Help Grow Your Soup

Click the link below to help support FFA-- one day my boy (or girl) might want to be a farmer! Maybe yours might, too.

Help Grow Your Soup

You can visit once a day-- they are not very far along in their goal, so help them out, it's just a mouse click!

Thanks.

GoatMom

I'm sick of this race. Let me at it.

This makes me sick

AP Exclusive: Video shows workers abusing pigs - Yahoo! News

What is wrong with people?  I just blogged about people being cruel to pets and how farmers have a different attitude, and that while they are perceived to be cruel because they slaughter their animals, that is not the case (in the vast majority of cases).

I can in no way find any good in the article referenced above.  However, let me just point out that those people on those farms are not small farmers, or the farm owners.  Those are workers, hired to come to the farm for the day, work with the animals and go home.  It is likely that they do not see any rewards or incentive for weight gain or animals that thrive.  I don't know that for certain, but my guess is that they are paid the same regardless of outcome.  Their paycheck is not affected by their cruelty.

For farms like mine, the opposite is true.  Not only do we name our animals and treat them with care and respect, but if they are treated cruelly and do not thrive, it hits us in the pocketbook.  We are not cruel people, but if we were, we would have incentive not to be cruel to our animals.

I don't know what the answer to this horrible situation is.  Factory farms are hotbeds of this kind of thing, although I am reluctant to paint them all with the same broad brush.  There are bad people and good people everywhere.  However, as I said before, if you have people that have no direct stake in whether the animals live or die, thrive or fall behind, then it's as if cruelty is tolerated.

I was happy to read Temple Grandin quoted in this article.  Temple is an amazing woman.  B saw her speak a few years ago. Temple has autism, just like M.  It is encouraging to see her be so passionate about her craft, respected for her knowledge and sought out as an expert.  Gives me hope.

I will go hug my goats now.  :(

Happy Anniversaries

It is the 4th year anniversary of my blog.  September 13th, 2004 I decided to chronicle my transformation from suburban housewife to country woman.  As I sit and write this now, I don't think I could have painted a more fitting picture:  It's about 75 degrees, with a light wind.  I am watching a glorious sunset, and as it has been gloomy, damp and cool for the past few days, now that the windows are open, the cats are enjoying the weather too, and I am watching them silhouetted in the sun's rays.  The beans are just about ready to harvest, and the corn is not too far behind.  I can hear the crickets, and the cats meowing outside.  Except for the snip of my kids' scissors (homework), I can't hear another human being at all.  No cars, no whirring, humming, nothing.  Oh, I do hear the occassional wind chimes from the front porch.

Bliss.

I don't think I have to say that I was meant to be here and wouldn't trade it for the world.  So, while it's not the anniversary of when we bought this farm, I will take this occassion to breathe in the beauty that surrounds me and be thankful.   Happiness!

It is yet another special day-- even more special than my blog-o-versary.  It is the 21st anniversary of the day I met my best friend.  He and I met at a party, though that story has been retold countless times.  Not really a first date, is what I meant to say.

A few days later, he told me that he loved me.  It was hard to believe-- we had known each other for such a short time, and I was afraid it was just infatuation.  No need to fear.  I have asked him, and he says with absolute conviction, that he did love me that day-- he just loves me more now.  I can live with that.

I can live very happily with that.

We celebrate this day every year, marking it in some way or another.  It's not necessarily a big blowout-- sometimes just a homemade dinner for two, a movie after the kids go to bed, or a drink on the front porch.  But, in 21 years, it has never slipped by unnoticed or un-celebrated.

Happy September 13th.  Go kiss your boyfriend (or girlfriend).

%$#*^@! people

I take after my dad.  He is a truck driver, and when he is feeling passionately about something, the first thing out of his mouth is usually profane.  Being a mom, I tend to watch myself, but the instinct is still there.

So, in order to find words foul enough without being foul, I had to use google.  I googled low-life.  Scum, scab, filth, worm, villain, scoundrel, wretch, brute, derelict, snake...

Those are the only words I can come up with-- other than cussing-- to describe the emotionally devoid character that dumped a kitten recently.  What kind of barbarian would not think through this sort of action?

The kitten is a beauty-- she is white, with sparse tortoise markings and big blue eyes.  She has been named Jewel my my children.  

Jewel appeared this morning, looking about 3 months old, emaciated, scared, and wounded.  She had apparently had some sort of altercation with a predator, who had gone for her jugular, leaving a silver-dollar sized gaping wound on her smallish throat.  The wound has healed some, and after soaking the infected, purulent scab in peroxide, I pulled it off to reveal several puncture wounds that extend into her neck and throat.  Basically, she has holes in her neck, where her oxygen and food leak out.  She's probably wormy, and has an infected eye and snotty nose. 

Sorry to be graphic, but hey, you know what? I didn't want to see that either.  But some asshole decided that it was better that my kids and family find and see that and take care of his/her cat, than it would be for him to step up, do the right thing and try to rehome his cat the upstanding way: by finding and vetting a good home for her or taking her to an animal shelter.  No, s/he has no balls, morals, class or conscience. 

What is it?  Is it the perception that farm/country kids (or adults, for that matter) deal with life and death all the time, so to see an animal hurt and suffering is no big deal?  That is just asinine.  And it couldn't be farther from the truth.

We hate it when animals suffer.  First and foremost, it is cruel.  Animals that eventually become meat feel no less pain than animals that are kept as pets.  They just have a shorter life, in some cases.  Secondly, an animal in pain is less efficient than a happy, healthy creature, and will be smaller and provide less of a return.  So, even those harder people out there that raise animals are still looking at the bottom line and taking care of their animals to increase the bottom line.

So, for now, Jewel is on "cage rest and neglect."  She has a lovely little kennel in the mud room, with her own private litterbox, good meals all to herself, and a lovely warm bed.  And nobody will cast her out to fend for herself, and no predators will stalk her.  Not even her "owners."

And, when the time comes, since we already have too many cats in the house (including another cat that was cruelly treated and cast off by his former owner), and plenty outside, we will rehome her.  To a willing home.

Just so you know, barn cats are born, not made.  They have instincts and abilities that inside cats do not have.  She is not a barn cat and will not be-- she is tame and loves people and has no ability to fend for herself.  Barn cats don't necessarily have to be truly feral-- they can love people and be tame-- but they NEVER let their guard down, and they are always aware.  That is something that is instinctive and born into the particular cat (or not), not learned at several months old.

My New Toy

Toyota, that is.  :)  My wonderful best friend bought me a new truck.  He went to the dealership (knowing my intense phobia of car dealers-- and that is not an exaggeration), and he made all of the arrangements, picked it out, test drove it, signed on the line and everything.  All I had to do was come and learn about the cool features and drive it home!  I knew he would pick an excellent vehicle (he always does) and he outdid himself.  This is the third time he has picked out a car without my being there, and he always does well.

My previous car died on the side of I-80 three weeks ago and had a myriad of things wrong with it.  It would have been expensive to get it fixed, and even after that, it was likely to break again.  Our fabulous mechanic (the best in the universe, next to my dear old dad) said that Honda made a lemon that year.  He told me that the car needed not to be mine.  Great guy-- most mechanics would have been happy to continue to take my money!

Anyway, it's an incredible truck.  It is a Tundra, named Motor Trend's 2008 Truck of the Year.  And rightly so!  There are only two complaints that I have:  1) I don't like the cruise control button, and 2) the stereo could be better.  It is not a bad stereo, but it is not kick-ass, either.  However, I did not buy the truck for the stereo, nor the cruise control.  And I would (make B) buy it all over again 100 times even with those flaws!

Did I mention that I like my truck?  :)

It pulls 10,300 pounds-- plenty of power for the new (used) stock trailer we bought last month.  It has a roomy back seat for the kids, and a ton of storage space.  It's so huge, everybody takes me seriously.

I know so, because I took it to the feed store yesterday. And it WAY passed the test.  The guys were ooh-ing and aaah-ing all over it.

Keep an eye out for me.  With my 380 horsepower, I'm likely to be passing you sometime soon. (Hopefully you won't be passing me as I am pulled over by a state trooper on the side of the road!)

what am i, chopped liver?

So my farm site has my contact info on it. For me. The girl. The farmer. B's info is on there, but it's clear that I am the certified goat producer, the person writing the content, and my cell phone is listed, with my name by it.

Saturday I had a call from a man who insisted that he was leaving this message for B, regarding B's wethers, and would B please call him back to discuss. Discuss WHAT? Because B doesn't know the first thing about wethers. I take that back, he is marketing them at work for folks to eat, but he doesn't know much about feeding, etc. And that's okay, because he is the partner that doesn't do that, but does a lot of other things.

The voice on the voicemail was MINE, and I say that I am with XYZ farm (well, at least MY farm name), and the cell # on the page is MINE, and the info on the page is about ME. But because I am a woman, I could not possibly answer his questions about the goats I have for sale.

Well, screw it. I am not calling him back. Even if I lost the sale of a lifetime, I am just going to have to cut off my nose to spite my face. I don't do business with people who don't want to do business with a woman.

Okay, I'm returning to the kitchen to don my apron and make more biscuits and pie for Farmer B. Just call me the "Little Woman." Arrgh...

My IT horror

So I may or may not have bitched publicly about my new gig, which is doing IT full time at my office.  I started out hoping to do desktop support and web design, but I got SO much more than I bargained for!  I have just learned today that I am transitioning two of my big clients away, and I couldn't be happier. 

That being said, currently I am doing two jobs, client work and IT work.  I am burned out on the client work, and I find the IT work very fun and challenging.  It's helping me to avoid my midlife crisis at the ripe old age of 40.

So today I had to work on a windows machine.  That, in and of itself, is a challenge for me because we run mac machines here.  But we have a tenant who prefers windows.  No good reason, other than to be different, and since he isn't really employed by my company my CEO caved and asked me to help him order it and configure his machine.  So I did (well, I ordered it-- there was no helping about it).

I was configuring it today, and I saw a new little gizmo in Windows Vista that I thought he might like.  He has a peculiar interest in aircraft, and has a large collection of photos, so I decided to give him a photo viewer widget which would scroll through his photo folder and rotate his pictures.

Imagine my horror when I was installing MS Office, and I see naked women scrolling across his widget!  Thankfully I hadn't eaten lunch yet.

Look, I don't care what you do on your own time.  If you like porn, good on ya.  I couldn't care less.  But please, people, don't do it at work.  My mind wanders as I ponder a few things:

1) What the hell you are doing in your office all day?

2) Do you need more work to do?

3) Mental Note to Self: bring hand sanitizer into your office the next time I come in to do work and have to touch your keyboard

4) Are those amateur shots anyone you know, i.e. your wife?  Nevermind, I don't really want to know.

5) Does your wife know that you have photos like this on your desktop?  Nevermind, I don't really want to know.

6) Do you not get much at home?  Nevermind, I REALLY don't want to know!

7) If this is your "work collection" what a vast collection you must have at home.  Again, probably I don't want to know this.

8) Do you not even CARE that I see all this?  I think I know the answer to that...

9) Has it occurred to you that this is not the proper use for company equipment?

10) I wonder if I should bring up the use of porn at work at our next staff meeting.

In the meantime, I fixed him up a sweet little screen saver.  ;)

RadioShack's Response

Thank you for your email to RadioShack's Media Relations Department.  We appreciate and share your concerns.

We would like to emphatically state RadioShack was not and is not a sponsor of the Michael Savage radio show.  In fact, our agreement with the radio stations airing his show specifically excludes his program (along with several others) as one on which our commercials may appear. Any ads that may have run on the July 16 broadcast of this show were in direct violation of our advertising contract with these radio stations.  The stations have admitted their mistake to us and apologized for the confusion they have created. We will continue to investigate all local stations that air Michael Savage to ensure any unauthorized ads airing on Michael Savage are accounted for and that this does not happen again in the future

Unfortunately, the stations’ mistake was heard by many individuals such as you who have since spread the inaccurate message that RadioShack sponsors this program.  Likewise, Web sites that were quick to post our name as a sponsor without investigating the actual facts have been very slow to correct the record online.  Until that happens, we would greatly appreciate your help in spreading the correct facts through your own personal network.

Once again, thank you for writing and allowing us the opportunity to set the record straight.

Sincerely,

Charles Hodges

Director Media Relations

Did Michael Savage Apologize?

Okay, I stole it, but it is good.  And no, the asshat did not apologize.

Asshat: Someone who is wearing their ass for a hat. Someone whose head is so far up their ass they are clueless.

Luckily, I don't have to elaborate any further.  This man is the living definition of ASSHAT:

Mr. Savage can come and hang out at my house for a while.  We'll see how far his "Straighten out, don't act like a putz" gets him.  Oh, and he can also take it up with the child's FATHER, who happens to be here, alive and well.

Mr. Savage told his listeners, "[I]f I behaved like a fool, my father called me a fool. And he said to me, 'Don't behave like a fool.' The worst thing he said -- 'Don't behave like a fool. Don't be anybody's dummy. Don't sound like an idiot...' That's what I was raised with. That's what you should raise your children with."  

Well, as the child's FATHER pointed out, Mr. Savage's father obviously didn't do his job. Because he is behaving like a fool, he is a dummy, and he sounds like a idiot.

You may ask yourself, "Well, how did I get here?"

Pioneer Woman has a great post today about "how did I get here?"  She was revisiting her life 10, 20 years ago, and pondering the fact that she is not at all where she thought she would be.

I took some time to reflect on that myself.  And hell no, I am nowhere that I thought I would be!  Such a different place, in fact, that I no longer speculate about the future and where I hope or even expect to be.  

Twenty years ago I was engaged to the man of my dreams.  Our plans were to graduate from college, get married, and join the Peace Corps.  We even had those applications filled out.  I am not sure what made us not send them in-- that part of my memory is a little fuzzy, but we had plans to change the world, for sure.  I think, at that point in my life, I wasn't really looking much toward the future.  I saw myself as different from most people, so probably not the 2.2-kids-and-a-house-type person, but maybe doing the mostly normal thing with my own twist.  Certainly, I was the sorority girl marrying the fraternity boy.

Fifteen years ago I had graduated from college, married that man of my dreams, lived in Chicago for several years, and had just moved to an apartment in the suburbs, as we had our daughter in 1992.  I was not working, and B was struggling in a job he hated, just to, well, not even really, make ends meet.  I worked part time at home so that we could bridge the gap between eating and not eating.  I could not imagine having enough money to even have a mortgage, as having a car and an apartment was killing us financially.  I think B and I both felt somewhat hopeless, and while we didn't plan specifically for the future, we didn't really see any way out of where we were, and that was not in a place we were happy with.

Ten years ago, we had moved from that suburban apartment, had lived in the southwest US, the southeast US, and were living overseas. B had abandoned his much-hated job and joined the military and we were stationed in England.  We lived in a tiny house, but had everything we needed.  Those were some of the best times of our lives.  After bills were paid on payday, there were weeks we had $25.00 in our account, but we made it work.  We got by on $13,000 a year for the 4 of us.  I started to look toward the future, and a job making even $30,000 a year seemed so foreign to us.  B was looking to get out of the military and we were making plans, but we really had little concept of what we would need and what our money would buy.

Five years ago we were living in the suburbs, having left the military and come to the midwest to take a great job.  Fortunately, we didn't have to figure out how to live on $30K, and we had built and bought our perfect suburban dream house.  It did, at the time, seem somewhat like we were searching and didn't really fit in anywhere.  I did not grow up in the suburbs, and it didn't feel natural to me to do the block parties and the soccer games and to keep up with the Joneses.

Of course, that all changed a year later when we moved out here.  We had moved 17 times since we were married, before we owned our own home.  While some of those moves were because of the military and our situation, many of those moves were because we were searching for something.   I think it was a combination of things-- something that felt like US, rather than fitting ourselves into someone else's mold of success and contentment.  Frankly, it has taken a lot of desensitization to not look at my life through someone else's glasses.  After I have been busy all day outside, and I come inside and see the laundry sorted in the laundry room but not washed, or the clean laundry in a dozen baskets in my bedroom waiting for me to put it away, or the dishes that are undone on the counter, it has taken a while for me to think to myself, "What would someone think if they stopped by and saw this mess?"  And frankly, I still find myself doing that on occasion.  But most of the time I m content with looking at things through MY glasses.  I am in a place that feels like heaven most days (except when it's below zero).  I listen outside, and I hear the faint monotony of a tractor engine, but louder is a chorus of birds.  I don't hear road noise or even one other voice.  My kids so appreciate and seek out the calm.   So the laundry and the dishes can wait-- I have already worked hard!  I even have horrible cell reception here, so cell phone communications are mostly reserved for when we are in the city.  Every day we are treated to a spectacular sunset and -- if I am in the mood to appreciate it -- a glorious sunrise.  The animals around us are so calming.  Agriculture is so grounding, it puts you in touch with what matters and what is so basic in life.  It can be a wild ride for sure, but on days like today it is very peaceful.  And it still matters-- it is as vital as saving babies and working for world peace, but it is in a slower, calmer fashion.  So I can't look at myself through any glasses other than my own, and do what feels right to me.

Twenty years ago, as I was planning that fabulous wedding, I would never have thought that twenty years in the future, we would end up raising goats on a midwestern farm, living in an old farmhouse with no air conditioning or dishwasher, with our 2 lovely children who go to a school that is nearly a mirror image of my school growing up.  And if we WERE doing that, that we would LOVE it.  It seemed more likely that I would be working downtown Chicago in some important job, having worked my way up to a great corner office with a great view, a big staff, and a nice condo overlooking Lake Michigan.

But damn, my life feels great!  I wouldn't trade it for anything.

So, if you were to ask me now, what I will be doing in 20 years?  I have no idea.  I could be enjoying my life in the biggest city in the world, not even owning a car, goats the farthest thing from my reality.  Or, I could be here, having finally found what I was searching for, leaving only when I was done with this life.  Never say never.  The only thing I DO know, is that in 20 years I will still be enjoying those sunsets-- wherever they may be-- with the love of my life.  Wherever he is, is home to me.

Why do I hate other people's children so much?

My son is having a sleepover tonight, and his best friend is visiting.  Now, honestly, when I say that I 'hate' other people's children, I don't really hate them.  I just hate that things are different in my house when other people's kids are here.  And I can't demand that they behave the way I want them to behave.

For example, this child is incredibly picky.  I mean, probably the pickiest I have ever seen.  He only likes fruit, and some meat.  Only pizza from certain places.  So I asked L what we should have for supper, and he said, "Oh, A likes hotdogs.  Let's have a cookout with hotdogs and brats."  Outstanding.  Then I ask L what we should have with it.  I said that we would get some potato and/or pasta salad, but I had a feeling that A would not like that.  He confirmed my suspicion, and said that A would just have chips.  So that is what we had.  EXCEPT, that the chips were not acceptable. They were not ruffled chips.  We got the plain, flat ones.  Losers that we are.

They are very, very loud when they are together.  And I'm not going to lie, I am one that likes my quiet.  I am used to being able to tell my kids to pipe down and not have anyone have hurt feelings or think I am an ogre.  Or, if they do think I am an ogre, tough, they can suck it up because I am their mother, and I gave birth to them, and if i am an ogre, then they are an ogre's child.  But I can't do that with guests.

I did make a HUGE demand.  This child is extremely video-game oriented.  Last time I said not to bring video games, and he slipped a gameboy in his pocket.  I told him to leave it home when we left to go somewhere, and he brought it.  THIS time, I told L that I did not appreciate the disrespect last time, and if he did, in fact, bring the video game, I would take his ass home immediately.

They are now upstairs playing with Legos.  

After playing poker (with cards and poker chips-- no video or online poker!) and running in the pasture with the baby goats.  

Next, we are going to milk L's goat.  And tomorrow, they are going to prepare L's goat for the fair, as he shows her next week.

Some people don't have video games, or if they do, they have no time to play them.  It's time for A to see how the other half lives!

Pray for my sanity...

Only a Farmer

This is lovely.  It so describes my neighbors, and what I aspire to be.

I’m Only a Farmer

- Author is Unknown

I'm only a farmer.
I know the sun better than anyone.
And the soil.
And the wind.
And the rain.
I am the man who works with them.
Who loves them.
And who sometimes fears them.

I'm only a farmer.
I am the sower of seeds.
I am the tender of stock.
I am the reaper of harvest.
I am sweat.
And tears.
And pride.

I'm only a farmer.
I am the man who feeds the young.
And the old.
The weak.
And the strong.
I am the black earth of Spring.
The green hills of Summer.
The harvest gold of Autumn.
And the cold white stillness of winter.

I'm only a farmer.
I am warm memories of the past.
The steely reality of the present.
And a hopeful dream of the future.
I am a optimist.
A thinker.
A watcher.
And a doer.

I'm only a farmer.
I live in a complex world. 
Made of simple things.
And they are my source of joy.
And hope.
And comfort.
I have walked the morning fogs.
I have paused for the Summer song of the meadowlark.
And I have savored the breeze off freshly cut hay.
I have paused, remembering, by the stream I knew as a boy.
I have felt the power of a thousand storms.
And rejoiced in the fresh world left in their wake.

I'm only a farmer.
I am an accountant.
A chemist.
And doctor.
I am a midwife.
And a mechanic.
I am a seller.
A trader.
And buyer.
I am husband.
Helper.
And partner to my wife.
I am a father.
Comforter.
And teacher to my children.

I'm only a farmer.
Not a man of riches.
But a man of great wealth.
I have learned to treasure life.
And all things living.
To respect their maker.
And my own.
I am humbled by the earth’s bounty.
And awed by endless rebirth.
I am fascinated by the marvelous minutiae of my world.
And enriched by their beauty.

I'm only a farmer.
If a man can be truly free, then I truly am.
The day.
The week.
The month.
They have been entrusted to me. 
They are mine to spend.
They are mine to invest.
They are mine to use wisely.
It is a solitary profession I have chosen.
Or, perhaps, that I have been chosen for. 
A profession where there are no certainties.
Where no guarantees are granted.
No promises given.
No excuses taken.
I have but one man to answer to.
One man to depend upon.
One man to confide in.
And in the quiet of the years, I have come to know him well.

I'm only a farmer.
I am perseverance.
And creativity.
And courage.

I'm only a farmer.
I am confidence.
And ingenuity.
And intelligence.

I'm only a farmer.
A seeker of excellence…
And I will endure.

I wrote this a few days ago, but wanted to wait to post it.

Remember after September 11, when the entire nation was shaken to the core by the tragic events in New York?  We all collectively bit our nails and reflected on how our lives had been changed, as we waited for the other shoe to drop.  Laughter was subdued, even when you felt joy, there was always that underlying knot in your stomach, as you reminded yourself that life would never be the same.

We did heal, though as in any cut so deep, we as a community of people will always bear the scar.  And when we stop and reflect back on those events, the pain will always be fresh in our minds.

And we grieve again.

It began with the winter.  The coldest winter in three decades, ice storm after ice storm, subzero spells one after the other.

The spring brought late blizzards, unending snow.  Then came the rain—to produce the wettest season ever.

It did not stop.  Some farmers managed to get their crops in the ground, only to have seeds or seedlings washed away by torrential rains. The ground absolutely cannot hold another drop of water.

Those farmers that were able to plant contend with record gas prices.  Some farmers spent well over $1000 a day on diesel fuel alone to run their equipment.  Fertilizer prices have doubled since last year and are projected to double again next year.

Food prices have skyrocketed as well.  While we in the Midwest probably enjoy the lowest food prices in the country, our milk prices have nearly doubled and meat prices are the highest they have ever been.  It will only get worse this fall, as we will be short on crops, but high on expenses.

Many in our communities have lost their homes in the mortgage crisis.  Still others have lost their jobs and are unable to meet their financial commitments.

In late May, there were two tornadoes that tore through our state, destroying two towns and killing a number of people.  Our communities rallied together to build up those that were torn down.

That spirit would be tried yet again.

The hopes that spring and early summer bring were dashed when after a break we received week after week of heavy rains.  Again, the ground is completely saturated.  Even when it only sprinkles, the rain pools instantly on the farmland surrounding our home.  There is just nowhere for it to go.  The rivers, streams, lakes, and drainage creeks are full to the brim.

Our state and community has experienced the worst flooding ever.  Levees broke, cities flooded, entire towns have been destroyed and are no longer in existence.  In some cases, the water has not yet receded, and people are still in shelters. We have heard that FEMA trailers are being delivered to our state.  Some of those people will likely never be able to move back into their homes.  This was a 500-year flood, and few in that floodplain obtained flood insurance.  Can you imagine losing everything you owned and not receiving any compensation for it?  Your car, your home, possibly even your job, since your company may be underwater, too?  Your grocery store, the roads you travel, your school.

In the midst of our flood, yet another tornado struck a boy scout camp, killing several young men.  Not just any young men, but the very sort of young men that a crisis like this needs.  One young man gave up his spot on the football team so he could learn to sew.  Yes, sew.  He felt such a sense of purpose that he sewed pillowcases for every child that would stay at the local hospital.  He said he wanted them to feel loved and special. 

We persevered, united as a community once again, and vowed not to let it get us down.  Many filled sandbags, gave blood, and volunteered in any way they could.  Once again, the commitment to community that is woven into the fabric of our being got us through this situation.

With many of the fields still too wet to plant, and others destroyed before there was any hope of growth, we face an uncertain fall.  Feed prices that are already so high will undoubtedly rise, as we struggle with the choice between animal and human food.  The low dollar against other currencies ensures that we will have a bidding war with other countries with deeper pockets.  If we are to keep our own produce, we will need to be the highest bidder.  Of course, the price to be the highest bidder is passed along at the grocery and at the feed store.  We do have a few crops, but the revenue we see—if we see revenue this year—doesn’t come close to offsetting our expenses.

We planted a large garden this year, hoping to supplement our groceries with our vegetables.  We planted plenty of corn, tomatoes, cucumbers, strawberries.

And today came the hail.  I am waiting for it to pass now, so that I can assess the damage.  Just west of us was golf and baseball-sized hail.  We escaped with quarter-sized hail, but for 15 or 20 minutes Mother Nature pelted us with ice.  I saw my geraniums on the front porch shredded and hopeless, and I can only imagine what my garden of tomatoes and corn look like.  I don’t even want to think about what our cornfield looks like.  A tree lies across the road down the hill, blocking traffic.  The drainage creeks are again at their banks, carrying the runoff to already swollen rivers.

Since I wrote this, I did check for damage.  There are about 5 corn plants in my garden and 3 tomato plants that will make it.  The others are destroyed.  The strawberries and cucumbers are pummeled and will not make it.

The leaves on the corn plants have been shredded.  I don’t know if they will bounce back or not—it is touch and go.  Being small (the cool weather and excess moisture has stunted the growth), they still have a lot of growing to do, and could recover.  However, being small, all of the leaves were shredded.  Had they been larger, maybe the top leaves would have served as a canopy to save the leaves underneath.

Our county has been declared a federal disaster area.  Today FEMA came to visit our house, asking if we needed help and offering their services.  That is very eerie to me.

And so I am once again noticing that the color of our collective moods is very gray.  Smiles are not as broad, joy is not as joyous, yet worries are exaggerated by the worry that is already carried around in the pit of one’s stomach.  If you are already worried about money, you cannot help but be terrified about what harvest time will bring.  Farmers are resilient—they have to be.  They have been through these types of things before. But never so many times in the same year, or even the same growing season.

Yesterday I went to the farmer’s market in our town, selling the goods for my side business.  My sales were dismal.  Opening day, before much of the disaster had hit, still hopeful for what the spring would bring, our sales were double what they were yesterday.  The first day, it rained—POURED—for the morning.  Yesterday it was sunny and 72 degrees.  I think people are sad, they are carrying around the sadness and it prevents them from enjoying things in their lives.  And I think people are worried not only about what is to come in the fall, but what is left to come this summer.  We get through one disaster, and another one comes.  Those who have experienced significant damage from storms, lightning and hail are not being made whole because their damages pale so significantly in comparison to those who have experienced the natural disasters.  We continue to wait for our settlement check from our insurance company after our fire last October.  We will likely continue to wait, as the adjusters are kept busy with all of the other challenges.  And how can we ask?  How can we be the squeaky wheel when others have nowhere to live?  When they have lost their loved ones?  In the meantime, we cannot hay our field, as we have nowhere to store the hay.  We don’t raise cattle, so our hay must be pristine, and can’t be stored outside.  We already claimed one year of hay on our insurance, but since it is taking so long to rebuild, we may have to claim another.

I don’t have much good to report.  It’s not that there is no good, but it’s not what is on everyone’s mind right now.  We’ll get through it, and we’ll be a stronger community for it.  But it’s not the kind of community building exercise we are looking for.

It was only a dream!

I woke up this morning having had a terrible dream.  My dream wasn’t about the loss of anyone I love, thank God, but I had a dream that we sold our farm and moved into town.

Our “new” house was an old house, and on 8.8 acres (why do I remember that?).  I have no recollection of why we sold it, and the whole process of “saying goodbye.”   I just recall the vivid dream about moving into the new house and looking at the neighbors’ homes all around (our land in my dream was a long and skinny patch).  I started sobbing, and asking “What about my goats?”  Of course, dreams are not rational, as in my real world I would have thought in the normal course of homebuying I would have ASKED about the goats before signing my life away!  However, it was very significant to me to feel the pain of finding myself somewhere other than where I am now, even in a place that would have been heaven to someone else (large tract of land, big huge trees, lots of shade, a paved road!).  I was devastated.  I sobbed and cried and begged to move back.  I repeatedly wailed, “I made a mistake!  This is horribly wrong!  Is there any way we can move back?!” 

Sometimes I can wake myself up from a dream, or tell myself in the dream that I shouldn’t worry, it is only a dream.  Not this time.  It was very real, and when I woke up with tears on my face, they quickly turned to tears of joy!  I’m not going ANYWHERE!!

I hugged B and told him I had just had the most horrible dream.  He mumbled a consolation and told me to go back to sleep…  (not a morning person)

Instead, I came downstairs and am enjoying the quiet, cool morning.  I can hear the raindrops on the roof of the bathroom (served as a back porch in another life, before bathrooms inside were necessary).  I am curled up under my snuggly blanket with three cats on the couch.

I need to go out for morning chores, and I am a little late.  I think the animals will forgive me as I sit here just being thankful.

The Procrastination Meme

Okay, because I am a procrastinator, and I have a ton of work to do, but still feel guilty about not blogging, I'm posting a meme.  Don't think that I don't have lots to blog about: dead goats, dead rabbits (not that kind of dead rabbit, no siree!), skunked dogs...  but internet, I am just so very, very tired.  So the meme will have to do.

Come on MK and Michael.  Let's see your answers, too.

What was I doing 10 years ago?
I was living in England in a house where even a mouse would be crowded!

Five Snacks I Enjoy:
chex mix

pretzels

popcorn (air popped, but with real butter & salt)

Sour Apple Trollie-Os that B feeds me

chips & salsa

Five Things on My To Do List Today:
work on a slide show

finish a newsletter

order a meal for a meeting tomorrow

finish typing up minutes for said meeting

barn chores

Things I would do if I were a billionaire:
hire someone else to do the items above

have my home updated and make the attic into a master suite

Buy more goats and a barn to put them in

give a lot away

buy land around me so nobody else can (i.e, developers)

Five Jobs I have had:
KFC worker

Cook at a nursing home

Kinkos clerk

Transcriptionist for a publishing company

mom

Five of my bad habits:
procrastination

cussing like a sailor

collecting animals
not eating breakfast

Biting my nails

Five Places I have lived:
Wisconsin

Arizona

Mississippi

England

Here!

People I want to get to know better: (yes this means you are tagged!)

MK

Michael

Six random things:

I should have gone to the feed store today, but I didn't.  I have had company for the last 2 week and I am still flying by the seat of my pants.

M earned a letter in chorus!  Now I have to buy her a letterjacket.  I dug mine out-- I was so tiny once upon a time!  I wish I were thinner, but I think I was too small at one point.

I promised myself I would take more photos, and I am having a great time inputting them into iDVD.

I miss B during the day.  Sometimes I miss him so much it brings me to tears.  :(

We are having dinner for 2 this evening-- steak and green beans.  One of our favorites!

The windows are all open and I am cold, even though it is nearly 80.

When It Rains It Pours

I think I have journaled before with that same title.  It always seems to pour at my house!

Three weeks ago, the alternator went out on my car.  That was an unexpected $550 that I paid to get it fixed.  Thank goodness for a great mechanic, who really charges far less than he is worth.  I had no problem paying HIM, I just had a problem paying…

Now my car is broken again.  Well, the air conditioning is STILL broken (for the second time since 2004).  I had the entire system replaced once, but it broke again, and it has stayed broken. 

But along with the A/C, the VTEC solenoid is broken.  I don’t really understand the ins and outs of how that works, but I do know that my car can’t go above 60mph, and even then, to get there, I have to shift it judiciously.  I don’t know how expensive it will be to fix, but I do know that I really had not expected yet ANOTHER round of repairs on the car.

And, since we have the luck o’ the Murphys, it would only make sense that the water heater would break this evening, too.  The pilot light won’t stay lit now.  We know it needs to be replaced, but with the recent rash of unexpected repairs, it was something that was on the “just after the short-term fires are put out” list.  Operative word here is “was.”

Well, I guess I have the government’s economic stimulus check spent six ways to Sunday.

ugh, more of the same

Tonight Mostly cloudy with a chance of rain showers and isolated thunderstorms in the evening...then partly cloudy with a chance of rain showers...light snow showers and isolated thunderstorms after midnight. Low in the lower 30s. Northwest wind 5 to 10 mph. Chance of precipitation 40 percent.

Movie Stars

They are filming a movie in our town. It has consumed our little town for the past couple of weeks, and everything is just abuzz with camera crews and trailers. The plot of the movie is apparently centered around a high school, and has to do with an unplanned teenage pregnancy.

L’s friend in town said they wanted to use his house for shooting a scene.

They plan to film a school dance in the gym, and a football game in the stadium. I thought it might be fun for the kids to be extras.

Apparently, however, they are also filming in the school during the day (my tax dollars at work). The kids have both come home ranting day after day about how mean the movie people are. They said that they tell people to shut up, they make people (including teachers) take off their shoes in the hall if they are noisy, they have blocked off areas of the school so the kids complain about being late to class and for the bus. They are so angry about the whole movie thing that they don’t want anything to do with it. Apparently, there are prize incentives to show up and be an extra in the football game crowd, but they can’t even be swayed by the chance to win a flat screen TV.

It will be interesting to see how this all pans out. The kids tell me that everyone is angry, from the administration to the teachers to the students. Who signed that contract?