It’s a Sad Day in America

One of the cool things about this old farmstead is the lilac bushes. They were brought here on a covered wagon many, many moons ago. So it is with great pain and anguish that I tell this tale.

You see, after 100 years, the bushes have grown to an insane size and they sit directly next to the road.

That alone wouldn’t necessarily be so bad except that they block the view as you’re trying to exit our driveway.

The speed limit in front of our house is only 35 miles per hour, but nobody seems to know that.

They come whizzing along and because of the wooded areas that surround us they don’t even realize our driveway is coming up. We finally managed to get the highway department to put up a sign. But not only do folks around here not know their numbers, they apparently can’t read either.

 

I can’t tell you how many times I’ve nearly been creamed by a reckless motorist coming around those shrubs. Up until now I have refused to remove the shrubs just on principle. I don’t feel I should have to destroy a 100 year old living thing just because modern society has no regard for anything outside of their personal space. But that was before I signed my baby up for drivers ed class.

He’ll be getting his drivers license this summer. We went out and found the closest thing to a Sherman tank we could find for him to drive, but you still have to exit the driveway with the drivers side facing the oncoming traffic.

So with a heavy heart, we started removing some of the shrubs this weekend.

We didn’t realize what we were getting ourselves into. It turned out to be a MUCH bigger project than we anticipated.

But two days later, my baby is safer.

 

And I’m sure Mrs. Kurtz, the woman who lovingly brought the lilac starts all the way from Kansas on a covered wagon would understand, she had babies too.

No Strings Attached

 

“Good morning, Luke. How are you today?” I asked.

“Since all the three of you ever do is lay around in the barn I thought maybe I’d sneak out here and join you.”

“You know, we could just hang out and get to know each other better. Maybe share a few stories, play some board games.”

“Hey, what are you doing, Bo?’

 

“Hey, stop that, leave that alone.”

“Bo, quit it!”

 

“Well fine then.”

“I guess I’ll go hide out with the chickens.”

Mental note: Acquire more goat appropriate attire.

Since My Last Post I…

1. Was in a car accident that was not my fault.
2. Spent an afternoon on a floatie in a lake.
3. Got a major sunburn.
4. Invested in SPF 100.
5. Grilled out under an awning in a thunderstorm.
6. Decided a tent is not effective if you have to set it up in a puddle, drove home instead.
7. Bought a camper.
8. Decided wearing muck boots on sunburned legs is a lot like torture.
9. Nearly fainted when I got the estimate to repair the truck.
10. Spent three or four days just trying to reply to a single question for my online class.
11. Went from reading poetry to a technical communications manual in the span of only a few minutes.
12. Failed a quiz  because the computer system screwed up.
13. Weeded the garden with a hoe while envisioning the ground was the computer screen.
14. Removed 18 lbs of dog hair from the Willabeest and considered spinning it into a sweater.
15. Cleaned out Jack’s side of the coop.
16. Signed my baby up for drivers ed.
17. Waited to hear back from the insurance adjuster, didn’t.
18. Popped the cork on a bottle of wine.
19. Sat my arse in a rocking chair on the porch to watch the sheep graze.
20. Started writing a book.

So what have you all been doing?

Old One-Eyed Calico Jack

“Argh, I be whippin’ ol’  lily-livered Blackbeard wit two wings behind me back. ”

“The scoundrel ran off wit one of me wenches.”

“Where he be, matey?”

“I be gettin’ tired of spinnin’ round wit me good eye lookin’ for the scurvy dog.”

Jasmine has since been captured and returned to Jack but her lover continues to whisper sweet nothings from the other side of the fence. Sadly, Jack is only blind not deaf.

Nick Nack Paddy Whack

 “Shhhh, did you girls hear that?”

“I heard something.”

“It came from over here.”

“OMG, Dorothy, does that sound like…like…bones crunching?

Back away very, very slowly…there's something back there.”

“Now RUN, RUN FOR YOUR LIVES!”

“What? I swear I didn’t do anything wrong this time” said Willa.

“I’m just laying here behind this well pit, minding my own business, eating my bone.”

“I don’t know what their problem is.”

Willa and the Zombie Chicken

I’m one of those people that can usually find the humor in anything. Sometimes I just really find things amusing; other times I use humor to deflect my true feelings. Then there are those times where something is so traumatic it takes me awhile before I can look back and laugh about it.

This chicken died the other night. Then she greeted me at the coop door the next morning wanting her share of the scratch grains.

I was just a tad bit freaked out by it.


You see, the night before I had witnessed, with my very own eyes, the brutal pouncing and murder of the undead chicken by this individual.


It happened during the routine nightly ritual of tucking all the critters in for the night. It’s a complicated system, a certain order has to be followed to keep the peace amongst all the residents.

The goats need to be tucked into their goat grotto first so that the sheep can cross the goat pasture to get to the barn. Only then can Willa be let out to start on her nightly patrol.


Now that the sheep are in the North pasture the chickens have a pasture all to themselves. Chickens are smart enough to tuck themselves in at night so all a farmer has to do is shut the coop doors behind them. I had just finished shutting one of them that night when I heard the ruckus begin.

It seems the zombie chicken formerly known as Prius had jumped the fence and landed in the goat pasture -- where Willa was. I hadn’t seen her because of all the tall grass, and frankly wouldn’t have been looking for her back there because we’ve never had one of the fat bottom girls jump the fence before.

I’m not sure who scared who first, but all of sudden the dog was jumping up and down barking and feathers were flying everywhere. There were 200 yards and two fences between me and them. In my panic, I actually thought I would jump one of them as I took off in a flat-0ut run to save Prius. Luckily, my weenie muscles and  poor aching bones reminded my brain that I don’t have super human strength or the ability to fly and so I resorted to going all the way around and through the gates. 

I was screaming at Willa the whole way to “leave it.” A command the other dogs grasped easily in obedience class but Willa never has.  Even when I reached them she still didn’t want to give up the now lifeless chicken. I was armed with only a small, empty plastic Folgers can in my hand which I threw at her. I was more than a little hysterical by this point. My hysteria is what finally got her to let go. She didn’t even notice the can.

I scooped up the chicken and stumbled through the tall grass and brush back to the chicken pasture. Prius wasn’t moving.  She was wet with slobber and half her feathers were missing. I couldn’t tell if she was breathing or not because I was actually hyperventilating myself. I had witnessed the 100 pound dog pounce on the 2 pound chicken, so I knew she was dead.  I was beyond furious, having a hard time breathing and it was getting dark. I still needed to finishing locking up the chicken coop so I left the lifeless little body just inside the door and planned to bury her first thing in the morning.

I stayed mad at Willa all night. Mad because she chases chickens. Mad because she wouldn’t “leave it.” Mad because she made me throw the can.

It was raining the next morning when I walked out with a shovel. Still mad. I opened the chicken doors and out scampered the chickens. Once they passed by I looked in to get Prius only she wasn’t there. Then my brain caught up with my eyes and I nearly gave myself whiplash when I turned to see that Prius had just walked past me with all the other birds.

I couldn’t believe my eyes. “She’s ALIVE” I thought. “What the?!”

Apparently chickens know how to play dead. Or she was in shock. Or she came back to life as a zombie chicken.

No matter how much I want to, I can’t stay mad at Willa. She was just doing her job. Because if that 100 pound dog really wanted to kill that 2 pound chicken, it really would be dead. I now think she was trying to help catch it. From now on we’ll just have to lock the chickens up first and conduct a beak count before releasing the hound. And we’ll have to keep working on that whole “leave it” thing.


As for the zombie chicken? Well, I don’t think we have to worry about her jumping the fence again. She’s now the very first chicken in the coop at night.

A Lovely Lady’s Purse

Even though my kids made me watch The Rescuers Down Under at least a thousand times, I still, to this day, laugh out loud at Frank in this scene every time. So much so that it’s become a running gag in my family for years. I think Frank was one of Disney’s finest creations. Funny, funny stuff. In fact, I think I’ll go dig through the old VHS tapes and watch the whole thing today. Assuming we still have a device to play it on, I’m not so sure about that?

I’ve been whittling away at that project list of mine and as I worked I couldn’t stop thinking about Frank and his “lovely lady’s purse.” See how my mind works? It’s fun being me.

I first have to say that it’s only a small miracle that I managed to accomplish this. My experience with sewing projects, outside of the straight lines required to make a quilt, date back many moons ago to high school. I foolishly attempted to make a nightshirt, complete with buttons and a collar, as my very first sewing project. It was also my last. Let’s just say it didn’t turn out the way I expected. I’ve avoided the sewing machine, other than quilts and a few pillows, ever since. Until now.

Ta-da! Look what I made! I started off small, really small with this bag for my daughter. It  is just big enough for a cell phone, your ID and some cash or credit card. Perfect for the 21 year old.

Then I moved up a little and added a zipper, there is a pocket on the back. A perfect shop hop bag.

 

But I wasn’t done yet. With new found confidence I tackled a real sewing project.

 

I totally love this bag. There is a place for everything and everything is in it’s place.

I like it so much I’m making myself one for every season. Here’s the summer edition.

Polka dots!

So, I can now add “Bag Lady” to my list of life-long accomplishments. Shoot, had I know they could be this fun and easy I would have been making them all along.