Sickies

Well, with the usual perfect timing we seem to have come down with a case of the flu. I say "we" but I really mean Farmmom, Farmdad, and Mamaw.

So far, I think my fall allergy sinus congestion has been protecting me from the bugs. If I can't breathe in the germs can't get in.

Farmmom's been down the longest but she seems to be improving. Farmdad caught it from her, and Mamaw came down with it after he did.

I'm just hoping that it clears up in time for me to sanitize the house, because we've got a lot of company coming in about ten days.

So cross your fingers and send healthy thoughts, guys. Otherwise, with my luck, I'll be miserable for the big weekend.

It's Really Gone

It's that time of year again when I start to realize that yes, summer is really gone. For one thing my allergies go nuts as every plant in the northern hemisphere starts throwing off whatever it is that they throw off as they die or go dormant for the winter.

Whatever it is, my sinuses hate it.

For another, the grass goes brown and dry, starting to sound more papery underfoot than lush and swishy. The sunshine and air take on a different quality, too. I don't ever feel like I'm really warm all through from the first frost until the clover starts to sprout, even when I'm working up a sweat. Fall and winter have their charms, but it's just not the same as baking in the summer sun.

I'll readily admit that I'm a summertime girl. In the summer the days are long and there are more hours to hang out with my large four legged children, of whom I suddenly realize I don't have nearly enough pictures.

I've been talking quite a bit lately about the three pasture ornaments, thanks to the nice folks who were running through our fence, necessitating me leading them back in, so I found some pictures of them, and summertime, because dagummit I miss the sun!

Here you can clearly see how wild they are. On the right is Muffin, my beautiful, built-like-a-brick-shithouse girl. Looking at this picture, most horse people would be thinking "Why is she not broke to ride?!?" Well folks the answer to that is: When Muffin was just a bitty foal, she ran through a barb wire fence, and cut up her right fore. She healed up and did great in pasture, but when we tried to have her saddle broke we discovered that the damage had made her lame with the added weight of a rider. I'm going to get her bred, though, because I want her baby! In the middle is Roanie, who you can't see very well, but who has lived a very long, contented life, throwing a few colts and generally bossing everyone else around. On the left is Dusty, my beautiful blue eyed boy. Like so many blue-eyed animals, he's developed cataracts and doesn't see very well anymore, but in his pasture, with the girls to help him, he gets around just fine.


Well enough to find my car and see if the paint job is tasty, anyway.

I know I've mentioned that Muffin is shy. She's just not a pet me kind of horse, but we've come to a working understanding. As you can see in the first picture, I pour the grain on the ground and don't hover over her head, and she comes close enough for me to look into those beautiful brown eyes. We're still working on the touching part, mostly because every time I'm out there with them my fingers itch to stroke that velvet coat.

But really, who wouldn't want to spend a couple of hours out in the pasture with this? Whether they let me love on them or not, they always come to say hi and see if I have a treat for them. Roanie accepts her wither and neck scratches regally, or stands blissfully under the curry comb in the spring when I help her shed out of that sweaty winter coat. Dusty sniffs at my fingers and my pant legs, or just stands hipshot near by with those lovely eyes half lidded in the sun, soaking up its warmth. And Muffin? Well she gets in on the action too, occasionally sneaking up behind me to see if I've stuck some extra special treats in my back pockets or down the waistband of my pants.

To me, that's summer. A couple of hours in a pasture, getting grass stains on my knees and horse slobber on my shirt, all for the sake of the briefest of moments, that brush of contact from a whiskery muzzle on my skin.

The contact may last an instant, but the contentment and joy that I feel thanks to these wonderful creatures that have no reason to love me, beyond that I am kind to them and respect them in turn. They're not trained, they don't work. They've never developed that age-old partnership between man and horse. But every time I step out of the pickup, they come running, without fail happy to see me.

And that thought, friends, warms my heart as sure as the summer sun that I won't see again for months warms my skin.

Hooray For The First Amendment!

It seems that President Obama's people (of not the big O himself) attempted to bar Fox News from an interview with the Pay Czar, Mr. Feinberg, while allowing the rest of the White House Press Pool.

This attempt backfired when the Main Stream Media system finally woke up to the fact that hey, they're trying to mess with freedom of the press!

All of the networks that were "invited" so to speak, refused to conduct an interview if Fox wasn't allowed the same chance.

So, although I never expected to say this, I'll give kudos to the MSM for seeing the right thing and doing it.

Article here and here.

(HT to Breda for the second link)

The House

Well, we've continued to work on my house, although at times it seemed we were moving backwards rather than forwards.

Progress is being made, however. There is just a bit of crawling around in the attic left to do for the wiring, as we only have two more lines to run to the breaker box, and the drops to make in the office/tack room/laundry room.

First I have to finish tearing out the plaster and lath in the office/tack room/laundry room, so that we can get the boxes for the plug-ins and light switches put in, and the wire drops from the attic made. Then it's just actually installing switches and plug-ins, and tying everything together at the junction boxes, which I can now do. Once all of that is done, it's time to call in someone with a little more skill and confidence than we have to actually install the breaker box, and get everything up and running.

Once the electrical drops are made and all of the attic crawling is finished, I'll be going to the other extreme and making my way underneath the house to do the plumbing, water and gas. Yes, we have to re-run the gas lines as well.

Meanwhile once the pipes are run as far as the wall between the kitchen and office/tack/laundry room, and all the electrical drops are made and the exterior plugs put in, it'll be time to throw up the insulation on the outside walls and transfer a large amount of my crap into that room, so that it will be out of the way.

Because once the plumbing and electric are working in the bathroom and bedroom, I'm going up with the remainder of the insulation (the bedroom is mostly insulated and drywalled, but not completely) and drywall, then texture and paint, and flooring.

Followed by the installation of the necessities of life: the tub, toilet, and sink, as well as the water heater. And the most important bit: my bed.

As soon as I have a functioning bathroom and a finished bedroom, I'm moving in. I can always borrow a kitchen, and I love Farmmom's cooking anyway.

But, it's finally beginning to feel like things are getting accomplished, which means I'll find something in the office/tack/laundry room that requires being completely rebuilt, because that's the way it goes. On the other hand, it is the only room that we have to pull the ceiling down in, so perhaps that's enough for Mr. Murphy.

I'm not counting on it, though.

Writing

I've been working on Jane, I swear. I've pretty much decided to choose a cadre of beta readers, some of whom have already been chosen and received what I had to date, and save the rest of the book for publication instead of posting it here. Sorry guys, but when it comes right down to it, the more new stuff is in the paper version, the more likely it will be that you fine people will buy it and stuff my pockets with lots of lovely royalty checks.

What? A girl can dream, can't she?

The latest scene still needs work, of course. For one, I have to remember that my character has knives in both hands before I have her picking something else up to run away. Especially something live.

I'm setting myself a goal, at least four pages a day of new writing, and at least three edited to what I consider suitable for others' eyes. It's a minimal goal, but more is always acceptable, and it ensures that I make some progress every day.

And the more progress I make the sooner I'll be collecting those lovely royalty checks, right? Right.

Some People Have All The Luck

Recently, one of our county commissioners who has an addiction to scratch-off lottery tickets finally hit the big time.

He bought a twenty dollar ticket, and won $250,000. Yes, that's two hundred and fifty thousand dollars. Went to Pueblo to cash in the ticket, bought a new truck on the way home, and stopped in at one of the c-stores when he got back to town to show it off, buying some more scratch tickets. Won another $100.

A few days later, at the other c-store, he bought another twenty dollar ticket, and won another $253,000.

After taxes he got about $160,000 on the first one. I don't know what he got out of the second one, I stopped listening.

Meanwhile, the Colorado Lottery will be funding a new park, and I believe they'll be naming it after the man who won all that money, because everyone in the county has been going crazy buying scratch tickets thanks to him....

Where's The Beef?

At the Old Homestead, of course!

Two weeks ago we dropped off two steers at Duncan Meat Locker. (If you're within hauling distance and have animals that need processing, give them some consideration, the place is well-established, right in down town Lakin KS, very clean, extremely courteous, and they do both beef and pork. They'll even process your deer, all at very reasonable prices for excellent work.*)

Today we picked them up in boxes. Over a thousand pounds of beef, now spread over four households. And for a damn sight cheaper than that much meat would cost in the grocery store, even accounting for the cost to raise the cattle.

Oh, there will be steaks tomorrow night, my friends, there will be steaks.



* I did not receive any compensation from Duncan Meat Locker in cash or other valuable considerations for talking them up on this blog. I simply admire work done well and cheerfully, for a reasonable price.