Days of Blunder

November. Cool. Bright. Gorgeous. Purple beams of light. Serene dairy herd still on what remains of our pasture.

And the slightly anxious feeling of  "OH DEAR GOD WINTER IS COMING !"
So much to get done and always so little time. Yeah, I hear ya.
"If you have so little time and so much to do than why are you wasting it writing, huh ?"
"Well "  I said to myself,  "Writing centers me, helps me prioritize, and gives me the opportunity to drink another pot of cafe' La Folgers before I hit the ground running, OK walking a little fast"

Not sure why I put a conversation in my head in quotes but lets just move on, shall we ?

Any farmer/homesteader AKA Eejit type who works primarily outside in areas where bananas do not flourish,  goes through this last minute panic. Barns to be secured for high winds and blowing snow, windows to caulk, doors to fix, fences to strengthen, bedding to be obtained, hay to stack , waterers to install etc ...etc... etc. You would think after so many years of doing this we would learn to just do the best we can and pray about the rest but still my faith wavers.

Today for example Keith is taking a load of hogs to the locker for tomorrows Chicago deliveries. Our biggest delivery ever.  6 hogs in our little Ford Wagon.  I'm sure thats not such a big deal to you large hog producers, but to us, a huge deal. This means invoices to complete, morning chores to finish, grocery store orders to pack . While at the locker Keith will pick up the beef and hog we dropped off two weeks ago which means we play the "meat relocation" game as we move meat in and out of the freezers. We also have several last minute things to finish on our Farm Store which will open for business Nov. 27.

I also must allocate time to WORRY that the wagon can hold all that meat without its bottom scraping the ground, generating sparks all the way up Route 55. I mean really don't you just HATE IT when your bottom scrapes the ground ?



Post note: I really, truly am very grateful for the fact that our farm business is going well and that we have been graced with work. Work is good. But still, bottom , scraping,  sparks...

Who took my stuff ?!?!

Last weekend Keith and I decided we needed a break from the farm, so we took a mini-vacation and attended...The Small Farm Show in Columbia Missouri.  Yes, our horizons do need broadening.

On the way home we came through Memphis, Missouri and swung towards downtown to look for a mom and pop cafe. (We, just for the record, HATE Cracker Barrel.)  But before we found grub we found this

                                                           An auction about to begin.

Our pulses quickened, our mouths became suddenly dry . Could we ? Should we ?
Keep in mind my husband had recently brought home yet another truckload of  "inventory"  from his mother's recently sold house and I had knawed lightly on his gluteous about that.  How could I with good conscious suggest we attend this hoedown for hoarders ? I felt slightly guilty to even suggest we look , but I did.

We edged closer, pulled in by the possibility of great treasure, perhaps a new potato fork lurked behind the gold and olive green Tupperware of Carol Bradys time.

Hmmmm, not close enough. Are those tires on the wagon for SALE ? Or just for show ? We edged even closer hoping the locals would not see us. They might start moving the "good stuff" around. Hiding it behind the Suck and Cut home hair trimmer. Finally we were within the Circle of Fiends...

Oh man ! Just Look at it, Look at it  ! Look at it !  All that loot. I broke into song.

Old broken toys and  suitcases of plastic, half opened bottles of shampoo long gone spastic,  boots that are stylin'

And nuns that are smilin'

These are a few of my favorite (auction) things.

Before I go any further, does anyone else see that nuns eyes move as you look at herfrom different angles ? Good.  For a moment I thought it was just me having the Sister Mary Gerard  flashback.

 In the past when it came to auctions, it was said that Keith used me and I used him and neither one cared, BUT as the saying goes in our home lately,  "Someone quit her job  and that would mean LESS MONEY " So we snooped, and opened a few old purses looking for gold coins and then convinced ourselves that although we really WANTED the 30 year old microwave (fruit dryer ? storage unit for extra coffe cups? Funky Terraruim ? We did not really need it .

So like the strong willed folks we are, we walked away. Well I walked away, Keith laid down and kicked and screamed a little but I once spied on one of my teen boys from inside the local car wash, I wasn't above dragging a grown man down the main street in Memphis. (Insert badly rhymed country song here.)



A PIGture is worth a thousand words

Chores: Not a laughing matter

Just because his goof ball Yaya shoves a jester hat on his head, does not mean Wesley takes his farm chores any less seriously than any other 3 year old. (The hat was 99 cents at Frugality Store in Fairbury Illinois. How could I NOT buy it ? )

It is amazing what a three year old can safely do to help with chores. He holds the funnel so I can pour milk into calf bottles, hands me the screw on nipples, holds the bottles in the wagon to keep them from tipping and leaking milk. He reminds me to "feed hay now" and he helps me accomplish said task.

Yes, I see the hay twine. We removed it before feeding it to the calves. Relax you CDO farmer types. No, it is not OCD , because those letters would be out of order now wouldn't they ? May I continue please ?
After calves, and sows and goats and chickens, Wes finds time to chill out with the Papa. Wes may look all business but he actually has a childish side to him.

Little Store on the Prairie

Not the most original title but Laura Ingalls Wilder must be dead by now, she probably won't mind. Other store names in the running include "The Spotted Wattle" to honor the cross bred hogs we have here that are half red Wattle and half Spotted Poland. We found combining these two breeds made for some very loooong pieces of hearty tasting bacon. We also kicked around the name "Piggle Wiggles "not too far from the Piggly Wiggly stores of South Dakota very popular in the 70's. The problem with ALL those names is their lack of reference to the beef we will sell in the store and that is just plain unfair. Some fine cow/cattle types have given their lives for our farm, (we call them heros here in Illinois, where do you think they came up with the name for the Hero Sandwich ? Out of thin air ?) and they deserve to be alluded to in our store name don't you agree ?  But our creative juices have dried up lately. It was spent on the BIG decisions like what color to paint the inside window frames. All three of our sons believe white is the classiest choice while mommy dearest insists on Barn Red.

So until we decide its just "The Store". We hope you can drop by and see it ...maybe even name it. Bring a paint brush, there's still a chance all the work may not be 100% complete. Bets are being collected, they are not in my favor.

                            Grand Opening Week
                 Saturday November 27 through
                           Saturday December 4.
                                    10 am to 5pm


                  Certified Organic Beef and Pork
                          All beef is 100% grass fed


                         South Pork Ranch T-shirts
                                           Honey
                                  Free range Eggs
                                      Door prizes




click here for directions   http://www.south-pork-ranch.com/directions.htmlr

I get no respect

Determined to make our new sustainable life work, I headed out to chores last evening in a gleeful mood and was greeted with this

Really ? Really ?! I dedicate my life to you frieking animals and this is the respect I get ? I have half a mind (and not an ounze more) to add you , yes Sugar the goat I am talking to you, to add you to my already overflowing sausage supply in the freezer.

So why the hostile greeting ? Well apparently I was wearing something that smelled differently than I normally do. Goats have a very acute sense of smell and if they don't like an aroma ,you'll see this ridiculous sneer. Just what I needed, one more judgemental hairy mammal questioning my decisions.

And if that wasn't weird enough...a couple of days ago Keith and I decided we needed another hog hut for the soon to be exploding sow Spot. Due with her litter any day now. We like saying "any day now" that way we can't be accountable for the fact that we cannot seem to count 3 months and 3 weeks, the gestation period of a hog. Back to Spot, she is long, she is HEAVY and she is ready.

 You might recall that last spring Dot's litter was born prematurely and all died. A sad day on the farm. But Spot, even though mired in grief, became one of the herd's best nannies ! She would watch out over the other litters, often with more vigilence than their own mothers. In fact when we gathered up a few to castrate months ago it was Spot that came after us, butcher knife in hand. (Which we just took from her anyway since we forgot our scapels and beside one should never RUN with a knife.)

So with Spot being ready to birth, Keith busied himself with another hog house. He worked in the privacy (and warmth) of our machine shed. And on the seventh day he showed me this...

I hear ya. You think you know someone. You're married to him a long time. You raise 4 children with him. You help him pull calves and goats and pigs out of scary wet places. Then, they think they can just express themselves, out of the blue, with no warning. What next ? Please, if anyone knows tell me. I just don't think I can take any more drama in my life right now. And the thing that REALLY gets me. Everyone thinks I'm the crazy one.

"Air R E ?"

About 4 years ago when grand daughter Allana was just beginning to put sentences together, she and I took a different route home to her mothers. I was in the mood for a change so I took the winding road  home along the river just outside of Pontiac ,Illinois. As we traveled, Allana suddenly yelled from the car seat , "Yaya !
Air  R   E ? " This was toddler talk for "Where are we ?"

That phrase is echoing in my head this am (and when added to all the other voices in that cranium of mine it makes it hard to hear the phone ringing some days. And you people thought I did not answer the phone because I was so busy. )

"Where are we ?" Meaning what do I do today ? Before, I would cram it all into the week as I worked all weekend nights and slept all day Saturday and Sunday and needed Mondays to recover but now I have a different schedule. "Retired" but only as a nurse. I feel odd ( so what else is new?), disoriented (again, how is this different ? ) It is, I tell you. Its all different. I've always  brought steady money into the house and if we had an extra need on the farm I just worked an extra shift at the hospital, it was that easy. But now I have to put my money where my mouth is . Like there is room in my gob with all the Captain Crunch thats been shoved in there lately. Anxiety munching is the technical term. Of course its Organic Captain Crunch ! I'm insulted you would even ask.

Back to the main topic. Confusion. Like a piglet in high grass, I am uncertain of my direction.

How much time do I spend  writing ? farming ? houseworking ? with family ? at church ? marketing, packaging and peddling meat ? riding ? posting invoices ? invoicing post-its ? Finally after years of thinking about being home full time, I am. So why I am having such a hard time leaving my kitchen table this morning when there is so much to be done ?

Oh good. The grandson has arrived. My focus has returneth.