The Joys and Dangers of Trash Pickin'

We haven't had a lot of things to laugh about the last month or so.  One of our close friends is in hospice care and we've been helping to take care of her. But as we were coming home from the hospital last month, something did happen to make us smile for quite awhile.

I was driving and very upset from what had happened at the hospital.  Roland was quiet and we weren't talking at all. I turned down a road that is full of newer houses and not very busy.  All of sudden, I saw a beautiful wicker loveseat out by the road.  It was sitting next to bags of garbage and obviously set out as trash.  I yelled at Roland we had to stop and look at it.

Now I'm not a trash picker myself.  At times when I have found cool things set out - our neighbor's dining room table years ago as an example - I am too embarrassed to think about picking it up.  So I do what any self respecting person does - I've sent my kids to do it. Then if someone sees us, I can throw them under the bus and say that I was making them put it back, thus saving my reputation.  It's worked well for us before.

Well they're both out-of-state, so it wasn't an option.  But I did have Roland. So I pulled into the drive and he picked it up to put into the trunk.  It wouldn't fit and I was nervous because it was broad daylight and I was afraid someone would see us. Roland opened the back door and shoved it in the back seat.  It didn't fit and got stuck.

Then it happened.  A car slowed down and put his turn signal on. He was turning into the driveway where we were parked.  I panicked and threw the car in reverse.  Then I looked up.  I knew him from my previous job - a pretty high powered business guy in town.  I ducked my head, yelled at Roland and pulled the car out - with the trunk open, and the back door open with the loveseat sticking out of it.

And of course Roland went up and talked to him.  I heard him ask if he cared if we took the loveseat.  I was sitting in shame out in the road in the car.  He pulled in and went  up to the house - and proceeded to get out and watch us.

I pulled back in and screamed at Roland to hurry up and get it in the car. It was wedged.  I pushed as hard as I could and it wouldn't move.  So I got out and pulled it from outside - all the time keeping my head down. I realized Roland hadn't turned it to get it in, so when I got it out, I turned it on its side and pushed it in.  (as an aside, if I am the more logical of the two of us, it must be the result of extreme stress and panic on my part)

As we screeched out of the driveway and towards home, I was so upset.  All I could think of was that I was a trash picker and got caught at it.  Roland didn't get the whole being upset part but also wisely didn't laugh at me.

So when we got home, I had calmed down and was a little excited about our cool new acquisition.

I opened up the back and we pulled it out and put it on the ground.  Then it hit both of us.

It has no legs.

Of course now in retrospect, how could we have gotten a loveseat in my little car with legs on it.  But in the excitement/fear/panic of trash picking, we both missed it.

So for now, I'm thinking of spray painting it a funky color and hanging it off the barn as a planter.

Or if someone is out trash picking and comes across a swingset at the curb that we could hang it from as a swing, bring it on by.  Just a heads up - it probably won't fit in your backseat.  And if it does, it probably isn't big enough.

I've Become a Mafia Wife

No, the Farm hasn't disappeared.  Lots of things over the holidays - mostly the opening of the Farm Store- but also more adventures with the cats.  Yes, I know.  Two posts on cats in a row does make me officially the crazy cat lady.  But it gets worse. I've reached a new level . . .

Elliott Stabler, my indoor kitty, has been maintaining a stake-out in the mud room.  He sits in there at night near the furnace. He stares between the washer and furnace. He's been doing it for months, no exaggeration. There are some nights I'm sure he is in there all night because he doesn't jump on my head in the middle of the night and wake me up.

So I was standing in the kitchen doing dishes.  I saw Elliott Stabler sitting in his guard position in the mud room.  A couple minutes later I heard him pounce and hit the side of the washer.  He started making a strange sound and came into the kitchen.  I could see something in his mouth but wasn't sure what it was. I crouched down and then saw the little feet and tail hanging out of his mouth.

I calmly stepped back to the sink as he started walking past me and yelled at Roland.  Well he said yelled, I thought I just called out gently - "Roland, Elliott Stabler has a !#$%ing mouse in his mouth!"

Roland was in our bedroom down at the end of the hall.  Elliott Stabler took off in his direction.  I heard Roland say "Drop it!", some scuffling noises, then a loud stomp. Roland came into the kitchen and asked me for the spray cleaner, grabbed some paper towels and an empty grocery bag.  I just kind of stood there.

I walked to the hallway and looked down.  He was washing some blood off of the walls.  I didn't say a word, turned around and went back to washing dishes.Then it hit me.

I've become a Mafia wife. 

I saw him washing blood off of the walls and simply turned away and pretended it didn't happen.

I never really said much to Roland about it.  I couldn't get over the fact my sweet, lovable, kind and gentle man could stomp a mouse.  But he is from the country. I'm not sure what I expected him to do.  Maybe gently ask Elliott to drop him so we could then put him outside?

And I'm sure Elliott Stabler was just as surprised. He had worked hard to catch that mouse and his victory was pretty short lived. He hasn't been hanging out much in the mud room lately.  He probably figures it isn't worth all the time and trouble.

So I've tried to just forget about it. It could have been worse.  I mean I could have woken up with the mouse head next to me in bed. . .

Hi, my name is Jan, and I'm a Crazy Cat Lady

How did this happen??  I've always been a huge animal lover but somehow, I have become a crazy cat lady.  Not quite like living as a hoarder with 200 cats and one litter box in my house crazy cat lady, or wearing an old house dress and eating cat food with my cats as I discuss the weather with them crazy cat lady, but one wearing slippers and pj's outside at 11pm calling the cats to make sure they're in the barn crazy cat lady. (OK, was that the longest run-on sentence you've ever seen?  See, I am getting a bit crazy)

It all started when my nephew Nathan texted me back at the end of September.  He wanted to know if I could take in Molly and Too Shy, my ex-brother-in-law's cats.  They had to move into the city and the kitties weren't adjusting to city life well.  Or the city wasn't adjusting to them.  He said they were barn cats and we had a barn and life on a farm, so it all made sense.  I talked to Roland about it and since Nathan assured me they were great hunters, we thought it would be good to have them keep critters out of the barn. So we said sure.

We have Buddy, Roland's beautiful black kitty that he has had for six years.  Roland likes animals but hadn't ever named Buddy.  He would call her "my little buddy" so I named her that - and she does come when called.  Maddie started hanging around about 6 months or so ago.  Maddie is also black, with just a spot of white on the chest.  I thought Maddie was a girl but wasn't sure since I could never get close.  In the last few months, Maddie now comes when called to eat and I finally got close enough to look.  I looked but still wasn't sure.  I've never seen an non-neutered cat and at first thought maybe she had some matted fur.  Well two matted furs.  So Maddie is a boy that so far has managed to avoid my live trap so he can make a visit to Humane Ohio. Buddy, however, has enjoyed getting into the live trap to get some mackerel. 

And on top of this I have Elliott Stabler, my house kitty.  Elliott Stabler - named after my favorite TV character on "Law & Order SVU" - stays strictly inside, although he looks longingly outside all the time.  I tell him that out there, he has to find food before he becomes someone else's food.  I'm not sure he believes me.

And Reuben the dog. There are more animals on this farm than people.

So we started off with Molly and Too Shy in the barn.  But I worried they would get lost, hit on the road or try to walk back to Newark - 150 miles away. I would go in and check on them 3x a day the first two weeks because I wouldn't let them out of the barn.  Then Buddy quit going into the barn to sleep because Too Shy was claiming turf and Miss Molly (Roland sings "Good Golly Miss Molly" to her) would hiss and hide.  And Maddie wanted to go into the barn but was too chubby to get through the hole the get into it. Then, when Miss Molly and Too Shy started going out of the barn, they didn't always come back.  Thus, I would be wandering around at night in my jammies and slippers calling for them so I could get them inside at night. And low and behold, Miss Molly and Too Shy are lap kitties who follow me around all the time and love people.  They run to get into the house if they can beat me to the door. Then Elliott Stabler freaks out.

Think your life is tough? Look at all this drama I'm dealing with.

So, we finally worked out a solution.  Miss Molly and Too Shy love the farm store.  It has a pot belly stove, new beds for them and people for them to see.  They go outside during the day and sleep in there at night.  Buddy and Maddie are awaiting their new custom built dog house that has been converted to a cat house (not the money making kind), with two floors and plenty of straw - it's even shingled - to stay warm, toasty and away from predators. And everyone gets good and healthy cat food and we haven't seen one mouse, mole or any other critters near or in the barn.

I won't even think about getting chickens, cows or pigs.




Miss Molly






Buddy

 









Elliott Stabler



Reuben ignoring cats and watching TV

Too Shy waiting for customers



And Maddie.  Well he's a bit camera shy.  I'll try again when I'm wandering tonight in my jammies and slippers.



The Top 10 Things I've Learned From Living on a Farm

And thanks to David Letterman for always inspiring me to think in top 10's. . .

10. Smells.  In the city, especially in my downtown CitiFest days, I got used to lots of smells.  Sewers, garbage along the streets, the river, and those from people thinking the river and streets are their sewers. But nothing compares to the smell of a skunk that has sprayed about 10 feet from your house.  You have to breathe, don't want to breathe and choke on it when you do. I'll never be quoted as saying "I love the smell of skunk in the morning."  And if I am, one word - intervention.

9. Sounds. Although we still have sirens we hear a lot - we live on a road that has a fire station a mile or so away - they sound different out here.  Almost more urgent than just background sounds.  And gunshots.  We hear them out here a lot.  But they're not usually followed by sirens.  It's a different world.

8. Sweat. I used to go to the gym and perspire. You know, the sheen on the forehead type of perspiration. Very ladylike I suppose.  Well now I sweat. Yes, working with my trainer has taught me how good that can be but the sweat from the farm is much different. I was working in the greenhouse hanging herbs one day this summer when it was about 95 outside - so add 20 to that for in the greenhouse.  I couldn't see because the sweat was rolling into my eyes.  I didn't even think.  I just grabbed my t-shirt and pulled it up over my face and wiped off the sweat.  Mid-swipe, I realized what I was doing and stopped.  I've seen Roland do this many times when he's working but would never ever consider doing it myself.  I was mortified. And so glad no one was around.  So again, if you ever see me do this - intervention. 

7.  Cats. I love cats.  I've always had them as pets. Indoor pets. Cuddly on the couch pets.  Never as barn kitties, who can be friendly but vicious hunters at the same time. Buddy has lived on the farm for about six years.  Very cute black kitty who has learned to love me and be affectionate - since I represent good food on a regular schedule. I love petting Buddy (her name came from me because Roland never named her, just always called her "his little buddy") and she walks with me around the farm and comes when called.  One day I heard something in the long grass and called her name to make sure it was her and not some critter. She popped out to see me, and came over looking for some affection.  I reached down to pet her and saw she had a live mouse in her mouth - his feet kicking and tail twitching.  I backed away, said good kitty and kept moving.  She went back into the grass.  Felt like I was watching "Wild Kingdom."

6.  Storms. Out in the country they are beautiful.  I've always loved watching storms but here you can actually see them move across the fields. Watching them from the distance and really feeling the wind is amazing.  Until we had a tornado warning and I realized we don't have a basement and our crawlspace is way way scary. No place to hide. And the wind has popped out a few panels of our greenhouse this summer. Nothing like a good workout running across uneven fields to catch the panel before it breaks.

5. Farmer blows.  I've heard of them but never actually seen one.  It's when you plug one side of your nose, lean out and blow. No tissues, paper towel or even a shirt sleeve.  Just let it go.  Roland has perfected the art. Yeah, I don't kiss him when he's been out working.  Again, if you ever see me do this, or about to do this, two words - INTERVENTION NOW.

4. Critters used to terrify me.  I'd walk out back and see a groundhog and immediately freak. I'd panic that it would charge me and attack. Now when I see one, I yell, "hey get the #!*% off our property" and they do. I do not however, do that with the wild turkeys. They travel in bunches (flocks??) and I give them a wide space.  Those suckers are big. And we occasionally hear coyotes. And the millions of birds in the trees do still scare me.  But I've gone from terrified to kind of co-existing. Sort of.

3. Mud still sucks. 

2. I am one bad ass tractor driver.  In the beginning I was scared and wore the seat belt.  I drove slowly.  Now I crank it up, can use the scooper thing and pick up compost and mulch and move it and even dump it perfectly. Roland and I have matching work boots - I know, kind of creepy - and I have my farm jeans and sweatshirts.  I love throwing those all on, jumping on the tractor to cut the fields, run the tiller and move whatever I can find.  I am woman, hear me plow.

1. In spite of all the adjustments - living with someone and making a relationship work, losing treasured pets that are my family, learning to find patience again and enjoy the one million questions of our 2-year-old granddaughter, a puppy and his love of chewing everything, The Menopause (as Roland calls it) and septic tanks - I LOVE living in the country.  I love watching the sun come up in the morning.  I love working with all the herbs and seeing our business grow.  I love expanding my experiences and conquering some fears. I am very happy with the direction my life has taken. But I still love putting on my nice suits, going into my beautiful office at work and enjoying the comforts of city water. I haven't totally gone to the dark side.

Sometimes the Scariest Things Come in Very Small Packages

Nope, I haven't disappeared.  Farm life (and real life) has been crazy busy the last month.  Between harvesting, grinding, drying, blending and finishing the farm store, I've been exhausted.  And not awake enough at night to blog.  But we've had a couple "adventures" that I had to share - and I didn't want Carol D. in Newark to suffer too much from withdrawal of Fangboner blog posts!

A couple of weeks ago, we were in bed and Roland was dozing off as I was reading.  He suddenly sat up and said he felt something itchy on his shoulder and could I look at it.  He pulled his t-shirt up and I could see something like a scab on his shoulder blade.  I kind of poked at it with my fingernail and leaned way in - I'm incredibly blind even with my glasses on for close-up things - and saw little legs move.

Yup, a tick.

I thought I was incredibly brave and didn't hyperventilate.  I jumped out of bed and told him to come into the bathroom so I could see it.  Then I got my laptop.  I've never had to remove a tick - my skins crawls even saying the word - and had visions of not getting the head out and his shoulder blown up with a baseball sized blood engorged tick/monster.  So I did what any tech savy, internet addicted person would do - I Googled it.

Have you ever looked at a tick close up? Don't.  Just trust me on this one. Your life won't ever be the same - and not in a good way.

So I got a cup, put a bunch of rubbing alcohol it, put my big girl panties on - as well as latex gloves - and grabbed the tweezers. I took a deep breath, said a few choice words under my breath, and grabbed the tick with the tweezers and pulled.  It came out and I threw it in the cup of alcohol saying "die you bastard die!".

He didn't.  That sucker - literally - kept moving around for minutes until I took him outside so I didn't have to see him anymore.  I put about a quart of peroxide on Roland's shoulder and about an inch thick of Neosporin.  We went back to bed - to where I proceeded to wake up hourly convinced I had a tick on me and had to run to the bathroom to check.

I eventually calmed down and went back to my pre-tick-removal-panic state of life. I ordered a tick remover called "Ticked Off" so I was prepared for our next emergency. Then last Friday night Reuben and Tucker, my sister Carol's dog, decided to have an adventure.  I was chasing through long grass in shorts trying to catch up with them. When we got them back and I came inside to take a shower, I felt kind of itchy all over.  I was in the shower scrubbing my legs when I felt something on my shin.  I leaned down, and could feel it but couldn't really see it.  I pushed at it and it wouldn't move.  Then I knew.

I screamed for Roland to get in there now.  And then screamed again.  He came running in, expecting the shower scene from "Psycho." I was sticking my leg out of the shower, yelling for him to get it out of my leg.  Roland calmly walked over, got the tweezers, and pulled it out. Then went back to bed.

I repeated the peroxide/Neosporin routine.  And the waking up hourly to see if I had Lyme Disease.

So now I am wearing jeans, socks, shoes and long sleeves whenever I'm working outside.  And have my handy Ticked Off device in case we need it.  And am stocked up on peroxide and Neosporin.

I hate bugs.

The Dangers of Farmwork They Don't Tell You About

In my last post, I bragged about how great I'm doing driving the tractor, conquering the back fields and basically kicking butt on becoming a true farm hand. Well, I am, but no one told me about the hidden dangers of cutting all those back fields. . . ..

Last week, I went out back to cut the fields again, and to cut some of the longer weeds I had missed the first time.  I'm feeling pretty confident now and thought I'd get all of that brush cut down that I was too afraid to get last time.

It was a hot, hot day and I was sweaty and grouchy (I know, tough to believe). I was, however, wearing my new big straw hat with a string on it so when I'm racing on the tractor and it blows back, it stays around my neck (and I will post of picture of me wearing it just to hear my daughter Amelia say, "oh mother, I can't believe you're wearing that")

I went through a particularly thick patch and was coughing from so much dust flying in the air. I didn't think much about it and when I finished, I came in and took a shower.  I didn't sleep well and felt itchy all night.  When I got up in the morning, I saw why.

I was covered in a red rash all over my left forearm, right side of my face, right side of my body and my right thigh.  My eye was swollen shut. I've never gotten poison ivy, but being the paranoid, self diagnosing WebMD addict I am, figured it was that or some other poison junk. I stayed home, took some Benedryl and covered myself in calamine and cortisone cream.

I got up the next morning, determined to go to work, even without any makeup, and took a shower.  Then I realized my biggest fear had come true - the rash on my right thigh had spread.  Yes, it moved to girl town.

I called my doc and they got me in right away.  She gave me a steroid shot, heavy doses of oral steroids and said it was officially "rashy junk" and to not think about scratching.

Yeah, right. I went back to the office, trying not to scratch, especially in those socially unacceptable to scratch in public places. Luckily I think people at work were a little scared by my makeup-less face to notice any scratching.

The steroids did the trick.  The itching was greatly reduced in two days and as a side benefit, my butt that has hurt continuously since I started working with my trainer four months ago, was better. No pain at all. But then the headaches started.  Found out -on WebMD- that is one of the side effects of steroids. So five days of intense headaches vs. itching. 

Yup, I'm still scratching. 

So beware those of you that have been seduced by my tales of power of driving the big rigs and being a farm worker. There are hidden dangers. And it's not fun.

And yes, in case you're wondering, I was fully dressed while driving the tractor. I'm still trying to figure out why I got it where I did.  That could make an interesting story.  Maybe it'll be the next "50 Shades of Grey" - "50 Shades of Red".

Have Tractor, Will Travel

So I've mastered the zero turn mower.  Now it's time to move on to bigger and better things.

I'm working the big rig now.

I mowed all of the back fields using the biggest tractor - that is currently running - on the farm - the John Deere, or JD as I'm calling him. Yup, we bonded. We came, we mowed, we conquered.

Let me set this up for you.  The back 4 acres haven't been mowed in a long time.  Roland doesn't have time and we concentrated our herbs to pots behind the house and barn last year.  This year we decided to put more in the ground and till up a big chunk to see what we can grow without the deer feasting all summer. But before we could do that, we had to get all the waist high grass down.  And that's a job for the tractor.

I talked Roland into letting me do it and promised to keep mowing every few weeks all summer to keep it down.  It didn't seem like a big deal.  Then I got out there.

Imagine driving through tall grass and weeds with no clue what is right in front of you.  There could be rocks, wood, CRITTERS, who knows what all - Roland is kind of a hoarder.  Not bad enough for the TV show but much more so than me.  He never wants to turn down anything for free - and who knows where out there he may decide to store it. 

First of all, the tractor was a little intimidating trying to figure out which levers work the scooper thing in front, the mower thing in back and just buttons to run the thing. And sometimes Roland doesn't always explain it well (remember the zero turn pull back to stop experience).  He got it going for me, gave me a few basic instructions and off I went.

I ever so slowly started on one side.  I was doing okay but didn't know how uneven it is from deep truck ruts (years ago it was home to a large landscaping company with huge trucks) and every time I hit one and the tractor started to lean, I felt like the ship in the Poseidon Adventure and was sure I was going to tip over upside down.  I got stuck one time and had to call Roland on my cell to come rescue me.  Then I learned about lifting the deck to back up, using the scooper thing to push myself out and all sorts of fun things. 

By the third night, I had finished it all and JD and I were quite pleased with ourselves.  No one got hurt, I didn't wreck the tractor and it looked great.

A couple nights later though Roland did notice lots of bruises on my legs from bouncing around on the tractor and slamming into the sides of the seat and all sorts of things on it. I'll have to check his Workers' Comp coverage for me . . .

But last time I posted about the zero turn, someone (yes you Gretchen E) refused to believe without full video proof.  Well prepare to be dazzled -and probably a little car sick. Yeah, I'm kind of digging this country big rig equipment thing.  Wait until we get our real Fangboner Farmall tractor running again!