Monday, July 20, 2015

Happy National Hammock Day

Did you even know we had a "National Hammock Day"?  Honestly, who comes up with all these "National-something-ridiculous-to-celebrate Day"?  Maybe it's just someone desperate to come up with blogging material! Although, I have no problem with National Donut Day or National Ice Cream Day.  Just sayin'.

This is how my hammock looks this morning. Wet and soggy.  Our rainy days have out-numbered our sunny days this summer. (However, someone told me that our June was the hottest June on record. I think they're lying!) The last beautiful day I remember was July 4, which was perfection.  We had rain before that, and, it seems, it has rained every day since.  But, I digress. It's National Hammock Day, not National Complain About the Rain Day.

I have been able to use my hammock a few days this summer, and, let me tell you, it is glorious.  The other day our daughter was enjoying our hammock. She comes over more to use the hammock than to see us I think. She said, "When you and Dad die, can I have the hammock?"  Uhh, sure! But, I hope we out live the hammock!

Anyway, if you are fortunate to have a hammock, I hope the weather will cooperate and allow you to enjoy the awesome feeling of being suspended in the air, gently rocking back and forth, with a lovely breeze, snort zzzzzzzzzz

Thursday, June 25, 2015

Life at the Library:You are a Treasure #1

I've been told that if you ever visit Disneyland/World, and you are told that you are a treasured guest, don't put a feather in your cap, because it is not a good thing! So, I am going to borrow their verbiage and apply it to some of our more "special" patrons, I mean, treasured, patrons.

Our library has four different departments: Genealogy, Reference/Adult Services, Children's, and Circulation.  Reference/Adult Services is located upstairs, and is where you will find the real librarians, those with an actual degree. The librarians are the only ones who are allowed to look up books on the computer to see if they are available in our library, or any of the 30 libraries in our system.

I work in the Circulation Department. When we are in the workroom, we discharge all the items that have been returned and put them back on the shelves. When we work "on the desk" out front, we assist patrons wishing to check out their items. And, by "assist" I mean that we spend most of our time showing them how to use the self-check out machines. We also issue library cards and collect fines. Most times, it keeps us hoppin' at a pretty good clip.  When we are not assisting patrons, we are cleaning and checking all the dvds and cds that have been returned. Sometimes patrons will forget to put the dvd back in the case and return an empty case. Sometimes the dvds look  as if they had been used as coasters, or for serving plates for children. Sometimes I simply do not want to know what the dried up, sticky, unidentified glob is that is stuck to the dvd.  So, that is a very basic description of what my job entails.

The other day, two women came up to the Circulation Desk, ready to check out their items. They had  several dvds, and I was taking them out of the security cases. I noticed that one woman had chosen two "express" aka new release movies, which are 53 cents each. I told her it would be $1.07 for both movies. She looked at me, horrified, and exclaimed that she did not bring any money. So I explained that we sometimes have other copies in the free movie section, which is upstairs. Then she said, "Well, can you look it up for me?"

I explained that no, I was sorry, but she would have to ask the librarians upstairs to do it.  She just looked at me and said, "Well, what do you do?"  My "Sarcastic Self" wanted to say, sweetly of course, "Why nothing. Absolutely nothing!"  But, my "Professional Side" (and the side that wanted to stay employed) said, sweetly of course, "This is the Circulation Department. Upstairs is Reference. We have elevators."

In the meantime, her friend walks over and says, "Since you don't have any chairs around here, I'm just gonna sit on your desk!"  (Hey, I can't make this stuff up!)  As she's plopping her big behind on the desk, I'm motioning, speechless, at all the empty chairs that are located all around the library.  She responds with, "Those are all too far away. There's all this empty space right here!"

Oh. You mean this area for foot traffic?  Yeah, let's just put a chair right there.  The first woman managed to get her one free movie checked out, while her friend managed to get herself off  the desk. Then they left. I'm pretty sure they were thinking that I was lazy and the library was inconsiderate with the chair placement.  You are a treasure, ladies! Bless your heart, and have a nice day.

As I write this, I'm getting ready for my son and granddaughter's visit. I'm getting a little panicky thinking about everything that I have to get done before their arrival on Saturday.  My Sweetie Pie will be here for two weeks, so it's highly unlikely that I will have time to blog during that time. She keeps me pretty busy, but I love every minute of it  .Hopefully, I will be a little more regular at blogging and visiting. Bear with me until I get back into the blogging groove!  

Sunday, June 14, 2015

The Stars and Stripes Forever

Today is Flag Day.  June 14, 1777 was the day the Stars and Stripes was adopted as our National Flag.  In 1916, President Wilson issued a proclamation making June 14 Flag Day, and in 1949, an act of Congress made June 14 National Flag Day.

Hubby and I have plans to install a flag pole on our property, sometime, hopefully before we die in the near future, so we can see Old Glory flying every day.

For your viewing pleasure, here are some pictures from the past, and for your listening pleasure, you may enjoy the great John Phillip Sousa March, "Stars and Stripes Forever", played so wonderfully by the U.S. Marine Band. It should stir your patriotic heart, and get your toes a tappin'.  And, for an extra tidbit of information, "The Stars and Stripes" is our National March.

Twenty minutes later...I guess you will have to enjoy the music without the pictures.  I can't figure out how to get the pictures from my little thingy-ma-jiggy...the stick thing, whose official name I can never remember...they showed up where I could view them, but when I needed to download them, they are no where to be found.  This is a cry for help to my Official Blog Adviser!  I know, I can hear you now..."Oh Mother!"

Anyway, it's Flag Day, so show your colors!

Sunday, June 7, 2015

This Will Never Happen Again!

I know the rule is never say never, BUT, I'm quite confident that this particular event will never happen again. In fact, I'm quite surprised that it even happened at all! So, what is this momentous, once-in-a-lifetime  event, you ask?  Well, let me tell you.

Back story:
Hubby and I have a little six acre mini-farm.  We are raising our own beef, and chickens, (for the eggs), and now we have added pigs to our little e-i-e-i-o farm.  Two nights ago, we picked up two Berkshire feeder pigs.  By definition, a feeder pig is generally 40 to 50 pounds.  When we arrived at the farm, the farmer was plowing his field. He jumped off his tractor, greeted us, then pointed out the direction to drive. We offered to give him a ride on the tailgate of the truck, but he declined, saying he had been sitting on the tractor all day, and he would just meet us there. By the time we arrived at the barn, I turned to see four more people following him, which turned out to be his wife and three daughters.  We picked out the two pigs we wanted, and the girls grabbed them and put them in our make-shift pig transporting cage.  Hubby joked about making it out of pallets, but the farmer just replied, "Hey, that works just fine". Later, I noticed that he had done the same thing with his pallets. Great minds!
Wood pallet pig transporter cage

 We got to talking to him, and were happy to discover that he farms by the Joel Salatin method. He then gave us a quick little tour of his farm and showed us the turkeys his daughter is raising. One daughter is studying to be a herbalist, another daughter is working on breeding Heritage breeds, especially chickens and turkeys.  (Not sure about the third daughter.)  Anyway, he showed us the turkeys. Red Bourbon turkeys.  I'm not a huge turkey fan, especially eating, and I've not paid too much attention to the different kinds of turkeys, but, let me tell you, the Red Bourbon male is one beautiful bird!  I wished I had my camera with me, but then again, I wasn't sure if they would want me to take its picture.  But, I couldn't take me eyes off of it.  I told  Hubby that I would like to have one of those around just to look at it.

So, after our nice visit, (He even offered to help us when butchering time comes around, yes, we plan to eat our pigs), we left with our two pigs, and more knowledge.

When we got home, we drove them into the front pasture, with the intention of keeping them separate from the cows and chickens, for now.  First, we gave them their little earrings, then we set them down out of the truck.    Piggy Number 1, who shall be named Bacon, hightailed it to the back corner of the field, with Piggy Number 2, who shall be named Porky, close behind him.  The cows quickly came running down to see what all the ruckus was about, and they had some cute moments getting to know each other. The pigs continued running the fence line back and forth, together (key word), saying "hi" to the cows, then running away from them. The chickens were unimpressed.  We made sure they had bedding, feed, and water, then said "goodnight" while they continued snorting and grunting around.  All was well.
Pigs have about two weeks of cuteness in their lives

Look at those cute little tails!

Who are those intruders??
A bit blurry, but wearing their earrings

So far, no disaster, which is a bit miraculous.

The next morning, Saturday, began at the ridiculously early hour of 5:30.  Ugh. I know! But, we've kinda gotten used to that early hour.  Maybe because we're usually in bed by 9:30.  It's a vicious cycle.

We had two more pigs to pick up from someone else.  These pigs are mule hoofs, another Heritage breed.  Hubby left by 6:30 to go get those little piggies. This time I stayed home because I had to leave for work by 9:00.  Remember my definition of feeder pigs?  Yeah, well, these little piggies are no where near that weight. They truly are little piggies, maybe, 20 pounds. Tiny.  (But, cute.)  Hubby was back home by 7:30 a bit irritated disappointed that the pigs were so small. Not only will it take longer to reach the desired weight of about 300 pounds, but we weren't entirely confidant that our fencing, which was designed for larger animals, would keep them in.. We also decided to wait till they grew a little before they got their earring, which was about the same size as their ears.  Did I mention that they are cute?
Trouble is coming...
I grabbed one, which was an armful of squealy, squirmy bundle of pork.  I put him down, and he took off running. Fast. Hubby put the second one down, and he took off running in the opposite direction. Fast. They did not stick together at all! We watched them for a few minutes, admiring how cute they were, then it was time for Hubby to drive out of the pasture.

 I am the official gate opener/closer, whichever is needed at the time.  As Hubby drove towards the gate, I ran to open it, keeping an eye on the one pig that was closer to the gate than I wanted him to be, but I did not think it would be a problem.  I thought wrong. (Here is where the disaster part kicks in, just in case you were wondering.)

The next thing I knew, that little oinker  had made a bee line through the gate at 80 miles an hour. The last thing I heard was Hubby yelling, "How could you let that pig get out?"  Umm, he's faster than I am, and I wasn't expecting him to make a run for it?  No, I did not say that.  I don't think I said anything.  Apparently, I did a funny little dance, then just took off running after that dumb idiot.  He ran through our property lickety-split, then through the neighbor's corn field.  Beyond the cornfield is a little woods, which I think he managed to veer around, then into a field of clover, which was about 24 inches high.  Little Oinker is about 12 inches high. You see my problem?  I kept envisioning my bacon running away, and Hubby killing me if that happened.  Hubby saw a 100 dollar bill with wings on it. Not sure if he was envisioning killing me.  I didn't ask.

Now, allow me to pause here, just to make this long story a little bit longer.  I'm nearly 60 years old, and I haven't run since I gave birth to my last child 30-ish years ago.  I've tried to run from time to time, but, well, I have this little embarrassing problem. I'm sure you can guess what it is. Don't make me say it!

So, I'm running like a madwoman, after this pig. No time to be embarrassed. No time to be vain. Meanwhile, my dignity is dribbling down my leg. I'm focused. Eyes on the pig. Eyes on the pig. I don't know what happened to Hubby, but suddenly I see him out of the corner of my eye.  He's been behind me all the time.  As the little escapee turns toward Hubby, Hubby tries to corral him back towards me. He's getting closer and closer, and I suddenly realize what I must do. I must hurl my poor, old body down on top of this pig. I've never been able to comprehend the idea of tackling in football, or sliding in baseball. How do you just make yourself hit the ground?  I don't get it.  But, I knew without a shadow of a doubt that is what I had to do. (And, here is the "this will never happen again" part.) So, I took a flying leap, didn't even have time to pray for a safe landing, and landed right on top of that football sized pig.  I didn't stop to think of the possibility that I might have squashed it to death.  I held onto that little trouble maker until Hubby came up to me, and grabbed him. Disaster was averted. My life would be spared. I had redeemed myself.

More than one person, okay, everyone who has heard this story, has expressed that they would love to see that on video.  I am not among them. In my mind's eye, I looked very graceful as I stretched out and floated through the air, landing gently on the stupid idiot. I don't want my vision to be shattered.
Anyway, Hubby carried him by one leg, because they are squirmy little stinkers, and we didn't want to chase him again.  And, do you know what? The nursery rhyme is true.  He went "wee wee wee" all the way home.
The Mule Hoofs look like footballs with feet

Everybody getting acquainted

Ferdinand just wanted to say hello

I see bacon and sausage and pork chops and pork loin and spare ribs and...

Darlene  (I accidently deleted my fancy signature, so I'll just have to type it in this time.)

Friday, June 5, 2015

Brought to You by the Color Purple

Today I thought I share a little springtime with you.  The weather can be kind of"iffy", ranging from frosty nights of 32 degrees to hot and humid days of 85 degrees. It's a great weather rollercoaster.  But, on the lovely days, I walked around our property and took photos of everything purple.

This looks lovely to me!

Does anything smell better than lilacs?  I don't think so!

Violets always make me happy

These azaleas came with the house.

This is what I see when I look out of my bedroom window.

I always think of my mom when the irises bloom, because they
 bloom close to her birthday.

Our three steers: Rib Eye, T-Bone and Ferdinand

Red buds are my favorite, but think the winter was hard on them.
The blooms were a little sparse.

I guess I just like this view!

Wednesday, June 3, 2015

Date Check

I just need to double check my calendar to see if it is, indeed, June. Yep. That's what my calendar says.  Then, why are my hands and toes freezing, and why am I wearing a stinkin' sweatshirt, for Pete's sake??  Oh yeah, this is Ohio, after all.

Several years ago, a friend who had just moved here from Alabama wanted to know when it was going to warm up.  She asked this question in March! Hahahahahaha!  I put on my "serious face".  I started to say "April", but no, it still snows sometimes in April.  Even though it's beautiful in April with all the trees blooming, and flowers are poking up their little heads to say, "We've survived the winter!" , and, even though we get a teaser week of 70 degrees, we cannot say for sure that warm weather has arrived.

Then, I started to say "May".  Now, Hubby and I got married in May, and it was the most absolute perfectly beautiful day.  However, one year later, it was so stinkin' cold, I had to pull out my big, heavy winter coat!  May is also a beautiful month with the daffodils, tulips, irises,and lilacs (ohh, I love lilacs!) all blooming.  The robins, hummingbirds, and golden finches are now a common sight.  But, in one week the a/c is needed, and the next week you are vowing that you refuse to turn the furnace back on.  I have taken my extra blanket off and put it back on our bed three times this spring!

Then I had to tell her, "Well, not May, but June.  But, on second thought, sometimes it gets kinda cold in June, too.  Definitely, July. You can count on it being warm, even hot, in July all the way through August!  Unless we have a cold spell." She turned and walked away, looking a little depressed.

This is Ohio. "You get what you get", as my granddaughter likes to say. When it gets hot and humid, we forget how miserable we were in the winter, and complain about the heat. When it's freezing, and snowy, and blowy and blizzardy, and icy, and just all around yucky, we look longingly to those hot and humid days, and vow that we will never complain about the cold. Oh, we are a funny bunch of people.

Since this is Ohio, and the danger of frost is finally over, I plan on getting myself out in the garden today, and  getting a few things planted, even if I have to wear a jacket.

I hope you are enjoying your day, no matter what kind of weather you are having.

Wednesday, May 27, 2015

In Memory of Betty: The Betty Files: Baby it's Cold Inside

We recently had a week where, it seemed, everybody was dying. (That's a sentence that should bring in the readers!) I kid you not! Every time we turned around, someone that we knew, knew someone who died. Among those who passed, were my mother-in-law, age 88; and a friend, Betty, age 76.  They both had Alzheimer's and had strokes.  They both also were faithful followers of their Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ.  We are comforted knowing that we will indeed see them again one day.

So, in Betty's memory, I have decided to re-post a couple blogs affectionately called "The Betty Files".  This is the first of two.  I hope you enjoy it.  She was quite a character.

 After discussing several prospective blogging titles, I was assured by my personal blogger advisor, that I should definitely go with the one I am about to discuss.  "Just make it funny", was the remainder of the advice.  So, I will do my  best.

My dear friend, Betty, is always cold. "Just look at my hands."  She says this after saying "Just feel my hands", and placing her hands in mine, so I can, indeed feel how cold she is.  She continues, "My hands, they look like white bones. Just look at them."  She continues this conversation for several more minutes.

Maybe I should digress a little to explain exactly why she is here on a regular basis.  She has lived much of her life in and around Wooster, so most of her family is here, namely her "little mother." Her mother is now in a local nursing home with Alzheimer's. Several years ago, her husband found work in Florida, so they moved there.  He lost that job a few years ago, and now works in Wisconsin, but they still have their place in Florida. Anyway, maybe that was unnecessary information, but he flies her back here about every six weeks or so, in order for her to be with her mother.  She usually stays with us.

Anyway, the last few times she has been here, she laid claim to my terry cloth robe.  It's the shorter style, and has a hood on it, which she tells me, she likes to pull up over her head when she sleeps because it keeps her so much warmer. Now I just leave it back in "her room" so she can have ready access to it.

And now, a word about me.  I am currently in the fun phase of my life, called menopause.  Being in menopause makes your body do some weird stuff.  For one thing, my internal temperature regulator has gone berserk!  I am either freezing, or sweating.  So, in order to stay somewhat comfortable, I have several sweaters lying around.  Brrrrr, I'm cold.  On goes the sweater.  Arrrrggg. Man, is it HOT in here.  Off goes the sweater.  I don't even know how many times a day that occurs. So, I try never to be too far from my sweater.

The other day, I was wearing my yellow sweater, and Betty commented on what a nice sweater it was.  "Yes, it's handy to have around," I say, pulling it off due to a hot flash, and draping it around the kitchen chair.  "Oh, that is a very nice sweater", she repeats, while running her hand over it, and admiring it.  We talk a little more, then get busy with other things.  Later, in the evening, during a cold flash, I'm looking for my sweater, and can't find it.  It's not completely unusual that I can't find something, but usually, after looking under blankets or coats, I can locate it.  However, my  yellow sweater was no where to be found, so I pulled out my black sweater.

The next morning when Betty walks into the kitchen, I notice she is wearing my(her) white robe, and around her shoulders is draped my yellow sweater.  (Ohhhhhhh, that's where it got to, I say to myself.)  She proceeds to tell me how warm she is, except for her "bone white hands".  I'm glad she was able to stay warm, and mentally accept the fact that I will not be seeing my yellow sweater for the remainder of her visit.

The following day, as I was getting ready to leave the house and go grocery shopping,  my black sweater appeared to be "missing".  I left the house, did my shopping, and got back home.  There was Betty, fully dressed, and wearing my black sweater, underneath another vest.  She makes no apologies (none are needed), and says, "I just "found" this nice sweater.  It goes with my outfit better, don't you think? (I assume she means, than the yellow sweater), and it's warm, too!"

She eventually discards my black sweater, and I nonchalantly pick it up and put it on. Luckily, I was having a well-timed cold flash!
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