I love Thanksgiving. It is the only holiday that doesn't have anything really attached to it but enjoying your family. We don't go to parades, haul everything out for a picnic, hassle over presents...it's just about being with the ones you love. Oh, did I mention that it is also a wonderful excuse to throw out every concept of correct eating and try to cram 364 days of missed calories, forbidden fats and sinful sugars into one meal. A friend recently quoted that the average Thanksgiving meal will have 3000-4500 calories. I did my best. If I didn't meet that goal it wasn't for lack of butter, cream, cream cheese, cheese, eggs and sugar.
Like most women who are hosting the annual feast, I leapt out of bed before daylight to get started on the turkey. My son had lobbied mightily for something other than the traditional bird. "You've always tried to make dinner a celebration of the bounty of our farm, so why turkey? Let's do prime rib, we do, after all, raise beef." I nodded, but reminded him that we no longer raise our own beef for the table, so that meant buying our beef along with everyone else at the grocery. (I'm sorry to say that our shrinking family and growing waistlines mean that it just isn't economical for us to try to use a whole beef at a time.) When he considered the cost of a rib roast for our crew (a price which doesn't really reflect the price that we get at the stockyards for our beef cattle), he decided that maybe he wouldn't be making a trip to the grocery for our dinner. Besides, Hubby and I like turkey--especially the left overs.
While I studied my to do list, like Eisenhower planning D-Day, Hubby wandered through the kitchen. "I'm going to feed." he announced. "How long before dinner?" I glanced up from my studies and waved him out the door, "We are eating at 1:00, so you should have plenty of time."
Farm wives should know better.
The morning passed with a frenzy of cooking, tasting and basting. I was approaching the final countdown when Hubby stuck his head into the kitchen. "When's lunch? We've got one more chore to do if there is time." "As long as it doesn't take long." I muttered as I shuffled casseroles from the counter to the oven. "No problem. We've just got a few calves we need to get up."
Farm wives really should know better.
The guests started to arrive and the house was smelling a lot like a turkey dinner. We all gathered around the counter in the kitchen, catching up on news and enjoying a glass of wine while everything finished up. Finally someone asked where hubby was. "Oh. He's just finishing up a little chore. He'll be here any minute."
Farm wives really should know better.
Time passed and the casseroles went from the oven to the warming drawer and we all had another glass of wine.
The appetizers disappeared and so did the bottle of wine. No Hubby.
Just when I was beginning to wonder if we should go on and eat the kitchen door opens and Hubby appears. It seems that he had just spent the last hour chasing three calves around the field trying to get them rounded up and penned. That was after he had repaired the fence they had knocked down when they escaped from the first time he had penned them. Tired, dirty and frustrated, he greeted his guests and disappeared to clean up.
I opened another bottle of wine and checked the warming drawer.
In a farm wife's life, an hour late for dinner is just about on time.
Farm wives really do know better.
Friday, November 29, 2013
Tuesday, November 26, 2013
Burning the Ranger
A couple of our friends have made the trip to Iowa to hunt pheasants on our daughter and son-in-law's farm. The pheasants haven't been particularly plentiful, but the guys assured us that the purpose of the trip was more to spend some quality time with their dogs than the number of birds harvested. We did warn them that Iowa was a bit notional about their weather. The reports home included a few birds gotten and lots of miserable weather. "Man! It is COLD out here!", reported one of the hunters. "I've got on everything in my suitcase." The only real problem was an ice storm that left the ground covered with sharp, ice-covered blades of grass. This caused the dogs severe discomfort and earned them a night in the motel room with warm foot baths.
The hunters treated my daughter's family to a dinner as a thank you for their hospitality. Naturally enough, the conversation turned to the subject of her daddy and some of his more memorable escapades. Hubby picked that time to call and was informed that they were having a wonderful time and had just finished telling the hunters about how he set fire to their new ranger. "Oh, no" hubby moaned, "They'll rib me to death when they get home!" He's right...it's too good a chance to pass up.
Hubby is a neat freak. He just loves to tidy things up (on the farm, not so much in the house). He likes everything put up and picked up. This includes fence-rows, ditches, blown down limbs, and the various odds and ends of things that collect in barns and sheds. His favorite method to get rid of these things is to burn them. There is nearly always a pile of limbs, old pieces of lumber, brush, feed sacks, and so forth ready to burn somewhere on the farm. The man just loves to light that pile and watch it burn. We're used to him and just try to keep an eye on him so he doesn't burn up my favorite yard bench or the magazines I haven't gotten to read yet.
We had made a trip to Iowa not long after our daughter married. We were trying to help the young couple change their house from a bachelor camp to a home. While I worked inside hubby was busy cleaning up the yard and taming some of the landscaping. He was also enjoying playing with the brand new Polaris Ranger that my daughter had bought for her hubby for Valentine's day. My hubby was loving how easy it handled and how fast it would go over all kinds of ground. I could already see a new piece of equipment in our future. Ever so often he would pop into the house and report on his progress with the yard and his excitement with the new ranger.
About mid-afternoon he made one of his pop-in visits that was a little different. The first thing we noticed was a strong smell of burning, then we looked up and saw hubby standing in the door in a pair of scorched coveralls, a charred hat, and no eye-brows. Jumping up in excitement we ran over with exclaims of concern. "Are you alright? Are you burned? What happened?"
It seems that physically he was unharmed but he was more than a little mortified. Bit by bit the story came out. He had been cleaning up a sadly overgrown asparagus bed and decided that instead of just hauling off the load of old stems and brush, he would burn it and get rid of it for good. He piled up a goodly amount and then went back for another load. When he returned he lit the pile and watched it leap into life. He then decided that he would drag the second load from the ranger bed onto the burning fire. He didn't take into consideration the Iowa wind and the very combustible nature of his load. The fire blew into the stems as he was dragging them off the bed of the ranger, leaping up the dead stems and into the very bed of the ranger where they set the whole load on fire!
Hubby, realizing the danger, grabbed his hat and tried to beat the flames and push the burning stems out of the ranger. In the process, he lost a hat, his eyebrows and sadly singed his coveralls, but he did get the debris drug onto the ground. Fortunately he wasn't burned. Unfortunately, he couldn't say the same for the ranger. It wasn't a total loss, since only the bed was damaged, but it sure wasn't new any more. We stood around silently, staring at the blistered and bubbled bed. Looking at his daughter's tear filled eyes, he mumbled "I was only trying to help."
We laugh about it now, but it wasn't too funny to our new son-in-law for quite a while. Our new ranger got put off for some time since we had to purchase a new bed for their ranger.
Our son-in-law has now established a firm rule on the farm...Hubby doesn't get to have any matches!
The hunters treated my daughter's family to a dinner as a thank you for their hospitality. Naturally enough, the conversation turned to the subject of her daddy and some of his more memorable escapades. Hubby picked that time to call and was informed that they were having a wonderful time and had just finished telling the hunters about how he set fire to their new ranger. "Oh, no" hubby moaned, "They'll rib me to death when they get home!" He's right...it's too good a chance to pass up.
Hubby is a neat freak. He just loves to tidy things up (on the farm, not so much in the house). He likes everything put up and picked up. This includes fence-rows, ditches, blown down limbs, and the various odds and ends of things that collect in barns and sheds. His favorite method to get rid of these things is to burn them. There is nearly always a pile of limbs, old pieces of lumber, brush, feed sacks, and so forth ready to burn somewhere on the farm. The man just loves to light that pile and watch it burn. We're used to him and just try to keep an eye on him so he doesn't burn up my favorite yard bench or the magazines I haven't gotten to read yet.
We had made a trip to Iowa not long after our daughter married. We were trying to help the young couple change their house from a bachelor camp to a home. While I worked inside hubby was busy cleaning up the yard and taming some of the landscaping. He was also enjoying playing with the brand new Polaris Ranger that my daughter had bought for her hubby for Valentine's day. My hubby was loving how easy it handled and how fast it would go over all kinds of ground. I could already see a new piece of equipment in our future. Ever so often he would pop into the house and report on his progress with the yard and his excitement with the new ranger.
About mid-afternoon he made one of his pop-in visits that was a little different. The first thing we noticed was a strong smell of burning, then we looked up and saw hubby standing in the door in a pair of scorched coveralls, a charred hat, and no eye-brows. Jumping up in excitement we ran over with exclaims of concern. "Are you alright? Are you burned? What happened?"
It seems that physically he was unharmed but he was more than a little mortified. Bit by bit the story came out. He had been cleaning up a sadly overgrown asparagus bed and decided that instead of just hauling off the load of old stems and brush, he would burn it and get rid of it for good. He piled up a goodly amount and then went back for another load. When he returned he lit the pile and watched it leap into life. He then decided that he would drag the second load from the ranger bed onto the burning fire. He didn't take into consideration the Iowa wind and the very combustible nature of his load. The fire blew into the stems as he was dragging them off the bed of the ranger, leaping up the dead stems and into the very bed of the ranger where they set the whole load on fire!
Hubby, realizing the danger, grabbed his hat and tried to beat the flames and push the burning stems out of the ranger. In the process, he lost a hat, his eyebrows and sadly singed his coveralls, but he did get the debris drug onto the ground. Fortunately he wasn't burned. Unfortunately, he couldn't say the same for the ranger. It wasn't a total loss, since only the bed was damaged, but it sure wasn't new any more. We stood around silently, staring at the blistered and bubbled bed. Looking at his daughter's tear filled eyes, he mumbled "I was only trying to help."
We laugh about it now, but it wasn't too funny to our new son-in-law for quite a while. Our new ranger got put off for some time since we had to purchase a new bed for their ranger.
Our son-in-law has now established a firm rule on the farm...Hubby doesn't get to have any matches!
Friday, November 15, 2013
It Really Was Blake Shelton
Several years ago hubby and I made a trip to Oklahoma where our son was living at the time. He was glad to see us and we looked forward to spending some time catching up. His girlfriend, at the time, was working at a rodeo arena in a small town outside of Stillwater and asked us to be her guests at the rodeo that week-end. The time came and we eagerly put on our jeans and joined them at the arena. We didn't know much about rodeos but enjoyed a fun evening watching the cowboys ride and rope from the glassed in bar overlooking the arena.
The end of the rodeo came and we noticed that a stage had been pulled into the corner of the arena and some musicians were setting up. It was time for the concert portion of the night. In no time the dirt floor in front of the stage was filled with fans waiting for the performers. A tall, nice looking, young man with lots of hair appeared to a good amount of cheering and began to sing. Although I didn't know much about country music, I had raised two kids who loved it. That meant that I had listened to hours of country songs while hauling them around in cars and later riding with them. Soon I was tapping my foot and humming along. "Hey!" I commented, "I've heard that song. Who sings it." The kids looked at me blankly. "He does." they replied.
Now, one thing you have to understand, is that I never know the name of a song or the artist. When we were dating, hubby would call out the artist and song title with the first notes. I couldn't tell you that information when the song was over. I could sing along, and happily did, but never could remember titles or artists.
The performance on the arena floor heated up. Suddenly, I piped up again. "Oh! I know that one! Who sings it!" Again, the deadpan looks. "He does. Blake Shelton." "You mean," I queried as realization began to dawn, "this guy is someone I've actually heard on the radio?" Beaming, as you would when a child finally gets the point, they nodded.
After the performance, the kids announced that since this was the Friday night performance and not the sold out Saturday night event (with another singer that I still have never heard of) they were able to obtain "meet and greet" passes that would allow us to meet the young man. We followed our hostess down a corridor and into a room in the interior of the arena. We were ushered forward and introduced to a very tall young man and a pretty blond girl. He was gracious and I was mostly stupid, telling him that he did a "nice" job. I'm sure he went home and wrote that in his journal!! We did chat for a few minutes and his girlfriend confided that they were engaged and would be getting married in a couple of years when she got her braces off!
Fast forward 10 years. Hubby and I are hooked on watching one of televisions hottest shows, The Voice. Like millions of others we are enchanted by the performances and the laid-back judges, especially the mega-star Blake Shelton. "You know" I ruminated one night, "I think that's the guy we met in Oklahoma." "No Way!" replied my daughter, "No way you have met Blake Shelton!!!!" "Actually, I think so, and I have a signed program to prove it."
Well, it took a little searching but I did find my proof.
It's amazing to realize what a difference 10 years has made. The struggling young artist that was the Friday night entertainment at a rodeo in rural Oklahoma is now one of the biggest stars in the business. You can hardly turn on television or the radio and not hear or see Blake Shelton. Somehow he has maintained his easy, open-hearted candor, and plain folks demeanor that was his hallmark at the time. I remember thinking at our meeting, while he was being very nice to a dithering fool as she blabbed on, that he must have a good mother because he was so well mannered.
I sure am glad that he outgrew his girlfriend before she got out of braces. Miranda Lambert is much better!!
The end of the rodeo came and we noticed that a stage had been pulled into the corner of the arena and some musicians were setting up. It was time for the concert portion of the night. In no time the dirt floor in front of the stage was filled with fans waiting for the performers. A tall, nice looking, young man with lots of hair appeared to a good amount of cheering and began to sing. Although I didn't know much about country music, I had raised two kids who loved it. That meant that I had listened to hours of country songs while hauling them around in cars and later riding with them. Soon I was tapping my foot and humming along. "Hey!" I commented, "I've heard that song. Who sings it." The kids looked at me blankly. "He does." they replied.
Now, one thing you have to understand, is that I never know the name of a song or the artist. When we were dating, hubby would call out the artist and song title with the first notes. I couldn't tell you that information when the song was over. I could sing along, and happily did, but never could remember titles or artists.
The performance on the arena floor heated up. Suddenly, I piped up again. "Oh! I know that one! Who sings it!" Again, the deadpan looks. "He does. Blake Shelton." "You mean," I queried as realization began to dawn, "this guy is someone I've actually heard on the radio?" Beaming, as you would when a child finally gets the point, they nodded.
After the performance, the kids announced that since this was the Friday night performance and not the sold out Saturday night event (with another singer that I still have never heard of) they were able to obtain "meet and greet" passes that would allow us to meet the young man. We followed our hostess down a corridor and into a room in the interior of the arena. We were ushered forward and introduced to a very tall young man and a pretty blond girl. He was gracious and I was mostly stupid, telling him that he did a "nice" job. I'm sure he went home and wrote that in his journal!! We did chat for a few minutes and his girlfriend confided that they were engaged and would be getting married in a couple of years when she got her braces off!
Fast forward 10 years. Hubby and I are hooked on watching one of televisions hottest shows, The Voice. Like millions of others we are enchanted by the performances and the laid-back judges, especially the mega-star Blake Shelton. "You know" I ruminated one night, "I think that's the guy we met in Oklahoma." "No Way!" replied my daughter, "No way you have met Blake Shelton!!!!" "Actually, I think so, and I have a signed program to prove it."
Well, it took a little searching but I did find my proof.
It's amazing to realize what a difference 10 years has made. The struggling young artist that was the Friday night entertainment at a rodeo in rural Oklahoma is now one of the biggest stars in the business. You can hardly turn on television or the radio and not hear or see Blake Shelton. Somehow he has maintained his easy, open-hearted candor, and plain folks demeanor that was his hallmark at the time. I remember thinking at our meeting, while he was being very nice to a dithering fool as she blabbed on, that he must have a good mother because he was so well mannered.
I sure am glad that he outgrew his girlfriend before she got out of braces. Miranda Lambert is much better!!
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