What I Didn't See at Farmer's Class Reunion

Last night I went with my husband to his 50th high school reunion. Yes, I am officially married to an old man. 

It was a great evening for him and I practiced my “observing” skills. I knew a handful of people and my goal as I told him in the car was, “I promise to try to not embarrass you.” That was best attempted by sitting and watching the evening activities.

From where I sat I saw some things that were missing.

I saw no “mean girls”, “jocks”, “honor students”, “stoners”, “nerds” (well maybe one or two nerds), “cheer leaders” or any other hierarchy.

What I did see was cheerful recognition, joyous reconnections and sincere hugs. There was also a lot of cautious nametag checking before the clap on the back or the hug around the neck which was followed by cheerful recall. Many live within the community and see each other from time to time while some are long standing friends with their lives intertwining. Others traveled a great distance to attend.

There weren’t many standing in the corner like a wall flower (maybe a few of us spouses at times).  Many of the class members went out of their way to introduce themselves to us non-members. Kindness abounded.

Throughout the evening a lot of leaning in happened – which I’ve learned is a sign that someone is really listening – or it could be that at this age some are just trying to hear . . . anything.

Old stories about the past were shared. Laughing together reminiscing about this and that. At times the conclusion of the conversation was unknown. Memories are getting flimsy. But the fun of retelling the event through each one’s eyes was delightful.

Old age has a way of closing the gap. Not only does attitude change but physicality does too. The muscle bulging jocks had the same over the belt bellies like the nerds. The popular girl’s wrinkles and gravity attacks were mirrored on each beautiful woman.

I joke about the old age, appearances, etc. The bottom line – time levels things. What I wouldn’t give to help kids in school right now understand. To free the insecure, the bullied and even the bullies of the weight of acceptance and measuring up in their world. Those few years in school can distort self-perception for too long. It’s such a waste of time.

It was a wonderful evening for a school reunion. The sincere kindness shown to me – an outsider, was heartwarming. Watching people move from person to person, memory to memory, connection to connection was worth giving up an evening of popcorn eating and TV watching (because I lead such an exciting life).

Also, I can use this as ammunition when I want to get Farmer to do something with me that he really would rather not.

I made it through the evening without spilling food, tripping or walking out of the bathroom with toilet paper stuck to my shoe. I think I might have narrowly passed the “not embarrassing” part.

If not, I might be able to do a re-do in five years when they get back together again. I’ll have a while to practice.



What's Behind a Name?


These are four of the five critters I had to feed by bottle the other night.  

Let me introduce you.

Moe is the dark, handsome guy. You don’t see Curly – he’s behind me causing trouble. Moe and Curly are a couple of goof balls. Hopping around, kicking up their feet, causing general mayhem.

Prancer is the only female. Talk about ADD. She can’t stand still for more than three consecutive seconds. And, every time she has to dance around, she lets go of the nipple and twirls around. Which means I have to get her attention, get ahold of her again and get the nipple back into her mouth for perhaps 1.5 sucks before we start the dance again. Every dance step includes bending over and if I’m lucky – not stepping in a new pile of poop.

Twister could win a talent show that was looking for how far you can turn your neck while standing on all four legs. After much wrangling, this calf will start drinking and with each suck he turns his head until his head is upside down and you can’t hang onto the bottle anymore. Every third or fourth time he falls over and we have to start it again. Which once again includes a lot of bending and poop stepping.

And, then there’s Houdini. Now, this guy is an amazing drinker. Grabs the nipple right away and drinks the whole bottle without a problem. The problem is when the bottle is empty, he thinks he needs more and will follow you around trying to get more. This will include him banging his head up against any body part he can reach, sucking on the side of your leg and trying to get the nipple from the other calf you are wrestling with.

So, when he was done with his bottle, I corralled him behind a piece of plywood that was standing up against an old head lock. There was a triangle shaped space that would hold him nicely. When I came back with another bottle and was fighting . . . um, I mean feeding another calf I could hear him making a noise like he was knocking at a door.

I stopped feeding the other calf and looked over the edge of the plywood and he wasn’t there. A quick look around and I found him trying to climb up a board laying behind the headlock. He found a 10-inch opening that he squeezed through, climbed up another piece of board and was attempting to scale new heights.

I moved the piece of plywood and to say I squeezed through the 10-inch space would be like saying I shoved a 9-inch round cake into a cupcake holder, or a size 10 foot into a size 4 shoe, or . . . you get the picture. That alone wasn’t the worst part. The fact that Houdini is only 3 feet tall and I’m 5 feet plus 5 inches I got to be the one to clean out all those cobwebs and dust banners that draped across the top of the headlock and boards. I never saw that coming and there was a little bit of screeching involved with that.

I was able to turn him around and head him back where he came from when he spotted another board tipped on its side with an opening that would be able to hold about half of his body. Of course, he just had to attempt that. With his back side outside of that spot I pulled him back and turned him around to the original escape route.

Anyone who has messed with calves know they don’t move easily. Unless you’re talking about their bowels. Yep, as I was guiding him out, he pooped all over my leg and into my boot.

When I finished cleaning the bottles and headed home, I had about an hour to clean up and finish making dinner for company coming that night.

I mentioned I had to feed calves and one guest said something like “Oh, it looks like that would be so much fun. They are so cute and sweet looking.”


I nodded and smiled while under my breath . . . “as much fun as a three-ring circus in a haunted house.”



Growing Old Sucks


Yes, growing old is sucky at times. 

You can’t jump as high, run as fast, or bend as easy. For women the make-up time in the morning increases and your eyebrows disappear.

My legs quit working efficiently. They revolted for all the walking, climbing up and down on the tractor, running after escaped cows and life in general. Apparently, there are little flippers that are supposed to be shoving the blood back up your legs to your heart. For some reason, mine went on an extended vacation.

Therefore, if it ain’t working then let’s get rid of them. Sort of. That’s the gist of the reason.

I had to have vein restoration – ablations of some of my veins in my legs. They have been bugging me for 3 – 4 years and I finally decided I should figure it out.

I was told I needed to take care of it because I was four times as likely to have a stroke. I kinda thought I didn’t want to do that, thus the procedure.

Today was the day. I was told by one person “No big deal, doesn’t hurt.” Another person – my primary doctor “I hate to tell you this, but it is quite painful.”

This is how it went down . . . well really up.

I got to change into these really cool paper shorts and tissue slippers. I can see a new fashion wave in the horizon.

Then into the room to prep. Laying on my stomach they washed the whole leg. I was fortunate enough that the vein from stem to stern was bad (ankle to groin). As they were ultra-sounding the area again, I heard “Oh, it’s one of those.”

If I had a dollar for every time I heard “I’ve never seen that before”, “That’s never happened before”, “That’s weird”, “How in the world did you do that?” I would be rich. Well, maybe I could buy a steak meal at Logan’s.

I had a vein that branched off to the side (this is my understanding of the situation). It’s not unheard of but not normal either. Why be normal – there are too many normals in this world.

After being washed with freezing cold water and wrapped in paper (I felt like a subway sandwich) the doctor came in and the fun began.

They started freezing my leg by my ankle where the incision would be and the “tool” that would be shoved up the vein would enter. They then proceeded to numb my leg in several spots all the way up. And, no it doesn’t feel like a bee sting – unless the bee is from the Promise Land in the Bible where it took two men to carry grapes.

“OK, we’re ready. You might feel a little pressure but should be no pain.”

And we’re off to the races.

Within 1 minute I asked, “You’re way up at the top right?” She answered “Yes, does it hurt or are you just feeling the pressure?” As I was saying “It just aches a little, a nice sharp stabbing pain occurred, and I adjusted my appraisal of the pain. So, some more nice bee stings.

The whole procedure only took about 20 minutes.

Then comes the wrapping. The nurse said my leg up on top would be quite swollen because of all the numbing solution. And then wrapped my leg from stem to stern.

Since this vein was in the back of my leg I had to lay on my stomach. Doing that is not so good for my neck and by the time I was done I was feeling like I was going to get a migraine. So, I stopped at Tim Horton’s on the way home for some caffeine and you just gotta have something donuty with that coffee. And, it was my reward for not crying or cussing.

The good part is there are really no restrictions – I can carry on per usual.

The bad part is there are really no restrictions and I can carry on as usual. I asked the doctor if she could write a note to Farmer saying I had to lay on the couch and watch Hallmark Christmas movies for the rest of the day.  But alas, that didn’t happen.

I get to go back over the next several weeks to have this checked and more done on the other leg.


Meanwhile for a few days I have red neck spanks on my leg.


I took this picture to garner some sympathy from my family. I doubt it will work.

I took this picture to garner some sympathy from my family. I doubt it will work.


No Blinker, No Problem

Don't be jealous of my wooden bumper.

Don't be jealous of my wooden bumper.

After merging for over an hour looking through dirty windows I drove the tractor up to the shop to wash them. While I was hanging off the steps and draped over the hood of the tractor Farmer called me.

Farmer: “Hey, I need you to bring me some fuel. Check the tank and make sure there is enough. Just call me back when you get to the truck.”

Me: “Where is the truck?”

F: "Halfway down the driveway."

M: I dropped everything and dismounted the tractor hood with nary a broken bone and walked over to the truck. And then called Farmer.

F: “Can you see how full the tank is?”

M: “Yep, ¾ full.”

F: “K Bring it out to the field for me. Drive careful. There are no blinkers.”

M: “OK, but I have to run home and go pee first.”

F: “Can’t you just pee behind the truck?”

M: This is where I would have slammed the phone down if the option was available. With the cell phones it’s so unrewarding to hang up on someone.

After the bladder was emptied and I was on the way with the truck I was concentrating on staying below the speed limit. I’ve watched enough Live PD to know that you can be pulled over for any small thing and going 10 miles over the speed limit would probably qualify. Having no working blinkers, a wooden bumper and no driver’s license I was trying to be the perfect citizen.

I made it to the other farm with no problem.


Farmer's best side.

Farmer's best side.

Once I parked it and Farmer was fueling the tractor I realized the plate on the truck was missing.

M: “No license plate?”

F: “Yes, there are 2 up on the dash. If you get stopped show them one and if they don’t like it, you have another one to try.”

M: Blank stare

F: “Be careful going home, I was already stopped once, so they may be looking for you.”

You can see the silos on the main farm 2 miles north.

You can see the silos on the main farm 2 miles north.

Farm Life Preservation 101


What part of farm life am I referring too?

Anyone who comes in contact with the farmer this time of year.

For us with late April snow and never-ending May showers started us off behind. Now, add a broken-down hay mower and the chopper which has been in the dealership shop since April and no delivery back to the farm date and you have created the perfect storm for needing to know about farm life protection. This is what we call the “Angry Bear” stage of farming.

Here are the 10 guidelines of Farm Life Preservation 101.

1.     When approaching the farmer during this stressful time give him wide berth. Stay at least 10 feet away. That way you’ll have a better chance to duck flying tools.

2.     When approaching the farmer, make no quick movements and avoid eye contact.

3.     When leaving the farmer, back away slowly.

4.     While in the presence of the farmer, only speak when spoken to and speak in soft hushed tones unless machinery is running and then you must be able to lip read and shout louder than a jet engine revving up. Always agree with what they are saying.

5.     Never ask any questions.

6.     When feeding time comes push the food under the equipment with a long stick.

7.     Unless bellowed to enter, only go into the shop if it is necessary and when doing so, be stealthy and quiet so as not to rile the farmer.

8.     If he asks you to help him for just a minute, quietly text your doctor and let him know you can’t make it in for your liver transplant scheduled for later in the day.

9.     Always be on guard and ready to jump. The expectancy level is high, and you never know what will trigger it.

10.  If for any reason the farmer has fallen asleep, NEVER EVER wake him up unless you have had training.

All nonsense aside, it is a very stressful time of the year and all prayers for all farmers would be welcomed.

But, hey, I can’t fix any of the problems so why not have a little fun. The good thing is Farmer is so busy he won’t read this for several weeks and by then hopefully the “Angry Bear” syndrome will have past.

No Dairy Deception*

I have decided to champion a new cause.

There are a lot of people out there that are confused about dairy products. So, I am going to help by displaying some dairy free products that you can use.

We all know that dairy was never intended to be consumed by humans. I mean after all, what kind of idiot decided for the first time to pull on a cow’s teat and then have the nerve to drink it?

I mean it has to be bad, right. That poor cow shouldn’t be relieved of her milk and then have the milk put to good use as a nutritious drink. Bull ____.

We must protect that cow and do our best to help consumers choose only products that don’t have milk.

We will free all the dairy cows to go out into nature the way God intended them. I could use some help here – gotta load them up and find a place to free them. I’m thinking we should start in Los Angeles since there are so many cow lovers there.

Clarity is what the consumers need to be able to stop the horrendous use of quality food products.

I have the solution!

I will start small by voicing the false dangers of consuming milk there by starting the confusion.  I can feed the movement by adding these stickers to products that might confuse consumers, that way they can make an informed choice.

Oh, and to help inform them I need to get a high-profile celebrity – someone who has never been on a farm, someone who hates milk, someone who wants a just cause to parade.  And, we’ll be sure to pay them a lot of money to have them join us. Just have to figure out how to make some money to pay them, but I got an idea brewing.

IMG_8174 2.JPG

I think I should be extremely clear to the consumers so they will make the best no-dairy choice. I will add these stickers to EVERYTHING that isn’t dairy. I mean they should know kitty litter has no dairy, hair spray has no dairy, eggs have no dairy and 44 inch televisions are dairy free. Let’s give the consumers many options of spending their money on dairy free items.

We will become so popular companies will be lining up to get permission to use our logo. And we will gladly supply it for $$$ - lots of $$$$. (There you go - celebrity endorsement on the way.) You know if we can get the right companies to join us we can become rich! What mother wouldn’t choose the no-dairy diaper for their child when looking at a row of diapers and only one has the no-dairy seal?

Our no-dairy seal will become known far and wide and we will spread the BS of no-dairy items. Just think we don’t need to stop in the food aisles. We can spread to clothing, cleaning supplies, hardware and more!

Won’t you please join me?

Get in on the bottom floor of deception. 

We can join and bring about more fear and trepidation for consumers. Oh, wait a minute, you might be a consumer. I was thinking I was speaking to fellow farmers. You know those of us who are trying to pull the BS wool over your eyes.

Well, it matters not.

Coming soon – No-Dairy Deception campaign. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.

*Read with tongue in cheek, with a sarcastic tone of voice and over the top enthusiasm.



Dirt Jeans - The Real Deal - It$ a Deal!

I have finally found another avenue of income.

I shall gather all our muddy jeans and sell them on e-bay. 

And, ours will be higher quality.


Ours will be ORGANIC. They will be real. No artificial dirt. This is genuine farm dirt. And a bonus - there will be some poop, pee and grease mixed in. Cow poop, chicken crap, a few animal hairs too.

No hormones added and they may or may not be GMO free depending on where the jeans have wandered.

Oh, and then our added value will be the smell. You can't put a value on the smell. And you all know how horrible the fake scents are. They just never get it quite right.

So there you have it. Every "lazy, don't want to really work" person, you too can continue the guise of high fashion by purchasing our jeans. 

Even though we have the added value of smell our prices are competitive at $399.99 plus free shipping if you order before first cutting hay.

And, BONUS! For every 3 pair of jeans ordered we will throw in a FREE sweaty T-shirt that is the ultimate match to your poop/dirt covered jeans. The sweat smell is designed to blend perfectly with the poop smell of the jeans. You will be the envy of every "non-worker" you come in contact with.

So, order now before these go out of fashion.

And a sneek peek into the fashion world that's on the horizon - feed bag purses.

Kitty Litter, Kardashians and the Absurdity of it All

Last night I walked past the kitty litter box and saw a big turd laying there uncovered by litter and thought “How gross”!!!

How is it we keep critters in our house and give them boxes to poop in? And it doesn’t stop there. We hand clean the poop out of the box, ad more litter so they can poop some more and so on and so on. All inside our nice clean houses!

Don’t get me wrong I love my cat but the disgustinglyness (yes, a new word I created) of it all smacked me in the face.

I was pondering this as I lay in bed trying to lull myself to sleep by watching meaningless TV. Thus, the Kardashians.

I don’t follow their program, but hear about them on the news etc. But, it was chosen as the boring, help me fall asleep program for the night.

Wrong choice.

On this program, they were packing to go to Paris.

Did you know it takes several people and multiple clothes racks full of clothes to ready for your trip?

And then there’s hair and make-up people, stylists, assistants and assistants to the assistants and on it goes.

Other people design and furnish their homes. I’ve never seen them clean house or cook.

And, then it dawned on me.

My cat - I feed her– she doesn’t have to hunt, gather or cook her food.

I brush her hair and remove any unsightly clumps.

I’m her stylist. I purchased her bed – pretty pink and soft – which she peed on. Apparently, not to her liking.

I clean her home – especially her toilet – she’s never, ever once cleaned up after herself.


I have a Kardashian Kat.

Hmmm, wonder if Ryan Seacrest would be interested in a new genre of a reality show.