The Number Game

I love giveaways, especially those from bloggers because they often give away the coolest stuff like handmade soap and signs ! Take a moment and visit this lady's great blog. http://sharonlovejoy.blogspot.com/  If you have a country/writer/illustrator/gardener heart you will love her.(This reminds me, I have two bars of soap to send to   bhttp://mybabyjohn.blogspot.com/   I better get crackin, I mean wrappin')

The sad thing is...I have never made a cake that looked as good
as this soap loaf.

Runaway Hides

Every time its the same thing. You birth them, you nurse them, you share your bed with them. You protect them from all harm and you give ONLY good advice. After all that what do they do ? THEY LEAVE YOU. They think they have all the answers and they just walk out the door oblivious to the sound of your heart breaking. Crrrraaaack. They make it worse by going into another animals pasture and embarrassing you with their pignanigans.

But of course, as soon as things get a little tough or a little bit scary, say maybe the donkey nips them in the arse or the big mean red-orange tractor fires up close to them....they come runnin' back to the safety of the home pasture. Right THROUGH the electric fence, that basically can't give them much of a shock anymore due to the high grass someone has not bothered to mow yet. Yes as always, it comes back around to me




Run Joey Run Joey Run Joey Run
(first one to name that tune wins two free bars of handmade soap
mailed to your home ! Yes even if you live out of the US )


Mow is me.*




The "Mow is me" phrase is copyrighted by its creator S.L. Unauthorized use of said phrase is prohibited with out appropriate fee payment. The appropriate fee payment is $50 payable by cash or check. Because S. L.is quite hermit like and prefers her privacy it is best if you send the money to me.Donna OShaughnessy 32796 E 750 N Rd  Chatsworth, Il 60921. I will forward all fees to her. Sure I will.

I love to follow other peoples blogs. Some more than others. I especially love this one http://disasterfilm.blogspot.com/   Although I ask you please do not follow or comment on his blog as this fellow is well known for stealing all the comments from all the followers in the land. He is one big comment hog. I mean he says "Rainy today in the village" and he gets 100 comments. (Happy Birthday anyway John Gray)

Anyway, on his blog I don't want you to see, he has this great pic of a chicken staring right at you. I have been wanting to recreate that shot with our own poultry for awhile. Today I got down on the ground and gave it my best attempt.

Yeah they got the nice feather thing going. My hair would look good too
if all I had to do all day was eat bugs and worms.

Now keep in mind, I am not a chicken chic. I do not normally attach myself to birds. I find them dull and very dull. I appreciate them for the eggs they produce and the chicken caccitore I have consumed. I do not name them. Well except for this little Banty rooster a friend gave us last week, maybe I'm a little attached to him but it doesn't count as he's not a real rooster.

Anyway, I'm on the ground and they start to notice me a little. Suddenly I have a flashback to 1993 the year Keith and I were married. I ventured into the barn after work probably still in my 2 piece suit with peplum skirt no doubt, to say hello.  He was milking a goat and I see the cutest little fluffy yellow baby chick on the ground next to him. I scoop it up and before I can say Kentucky Fry this, I am attacked by a flurry of white feathers. Some crazed chicken is going for my head ! I pull the chick closer to me to protect it and the hen intensifies her attack. Keith is no help as he has now fallen off the milking stand as he rolls with laughter. He's trying to say "put the chick down" but he's laughing so hard he can't speak. Finally this Chicago raised bride figures out the nutso hen just wants her chick back. I put it down. I may not be very smart but at least I'm slow.

Anyway, back to the present. I am getting nervous. I'm vulnerable down here. They seem to sense this. They begin to move in.




Face to face with Birdzilla, I begin to wish I had fed them more corn and less
of the organic raw milk.

I hunker down behind my camera and try to look less threatening. I make nary a sound unless you count the minor incontinence I am experiencing. I always lose a little control when I sense my eyeballs are soon to be pecked upon. I wait them out. They send in backup chicks.

"To me she looks harmless. Lazy and
unmotivated, but harmless.
What do you think Esmerelda ?"

Still unpecked, I decide to go even closer. I came for an awesome chickie shot and I am going to get it. I zoom in. What happens ? Some Rooster Boy decides to get all cocky with me.



Get back girls, Midlife Farmwife is all mine.

I reach for my cell phone, I'm not above calling for help. After all these bird things can get out of control so quickly. One minute you are admiring a couple of lovebirds in a cage chatting it up with a hottie named Mitch and the next minute the freaky things are dive bombing you at the filling station and your whole backwards town goes up in flames. But before I can flip open my cheap Tracfone to see I am out of minutes AGAIN, Mr. all full of himself takes a sharp right and strikes a pose. Vogue.

Anyway, I never got the shot I wanted, but I did bond just a little with the egg squaters. Still, I'm not naming them and you can't make me.

But if I was...it would be Marsha, Jan and Cindy. The blond in front would of course be Marsha.
Marsha, Marsha, Marsha.

My man John

If you are in the prime of your life like Keith and I, meaning you spent your wild teen years growing up in the 70's, you are aware of my man John...Vivian

John and his wife Louise , well educated corporate folk, left it all for a small run down farm in the east. Hey, we're going to do the same thing ! With the exception of $3000 they earned annually as substitute teachers and lecturers, they were totally self sufficient. Any "get back to nature" hippie worth their homemade hemp pipe, read this book and fantasized about living the same type of life. We all wanted to make our own wine, butcher rabbits (we were all meat eating hippies back then. Vegans were not invented yet) and tan our own hides to warm us in the winter.  It was this whole I'm free, You're free attitude that resulted in thousands of children being born with names like Willow, Bark and ...uh...Raven.

I bought this book in 1977 and have moved it from house to house for 34 years. I even dropped it in a mud puddle once but recovered it and dried it and continued moving it from location to location because ONE DAY...And that day will be June 9 when I tell you all that we are SELLING OUR FARM !

After Keith and I were married I discovered he also owned a copy of this book, even claiming that MY copy was HIS copy. He could not explain the dried mud splashes all over the cover but he was sure MY copy was HIS copy. Well, now it is OUR copy because ONE DAY...ONE DAY...is now baby, right now

Rorschack Soap Blot Test

Quick. Don't think about it. What do you see in this bar of soap ?

OK. Next one, same thing. First impression only.

And finally the last Rorschach Soap Blot example. Remember go with your gut.

So shall we compare ? This is what I saw.

 Bar number one: Profile pic of a seeing eye dog suffering from some nasty brain damage after using    one of those goofy Flo-Bee haircutting devices.
Bar number two:Leonardo DiCaprio's boot going under the waves as he leaves the Titanic
Bar number three Monarch Butterfly breaking free from an over frosted brownie

Thanks for playing.
The really really scary thing is my soap was supposed to come out looking like this:



Ah well, so much being a "self-taught" soaper. The smell ? Mine is similar to an orange piece rolled in an old Recess Cup and left out in the sun all summer. Oddly sweet like gym socks of that boy you really liked in high school.


Just a reminder: http://seanachaidaughter.wordpress.com/

One day...one day.

Keith and I were talking about our future, specifically where we might want to retire ONE DAY.  A day way way in the future. We chewed on and spit out some of the obvious locations such as Florida (no way, hate that state) Arizona (too many Roadrunners) and Ireland (OK that was always just my dream). We settled on a small place not too far from here. Its called

Off-The-Grid and it  located here in Central Illinois . You might know of Off-The-Grid, its also been called Back-to-the-Land and many of the hippie type of the 60's and 70's took up residence there.

 Sqeaky Fromm comes to mind but she is a bad , very bad, example of sustainable living.

So in looking at our future retirement home of REAL Homesteading where 90% of our needs are met by our own hard work, it became clear we have a large amount of work to do in order to prepare. Seems funny to have to "prepare" to live off the land but reality is such. Our first step will be research. The book kind to start but then real solid research, the type that will require finding those who live off the grid and visiting them.

Still speaking in vague terms am I not.? Our future plan is to live as frugally and simply as possible without outside jobs and very minimal cash income.  Our retirement home will not be this farmhouse but instead will consist of a very tiny home attached to a work shop which would then be attached to a barn. We want to grow 95% of our own food, heat our home entirely with wood and /or wood and some other fuel. We will raise only enough animals for our own consumption.

 This livestock would include a couple cows, a few pigs, some chickens, turkeys and rabbits.  We think 10 acres of mixed woods and pasture would suffice. There will be no lawns to mow only pasture to graze. I would also like water such as a river, pond or small lake since I won't get to retire on Corkscrew Hill as I had dreamed of. What little cash we will need will be acquired through the selling of extra food or items we can make such as soap and through talents such as writing or teaching others how to live in Off The Grid Ville

Seems like a huge task to get ready for does it not ? Worry not Mon Cherie, we have lots of time to do our homework. Moving to Off The Grid is way off, WAY WAY off. But, if any of you know of folks really living this way please let us know about them. We have many  questions.

Keith and I after coffee this am glowing
with excitement about our new
"retirement" plans.

One Odd Duck

Met this fellow today at the Rare Animal Show at Garfield Farm http://www.garfieldfarm.org/ in LaFox, Illinois. He was charming.

Hats were very popular at this event. Some were the expected sort being as it was hot and sunny.

Some were time period specific due to the numerous demonstrations being given.

"John ? JOHN ! Could you slow down please, my cullottes are in that bag."

While others sported suspicious looking eyes beneath their brims.

Some women get gawked at, me; I get glared at.

One brilliant hat managed to match itself perfectly to its owners blouse. Now that takes some planning. I'm lucky to get both arms inside the sleeves of my top let alone match it to something.



HRH Kate and new groom William attempted to avoid the
paparazzi by  disguising themselves as midwest farmers
but her hat gave her away.

All in all the day was great fun. Many of the animals on display and available for petting were critically endangered as are our two Red Wattle hogs we brought along for the day.

But as adorable as we believe our pigs are, they were even more cute and cuddly creatures scattered about the farm, like these Chinchilla rabbits.

Well, the granddaughter thought they were cute and cuddly. The grandson thought he'd borrow a few of the hare's carrots for a snack when no one was looking. He forgot he was on the Kid-Cam.

The best part of the show was the relaxation factor. Not one single obnoxious sign about, "Animals can be dirty, therefore if you touch them you will be dirty and will probably die so you must drench yourself in this chemical lung burning sanitizer."  Nor did I see any of those other equally obnoxious "You break it you've bought it " signs which always get placed in front of the angora wool displays.

Naaaa. Garfield Farm was one reasonable place. Extremely kid friendly. Not only animals to see but animals to touch...

and HOLD

The only part of the day that needed improvement was the blatant self promotion of farm products. Some people were just relentless. Soap made from pig lard and real lye. Imagine