ReluctantFarmChick.com

This shot was taken just a couple of days ago.  It’s amazing when you look outside at just the right moment and recognize a photo-worthy sky.  Very cool.  And very new to me.  Of course being somewhat limited in my photography skill and equipment, I’m sure that a hundred others would have taken a totally WOW photo of this same moment.  If someone can explain (in very slow, simple language) how to improve this shot using a PHD camera (Push Here Dummy) I’d be most grateful. (btw – I knew to turn the flash off.  thank you.)  The shots I took of just the sky (without the pond) didn’t show the color as intensely as the reflection in the pond did.  And truly, the colors were equally brilliant.  I guess the creative thing to do would have been to crop the sky out of the shot and just do the pond reflection thing.  Ah – yes.  This is why I blog.  

This same photo could be placed under a new heading brewing in my mind.  Something along the lines of "Things I See at the Pond"  or maybe "Gazing out my Kitchen Window".  C O R N Y.  Anyway – I really do enjoy my kitchen window.  And I am thoroughly loving the things I see in, around, or near the pond.  I do have a collection of photos started.  But the collection will be appreciated more fully when people other than myself will be able to identify the tiny dots on the picture (ie I need to find the other lens).  So you can anticipate more Pond Watch photos in the future.

Can you even believe the poor kids who are having to go back to school today?  And it’s not even CLOSE to Labor Day.  What is up with that?

For those of you who were concerned about my OCD dilemma last week, I just want to let you know how everything turned out.

A friend came over and started helping me with "Plan B" for the back to school gifts.  It would have worked well, and I think the kids wouldn’t have cared ONE BIT that "Plan A" wasn’t on their desks (since they’d have had no CLUE what "Plan A" was to begin with).  But then on a spur of the moment on Friday (that wonderful 08-08-08 day), Prince Farming decided to take a drive into the big city.  So while he was browsing for electronic components, I ran over to a craft store and purchased some plastic gusset bags (thanks Louise for that wonderful suggestion – timing is everything).  So I was able to come home, and then my daughter (who didn’t get paid) stuffed each of the bags with this stuff:

while I printed out the bag toppers.  It didn’t take very long at all (despite being called out at regular intervals to do Farm Work).  And this is what we ended up with:

This wasn’t just some random idea I had.  It all tied in to the bulletin board I went and put up with my daughter last week.  Before school it looked like this (and actually still does right now – I need to go in and put up the pictures I took this morning of each kid in their shades)

So everything worked out with that project.  It’s always nice to have a good ending, isn’t it? 

 When a person lives on a farm, there is a LOT of work to do.  One might think that it is all work that lends itself to the production and maintenance of something worthy of selling, or growing, or . . .whatever farms are supposed to do.  Today I realized that the things I categorize as farm work actually sometimes have ZERO to do with the farm and it’s intent, and more to do with what Prince Farming would like to do, or what he perceives I would like to have done. I have previously referred to work as "Farm Work" only because a tractor (or other farm implement of torture) is utilized.  Today is  a prime example.  Let me preface this post by saying that I didn’t spend huge amounts of time doing farm work.  But I did get called out at regular intervals throughout the day to do said work (hold things, read and call out numbers for signal strength. . . but I’m getting ahead of myself).

The first item on the to do list was to find a way to get a TV signal.  I might have mentioned in the past that we never got around to hooking up TV when we first moved to TN 5 years ago.  This was not by intent or design (of mine).  It just never got done.  And that was fine.  There’s NO TIME for TV in this town.  Doesn’t matter how small it is, and how lazy a person thinks small town living might be.  There is really no time.  The reason for this sudden burst of industry in order to get TV is . . . the OLYMPICS.  I love watching the Olympics.  Now you have to wonder where I’ve been for 5 years.  I thought about it last night.  How is it that I’ve lived for 5 years and not seen any Olympics.  Did I miss the memo?  Do I have amnesia?  Probably it’s a conspiracy.  I honestly don’t know anything about the last 2 (or three?) Olympic Games.  Which is terrible.  I started early this time – logged on to www.nbcolympics.com and watched swimming and gymnastics trials.  And diving.  And watched several other sporting events – BMX being the newest Olympic event.  And I decided that since I didn’t have TV, computer would work out just fine.  On demand (just the way I live).  Prince Farming caught the bug early too.  We decided that for his July birthday we’d get a new TV so we could watch the Olympics on it.  Obviously that didn’t happen – but that will be the topic of another post on another day (if I remember it for that long – more likely I’ll read this and wonder "Why didn’t we go ahead and get that TV?  What was more important?  What was I referring to that would be blog-worthy?")

While I was on my trip, Prince Farming did some research and ordered an antennae (internet shopping).  Then on Friday (that wonderful 08-08-08 day), we ran down to the big city and he purchased some sort of digital scanner/tuning thingy box (he knows about all this stuff, which totally blows me away – HOW does he know?) 

So today was the day to get it all figured out.  We put the antenna up on the electric post, and got a quality reading of 60% on 4 channels (none of which were NBC).

 We live on the side of a mountain, so Prince Farming decided that if part way up is 60%, all the way up would be better.  So we took DOWN the antenna and he went down to the barn and brought up a 16 foot 6" x 6" post.  He attached the antenna to that and we hoisted it (with the help of the tractor) up against the electric post.   There is no picture of this part – I am adding this photo to show how bloody tall that 16′ post was – it was equal to to top of this electrical post – and then the antenna went above that.  I am not a fan of heights.  I am not a fan of watching other people at heights.  Except safely from my sofa when I’m watching the Olympics.

Then I had to haul him up to a level where he could adjust it on the tractor forks (a tractor is a wonderful thing).  Guess what?  The quality went way down – to like 20%.  Who knew!??!  Very disappointing.  After we came in to eat (corn on the cob), we went back out and took that stupid 16′ beam down again (much easier taking it down than putting it up).  And reattached the antenna to the original post.  Back to better reception – maybe even 70% for some reason – including NBC.  YIPPEE!!!!

After the whole crazy nonsense of putting up the antenna (how is that related to farm work again?  - oh yes.  We used a tractor.  So it qualifies) we had to put in some fence posts we had dragged out.  We dragged them out so Prince Farming could fix a drainage issue we had at the entrance to the farm.  This truly does qualify as farm work.  1) we used a tractor, and 2) it will ultimately help to keep the cows in the field and off the railroad tracks (and neighbors hay fields) when we finish the job.

We pulled it out as carefully as we could, so as not to have to reconstruct the whole thing.  Before today, this fence was lying on the road.  Today we tried to put it in as gently as we could.  I was in charge of digging the holes.

 I did them all by myself.  Well, me and JD.  We work well together.  

Prince Farming measured and put his foot right where the hole needed to be, and I carefully avoided his foot and drilled – I’m SO grateful for post-hole diggers and for farmers next door who own post-hold diggers so we can borrow them (it).

Now Prince Farming just needs to nail up the rest of those boards and we’ll be good to go.  Good to go on to fixing the rest of the exterior fencing that STILL needs to be up.  It won’t be a board fence, though.  Barbed wire is looking pretty good.  That’s another farm day.

 People who know me might  be aware of this detail:  I LOVE COOL NUMBERS.  And I like to share this love with people around me.  I am an avid odometer watcher.  I get a little antsy when a cool number is about to appear.  My phone is usually close by so I can capture the cool number at the right time – no matter what speed I might be going.  Before I had a digital speedometer I would actually have to speed up or slow down so that the speedometer needle wasn’t right over the top of the odometer number.  My kids don’t have any idea that this is a weird thing.  They don’t know any different.  They have become number lovers too and often ask me if a certain sequence is a cool number or not.  I tell them that they get to define their own "cool"   To me, cool is a pattern or symmetry.  So on an odometer 100101 might be cool because of the simplicity, but 101101 is even cooler.  They’re learning.  But this number-love has become a slight obsession.  Numbers that aren’t in a pattern can also be amazingly cool.  You have to start looking at thing differently.  0 and 8 are very good digits on an odometer because they are perfectly symmetrical.  1 is okay – but it leans a bit to the right, making the number spacing off just slightly.  Don’t laugh.  I don’t try to be this way.  It’s the voices in my head.  They make me do it.  Before I switched to blackberry, I used to MMS cool numbers to my friends.  They weren’t quite sure WHAT the picture they were getting was (at least not the first 3 times).

Anyway – all this to tell you that today is an amazingly good day.  Almost as good as July 7, 1977.  But the thing that today has that July 7, 1977 didn’t have is that the clock can play cool number games too.  See, it’s August 8, 2008.  If you write that in school, you’d write 08-08-08.  WOW!!!  (btw – WOW is cool too – perfectly symmetrical, which is hard for words to be).  And the clock plays too because it can be 8:08 on 08-08-08.  It’s really hard to be grumpy on very cool days like today.  

The only downer is that I wasn’t able to get through to my daughter at the Lake House to share the moment with her.  But I know she’s aware of the day.  And the time.  Because she’s my daughter and shares this crazy obsession.

 How can I possibly convey the corn process when a picture is worth a thousand words?  I know my readers are NOT going to want to READ a thousand words – and actually there would probably be 8 pictures, so that would be 8000 words.  Go get a cup of tea.  I’ll wait here. . . .

No card reader yet.  Next thing I did was scrounge for a USB cable with a camera thingy on the other end.  Now I’m obsessing about that because surely my camera came with that (3 moves ago).

Prince Farming had this original idea that we’d get up EARLY to pick the corn.  Like up and breakfast around 5:30am so we could get out there as soon as it was light.  Luckily it rained (or maybe we were just really tired).  So we didn’t get up that early.  We were out picking corn at 8:30am.  We had the "garden lot" (not one of the two fields).  We prefer the garden lot, because it seems there aren’t as many vines.  I think there is a conspiracy of vines that try to keep corn ears on the corn plants.  Vines grow up in the corn field and climb the corn winding round and around to get to the sun.  In the process, they "sew" the corn tightly against the stalk.  (no picture)

I only had to pick 2 buckets of corn.  We put 25 ears of corn in each bucket so we can keep track of how many we pick.  After I pick 2 buckets, Prince Farming also had at least that many and our son had part of one.  (Our daughter got off lucky this year – she’s at the lake with the girl cousins and Mema & Pop-pop – she’s SO happy).  When that much corn is picked (4 buckets), I sit on the back of the truck (no picture) and start shucking.  That means I peel the green stuff and string off the corn, and put it into coolers while Prince Farming continues picking.  He picked 10 more buckets of corn.  For you math whizzes that makes it approximately 350 ears of corn.  Give or take a few.  I think shucking might be the grossest part of the process.  Although picking is nasty too – you have to walk between the rows and there are sticky things and wet things and sharp leaf edges.  I don’t like that part, but I only have to do a very little of that, and Prince Farming lets me pick the widest and easiest row.  Shucking is the unskilled part of the job.  And the grossest.  There are worms of varying colors and sizes (no picture) that start eating at the top of the ear.  The way to deal with this dilemma is to take another corn husk anduse it break off the top offending part of the corn (so you don’t have to touch the yucky mealy part).  Then everything is fine.  This year there were also bugs – I call them June bugs, but that can’t be right because it’s actually August.  But they’re that pretty blue color and that disgusting big size.

After all the corn is picked (but before it’s all shucked) we move back home.  That way we can get the rest of the process going.  See, the whole point is to get the corn from the field to the freezer in the shortest amount of time.  We came home so Prince Farming could get the rest of the cleaning stage set up.  I continued shucking while he rigged the wheelbarrow tipped at the edge of the garage with a garden hose hung just right so it would be a "faucet" under which to clean the corn.  I have only done this part of the process once, so it’s not very clear.  But at this station there are vegetable brushes and paring knives.  They clean the corn and cut away the worm/bug junk and any other bad spots (there aren’t very many bad spots).

While they are cleaning outside, I come inside and start water boiling in big pots.  And I cover the entire kitchen in black trash bags and towels. (no picture)  Corn has a lot of sugar in it, and it gets to be VERY sticky.  Everywhere.  At this stage, our son is still outside shucking or cleaning.  I’m in the kitchen alone.  I get to choose my own radio station or CD (I couldn’t find Dido, so I did Nora Jones).

When the water is boiling, I can start taking corn.  I boil around two dozen ears at a time.  3 minutes from when it starts boiling. After 3 minutes of boiling and I stop the cooking process by putting the corn into cold water.  First one sink of cold water then a second sink of cold water.  I change the water often.  From there it drains then gets cut.  The cutting is done by jaming a corn cob onto a nail that is pierced through a 6 x 6 x 2" block of wood (no picture).  Then there is this circular blade thingy 
that you slide over the corn cob.  It cuts the corn off and it lands up in the cookie sheet under the wooden block (no picture).  My son came in to do cutting.  I had to clean the cobs after him because it’s only fun to slide the cutter down ONCE.  After that it’s just work.  But there’s too much good stuff on there to leave it with one cut.

After being cut, the corn is scooped (4 cups) into a quart bag.  The bag is rinsed (very sticky) and flattened (no air in the bag) and placed blissfully in the freezer.  DONE.  

Except we did this over and over and OVER for HOURS.  We were ready for lunch (all corn processed) by 2:30pm.  And guess what we ate?  CORN.  And baked potatoes.  And garden tomatoes and cucumbers.  Yummy farm food.  Sore backs.  Messy kitchen.  Huge sense of satisfaction and relief to have it done for another year.  I think we ended up with around 50 bags of corn.  

The corn is Silver Queen corn.  It’s the sweetest corn you’ll ever eat (well, the Silver KING corn last year was pretty amazing too).  It’s a white corn.  And delicious.  And a family tradition.  As much as we all dread "corn day" we wouldn’t have it any other way.  That’s also the other side of reluctance.

 Okay – so here are the pictures you all so desperately need to see.  I was going to insert them into my original post, but then the whole title ("Corn – no pictures") would be totally wrong.  So this makes for an extra post – right? 

Here’s the field (actually garden).

And the close rows of corn – but not as grown-over as the field.

Here I am husking.

Here is a hazard of husking – the gross part.

Here we move home so we can get set up in the garage.

Cleaning the corn.

Cutting the corn.

Apparently I didn’t get a picture of the boiling/cooling process.

More cutting the corn.

In clean bags and ready to freeze.

I forgot to mention in my first corn post that some very kind people came to visit us part way through corn day and pitched right in with the cleaning and cutting process.  The good thing is that these are people just getting ready to move to the area (from the big city).  So this was part of their initiation process.  I think it was effective.  They didn’t run away screaming.  I’ll keep you posted on their progress too.  They only officially move in a month.

 Okay – so part of my (self-diagnosed) OCD issues includes complete inability to move beyond B and C if A isn’t in place.  So I want to blog, right? So there are these pre-conceived ideas of what I should include in a post.  Mostly I have pictures to illustrate my points.  And I have these pictures on my camera, but I can’t get the pictures OFF my camera, because I haven’t been able to find my card reader since I returned from my trip.  So I’m  making myself write this post in retrospect.  Because I’ve been obsessing all week quite a long time about how to post without pictures.  So this is my shock therapy.  I’m posting.  No card reader.  See, I have to post because if I don’t, then I can’t get the dishes or the mopping done (that would be D and E in my illustration).  The sequence of required activities does NOT make sense.  Nor are the activities related.  It is just hard to move forward when there is something not done.  Especially non-essential things.

And my card reader isn’t all that’s missing.  School starts on the 11th (Monday).  And traditionally I have a little gift on each student’s desk for the first day of school (from the school board).  So I’ve had my idea for a while, and have known what to put in each gift.  I’ve even had the stuff purchased.  Next step is packaging (which is almost as important as the idea – sometimes even MORE important).  I normally generate something personalized on the computer and then embellish with stamping as needed.  But see, in this case "A" would be the clear gusset plastic bags I want to use.  How can I possibly make the 25 bag toppers – the "B" part (on the computer) if I don’t have the clear bags?  DUH.  So nothing is done.  I don’t have the clear bags (which would make a normal person pick another option).  But the voices in my head tell me that I DO have the clear bags.  They just haven’t told me WHERE in the black hole that is my stamp room I might be able to find them.  And from experience I know that actually the clear bags are "A" and the confetti stringy easter grassy stuff is actually "B" and the toppers are only "C".  I haven’t even started hunting for the grass stuff.  Because I haven’t heard about where the bags are.  What is this madness?

I don’t feel better after writing this post, but at least it’s done and I can try to get myself to deal with the kitchen mess now.  Wish me luck (now, if I could just find those ridiculous bags!)

 My daughter has been trying to have a girl party for 2 summers now, and I just haven’t gotten around to accomplishing this task.  So instead of making it perfect, I decided to just make it.  JUST DO IT.   Fine.  I was hoping to get things lined up a bit more clearly while I was on my trip, but I didn’t make the necessary calls.  It still went really well.  I think the girls had a good time.  Not everyone she wanted to have over was able to make it, but there were enough to make it sociable.  

Almost 2 years ago I found this really cool book/cd/program thingy called "Secret Keeper Girl:  8 Great Dates for you and Your Daughter"  I bought the whole thing because the premise (being able to connect with 8-12 year old girls while teaching them about beauty in a world that bombards them with lies) was really cool.  Unfortunately, being the loser mom that I am, we only ever went on one date.  But it was a great one at a time that made a huge impact.  And this Spa Time was based on the 2nd date.  I’d still like to complete the whole series because the lessons in each date are awesome.  The Spa date was to teach the girls how to take care of their skin, but more importantly to know that real physical beauty is the unique qualities that each person has.

Because several of the girls who were able to come over were older than 12, and because I couldn’t find the CD that goes along with the program, I modified it a little bit.  But we had fun.

My sister-in-law is a consultant for a skin-care direct-sales company.  I asked her to come over and help the girls with face-care stuff.  She had a web-site that she referred to – it went through several questions and helped the girls identify what their skin-type is and what care products were best suited to them.
  

While they were individually answering those, I had a couple of basins with soapy water and marbles.  The girls could rub their feet over the marbles – like a personal foot massage.  After they’d soaked a while, I rubbed lotion on their feet (quite a departure for me – I’m slightly grossed out by other people’s feet – but I wanted them to feel pampered).
 

After their foot soak/massage, they did a facial peel thingy.  Left their faces feeling very soft and smooth.  Then we painted toe nails (and maybe even hand nails too – can’t remember).  I didn’t take pictures of the nails – but there were some pretty cool ones.  We dug into my stash of rub-ons (meant for paper) and rubbed them onto nails (Louise’s great idea).  That was a huge hit.

Food was fresh fruit and veges – and crackers and cheese.  And biscotti.  Home-made.

I think everyone had a fun time.  Two girls ended up spending the night.  The next morning we made Dutch Babies for breakfast

.
 

This was my daughter’s. . . even though she’d already eaten a bite, I told her to photograph the masterpiece.  YUMMY!

 Mad Madge has inspired this post. . . thanks for your venting and sharing!  Shopping for school supplies and clothes is a huge excitement for my kids.  They get their lists, circle what they need and cross out what they have left over from last year – except not altogether.  They always need pens and pencils.  We have enough pens and pencils in this house to supply the continent of Africa for 2.65 years, but we still need pens.  This year I put my foot down.  NO MORE PENS.  But there is a freshness to new school supplies.  And it warms my heart to see my kids’ valiant attempts at organization (goodness knows it’s a lifelong endeavor for me).  They borrowed my label-maker and stickered the heck out of every possible thing.  Except the pens.  They can’t wait to lose those so we can go buy more (mid-year when they aren’t lining every W*lMart isle).  

For my daughter, shopping is the bomb.  My son thinks it’s cool too – but I can negotiate with him.  See – it’s hard enough to school shop.  But to school shop with two kids in tow is pure agony.  So we set the school shopping date.  We printed off the lists.  We got all geared up and ready to go.  Then some friends from town called to see if my son wanted to spend the day with them and go swimming.  So I had to pitch this idea to the boy.  It goes something like this (with creative editorial freedom on my part):

Me:  We’re going school shopping today.  It’s going to be a  l o n g day, and there are 4 other errands I need to do in addition to buying your supplies

Him:  Yeah – I have my money so I can do some errands too

Me:  No – actually you have your money so you can buy your school supplies.  And I won’t complain about your stops if you won’t complain about mine.  OR if you want, the _________’s invited you over for the day to go swimming.  I’d be happy to go get the supplies you circle on your list if you want to spend the day there.  Whatever you’d like to do is fine.  Just let me know in the next 30 minutes.

Him: (like 2 minutes later):  Will you pay for my school stuff?  I think I want to go swimming

Me:  Sure – I’d be happy to.  Explain your list to your sister.

<<<< mad writing, explaining, convincing of colors, conspiring >>>>>

Him:  I’m going to go swimming, and I’d like you to buy me a soft-ball mitt.

Me:  (in my head)  It’s a DEAL buddy.  

And my daughter had her first day’s school clothes laying out a month ago.  She had to think really hard on that one – let’s see….hmmm…. school uniform.  Khaki pants (check); Navy polo (check); clean underwear (check); new white socks (check, check – has to be TWO socks); and new shoes (check, check).  Oh – and something for the hair.  Now don’t get the impression that she’s excited or anything.  Going in to 7th grade requires the appropriate amount of school-dread.  She has that in good measure.  Besides, when school starts, she’ll have to start getting up 3 hours earlier than her summer schedule – huge dent in the princess’s sleep pattern.  But when that dreaded day DOES arrive, she’ll be ready.  And she’ll have her lunch packed the night before.  And she’ll have her brother fully briefed on what to expect in the class room (he’s moving into the upper grade room with her this year).  

So we have the rest of this week to relax (yeah – right!) and enjoy the dog days of summer.  

Every time I‘m compelled invited encouraged commanded begged I go out for farm stuff, there are certain things I must take with me.  By now you’d think I’d a) know exactly what I need; or at the very least b) have a spot for all these things.  But no.  That’s not how my amazing brain works.  See, the longer it takes me to remember, but more importantly find these essentials, the longer I delay the inevitable.  Sometimes I go so far as to get to the job site, only to have to return for something.  Just writing about it amazes me – this is exactly what totally annoys me about my kids – their endless delay tactics.  Hmmmm.  They DO learn by example (note to self:  only use delay tactics when kids aren’t watching).

It’s hard to say which one has highest priority.  The things I most easily grab are

and

because these are things I grab every time I leave the house, regardless of my activity.

The other thing that should be fairly natural and habitual for me, but isn’t is:

I need to be taking these every day because life without them is just a drip drag.  I can’t make sense of what exactly I’m allergic to, because sometimes I’m exposed to NOTHING and I about drown in my own . . . you know.  And other times I’m out there working my butt off and breathing in all kinds of toxins, and I’m totally fine.  I’m putting an end to that – hopefully – with a visit to a new allergist lady from Egypt who started taking patients in a nearby office.  Appointment is made.  Hope she knows her stuff, because . . . because I need her to.

The next item that usually is a no-brainer for me to grab, and I basically know where it is (at least one of three places it probably got put) is my favorite hat.  I actually put this in Prince Farming’s Christmas stocking one year, but I have since annexed it back.  I like it because it has a good fit, my pony tail can hang out the back, and the bill/shade thingy is long enough to keep the sun off my face mostly.  And I also LOVE what it says (which is why I bought it in the first place, but obviously "Boss-hood" has switched hands.

Now come the things that I struggle with.  Not on purpose.  Not because I want to.  It just happens.  I really need to ALWAYS take these with me

so that my nails don’t look worse than this when I  get back from work (this was obviously a SHORT work time – normally I have to go mining to make them look almost this good).        

Actually I count myself lucky.  With a trip coming up, I could have BET that a nail would break or get ripped off at the quik.  Most of the time my nails break doing something that should not cause such damage.  Harmless things like closing the trunk on my car or filling the tank with gas.  I’m holding my breath – only 2 days to go.  Watch me break a nail in the airport.

I have been known to start working without gloves, and then remember that they are part of my essential set, so I buzz back up to the house and grab them.  And a drink.  And switch the laundry over from the washer to the dryer.  And check to make sure my son flushed his toilet.  And clean my sunglasses.  And put the last few dishes in the dishwasher and start it.  And then buzz back down to wherever Prince Farming has me working.  Of course it’s not long before I desperately need this.   I don’t always buy water, because we have fantastic spring water on the farm.  Mostly I have bottled water and then refill the bottles several times till they’re just too trashed to be used anymore.  I always have bought water on hand because sometimes the rain causes our water to get muddy cloudy.  But that’s a post all on it’s own.

One of Prince Farming’s pet peeves is when I show up ill-equipped to work.  Most of the time the cause is probably my feet.  I’ve already told you I don’t want a boot tan.  So I farm in flip flops (sorry – forgot the picture for that one – might insert it later).  But in a perfect world on a perfect farm day, I’d show up for Prince Farming fully dressed, including (but not limited to) these: