Donut Shop Seniors

It's an exciting Friday morning in Brush Colorado! Here we are celebrating my Dad's birthday with all his BFFs!  (at the donut shop)  (on a Friday morning)  Did I mention it was very exciting!  The topic around the table this morning....flies!

For those of you Beetdigger alums the man on the left is "Mr Edson"  our old, biology teacher.  Yeah, he still speaks with me even after the year we had way back in 1980!  I think he is secretly instilling some ideas into Eli's head in order to get revenge from that year. 

It's hard to believe my Dad is.....that old.  He continues to run circles around me daily.  Happy Birthday Pops!  We heart you!

Eli never misses an opportunity to be the center of attention!

Game on!!

When I think about raising the kids I always think about the ridiculous self imposed competitions that invaded our generally happy home.  When it came to Jon and the boys the competitions became, well serious to put it lightly.  It started out with who could eat the most hamburger helper, to who could catch the most pop flys, to who could count backwards from one hundred by sevens - the competition was always present.  Luckily Ashley and I were saved from all but the most serious of competitions where we were forced with bodily harms, to pick a side.

The competitions gradually became more mature - or do I mean more immature - I'm not clear on that.  Anyhow the competitions included shotgunning beer at our famous - or do I mean infamous - tailgaters.  Jon, by the way always lost - or do I mean won - that competition.  Since the boys have become responsible contributing members of society the competitions have been very subdued.  The men - or do I mean boys - always do picks on Sunday morning during football season.  This tradition has been going on since puberty - and I do mean Jon's puberty!  Even when Aaron was going to grad school in Indiana or Tony was on one of his many adventures the boys have never missed a Sunday morning NFL game pick phone call.  For the past few years all has been pretty quiet out here on the plains with no active competition taking place. 

Until tonight.  Jill and Aaron sent us this photo of their garden:

Then we send back the following:



Jon is currently digging up all the catalogs we filed away in order to get a jump on the garden for 2012.  He will spare no expense and only the most exotic seedlings varieties will make the roster.  The couple will make worthy opponents but Jon believes he will prevail. 

Just like the old days - GAME ON!

Thirty Years

I have to say after thirty years there is nothing sexier than a fifty something year old football fanantic getting down on his hands and knees after a 12 hour day at work to ......

.....play tractors with his grandson.  (Sigh)

Muttin bustin 101

I thought the kids had a clear advantage over the sheep until it was MY grandkid on a huge sheep.  Now I'm not so sure.

Only in the country

After figuring out that three billy goats is too many (come to think of it, one billy goat is too many) I gave up and let Jon take one of them to the sale barn.  I couldn't go with him because I think the country folk up there would call the police if they saw me crying and hanging on to the holding pen - and the thing is I don't even like him!  At the same time though I want him to go hang out with another family, that simply won't have him for dinner.

I didn't here anything about the sale of the animal and Jon simply dropped him off, poor thing he didn't know anybody, didn't have any friends.  Anyway a few weeks later, I received a check in the mail along with an invoice.  This was not photo shopped - I simply must share the description.  Apparently it isn't just cattle people that are obssessed with testicles in the country.  (Or more appropriately the lack thereof)

shut the front door!

For all you folks inquiring about the state of our remodel.  That is just what it is , a state.  A constant state of unfinishedness and organized chaos. 

I don't know if you remember but really this spring we just wanted hardwood floors, dark birch hardwood floors to be exact.  A no brainer really until the contractor came and "I think I can move that staircase".  That was beginning of the end, actually since there is no end to the remodeling in sight I will have to say that it is merely the beginning.  The floors are connected to the stairs, that are connected to the kitchen cupboards, that are connected to the old appliances - you see what I'm getting at?

It doesn't help that when I go to Lowe's I transform into a patient with severe ADHD.  I go in to look at interior doors and grab a brochure all about interior doors.  Then something comes over me and I'm off down the tile isle - soon I have tile, grout and adhesive in the cart.  Then I'm off to the outdoor lighting aisle - two new porch lights in the cart.  Finally I go to the exterior door guy, Ryan - who knows me by name to see if the door has arrived.  Okay it isn't there yet, bu that doesn't stop me from buying the primer and paint and brushes I will use when it does arrive.

As far as that last trip to Lowes, I ended up not liking any of the tile - it all went back.  One of the porch lights was broke so it needs reordered.  The door finally came in but I got the wrong kind of paint for it.  It is no wonder that when the front door finally DID arrive Jon told me nothing but went on a secret spy mission to Greeley to pick it up without me knowing.  Can't say I blame him really.

I have learned that if I appeal to Jon's sense of saving money and saving the environment I can talk him into just about anything.  "Think of how much money a new door will save on the heating bill.  Think of how much these new appliances will save on the gas bill".  I have to come up with some way a jacuzzi tub will benefit his pocketbook and I am set for eternity.

So this week new exterior doors, then tile, then trim, then cupboards and the island, then appliance then...........

"shootin the goats"

Eli had to help Poppy and Nana "shoot" the goats yesterday.  Remember, this is still the Cook no-kill hobby farm so when Eli says shoot the goats he means give them a shot.  So armed with a 10cc syringe (with no needle) we doctored the goats this morning.

Let me just explain that when we doctor the little herd it is Jon that rounds up the animals, singles them out, wrestles their stinky butts to the ground while I meander in, pinch the goats skin and gently inject the medication that will prevent three common diseases for the year.  In fact when Jon is done with this chore he is dripping with sweat, covered in manured and smells just a bit like a Billy goat.  (By the way our billy goat smells so bad that Febreze didn't even help.  Yeah I hauled Febreze out to the pasture and doused the nasty creature with it.  He sneezed once and then peed on himself, so I guess that'a not gonna work.)   When I am done with the chores I can go directly to lunch with a friend without even washing my hands.  I don't have any idea why Jon gets all uptight about vaccination day??

So add a toddler to the mix.  Let me add, a toddler that is mesmerized by the complex series of locks and gates that Jon has installed over the past year mostly to keep that nasty billy away from the nannies.    Every time we turned to let a goat out of a gate Eli had it closed, and locked, and chained. At one time he had even wrapped a halter around a gate with the skill of a boy scout aiming for his note tying badge!  Needless to say chores took a bit longer this morning than usual but it was time well spent two of the boys I love! 

Country Campout

It has been years since I have slept in a tent.  Now I remember why.  Last night we pitched the tent as promised to Eli in the front yard for a camp out.  A camp out just a few steps from all the comforts of home ie - the water faucet, the bathroom, the TV.

I resisted my initial thought to unplug the laptop and haul it out to the lawn along with a few of Eli's favorite DVDs.  I mean, it was dark and what were we going to do with a toddler who took a nap at 5:00 p.m. and therefore had a good two hours of awake time left.  We crawled down to the bottom of our sleeping bags and turned on the flashlight and settled in.

My grandson looked up at me with the sad eyes and requested a ghost story.  Oh sweet Jesus!.  This is the same kid who won't walk down to the basement to get a toy if the lights are off, even in the daytime.  Then Ashley informs me I have permission to tell a ghost story as long as it ends with puppies, or cupcakes of hugs.  Okay I get it.  So we spent the next hour telling the most ridiculous stories about skeletons eating Twinkies and bats making friends!  I was never really good at making up stories for my kids.  Jon was the parent with that talent.  These stories last night though, were particularly...lame, and Eli loved it!

Story telling was followed up by finger shadows.  Then a campout snack and then finally we settled down and played a game of quiet and listening.  We took turns listening to the sounds of a quiet country night - a dog barking, the breeze blowing through the trees, Poppy's water fountain running outside.  That was just about it - no sirens, traffic, neighbors, honking...none of that.  It was Friday night on top of it all and the quietness still permeated our tent. 

The campout ended abruptly as Boo and Mike (Eli's cats that I board and I feed) decided to make a flying leap onto the top of the tent and scare the pants off everyone.  Eli laughed nervously along with the rest of us and then he promptly announced that he was going inside to sleep in a real bed.  Ahh, thank you Boo and Mike.

Stop "wining"

One of my dozens of unfinished projects - the vineyard.  I was full steam ahead a couple years ago until the goats got into the yard and had an entire afternoon to feast on the luscious leaves before I noticed anything amiss.  Then it was full steam ahead again until Jack and Cooper found little critters to dig for right at the base of several of the vines. They spent many afternoons last fall chasing and digging and digging and digging.  So there were  nice asymmetrical deep holes in the dirt and entire vines were simply missing.   I was even full steam ahead last years until a nasty crop of grasshoppers arrived to eat everything in their path including the grapes leaves.

Much to my surprise though this spring those vines that did survive all of that were strong and thick.  Careful planning and pruning that initial year has made the surviving plants nearly perfect.  Their thick woody base stretches at a ninety degree angle from the ground until it reaches the first wire where it then reaches out in three direction and producing handfuls of plump round green Frontenac grapes.

So despite my better judgement I ordered new grape vines to replace the ones that were, eaten or stomped on or torn away from the land.  The land on the east side of the house is protected just enough from the elements that the new plants seem to be content and are growing. 

Jon has grown tired of listening to me "wine" about the status of the plants.  He constructed a small fence surrounding the tender new plants so no critters can accidentally find their way to the area.  Then last weekend after spending the weekend in Estes I came home to find a drip system neatly installed in out little vineyard.

My plan?  The first crop of grapes will be harvested next year, stomped the old fashioned way in a big wooden bucket and the first bottle of Cooks No Kill Pinot Grigio will be presented to Aaron and Jill on their wedding day.

Country Humor

 The  Dead Cow  Lecture

First-year  students at the Purdue Vet School were attending  their
first anatomy class with a real dead cow.
They all gathered around the surgery table with the body  covered with
a white   sheet.
The professor started the class by telling them, "In Veterinary
medicine it is necessary to have two important
 qualities as a doctor. The first is that you not be  disgusted by
anything involving the animal’s body."
  For an example, the professor pulled back the sheet,  stuck his
finger in the butt of the cow, withdrew
   it, and stuck his finger in his mouth. "Go ahead and do the same
thing," he told his students.
The students freaked out, hesitated for several minutes, but
eventually took turns sticking a finger in the butt
of the dead cow and sucking on it.
When everyone finished,the Professor looked a them and said,
"The second most important quality is observation.
 I stuck in my  middle finger and sucked on my index finger.
 Now  learn to pay attention. Life's tough but it's even tougher if
you're stupid."

The above was sent to Jon by his brother Steve who lives in Tennessee.  I think BOTH of them could benefit from some therapy!!