkey lifted his head and flapped a wing at us.

"Whoop!"

Dustin and I started jogging across the field and when we got to him, Yosemite Sam calmly stood up and walked to the house, dragging a wing but other wise fine. We are still amazed.

Two days prior to that, my eldest son (15) rolled our family vehicle. Walked away without a scratch, bump, bruise, or chipped fingernail. It was also amazing.

My husband went to pick up our pigs from a farm where they were being bred. Its about 30 miles away. He was hauling them in a two horse trailer. He only arrived home with one pig, instead of two. One of our hugely fat pigs threw herself up and over the back doors of the trailer. Are you kidding me?

I was upset.

"Sweetheart," I say, very quietly, "don't come home without my pig."

I was worried for Thelma. What would Louise do without her? The sister were incredibly close and I was worried that when he found the pig, she would be dead or need to be put down.

A few hours later, as it is getting dark, Dustin called. "I'm bringing you home one road-rashed pig."

She was alive! And, really, not badly hurt. Apparently, she was hiding in some trees. Dustin thought he saw something and stopped the truck, stepped out and called her name. She flew out of the trees, squealing for joy and rubbed her snout all over his jeans, so happy to see him. She jumped right in the trailer and rode quietly all the way home. He was right. She has a bit of road rash and she's sore but that's all. Amazing.

I sure do hope this was a theme-of-the-week and not a theme-of-the-year type of thing. CATASTROPHE...buuuuuttttt, it will be okay in the end. HEART ATTACK....bbuuuuuttt, it'll all be fine.

Oy.