My organization skills rock.

Do ya’ll know what this is?

It’s a twisted, mutilated, tangled mess of Christmas lights that has caused my nerves to tingle and twitch.

Sooooo glad that I put the lights away properly after taking down last year’s Christmas tree.  I am soooo happy about this ball of lights, I could just puke.  Bring on the holidays.

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I don’t know what to title this post. “Move to Trash?”

I typed that headline in and it (my stupid computer) immediately asked me if I wanted to move my post to trash. What? How does it (my stupid computer) know that this post is going to suck? I’m thinking my (stupid) computer is smarter than me and isn’t so stupid after all. Maybe it’s my past track record with my posts. Okay, computer, you win. This post most certainly will suck but we aren’t going to move it to trash just yet.

Guess what? The farmer’s market is over for the season. Thank goodness to Joseph, Mary and the donkey they rode in on. (I stole that line from my partner, Katie. She uses it and I idolize her so I have to copy her!)  Anyway, I have nothing to do these days except blog. Ha ha ha ha. I’m so funny that I should go on tour.

No, really, I do have some extra time so guess what I have been doing? Cleaning my house. I just cleaned it, like, last May; I don’t know how or why it’s this filthy again.  I have one room done and I have found that all I do is stay in this room and stare at the cleanliness of it. I keep putting off moving to the next room.  The rest of the house is a disaster zone…I kid you not.

 Look…it’s clean. Wow. It only took me 4 days to accomplish this small feat. I shall now show you what kitchen looks like.

 I tried using the vaccuum to clean this mess up.

 Then I realized that the vaccuum was not going to do the job. It would require  an atomic bomb to rid the counter of this caked on, hardened flour mess. So, Cranky used this tool instead. Cranky has big muscles so he was able to manhandle the scraper without much difficulty.  My solution was to bring the pressure washer into the kitchen but after that mess the one time in the upstairs bathroom, Cranky frowns on me using it in the house anymore.  But geez, did that pressure washer ever take off the soap scum and residue in the shower! It also took off the tiles, the grout and the caulking but it sure was a clean shower. I was debating the use of fossil fuels verses harsh cleaning chemicals to clean that disgusting shower and the pressure washer won the heated debate inside my head. Plus, my pressure washer is just a hoot to use. I wrote my name on the shower walls with the power washer wand. Come on…you know a pressure washer is a cool little machine when it has the word, “wand” in it. It’s like magic.  Cranky bought me the pressure washer as a birthday gift one time. It ranks right up there with the best gifts ever like the tap head for my weed whacker and my rototiller. All gifts courtesy of the Crankster. That boy knows I don’t like diamonds or fancy dinners.  The way to my heart is power equipment and water buffalo. But why won’t he buy me water buffalo?

So, back to what else I have been wasting my time with. Oh, we went to get our Christmas tree yesterday.  Katie and her husband sell Christmas trees on their little farm so I bartered some whole wheat flour or something for a huge, huge tree. Here is the youngin’s with the tree they picked out.

They are punks, I tell you. Who dresses them?  Do they have a mother?  Evidently, she has no idea how to patch holes in clothing.

Here is Cranky inhaling carbon monoxide exhaust from the chain saw.  The heck with a bow saw for this job. We would still be there today if we let those youngin’s of ours cut it down with a handsaw. They would have got in some knock down, drag out fight deciding who gets to saw down the tree first.

And there the tree is…still on the truck. I’ll get it in the house one of these days…when I clear a path to get it in.  So, I better get this post finished or else move this post to the trash.

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No jelly doughnuts. What the heck?

I’m back from my long, long day. And there were no jelly doughnuts to be found anywhere at the greenhouse plastic covering ceremony.  But in the good news category, I did learn how to set up my greenhouse and cover it with plastic.   I also learned the proper way to attach rocks to the plastic when throwing the attached ropes over the greenhouse roof.  This will avoid ripping the plastic like what happened earlier today.  Good to know. My mental greenhouse list of “what to do” and “what not to do” is full. I can now set forth with setting my own greenhouse up.  Now, I just need the ambition to do it.

Now on to really important stuff…Help me out here.  Is this normal?

Our Hereford bull who obviously thinks he is a dog.

Why can’t he be like the other cows?  Noooo. Our bull has to sit on his bum and act like a watch dog.

See? The other cows are normal.

What's up with him?

So, that’s what today’s post is about…the lack of jelly doughnuts at a greenhouse raising and our bull…otherwise known as “The Dog.”

I think I need to think of some new material.

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Just Stuff

I never thought it would take me this long to get another post together as I thought my life would be slowing down a bit this fall. It certainly is not as busy as this past summer but I’m still pretty dog gone busy.  I only have two more farmer’s markets for the season and that is a good thing.  I am ready for a break. 

Since the last time I blogged, there has been a few notable happenings.

We had a Halloween Harvest Hoedown on the farm last weekend.  It was cold, wet, muddy and miserable but we still had a good time.  We usually have  hayrides, games and other fun party stuff but not this year.  We did, however, have a wonderful bluegrass band that played from 6pm until midnight. It was more or less like a jam session with players and pickers taking the stage at any time. And they sure played some great bluegrass music.

Our bandstand filled with bluegrass pickers.

Our pavilion filled with friends and kin folk listening to the music.

I think these two partied too much.

What else happened? Oh, yeah. My oldest boy got his first deer.  I am not a hunter myself but Cranky likes to partake in the slaying of innocent animals.  Needless to say, Cranky sure was proud of our son.  Cranky claims, “It was a hell of a shot!” Yadda, yadda, yadda.  I will just take the photos and pretend that I am so excited about this great  achievement when actually, all I wanted to do was get in out of the cold into the warmth of my house and sit on my bum.

Sorry about the blood.  I forgot to warn you there would be blood and gore in this post.

 

Just look at Cranky and how happy he is.  I have about 50 million other photos just like this.  They  just had to take a crap load of pictures all posing in the same pose of the dead deer, Cranky’s huge, proud smile and the spent bullet. This obviously was exciting stuff in their lives.

I guess one of the traditions of Cranky’s family is that you have to drag your first deer to the butcher shop, skin it yourself, drink the blood and eat the heart. (And pose for more pictures next to the dead deer.) I don’t know if this is bogus or not.  Truthfully, I don’t care.  Cranky took all the youngin’s, the dead deer,and the camera to the butcher shop and left me alone in the my warm house sitting on my bum.

Dragging the dead deer with no help from his brothers.

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Is this the part where he eats the heart? I now understand why hunting is so fun.

Okay, enough about the dead deer, proud papa Cranky and ole dead eye, my son. 

I have to head off to bed now.  I have to be up early to help a friend put plastic on her new greenhouse at 7Am.  Seriously, who plans to put plastice on a greenhouse at 7 in the morning?  On a Sunday morning, no less?  Well, my friend, Elaine does.  And when I finally get around to setting up my greenhouse and putting on the plastic, guess what time I am going to do it?  At 7AM and Elaine’s butt better be here helping too.  She is serving donuts.  Really, that is the only reason that I am helping at 7AM on a Sunday morning.  I would never help someone out unless there is donuts involved. And she better have jelly filled too.

 

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I blame it all on Jeannette.

Okay, so I have been telling you that I was REALLY busy this past summer and I think most of you believe me because I live on a working farm, have four little youngin’s, two aging parents, one blind brother, a big garden to feed the babes, lots of animals, a new donkey, and one very cranky husband. (This sentence works better if sung to “The Twelve Days of Christmas.” Do it. Trust me, I know what I’m talking about. Nah, not really, but try it anyway.)

So, on top of all this active lifestyle, I also like to peruse Craig’s list. I never even knew anything about Craig’s list until  the summer of 2008 when my dear friends from Wisconsin came to stay with us for a week. That was the summer that I lived in the outfitter’s tent with the youngin’s. I will mention the great thing about Joe and Jeannette from Wisconsin is that they are the greatest houseguests EVER. When they visited, they were thrilled to stay in the outfitter’s tent for their stay which meant that I did not have to clean my insanely messy house for their visit. I could just move back into my own house for a week and it does not bother me one bit to live in this constant state of mess. Thus, this avoided the “whole freaking out because my house is a freakin’ mess and I have guests coming in 3 hours because I procastinated putting off cleaning it because I would much rather be outside puttering around.”  This is my mentality pretty much all of the time. And I wonder why Cranky is cranky?

This is Joe. Joe likes trees. I mean, REALLY likes trees. For Pete's sake, the boy has several college degrees in trees. Seriously.

This is Joe. Joe likes trees. I mean, REALLY likes trees. For Pete's sake, the boy has several college degrees in trees. Seriously.

This is Jeannette. This photo was taken this past winter right after Jeannette just finished puking because she was preggers. She is not pregnant anymore as she delivered a healthy baby boy named Eli who has a lot of hair. A lot.

This is Jeannette. This photo was taken this past winter right after Jeannette just finished puking because she was preggers. She is not pregnant anymore as she delivered a healthy baby boy named Eli who has a lot of hair. A lot.

By the way, Jeannette really does not have red eyes. I have no idea how fix the red eye thingy feature on my camera. But in other news relating to my technically challenged brain and zero computer knowledge, I now know how to link on my posts. Can we hear a big, “HooAhhh!” for my competency in that area?

 So, back to Joe and Jeannette. When they visit, they also cook for themselves, make bread and I can put them to work on the farm and they love it. In fact, Jeannette can throw a hay bale farther than any gal I have ever seen. She is, after all, a former Wisconsin state tree climbing champion. I kid you not. She won a chainsaw out of the deal. Yep, from what I hear, that’s what ‘them there’ cheeseheads do in Wisconsin, milk cows, make cheese, climb trees and polka. Mercy, can’t forget the polka.

Where was I going with this Joe and Jeannette thing?
Oh, oh, yeah, right. I remember.
Jeannette and I were talking about the good, bad and ugly things with computers and the internet. She suggested that I check out Craig’s list as she thought I might like it, as I am cheap and like to barter.  Turns out that I really like Craig’s list.  So much so that Cranky threatens to disconnect the internet because I am always finding “deals too good to pass up” on there. Like the greenhouse. Well, I’m not going to get into the greenhouse incident but let’s just say that one did not end so good. The greenhouse deal ended up with us being involved in a hit and run accident in the Sheetz parking lot, spilled cappuccinos, and several appearances to testify in court against the thug who hit us. But that was just one good deal with bad ending. There were plenty of other “good” deals that went just dandy.
Like for instance, last spring, I answered an add for “hypothetical turkey poults”.  That should have been my first indication as to what type of person was on the other end of that add. Come on, seriously? Who posts an add for turkey poults that aren’t even hatched yet?  Well, this chick did.
Okay, the chick I'm talking about is not the one in the lavender jacket and not the one walking away. It's the chick in the apron in the farm stand. That chick is Katie.

Okay, the chick I'm talking about is not the one in the lavender jacket and not the one walking away. It's the chick in the apron in the farm stand. That chick is Katie.

Katie, my Craig’s list “hypothetical turkey poult” add posting friend did just that.  I now consider Katie my friend, because that’s what our Craig’s list connection has blossomed into.  We connected in so many ways, it’s uncanny.

So, what does Katie have to do with my busy summer?  As Katie and my internet connection grew, we shared our dreams for our respective farms with the thoughts of how to sustain our agricultural livelihoods.  Turns out that Katie, who has a small scale iris and plant business, Stoney Creek Iris  was looking for someone to share a stand at a new farmer’s market starting up not far from our homes. Turns out that I was in the process of obtaining my farm bakery license  and was looking for an avenue to sell my goods.  And thus, with some collaboration with another partner, we have had a stand at a busy, thriving farmer’s market from this previous spring to the present time. The market is called appropriately enough, Farmers on the Square as it sits on the square of a little county seat town in Pennsylvania. Farmers on the Square is a local and producer’s only farmer’s market which means than all the goods being sold are produced within a 100 mile radius from the market. It is a participating “Buy Fresh, Buy Local” market.  Our stand is called “The Three Sisters Stand” and we offer quite an ecclectic array of goodies. From goat’s milk soap, shitake mushrooms, herbs, unusual produce, homegrown and homeground artisanal breads made from our own all natural wheat.

071 So, now I have this little farm business going which I can not keep up with. I’m just not organized for this type of lifestyle. I mean, come on, I have to be at market at a certain time!? That’s like having a real job. This coming from girl who refuses to wear a watch because I once read that people who do not worry about the time live longer. So, from that day on, out went my wristwatch and I try not to look at our clocks, unless it’s market day. I just know, market day is going to take a couple months off of my life span. I just know it.

So, where am I going with this post? Oh, heck, I forgot. The one thing I can remember is that I blame my new “job” on Jeannette. She is to blame for all of this. Because if she wouldn’t have told me about Craig’s list, I would have never have read the add for hypothetical turkey poults and never met Katie who needed a farmer’s market partner and thus, this vicious cycle would have stopped. It’s like the 6 degrees of separation thing.

And I blame it all on Jeannette.

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The Drama Queen

 

My baby girl wrecked her bicycle and became an instant drama queen.  I think I told her to “suck it up”. I’m so sympathetic.

God save the Drama Queen! Let it go, child. It was just a bicycle wreck.

The Queen celebrated her 6th birthday with one angel food cake and one huge whompin’ whoopie pie.

And then proceeded to give her cousin holy hum for something that ticked her off…yes…still the Drama Queen.

The Queen found out what the peons do when she interned as a short order cook. (and when I say, “short”, I say it literally as she needs a stool to reach the stove.)

The Queen swam in her underwear as previously mentioned. 

Spent some quality time with Pete, her royal donkey.

The Queen ordered her older brothers to boat her around the pond, like the royalty that she is…

so, she could do a little fishing. With her busy schedule and all those duties as the Queen, she finds it hard to find time for herself.

With her grand palace to look after…the Queen is so busy.

She just has to make time for fishing. And dear Queen…you really need to ditch the ratty, dirty, torn purple shirt. Don’t you have something better fit for the Queen that you are?

Ahhh…yes, that’s much better. Don’t wrinkle your nose at me! I am, after all, the original Queen’s Mum.

So many things to comtemplate in life…what’s a Queen to do?

Yep, that’s what I thought…fishing is good for the Queen’s soul.

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Easily Amused

What my second son did this summer.

 

This is a hot air balloon basket. 

Please don’t ask me, “Why do you have a hot air balloon basket?” 

I  do not know exactly.  Someone asked me if I wanted a hot air balloon basket and I never say no to any type of junk, so we have a hot air balloon basket sitting on our farm.

It’s actually pretty cool.

I have no desire to go hot air ballooning in it but maybe someday, I will figure out what I can do with it.

Until then-

This is my second son sitting in the hot air balloon basket.

Here is my second son blowing bubbles in the hot air balloon basket.

When I asked him why he was sitting in the hot air balloon basket blowing bubbles, he replied matter of factly, “Because I can.”

Alrighty then.

Guess we figured out another one of life’s great mysteries.

Next person who asks me, “Why do you have a hot air balloon basket?”

I’m going to tell them, “Because I can.”

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