Dear Brother,

I got your message on Facebook.

“Though I remember what happened the last time I said this, Cathy is also saying it so....you are behind on your blog. Something other than tomatoes has to have happened out there. :-)”

I know that you sat there writing me this note in your maintenance-free condo with refrigerator contents that no doubt consist of a few condiments and maybe a slice or two of cheese. I also know by the consistency of your posts on Facebook that you’ve eaten out almost every night this month.

Our lives? They are not parallel.

You see, I’ve been a busy little squirrel packing away nuts for the winter. You? You have no nuts because you’ve been too busy playing. I can’t recall how the parable ends exactly, but I think you starve.

You will also recall from our youth, Mom saying, “If you don’t have anything good to say, don’t say anything at all.”

Do you really want to mess with her? I think not. I shall remain silent on my blog until such point I have something good to say. With the way things have been going lately, it might be awhile. Perhaps you could gather a few nuts while you wait. :)

A Note from Newfoundland

During the flurry of mayhem that has been about this place lately, the engineer ran off and left me. Only to go visit his sister, but still he left me here to fend for myself with all these crazy critters to deal with. How I survived it, I’ll never know. There were a few close calls. But that’s another story for another day.

The important thing is that he was able to visit with Cathy, something that’s not always easy, given that she lives on a remote island 3000 miles away.  He was able to join her on one of her chemo treatments. (Isn’t she cute in her hat? I think she looks like a movie star.)

He was also able to see first hand all the cards and gifts all of you have sent up to her. She is quite the fashionista so she has been having fun trying them all out.

Of course, she wanted to know more about where all these cards and gifts were coming from. So the engineer (he’s a computer engineer by the way), set her up with a fancy new netbook computer complete with a program that will read her email to her.

She wanted to thank everyone but decided learning to type might take her awhile so she sent him home with this note instead.

However, she’s apparently got the hang of it as she now has figured out Facebook and even mentioned that I’ve not been posting on my blog enough lately. :)

So everybody say hello to Cathy. She’s out there lurking. And if you would like to shoot her an e-mail just let me know and I’ll get you her address. I’m still buried under a mountain of tomatoes so if you don’t hear back right away, don’t panic. Life is just wee bit crazy ‘round here.

Roasted Lamb

Holy mackerel is it ever hot? Shirley, with her thick, black wool coat, hasn’t been more than five feet from the watering hole in days.

Laverne walks around, but with her tail up trying to catch a breeze.

Blanche keeps begging me to “Make it stop.”

 

And Rose  keeps making me feel her forehead. She’s just sure she’s having a stroke.

Hope you’re managing to keep cool in your neck of the woods.

They Greeted Me With Open Arms

“And just where have you been? The coop needs cleaning and we’re running out of oyster shells. Do really think you should be lolly-gagging around on a floaty in a lake? I don’t think so. Get back to work, Missy, or we’re going on strike. These eggs don’t make themselves you know.”

“Yes, Ma’am!”

Beating the Heat

Anyone know where I can get life jackets for sheep? They were a little miffed that they didn’t get to go with us this time.

I tried to explain that they would never get the campfire smell out of their wool, but they didn’t believe me.

They just asked if we could get a bigger camper, because they’re not crazy about the idea of sleeping in a tent.

Stocking the Larder

I’m still in the kitchen making a mess. In the mean time I wanted to share this link with you. If looking at these old photos doesn’t make you appreciate modern conveniences, I don’t know what will.

In Grandmother's Day

While browsing that website I happened along a collection of photos that, lo and behold,  was of my uncle’s family. He is the baby on the father’s lap in the last photo of this series.

Depression Era in Indiana

Some days, when we’re working hard and feeling sorry for ourselves, we need to stop and remember—it could be worse.

Happy harvesting!

The End is Here!

No, not that end. Put those bug-out-bags down.

The end of the semester! The end of the insane amount of reading and writing that I subjected myself to this summer. The end of academic h-e double hockey sticks. I’m FREE!

FREE! FREE! FREE! (Picture me running amok throwing papers in the air, while the cat stares, only slightly amused.)

Only problem is, all that stuff I had to set aside in order to study—yeah, it’s still here. Piles of laundry, dust bunnies the size of gophers, weeds in the flower beds taller than me. Doctors appointments. And the garden. Oh, yes, the garden.

Last time we talked it looked like this. Nice and tidy, remember?

 

Ahem. Things kind of got out of hand…

I’m canning and freezing and dehydrating like a mad woman. Cucumbers, green beans, green peppers and three different kinds of tomatoes. Right now I’m making salsa and figured since my kitchen looks like a bomb went off anyway I might as can up some chicken stock while I’m at it.  It’s boiling away on the back burner.

So that light at the end of the tunnel, that goal of sitting on my arse on a lazy summer day at the end of the semester. Not. Going. To happen.

It smells good here though.