A Farmish Kind Of Life

bigger than king size

2012-02-15T04:00:00.000-08:00

On a farm, its important to keep your animals happy. Happy animals make a happy farm.

You realize, of course, that not all animals on a farm live outside. However, they still they need appropriate farm-worthy accommodations.

Dog Lovin' Mama and Pistol Packin' Papa would like to know what bed is bigger than a California King. Because all the lovely doggies just don't seem to fit on their current bed.

It is hard to keep all those farm dogs happy and on the bed all at once, but they sure try.

Normal folks would tell us to put those farm dogs outside and then they'd have all the room in the world. But you know us...we've never been described as normal. :)

Sunday Scribbles, #49

2012-02-12T13:45:00.000-08:00

Sundays at this farmish place are reserved for Scribbles - short, random musings that collect while my mind has time to wander on this day of (supposed) rest. Enjoy, and feel free to add your own in the comments.

1. There are a lot of questions floating through my mind on this Sunday morning. For instance, why are my children's official Cub Scouts of America uniforms made in...Bangladesh?

2. When I leave a wool crocheting project on the couch, why do our dogs try to eat the yarn?

3. What part of this is my sewing area...mine! do my children not understand? What causes them to think it's a parking garage for remote control cars?

4. How do bands as awesome as The Civil Wars fly under my radar? Which one of you forgot to tell me about them?

5. And when their original stuff is as good as it is, is it even fair for them to do covers of other people's songs and be (dare I say it...) better than the originals?(Check out Billie Jean and Disarm)

That is all. Now go listen to some good music, and have a lovely Sunday. :)

Sunday Scribbles, #48

2012-02-05T04:00:00.000-08:00

Sundays at this farmish place are reserved for Scribbles - short, random musings that collect while my mind has time to wander on this day of (supposed) rest. Enjoy, and feel free to add your own in the comments.

1. I've got a thing for beautiful dresses, like the one worn by Kimberly Perry of The Band Perry here. A couple nights ago, while looking up some The Band Perry chords, I got whiny and asked aloud Why don't I have dress like that?

2. Farmboy Iggy, who was sitting and listening to me play guitar, looked at me as seriously as he could and said, "Duh, mom. Because you haven't made any like that yet."

3. I laughed and said, "You wouldn't think I was weird if I came out of the basement wearing a fancy dress like hers?"

4. He said, "No, I think it would be pretty neat. But I'd have to say you were dumb if you tried to wear it out to do chores."

5. Sometimes I just want to kiss that boy's face. How can you not love a farmboy? :)

a day's work

2012-02-03T04:00:00.000-08:00

When you buy a barn that hasn't been used in 15 years, it means you've got some work to do.

We've been working at cleaning all the petrified sheep poo out of Big Red. She needs one serious detox.

But when you tell the farmboys they can use your four-wheeler to haul the sheep poo out to the field...

...they're more than happy to help out.

They are quickly learning that four wheelers are not just for speeding down trails or making a mess in the mud.

"Hop on, mom!" says Farmboy Iggy. "I'll take you out to the field!"

He's a good driver. I was safely delivered to the dumping grounds...

...and then safely delivered back to Big Red.

We did this back and forth all day long. And when we were done, we were tired. But you know what? A day of work on the farm beats a month in the city.

I wouldn't change this for anything. :)

We've got a winner!

2012-02-01T04:00:00.000-08:00

We've got an antique pitcher here with 58 names of fabulous folks who want a chance to win an apron and seven dishtowels.

We've got a cat here who thinks she gets to draw the winner.

We've got a farmboy who actually does get to draw the winner.

And the winner is....

Congratulations, Laurie! And thanks for visiting my blog! Please contact me by Sunday, February 5th at farmmilkmama(at)yahoo(dot)com with your mailing address or a new winner will be drawn. Thanks everyone for playing along...a new giveaway coming up soon!

recovery...and reminder

2012-01-31T05:00:00.000-08:00

Thanks for the happy thoughts and prayers regarding my surgery yesterday. I greatly appreciate them. Surgery went well (and fast!) and I will soon be back to farm chores like normal. In fact, this morning I tried to go out and do chicken chores, but Dog Lovin' Mama told me I wasn't allowed. And, you know...you have to listen to your Mama. ;)

A reminder to all you fabulous blog readers - my apron and dishtowel giveaway ends tonight, with the winner being posted tomorrow. If you're interested in playing along, please leave a comment on the giveaway post. Spread the word for a last chance at these super cute items!

Note: The number of entries is higher than what the comments on the giveaway post show as I have received several emails from readers saying they couldn't leave a comment. If you are also having that issue, please email me at farmmilkmama(at)yahoo(dot)com and I will get your name into the drawing! :)

a little tip for warm hands

2012-01-30T05:22:00.000-08:00

As I sit here enjoying my last cup of coffee allowed before oral surgery (scheduled for later this afternoon), I'd like to share a little tip we learned from the local dairy farmers about how to keep your hands warm during winter chores.

Take a pair of latex (or comparable) gloves:

Use them as a liner underneath your fabulous insulated (but not really all that warm) work gloves:

And enjoy the warmth!

Seems like such a simple thing, but it really works. Of course, if you're doing heavy labor outside, you probably want to skip this tip as your hands will sweat. But if you have chores to do in the winter that don't require lots of physical labor, this is the way to go! :)

Sunday Scribbles, #47

2012-01-29T04:00:00.000-08:00

Sundays at this farmish place are reserved for Scribbles - short, random musings that collect while my mind has time to wander on this day of (supposed) rest. Enjoy, and feel free to add your own in the comments.

1. I'm having teeth pulled tomorrow. Three of them to be exact. And I'm super. pumped. about. it.

2. Actually, I'm lying. Well, I am having three teeth pulled...but I'm not super pumped about it. Not even kinda sorta pumped.

3. I'd be fine if it weren't that I have to be put out for it. The oral surgeon said Novocaine just wouldn't do it. Even when I asked pretty please and told him I was a really tough farmgirl. He still said general anesthesia was the way to go.

4. I trust that he knows what he's talking about. You know, because he's the oral surgeon and all. And it will be nice to have the aching broken tooth (and two wisdom teeth) gone from my mouth. Because solid food is just so much better, you know?

5. But dangit, I hate being put under. You know why? Simply because when I'm under, I'm not in control. I have control issues. There. I said it. :)

jeans shopping in the quilting box

2012-01-27T04:00:00.000-08:00

During our packing/remodeling/moving to the farm, I demolished two pairs of pants and seriously injured a third pair. I was hoping that third pair would make it through until spring garage sale season arrived but the odds weren't looking good.

What does this have to do with the title of the post?

Well see, I've got this fabulous lil' corner in my new basement which I refer to as my sewing room.

One day I decided it would be nice to go through all these boxes of fabric and see what had been in storage for four and a half years while we waited for our fabulous farm to materialize.

Did you know I had a whole tote devoted to a future denim quilt? And did you know that tote was made up of jeans?

I pulled out three pair of jeans that for some reason (can't remember now) had been banished to the "denim quilt tote". Perhaps they had a stain somewhere. Perhaps they weren't quite the right style. Perhaps I was PMSing and thought they didn't fit anymore.

Well...you know what I did. Don't you?

I looked at the pair of pants I had on. The ratty, falling off my bum, almost-can-see-through pair I had on. Then I looked at the (much nicer) pairs that were in my denim quilt tote.

Sigh.

The denim quilt tote is now short three pairs of jeans. And my bum is staying a whole lot warmer while working out in the barn. ;)

Big Red's Chicken House

2012-01-25T04:10:00.000-08:00

When we moved here, we were pleased to see that Big Red already had a chicken coop inside of her. That made moving for us a bit easier since it was one less thing we had to build or buy. We did, however, have to take Big Red's g-i-a-n-t chicken coop and "cut it in half", so to speak, because the chickens I'm wintering over didn't need a coop as big as my living room. Only half as big. Which is still three times what they had at the old house.

They seem to like their winter set-up. We currently have 12 chickens, even though only four wanted their picture taken.

It's a nice coop. There are 32 nesting boxes. And according to Farmboy Ooky, it takes "at least an hour to find all the eggs". ;)

Welcome Home giveaway

2012-01-23T04:00:00.000-08:00

It's time for a giveaway. How about a welcome home giveaway?

Or actually, a after I unpacked all my boxes from storage and realized how much stuff I had for the kitchen, I realized that my blog readers could benefit from my...um...overstock giveaway.

The prize?

A lovely full apron and seven hand-embroidered flour sack towels, one for each day of the week. All brand new, never used. All handmade.

Awhile back, I was at a silent auction and bid on a basket which contained the above handmade items. I won it and was so happy to think I would be putting these items in a new kitchen soon. Then I actually got to the new kitchen, unpacked all the boxes I had in storage (not to mention the items I'd already been using at the old house) and realized there is no room for a good chunk of the items I'd brought with me. And so, dear faithful blog readers, they can be passed on to one of you.

The rules:

Leave me a comment. It's that simple! One entry per person. The farmboys will draw a name out of a hat at 8 pm CST time on January 31st. Winner announced in my February 1st post. Winner will have until February 5th to claim or new winner will be drawn. Good luck!!

Sunday Scribbles, #46

2012-01-22T04:00:00.000-08:00

Sundays at this farmish place are reserved for Scribbles - short, random musings that collect while my mind has time to wander on this day of (supposed) rest. Enjoy, and feel free to add your own in the comments.

1. Nothing says hard work in a dusty, dirty barn quite like blowing your nose and turning the whole darn tissue black.

2. I hate fuel oil. Hate it. The fuel oil tank here is a giant vacuum sucking the money out of my checkbook so loudly, I think you can probably hear it on the moon. We must rethink this set-up before next winter.

3. Wardrobe malfunctions on the farm (like the one mentioned last week) are not limited to females. Pistol Packin' Papa discovered it's pointless to clean a barn while sporting a pair of underwear whose elastic has long since passed and are only staying up on the bum with sheer willpower. It's hard to have willpower and shovel manure at the same time.

4. I propose we all come to an agreement: womenfolk working on a farm shall not be required to have nice looking hair. It's just not practical. I'm pretty sure that surgically attaching a Carharrt stocking cap to my head would look a lot better than whatever mess it is I've got going on underneath it.

5. Not sure, but I think I was in bed by 8:30 pm last night. Ok, actually that's a lie. I know I was in bed by 8:30. And you know what? I was totally ok with it. Farm life is good. :)

That which we do not know

2012-01-20T04:26:00.000-08:00

When you move to a farm, there are some things you forget to think about. Like...if there is no utility sink (like there was at the last house), where do you fill the chicken water?

Well, the bathtub, I guess. :)

The longer I'm here, the more I realize that you can be really awesome at baking from scratch and know a ton about chickens and even pretty knowledgeable about survival in the woods, with fantasies about escaping in a time machine to about 150 years ago...and still not know anything about how to run the farm you moved to.

Crap.

For instance, when you animals but don't have 120 acres to get rid of their manure on...what the heck do you do with their it? We're talking chickens, goats, pigs, horses, cows...the poo piles up...and we do what?

Also, you can't have a hundred of each animal running around on five acres...so how many CAN you have, and where is the best place for them to go? And I know (from having chickens) there is a HUGE difference between what books say regarding an animal and how the actual raising of that animals happens in real life.

With about 1.25 acres of tillable (surrounded by someone else's cornfield)...what do you do? Turn it into pasture? Who can I put out there? What about closer to the house, up in the yard? Should the goats just be there? How much room does a pig need? Should my chickens be free ranging if I know there are coyotes and fox around? What would they have done 100 years ago?

We have a whole mess of space behind all the barns that has grown over and needs serious help. Do we burn it off? Mow it with a fancy contraption? Put a few goats back there and let them do the work?

I know a lot of what happens on any lil' farm is trial and error and finding your way. But...ummm....help?

let's go outside, shall we?

2012-01-18T04:00:00.000-08:00

I know that Big Red is gorgeous, but it occurs to me no one has seen the beauty that is the rest of our farm place.

I decided to hike out to the road and take some pictures. It's just fine to stand in the middle of the road and snap away because I can count on one hand the number of cars that pass by on any given day...and still have fingers left over. :)

Here's half of our property...

...and since I don't have a wide angle lens, here's the other half.

There's a lot of things hiding though, as you can see if I step in the driveway a bit and take another snapshot...

...or another...

...or even another...

All in all we have Big Red, two hog barns (Little Red and Long Blue),two Quonset sheds, three cement silos, three corn cribs, a building we've christened as the Woodshed, and a "shop" that is on the repair list. Oh, and some tillable land beyond the trees. But each of these areas needs their own special post. They've been talking to me about how Big Red gets all the glory. And you know, a farmgal has to keep harmony on the farm. :)

lived in

2012-01-16T04:00:00.000-08:00

For those of y'all who are waiting for pictures...drum roll, please. :)

The living room before...

...and now currently lived in.

The kitchen (picture taken standing in the dining room)...

...and how it looks now.

The dining room before (picture taken standing in the kitchen)...

...and how it looks now.

The office, as it was when we first saw the house...

...and how it looks now.

Just a sampling. Just enough pictures to get you excited. You know I've got that fancy camera...and you can bet I've been using it. ;)

Sunday Scribbles, #45

2012-01-15T04:00:00.000-08:00

Sundays at this farmish place are reserved for Scribbles - short, random musings that collect while my mind has time to wander on this day of (supposed) rest. Enjoy, and feel free to add your own in the comments.

1. I've learned a few things on this here farm since moving in about a month ago. First off, if you're gonna throw and stack wood in a shed, make sure the bra you have on fits you well. Because when you're dealing with really heavy chunks of oak you do not want to worry about things on top...well, shifting. And that's all I'm gonna say 'bout that.

2. Another thing I've learned is that 9 pm is not too early to be in bed. 9:05 is not too early to be snoring. And there is no shame in snoring.

3. Yep, life is different on a farm. Our dinner table conversation the other night revolved around none other than breeding pigs. It doesn't get any sweeter than that.

4. There is a reason they plant trees all around the perimeter of a farm. And we've got a whole bunch of them bordering our place. But beyond that is cornfield. About ten trillion miles of it. And I'm telling you, when wind comes whipping up through those fields, ain't no measly row of pine trees that's gonna stop that. I'm just sayin'.

5. But I'll take it. All of it. Windy days, snoring nights, and weird dinner conversations. I do think I'm going to have to invest in a different bra, though. :)

sunrise, sunset...

2012-01-13T04:00:00.000-08:00

There are at least a million and thirty five reasons I love this new farm.

Yes, its another shameless picture of Big Red. Hope you don't mind. :)

But I have a couple more pictures to share with you. Because this farm also has amazing sunrises.

And the sunsets over my neighbor's house aren't too shabby either.

Makes a gal feel kinda warm and fuzzy. Almost like someone stepped out and painted the sky up all pretty just for you.

More pictures to come Monday....I'll show you what our lived in house looks like! :)

suddenly

2012-01-11T04:00:00.000-08:00

Today, somewhere between stacking wood in one of the sheds and hauling a load of somethin' or other out to the barn, it hit me.

I'm on a farm. A real farm. And it belongs to us.

You know how you just have one of those moments? Where the light hits the top of the barn right and the breeze is blowing just so and you can smell the dirt (even though its January) and you all of a sudden realize that all the waiting and wondering and pitfalls and hoping and everything of the last four years was all weaved together into this perfectly intricate fabric that turned out to be this?

Sometimes I just have to sit down for a bit and take a deep breath.

Because you know, sometimes it just suddenly hits me how ridiculously lucky and blessed I am. :)

(** Internet is now connected at farm but now having main computer issues. Will hopefully remedy shortly and post pictures!!!!)

Exhale

2011-12-29T10:45:00.000-08:00

Well, I sure as heck didn't think it would take me this long to update y'all. I'm sorry for anyone who has been holding their breath regarding our farm and its closing and all that other fancy stuff. It's not that I intended to wait this long to tell you...but...

WE FINALLY CLOSED ON THE FARM!!!

ON DECEMBER 27th!!!!

I wish I had pictures with me to post and I wish I had more time to tell you of the fabulous, fabulous (did I mention fabulous?) AWESOME time we are having. I mean, truly - when you sit down to really think about this all, there are no words to explain how I feel. But I did want to quickly borrow someone's internet connection (thanks, by the way) and let you know that we are now official farm owners and to thank you all for your thoughts, prayers, good vibes, and of course, finger crossing and breath holding.

We may all now officially exhale.

** Still no internet at the farm, but you can bet when we get it hooked up I'll be writing piles of stuff!!

Busy. Sleepy. Happy.

2011-12-14T04:00:00.000-08:00

The last few days have been spent at the almost-ours-farm readying it for a partial move in. (MamaTea and company move in tomorrow - !!!! - while Pistol Packin' Papa, Dog Lovin' Mama, and all the animals will be a few days behind.)

The boys have been working hard as you can see.

What boy would give up the chance to try out a new power tool?

Even I got to do some sheetrocking, taping and mudding.

The big project we were trying to finish was re-vamping a staircase. When we were first shown the house back in October, this is what the staircase looked like - first from the living room side:

And here from the dining room side:

I decided there needed to be a ~~major~~ bit of a change. Here's what that same place looks like now from the living room:

...and the dining room:

The railing isn't finished on the dining room side, and the wall color looks off for some reason...but holy bajeebers, isn't it amazing how much that ~~major~~ bit of a change opens the main floor up?

I think I'm in love.

** No closing date set yet, but hoping to close by Christmas. :)
** No internet at farm yet, so posts will be made from town for a bit. :)

Sunday Scribbles, #44

2011-12-11T04:25:00.000-08:00

Sundays at this farmish place are reserved for Scribbles - short, random musings that collect while my mind has time to wander on this day of (supposed) rest. Enjoy, and feel free to add your own in the comments.

1. Well, here we are at Scribble #44. And the almost-ours-farm is still...well, almost ours.

2. It's amazing how messed up The Almighty Red Tape can make a closing. We are waiting on minor last minute changes by the county regarding the plat map.

3. Getting through all the Red Tape takes time because it is so very sticky. I wonder if the county has discovered the magic of Goo Gone? Or Goof Off? It removes sticky unwanted residue and leaves surfaces clean and smooth. :)

4. Then again, I don't know if there has ever been in the entire history of home closings one that was clean and smooth.

5. But I will tell you this: We are buying from the most amazing seller. Because on Friday when our realtor called us with the bad news that we still had wait on closing...he also gave us the good news that the seller has decided we should move in early. :)

What to do while waiting, #6

2011-12-09T04:00:00.000-08:00

We're continuing our Jaunt of Color around the almost-ours-farm. Here is the new and improved kitchen/dining room.

The color is called Cup of Tea, but I ain't never seen a cup of tea anything like it. Maybe they meant the actual mug the tea was in?

Pistol Packin' Papa and Farm Man Extraordinaire installed some mighty fine looking flooring...

...which I'm pretty excited about because a) this means the entire upstairs of the house is done and b) that fancy looking laminate wood flooring is what will be installed on the entire main floor of the house.

Still no official word on closing, and so the saga will continue into next week. Patience is a virtue, ya know. Or at least that's what they tell me. ;)

don't mess with tradition

2011-12-08T04:00:00.000-08:00

Christmas is an exciting and can-be-stressful time. Moving is also an exciting and can-be-stressful-time. Put them together, and you ~~might~~ will have trouble.

Yesterday I experienced a certain eight-year-old farmboy having a mini breakdown. In public.

Why?

Because, Mom, it's probably going to be the worst Christmas ever. (sniffle) Where are we even going to celebrate, Mom? At the farm? At the old house? (sniffle) And how is Santa even going to find us? (tears) We probably won't even be moved in time and then we won't have Christmas until like Valentine's Day, Mom. And we don't have a tree yet and you said we couldn't get one until we moved. (tears and sniffles) How can it be Christmas without a tree? And how can Dad and me and my brother and Grandpa have our boys night if you and Grandma don't go away for your overnight shopping trip? (more tears) And how do we go Christmas shopping if me and you and Dad and my brother don't have our special shopping day where we go out for lunch in the middle? (full out sobbing) And....and....and....

Well, smack a Mama upside the head. How did I miss that? In the middle of my genius we'll just wait with everything until we get settled or we simply don't need to do that this year, I totally screwed with my kids Christmas traditions.

Way to go, Mom.

Can I blame it on the paint fumes?

We are still waiting to hear what the new official closing date is. At this point, I wouldn't be surprised if we creep into next week before this is all said and done. But life can't stop just because we're waiting. There still needs to be some sort of normal, especially for seven and eight-year-old boys.

Ahem. Lesson learned.

Now if you'll excuse me, I've got some Christmas work to do. :)

What to do while waiting, #5

2011-12-07T04:00:00.000-08:00

The boys are so excited to have their own rooms at the almost-ours-farm. You can see the before and after of Farmboy Ooky's room here. The only thing left to do in Ooky's room was lay the flooring he picked out...and now that is done, too. :)

And just to prove that the room works well for Legos...

Ooky is all ready for move in day, but I told him he has to wait for that until we sign the papers. (Any day now would be nice....)

Farmboy Iggy's room is the only room on the upper level that doesn't have sloped ceilings. Before...

...a little farm art work in between...

...and the after.

Farmboy Iggy also picked out tile for his bedroom, so we laid that down, too.

The flooring for Farm Man Extraordinaire's and my bedroom is still in boxes.

As is the flooring for the entire main floor of the house.

Did I mention it's a really good thing the seller is letting us in early to work? ;)

What to do while waiting, #4

2011-12-06T04:00:00.000-08:00

It's so fun to keep busy.

Pistol Packin' Papa came a long for the fun. The tile in the kitchen needed to be grouted.

I'm looking forward to baking in this kitchen.

We also decided to add some color to the office/den. Before...

And after!

Sometimes, if I'm tired after painting, I go out to the barn and hang out here...

What do you say when this deal is all said and done (hopefully at the end of this week...), y'all come over for a party in the hayloft?

Ah, small town life

2011-12-05T04:00:00.000-08:00

When Farm Man Extraordinaire and I were first married eleven years ago, we lived on main street in a small town. (The same postal city that we are moving back to, but in a completely different and decidedly more rural area of that city.)

I remember being caught off guard by real small town life as a newly married gal. It wasn't as though I'd come from a big city...not at all. The town I came from wasn't much bigger (population wise) than the small town we lived in as a newly married couple. But the town I had grown up in pretended it was bigger and more important than it probably was. First rule? Don't talk to people you don't know well. Stay in your corner, or your house. And for goodness sakes, don't be sociable.

Life in a real small town is completely different. At first it surprised me. But then, I found comfort in it. Real small town life is amazing! I kid you not, I think the air is even different. And I'm not referring to the farm smells. I'm talking about...well, it's just easier to breathe. And think.

Yesterday while we were continuing our painting at the almost-ours-farm, we met one of the neighbors. He was in one of the Quonsets on the property, moving machinery he'd been storing there. We got to talking...and talking...and talking.

Small town life is different.

A bit later in the day, the seller (who we've spoken to) and his wife (whom we've not met) stopped in. Sweetest people ever. We got to talking...and talking...and talking. They said they love what we're doing with the place. We asked them questions about the history of the house and heard fabulous stories.

Small town life is different.

I don't even officially own this farm yet, and it feels so much like home.

Ah, home. In a real small town.

Sunday Scribbles, #43

2011-12-04T04:00:00.000-08:00

Sundays at this farmish place are reserved for Scribbles - short, random musings that collect while my mind has time to wander on this day of (supposed) rest. Enjoy, and feel free to add your own in the comments.

1. I'm a snob about Christmas songs. If I were in charge of the world, I would make it illegal for every Tom, Dick, and Harry who can (or can't) carry a tune to remake all Christmas carols in existence. I say if it was recorded after 1970, get rid of it.

2. Unless it's by Alabama. Or the Statler Brothers. I make an exception for their Christmas albums. Because they remind me of being little. :)

3. Remodeling...equals tetanus shots? What is the likelihood I should have got a tetanus shot after I jammed a nail from a tack strip into my thumb?

4. What are the chances there will be ~~many~~ more incidents of bloodshed during our remodel?

5. What are the chances that by the time Sunday Scribble #44 comes around, I'll finally be the official owner of a new farm with a big red barn? ;)

Chocolate Kraut Cake

2011-12-03T04:45:00.000-08:00

One must occasionally take a break from painting at the almost-ours-farm because there are pesky things like laundry and grocery shopping to do at the house we actually live at.

Darn it, anyway.

In any event, a day off is the perfect excuse to do some baking. And Chocolate Kraut Cake is just the thing to fit the bill.

Yes, I said Kraut. As in Sauerkraut.

Don't be scared. I haven't lost my mind. This cake is some serious goodness.

Chocolate Kraut Cake
taken from High on the Hog Hillbilly Recipes by Ella Mae Tucker

Ingredients:

2/3 cup butter, softened
1 1/2 cup sugar

Cream these together in large mixing bowl, and then beat in...

3 eggs, beaten
1 tsp. vanilla

In separate bowl sift together:

2 1/4 cup flour
1/2 cup cocoa
1 tsp baking powder
1 tsp baking soda
1/4 tsp salt

Add this dry mixture to the large mixing bowl alternately with 1 cup water.

You get something smooth and lovely like this:

Now, about that kraut.

Take your 2/3 cup kraut. Rinse it well, squeeze it out, and chop it into little pieces.

Go ahead and mix it into that chocolate cake batter.

Oh, come on. You can do it.

Good girl!

Stir it in, put the batter in a 9x13 pan and bake it for 35-40 minutes at 350.

See? It looks harmless, right?

The great thing about this cake is that it is super moist. I think that's the magic of the kraut. All hail the Mighty Kraut. :)

This cake doesn't need frosting, due to its pure awesomeness, but if you wanted a frosting of awesomeness that would send this baby over the top, I would suggest a peanut buttery concoction recently posted over at Jabez Farm.

If you're in the kitchen this weekend lovin' up your oven, make sure you link up to Tiny Gardener's new bit 'o fun Saturday Oven Lovin'! (Even if you're not baking this weekend, make sure you take a look at all those who are linking up. Nothing like seeing a bunch of recipes to inspire the baker!)

What to do while waiting, #3

2011-12-02T04:00:00.000-08:00

Paint never covers in one coat. Ever. It doesn't matter what it says on the label.

Yesterday we second coated the rooms we'd done the day before and added another room to our color palette.

The before of the main floor bedroom, which will belong to Pistol Packin' Papa and Dog Lovin' Mama.

And the after:

Isn't color grand?

The farmboys have been a big help, doing what jobs they can at this point...

...but there's only so much I'm comfortable with them doing (until the house officially belongs to us).

Being an understanding Mama, I let them bring their Nintendo DSs in to pass the time.

It was then the farmboys realized there is no furniture in the house yet.

Where can we sit and play them? they asked.

Be creative, I said.

And so they ended up here.

Now that's what every farm needs - farmboys who can come up with a solution to any problem.

Way to go, boys. :)

What to do while waiting, #2

2011-12-01T04:00:00.000-08:00

The thing about this time of year in Minnesota is any day has the potential to bring "Wonderful" Winter Weather. Twelve inches of snow. Three inches of ice. Forty below windchills. Whatever.

The thought of dragging closing (and the has-to-be-done-before-we-move-in remodeling) out into the potentially "Wonderful" Winter Weather isn't really my idea of a good time. In fact, each passing day we don't close inches us closer to the reality of remodeling, finishing, and moving in Wonderful Winter Weather.

Enter fabulous seller of the soon-to-be-ours farm, who is graciously letting us work in the house while waiting to close.

I told you farmish kind of folk were the best.

We're starting with painting. Because that's what you do while waiting for the flooring you ordered to show up. See? Always waiting. Always.

This is the before of Farm Man Extraordinare's and my bedroom. There isn't a way to get a decent shot of the whole room, so you only get half. ;)

And the after, even though the camera didn't really capture the color right.

The color is called Autumn Gray, and yes it's dark. But since we both like dark colors, and my husband works nights and sleeps days, the darker the room...the better! Here is a picture without flash...yes, its really that dark. ;)

Here, we have the before of Farmboy Ooky's room. Yes, ohmigosh, they get to have separate rooms!

And here, the after of the color he picked out himself. It's called "Potato Skin", but he picked it because he said its the color of a golden retriever.

Painting is a wonderful way to pass the time, don't you think? ;)

What to do while waiting, #1

2011-11-30T04:00:00.000-08:00

The good news: Someone is finally working on the new plat map.

The bad news: we're probably not going to close until next week.

Say wah???

Apparently paperwork takes awhile.

In any event, I thought I'd let you know what exactly it is that farmish folk do while waiting.

First we find out that the semi trailer we've been renting as storage is being sold. On December 3rd. And what is still left in it after the first attempt at cleaning out...needs to be, well... permanently cleaned out.

Oh. And our semi driver friend who could haul it somewhere for us to unload it...has the flu. Nasty flu. Don't-want-to-be-around-him kinda of flu.

So we drag up some trucks and trailers...

...and some really energetic farmish kind of boys...

...and we empty that 52 foot semi trailer of its remaining contents (in three separate loads).

And we take all those truck and horse trailer loads....where, you ask?

Well, to the farm, of course!

What? you ask. You can't bring stuff to a place you don't own yet!

Well, small town life is funny that way. And if the seller says you can start moving things in early while waiting for Someone to get their stuff together and finish a plat map, you listen to the man.

So now there is a garage at a farm that we don't own yet full of the stuff we've had in storage for four years.

I know. It's like practice for real moving. :)

And we had a lovely conversation (in person) with the seller in that garage about all sorts of things. He's the kinda guy you would invite over for coffee and banana bread. A genuinely good guy.

You know, like farmish kind of folk usually are. :)

Stay tuned for tomorrow's edition of What To Do While Waiting...and for as many days as follows as it takes us to actually close on this thing. ;)

Two days...and a bump

2011-11-28T04:00:00.000-08:00

You know sometimes there are speed bumps in parking lots?

There's one at our local grocery store that even if you slow down to -1 mile per hour, you still feel like you're going to bounce through the roof driving over it.

Needless to say, speed bumps are annoying. But necessary.

Kind of like bumps in the closing process.

(Don't freak out!)

We've encountered a minor bump in our closing. A hiccup, if you will. The property we're buying was originally part of a (much) larger piece of property that has to be re-platted. The new plat should already be done.

But...it isn't.

Someone hasn't recorded something and so the new plat isn't done.

Apparently the Almighty Someone is currently on vacation. And has been for the last two and a half weeks.

Ack!!!!

So until Someone records that Something, we can't close.

So now, we wait.... :)

Sunday Scribbles, #42

2011-11-27T04:00:00.000-08:00

Sundays at this farmish place are reserved for Scribbles - short, random musings that collect while my mind has time to wander on this day of (supposed) rest. Enjoy, and feel free to add your own in the comments.

1. Shopping for flooring with children is interesting.

2. I learned yesterday, while walking through Menards, that my children have no intention of putting carpet in their (soon-to-be) new bedrooms.

3. Apparently it is very hard to make Lego Men stand up on carpeted floors.

4. How could I have missed that little fact? We shall cross carpet off the list.

5. It's nice to know my boys have priorities. :)

Five Days

2011-11-25T04:00:00.000-08:00

So far, so good.

And that's all I'm going to say. :)

Better late than never

2011-11-23T04:05:00.000-08:00

Farmish folks, you'd be so proud of me.

I know you think I gave up on participating in the Great Apron Sew-Off after my little apron mishap.

But I didn't. I dusted myself off, ~~made sure the kids were occupied with something else~~, and got out my lovely fabric again.

I'm such a big girl, aren't I?

After watching this video on Youtube, I figured out how to make an apron. Kinda. Sorta. Except I'm not British. And I'm not a size -2. So I had to do ~~a lot~~ some adjusting.

Here was my finished product:

For my first ever apron, I'll take it!

Thanks Susan for putting this together! It was fun to do, and it taught me one very important thing: I've got to get over my fear of patterns, because it was c-r-a-z-y trying to sew something without one!

Note: If you haven't checked out the other fabulous ladies who participated in this Sew Off, look here and here!

Yummy pie, funny name

2011-11-22T04:26:00.000-08:00

Yesterday I mentioned I'd been keeping myself busy by making pie. Here is one of the pies I made:

It's called Tears on My Pillow pie, although I'm not sure why. Maybe it's because after you realize how good it is and eat the whole thing, you cry because you know it's going straight to your hips? ;)

Tears on my Pillow pie has been described as the filling of pecan pie, without the pecans. It's also been described as kind of caramely, but not in the ice cream topping sense. It's just one of those pies you've got to try to realize how fantabulous it is.

It's easy to make, too!

Tears on My Pillow Pie
taken from Aunt Bea's Mayberry Cookbook

1/3 cup butter, melted
1 1/2 cups firmly packed browns ugar
2 eggs
1 Tbsp flour
1/2 cup evaporated milk (I use heavy whipping cream)
a 9 inch unbaked pie shell

In large bowl, beat together the butter, brown sugar, eggs, flour, and milk until well blended. Pour the filling into the pie shell.

Bake in a 350 degree oven for 35 minutes.

You're not done yet, though. Oh no. This pie really enjoys the warmth of your oven. For after you bake that baby for 35 minutes at 350, you're going to turn off your oven and leave the pie in there, undisturbed, for another hour.

Odd, I know. But that's where the magic happens.

After the hour is over, take the pie out and cut a slice for a friend.

Take the rest of the pie, along with a fork, and hide in your bedroom.

Yup, it's that good. :)

Efficient, or really insane

2011-11-21T04:26:00.000-08:00

There are many options for keeping yourself busy while you're in the middle of The Wait.

1. Go on a pie crust making marathon. Put them all in the freezer.

2. Crochet hats. And then crochet some more hats.

3. Make pies. Cakes. Bread. Whatever.

4. Learn to play the banjo. Because the guitar and piano just aren't enough. And you haven't scored a mandolin yet. So banjo it is! ;)

5. Send the kids out for an extended car maintenance lesson with Dad. (Hey, you're never too young to learn!)

6. If you get a chance, take a nap.

Or two...

Or even three!

Ah! There...don't you feel better? Things are either really efficient around here lately...or we're just flat out insane. :)

Sunday Scribbles, #41

2011-11-20T04:00:00.000-08:00

Sundays at this farmish place are reserved for Scribbles - short, random musings that collect while my mind has time to wander on this day of (supposed) rest. Enjoy, and feel free to add your own in the comments.

1. I always wake up with a song in my head. In fact,all day long I have a song in my head. It's never quiet up there...in my head, I mean. What a boring life that would be!

2. You know what isn't boring? A banjo. What would happen if I were at, say, a birthday party...and someone would out of the blue offer one to me?

3. And let's say that banjo was complete, with a strap, a case, and extra strings...for free? What would I say to a crazy offer like that?

4. First I would say "Are you serious?" with a little girl squeal...then I would pack that baby up in the back of the Trailblazer and drive her home so very carefully in the snowstorm. I would get her home and unpack her gently upon my bed and gaze at her lovingly.

5. A banjo, you guys. A banjo!! Life. Is. SO. Good. :)

like a kitten

2011-11-16T04:28:00.000-08:00

I'm feeling a bit like a kitten right now.

A kitten? you ask.

Yes, a kitten.

A kitten is wild, rambunctious, runs from thing to thing...tothingtothingothing...generally in a good spirits...and going until she crashes into a deep sleep.

Today marks two weeks until closing, and I haven't heard of any deal breakers yet. The appraisal was yesterday, and while we will have to deal with a few bumps that came up, they aren't anything that can't be dealt with (more on that next week, when we discover which solution we end up going with to remedy the bumps).

Can you see why I'm feeling like a kitten?

Gotta go!

Sunday Scribbles, #40

2011-11-13T04:00:00.000-08:00

1. Roundabouts. Why? Who came up with them? They are taking over our state. What was wrong with a normal four way stop? If you're going to put them in my state, please educate the general public on how to use them. Because even if I can handle driving ~~through~~ around one, the person next to me is totally panicking. And that makes me nervous.

2. I am not ready for it to be Christmas in every store I set foot in. Not that I shop a lot, but for goodness sakes, I even saw a Christmas tree built out of two-liter bottles of 7UP at the grocery store. Seriously? Farmboys Iggy and Ooky suggested we shake up all the bottles and let the 7UP Christmas tree explode.

3. God, I love those kids. :)

4. Our chicken flock has been readied for winter. Our seven banties were donated to our favoritest (and very local) Goose Lake Farm and Winery. And no, it was not just an excuse to buy wine. Another five full-sized chickens were sent to...a decidedly colder place.

5. Thus far, The Farm has a passing water certificate (yay!)...and that's all we know. Appraisal should be done this coming week and that will tell us a lot about how things will proceed. Now if you will excuse me, I think I'm going to go learn how to knit. Because crocheting by itself just isn't taking up the necessary brain space to deal with the coming 17 or so days. :)

put on your thinking caps

2011-11-12T04:24:00.000-08:00

Just a quick post today to tell you about a giveaway that's happening over at Michelle's Little Piece of Heaven. But it's not just any giveaway, it's a giveaway where you have to think!

Michelle is giving away a box of five carefully selected Christmas gifts to the winner. The easy way to enter is to leave a comment on her post (and become a follower of her blog). But additional entries are given to those who correctly guess (from the clues she posts every Monday and Thursday) what one or all of the gifts are. You make your additional guesses by emailing her, not by posting your guesses to the comments. The giveaway ends on November 26th.

I can't tell you how much fun the farmboys and I are having reading her clues and trying to figure out what the mystery box of gifts contains. And I figured since farmish folks all need a little fun, I'd let you all know about the game, too!

But...um...don't go winning or anything like that. You know...just play along. Leave the winning to...um, someone else. ;)

apron attempt: number 1

2011-11-10T04:00:00.000-08:00

I just wanted to sit down and make my apron.

Was that so much to ask?

I have a deep fear of patterns, so I'd watched an apron how-to video on Youtube at least 43 times and finally felt I was ready.

Let's do this thang!

Problem is, I have kids. And when I drug out my fabulous woodland winter themed fabric to put together my apron, this is what happened.

Mom, can you thread the machine?

Mom, where are the fabric scissors?

Mom, I think the thread is tangled.

Mom? Mom? Mom?

All of this on top of my realization that the simple video I'd watched 43 times was not nearly as simple as I'd thought, due to the fact that without a pattern, you have to do a lot of math. And I'm severely challenged in the sewing math department.

Mom, the sewing machine is making a weird noise.

Mom, where is the tape measure?

Mom, can I use this fabric? This fabric? Do you have any other fabric?

Mom, what's a thimble? I think I need to use one.

You know those times when you feel like you might blow up? The room around you is getting messier and the kids are getting louder and you can't concentrate...but you feel guilty because you should be happy the kids are sewing and creating but for cripes sake it was supposed to be my night to make the damn apron!

I calmly folded up my fabric (of which I got one piece cut..incorrectly, I might add) and left the kids to their creating. I went upstairs.

I tried not to stew in crabbiness. Tried. But you know, it was one of those nights where things just weren't going my way. And once you start thinking too much about missing your husband and why aren't the chickens laying and will we really close on this farm at the end of the month or will it just be another disaster and why do I suck at math and...

Mom?

What!? I yelled, louder than I should have.

I made you something, Farmboy Iggy said.

And he held it up.

I heard you saying you wanted an apron, he said. So I made you one. With a bonnet. Like an Amish mom.

He put the apron and bonnet on me, made in true eight year old boy fashion.

Funny how fast a kid can make you crabby...and then, just as quickly, make you forget what the heck you were even crabby about.

How do they do that? ;)

it made sense to me

2011-11-08T04:00:00.000-08:00

This past weekend I realized just how farmish I am. We were at a benefit and there were tables of lil' raffle prizes you could choose from if your ticket number was drawn.

My number came up.

I could have chosen the lotion. The hat. The poster. The stationary. The purse. The puzzle. The jewelry. The candle. The (insert several other items here.)

But no.

I chose this.

A mini-mag flashlight.

You know why?

Because occasionally I have to look for chickens after dark and I'm tired of not having a decent flashlight to assist me. It's going to hang right by the back door.

And if anyone touches it besides me...watch out.

Yup. I chose a flashlight. As a raffle prize. I am high class awesome. :)

Sunday Scribbles, #39

2011-11-06T04:00:00.000-08:00

Sundays at this farmish place are reserved for Scribbles - short, random musings that collect while my mind has time to wander on this day of (supposed) rest. Enjoy, and feel free to add your own in the comments.

1. There is nothing worse than taking a drink from a mug of hot tea and realizing the tea tastes nothing like it smells. For instance, when the tea bag smells of mint and pure loveliness but tastes something more like what a goat might eat...it is time to choose a new tea bag.

2. There is nothing more awesome than an eight year old farmboy who is man enough to dress like a woman. Well, at least half a woman. Halloween this year was pure magic.

3. There are 25 chickens currently at our farmish place and we only winter over 12. Hmmmm.

4. Old cartoons are perhaps the best thing in the world. Old like Betty Boop and Grampy. Old like Little Audrey. They make me happy.

5. Do you think it is appropriate to have homemade pumpkin bars with cream cheese frosting for breakfast? While you're deciding...I'm gonna go have one. :)

Chickens just don't

2011-11-01T04:00:00.000-07:00

There are some out there who hold the belief that people can change. You know, "Be patient. Give them some time. Maybe they'll change, and next year Christmas won't be such a stressful extended family gathering..."

Ahem.

But this post isn't about people. It's about chickens, and the fact that chickens don't change. They just don't.

Know who that is?

Rocky. The biggest, most obnoxious, trouble-maker chicken I've ever had the ~~misfortune~~ pleasure of owning.

Know where he is?

On top of the dog kennel, roosting on the roof.

Know where he should be?

In the coop. With the other chickens. Where its warm. And not raining. And safe.

I could say that Rocky and his gal were confused. I could say they were distracted by the light from the house and didn't realize how very dark and late it was getting. Maybe they were on a date. Maybe Rocky was trying to sneak a peck on the cheek. Maybe his gal was trying to tell him she's not that kind of chick and they started arguing and forgot all about the coop.

Or maybe, Rocky is just being Rocky.

Chickens don't change, ya know. ;)

Sunday Scribbles, #38

2011-10-30T04:00:00.000-07:00

Sundays at this farmish place are reserved for Scribbles - short, random musings that collect while my mind has time to wander on this day of (supposed) rest. Enjoy, and feel free to add your own in the comments.

1. Only one more week until daylight savings time. Ick! Is there anyone who actually likes that it gets darker earlier? Perhaps the only good thing about darkness coming faster is I can use it as an excuse to sit at the sewing machine more. After all, I have to figure out how to make an apron.

2. I had this great idea I would teach my mother-in-law to knit or crochet. She needs a nice quiet hobby, because she and my father-in-law's current hobby of tooling around the northwoods of MN on four wheelers recently resulted in them ending up with nasty injuries, broken bones, and surgery. Come on, ma-in-law...wouldn't a nice skein of yarn suit you better?

3. And then I found I she already knows how to knit. And crochet. It's just not exciting enough, I guess. ;) (Yes, my in-laws are ok!!!)

4. Exciting is, however, the prospect of maybe buying a farm next month. Thanks for all your sweet, exciting and supportive comments about this upcoming possibility.

5. Possibility, I say, because in all honesty, it could be a challenge to get it financed. Not because we can't afford the estimated payments, but because the appraiser has to say the property and its condition is acceptable for our loan. Which we probably won't know until closer to the end of November. And they are kinda...well, picky. So...all appendages crossed, ok?

A little something you should know

2011-10-27T04:00:00.000-07:00

I've been kicking around if I should let all you fabulous farmish blog readers in on a little somthin' that's going on here.

Should I?

Shouldn't I?

What if I say something and I jinx it?

What if I don't say something and miss out on all those positive vibes that could help to push things along?

Ok.

I'll just say it.

Or rather, show it.

We found something.

It's pure awesome.

But, it's not even farmish.

No.

Actually...it's like, a real farm.

A real freaking farm, you guys.

Closing is set for November 30th.

I think I'm actually holding my breath. Does anyone have any oxygen? ;)

Buttermilk Pie

2011-10-26T04:38:00.000-07:00

I recently mentioned planning to try out a recipe for Buttermilk Pie I found in my newly acquired Hillbilly Cookbook. I know you're all eager to see what a Buttermilk Pie looks like.

Here it is.

Or...wait. That's what it looks like after your internal vacuum has sucked the entire piece right down to the bottom of your belly before you even realize what happened.

Yep. It's that good.

Buttermilk Pie
(taken from High on the Hog: Hillbilly Recipes by Ella Mae Tucker)

4 eggs, beaten
2 cups sugar
2 Tbsp flour
2/3 cup buttermilk
1/8 tsp salt
1 stick butter, melted
1 tsp. vanilla
Cinnamon

Combine first seven ingredients. Sprinkle top with cinnamon and THEN turn into an unbaked pie shell. Bake at 400 for 10 minutes. Reduce heat to 350 and bake additional 30 minutes until set. (I had to tack on another 20 minutes to this time to get mine to set, so 10 minutes at 400 and a full 50 minutes at 350.)

The pie actually ends up looking like this:

** I won't lie. This is the second piece I cut for the night. When I realized I hadn't taken a picture of the first piece. I did not eat the second piece, however. I sacrificed and let my mom eat it.

Isn't it a lovely pie? The cinnamon floats up to the top (with some sugar, I imagine) and makes a yummy crunchy topping. The middle is almost like the filling of a coconut cream pie without the coconut.

If you find yourself with some buttermilk that needs a place to be used, I think buttermilk pie is a nice place for it to call home. :)

Sunday Scribbles, #37

2011-10-23T05:00:00.000-07:00

Sundays at this farmish place are reserved for Scribbles - short, random musings that collect while my mind has time to wander on this day of (supposed) rest. Enjoy, and feel free to add your own in the comments.

1. We are back from vacation. Isn't it funny how when you return home, you need a couple more days to get your head back in the game? Vacation was lovely. Quiet. Peaceful. And snowy.

2. I don't watch the nightly news. We don't get the newspaper and I'm not in a hurry to read about the current state of affairs online. What this means is when people ask my opinion on current events, I have to reply I honestly don't know what you're talking about. This makes me look like a complete idiot, but I find I'm far less stressed out by not watching the news. I guess it's true that ignorance is bliss. :)

3. My kids asked me what I planned to be for Halloween. I jokingly told them I'm going as an Amish woman. Iggy said all I needed was a real bonnet. I took it as a compliment...and then told him he had a lot to learn about the Amish. ;)

4. We picked up a Hillbilly Recipe Book for a nickel at a garage sale, and therefore a buttermilk pie is on my to-do list for today. If it turns out to be something spectacular, look for instructions soon in a blog post near you.

5. I love pie - especially the crust. My husband hates pie crust. You would think this would be a sore spot between us. But its not. It just means that when we have pie, I get twice as much crust. ;)

Sunday Scribbles, #36

2011-10-16T04:00:00.000-07:00

Sundays at this farmish place are reserved for Scribbles - short, random musings that collect while my mind has time to wander on this day of (supposed) rest. Enjoy, and feel free to add your own in the comments.

1. Life is better in a skirt. I hit a thrift store and got a new one. Long this time, and heavier, so hopefully there are no more mishaps with the wind.

2. There is nothing funnier on a farm than a banty rooster. A quarter the size of a regular roo and walkin' around like he owns the place. All full of spit and vinegar with a cock-a-doodle-doo that sounds like a dog squeeze toy. Everyone should get themselves a banty rooster. For laughs.

3. Speaking of funny, the funniest movie I ever saw is Escanaba in Da Moonlight. If you are a deer hunter or know a deer hunter...good Lord. That's all I can say.

4. My favorite band of the moment is Punch Brothers. Pure musical bluegrass/newgrass genius. Don't believe me? Listen here and here and here. See? I told you so.

5. What's really cool about this post is that you're reading it while I'm driving north for a lovely four day vacation, just a stone's throw from the Canadian border. It's time to get away to the quiet of the northwoods. Well...as quiet as life can be with four wheelers in the middle of the forest...but you know what I mean. :)

Paper Bag Tomatoes

2011-10-13T04:11:00.000-07:00

A week ago, we cleaned our garden out for the year. We had many tomatoes that were so very green.

About ten years ago, my great uncle (now 93) told me how to deal with this issue:

1. Pop all those green tomatoes in a paper bag.

2. Close up the bag with a clip and let it sit. Check it every few days. Eventually this will start to happen.

(This is our tomatoes a week after putting them in the paper bag.)

I'm not sure what other magical properties the paper bag holds, but I'm so happy my old time farmin' great uncle let me in on the tomato ripening secret. :)

A wild pickle goes solo

2011-10-10T04:00:00.000-07:00

Ah, another chapter in the Pickled Rump saga. And this time it doesn't have anything to do with the band name.

You know how sometimes band members will break away from the group to pursue their own solo careers?

Farmboy Ooky has done that not once, but twice.

He first did it when he was four years old.

And just recently, at seven years old, he's rockin' it out solo again.

Amazing what three years will do.

I just hope he doesn't get all snobby and forget about his other band members. ;)

Sunday Scribbles, #35

2011-10-09T05:00:00.000-07:00

Sundays at this farmish place are reserved for Scribbles - short, random musings that collect while my mind has time to wander on this day of (supposed) rest. Enjoy, and feel free to add your own in the comments.

1. Last week I went to the store to buy Vicks VapoRub. You know, the stuff that comes in the blue jar that you rub on your chest when you have a cold? I had to show my ID at the checkout to prove I was over 18 to buy it. I thought they were kidding. They weren't.

2. The winds here have been amazing the last few days. While standing out in the backyard hanging laundry in my calf length skirt, I realized just why prairie women wore long skirts. That wind, I tell ya. Good thing it was only my chickens who got a show. ;)

3. Last night the boys and I ventured out of our cave to enjoy an evening performance of a Japanese drumming show. Farmboy Iggy is obsessed with Japan, and Farmboy Ooky loves anything music. It was literally the most perfect thing we could have seen together. Simply amazing!

4. Afterwards, somewhere around 10 pm, we went to the nearby Walmart to get a gallon of milk. All I can say is that Walmart is scary at night.

5. I called my husband at work when we returned home to tell him of all the things we'd seen, namely a couple just about to throw punches at the register over whether they should buy diapers today or tomorrow. My husband calmly said Welcome to my world. I said There's a reason you're the deputy and I'm the farmgirl. Sometimes I just can't handle people.

Pumpkin Buckle

2011-10-07T04:30:00.000-07:00

My favorite thing about fall is the baking that comes along with it. Especially the pumpkin recipes.

Now, I know we've all heard of Blueberry Buckle...Mama Pea's recipe is to die for. And those who read my homeschool blog may have chuckled about a little misinterpretation about a certain kind of buckle.

But I'm here today to talk about Pumpkin Buckle.

Magic Pumpkin Buckle
(I found this in Taste of Home's 2009 Fall Baking Magazine, posted by Darlene Brenden)

Crust:
1/2 cup melted butter
1 cup flour
1 cup sugar
4 tsp baking powder
1/2 tsp salt
1 cup milk
1 tsp vanilla

Pour melted butter in 9x13 pan, set aside. In large bowl, combine the flour, sugar, baking powder and salt. Stir in milk and vanilla until smooth. Pour over melted butter in pan (don't stir them together).

Filling:
3 cups cooked or canned pumpkin
1 cup evaporated milk
2 eggs
1 cup sugar
1/2 cup packed brown sugar
1 Tbsp flour
1 tsp cinnamon
1/2 tsp salt
1/4 tsp each ground ginger, cloves and nutmeg

In large bowl, beat pumpkin, evaporated milk, and eggs. Combine remaining filling ingredients in separate bowl and then add to pumpkin mixture. Pour this mixture on top of crust mixture in pan. (Do not stir the crust and the pumpkin mixture together in pan.)

Topping:
2 Tbsp butter
2 Tbsp sugar

Dot top of pumpkin with butter and sugar.

So then you've got something that looks a lot like a pretty art project.

Bake at 350 for an hour, or until a knife inserted in the center comes out clean.

The magic thing about buckles is they flip in the oven. The crust part rises to the top and all that filling sinks to the bottom. Like this:

And gosh, that looks good enough to eat. Like a pumpkin pie with no soggy bottom crust.

I sacrificed and tried it for y'all.
It was good.
Just lettin' you know. :)

A happy busy

2011-10-05T05:38:00.000-07:00

It is good to be busy. To have a life filled with happenings which keep you occupied. A happy busy that although you may sigh in exhaustion, it always ends with the corners of your mouth turned upwards.

We are busy. Busy with seven year olds who are obsessed with cooking and using sharp knives.

Busy with eight year olds who get their first ducks.

Busy with seven year olds who tear into mom's fabric box and are so comfortable with sewing that you give them permission to use the sewing machine unattended.

Busy with new balancing tricks.

Busy with wood stacking.

So busy, we might just fall asleep unexpectedly.

(Yes that's a new kitten on his back. Her name is Eevee.)

We are busy running at the speed of life.

Which, when chasing (or running alongside?) two farmboys, can get pretty fast. ;)

Sunday Scribbles, #34

2011-10-02T04:45:00.000-07:00

Sundays at this farmish place are reserved for Scribbles - short, random musings that collect while my mind has time to wander on this day of (supposed) rest. Enjoy, and feel free to add your own in the comments.

1. Ever have those moments where as a blogger you don't have a whole heck of a lot to say?

2. Or wait. That's not it. Instead, its that you have a million things to say but no time to sit down and type them out?

3. You know, when you have a backlog of pictures and oh-yeah-I-gotta-blog-about-thats to get into the computer?

4. When morning comes way too early and nighttime not late enough to cram in everything you want/need/have to do?

5. Of course you do. You're all farmish. And it's fall. So y'all get it. Carry on, then. Because I know we all have work to do. :)

Cinnamon Not-A-Flop

2011-09-27T04:49:00.000-07:00

The funny thing about today's recipe is it's a bread called Cinnamon Flop.

Apparently the Amish have a different definition of the word flop. Because none of the Englishers in this household considered this bread to be a flop.

Cinnamon Flop Bread
taken from The Best of Amish Cooking by Phyllis Pellman Good

Ingredients:
1 cup sugar
2 cups flour
2 tsp baking powder
1 Tbsp melted butter
1 cup milk
brown sugar, cinnamon and butter for topping

Directions:

Sift sugar, flour and baking powder together. Add melted butter and milk. Stir together until well blended.

Divide mixture between two 9" well greased cake pans. The batter is very thick and you will wonder how you're going to use this to cover the bottoms of TWO pans. But trust me, it will happen. ;)

Sprinkle tops with flour, then brown sugar, then cinnamon.

Push chunks of butter into the dough. (This makes holes and later gets gooey as it bakes.)

Bake at 350 for 30 minutes.

Cut into wedges and serve warm.

Enjoy this definitely Not-A-Flop Cinnamon Flop!

Sunday Scribbles, #33

2011-09-25T04:51:00.000-07:00

Sundays at this farmish place are reserved for Scribbles - short, random musings that collect while my mind has time to wander on this day of (supposed) rest. Enjoy, and feel free to add your own in the comments.

1. My presentation at the Minnesota Homeschoolers' Alliance Annual Conference yesterday went extremely well. My speech was apparently very entertaining, unless people were just laughing at my outfit.

2. It's very validating to have people find you after your presentation to say thanks for being brave enough to talk about the tough parts of homeschooling. I thought I was the only one who struggled with... I was putting my neck out quite a ways with some of the confessions in my speech, and it's nice to know that doing it actually helped people.

3. Alas, time stops for no one. And as soon as I returned home from my long day at the conference, I was greeted by a Farmboy who had used my boots and my gun to go out with his father duck hunting.

4. Farmboy Iggy got two wood ducks. His first two ever. Farmboy Ooky carried a BB Gun and "helped" Dad take down a goose.

5. Farmboys that run off with FarmDads to do their thing while FarmMoms aren't on the farm is pure awesome. Don't you think? Even if a certain farmboy did steal my gun. ;)

before we were pickled...

2011-09-21T04:00:00.000-07:00

I have previously mentioned that the Farmboys and I have a backyard band called Pickled Rump.

They boys reminded me that before Pickled Rump, we were actually a backyard band called Bikini Wicked Wakeup Band.

No kidding.

And, as they also reminded me, it turns out there is a video of Bikini Wicked Wakeup Band.

No kidding.

This video was made the summer of 2009. MamaTea on guitar, Farmboy Iggy (6 at the time) on drums and Farmboy Ooky (5) on vocals. The intention was Seven Nation Army by The White Stripes...but...well, Farmboy Ooky of Bikini Wicked Wakeup Band took it elsewhere.

No kidding.

Ah, its so nice we all have humble beginnings.

snack stealers

2011-09-20T05:38:00.000-07:00

Chickens can sometimes be like children. Always pushing your buttons, and trying to find out where the real boundaries are.

Chowder, this hot dog is not for you.

Seriously, Chowder. Knock it off!

I know you're back there still, Chowder. I know you're watching me.

Sometimes, the chickens just don't get it. And trying to steal someone's hot dog at a campfire is bad enough. But messin' with my writing time in the backyard by threatening my coffee?

If you know what's good for you, chicken, you'll back away from the coffee.

The Chicken: Oh...are you the one who gets all psychotic when she doesn't get enough coffee?
Me: Yes, that's me.
The Chicken: Oh, sorry. My bad. I get that way when I don't eat enough frogs. Are we still friends?
Me: Still friends. Totally.

Sunday Scribbles, #32

2011-09-18T06:41:00.000-07:00

Sundays at this farmish place are reserved for Scribbles - short, random musings that collect while my mind has time to wander on this day of (supposed) rest. Enjoy, and feel free to add your own in the comments.

1. The Farmboys, Farm Man Extraordinaire, and Pistol Packin' Papa left us womenfolk last Thursday for a long weekend of hunting, four wheeling and general manly-ness.

2. Dog Lovin' Mama and myself were left home. Alone.

3. Alone is a beautiful, quiet thing.

4. Alone means jelly making without interruption. And book shopping. And reading. And sewing. And crocheting. And having a ~~hella lot~~ wee bit of wine with friends.

5. One would also think aloneness would provide the perfect opportunity to work through that speech/workshop I'm supposed to be teaching next weekend. But that would just make too much sense. ;)

Housekeeping

2011-09-14T05:00:00.000-07:00

Hey, all. Don't tell anyone you saw me here. Shhh.

What I'm really supposed to be doing is putting the final touches on a workshop for a homeschooling conference I'm speaking at in oh...a week and a half.

Cripes.

But everyone needs a break, right? So here I am to do a little housekeeping at my blog.

In a couple forums I'm part of (not that I'm visiting them when I'm supposed to be working on my speech, of course...) there's been debate over the purpose of commenting on blogs. As in, 1. is it necessary to do so, and 2. how do you, as the blog owner, handle comments?

I'm curious to know what y'all, as readers (and commenters!) on my blog (and many others) feel.

Here's my buck fifty worth -

1. Regarding commenting being necessary - I think this started in a certain forum because someone was accused of only posting things because she wanted comments. As if the beauty of writing should be enough to keep you writing.

I get that. But.

My personal experience is that while I would still be writing whether I got one comment or one hundred, it sure is nice to get comments. Its nice to know (other than from your stat count) that people are reading, understanding, liking, hating, benefiting from,or otherwise involved in the words you're pumping out at 5 am. If I was opposed to comments, I would just write this all in my bedside journal. ;)

When I visit other people's blogs, I always try to leave a comment, because I know from my own blog, its encouraging to see someone else's words regarding what I've written.

2. How do I handle comments? I try to respond to each of them, as if we're involved in a sort of conversation. I never used to do that (and I know there are plenty of people who just don't have time to do it), but I saw other people doing it...and realized it was kinda groovy knowing the blog writer was actually reading my comments and they weren't just getting lost in Cyberland...so I started doing it too.

I know. What a follower. ;)

Where I get tripped up is the two different ways you can respond. You can either post a response in your own comments, or you can respond to the commenter via email (if their email is set up in their blogger profile). I've been doing both back and forth for a couple weeks now, and I've decided I actually like just posting on the blog better. A) Not everyone has their email set up in blogger and B) if I don't go back to my blog to read comments and respond there, I don't end up reading anyone else's blog either.

Bad girl.

So...after all that housekeeping opinion kind of crud, what do you think? How do you feel about comments? Do you comment when you go to other blogs? When you leave a comment on someone else's blog, do you like them to respond back? Or you know...do you have any other comments on...um, comments?

giving and receiving: an award

2011-09-12T04:00:00.000-07:00

I have been honored. With a fabulous honor.

I'm feeling a little bit like Ms. America right now. Except that I've forgotten how to walk in a pair of heels...and my jeans have chicken poop on the knee.

Oh heck, I'm no Ms. America. But I did win an award!

Kim over at Jabez Farm, who can make me laugh like nobody's business, awarded me with this the other day:

"Liebster" is a German word meaning dear, sweet, kind, nice, good, beloved, lovely, kindly, pleasant, valued, cute, endearing, and welcome.

The Liebster is awarded to spotlight up and coming bloggers who currently have less than 200 followers.

Thanks, Kim! I should probably get to work crocheting myself a sash. :)

Actually, according to the rules, I've got some work to do...

1. Thank the giver and link back to the blogger who gave it to you.

2. Reveal your top 5 picks and let them know by leaving a comment on their blog.

3. Copy and paste the award on your blog.

4. Have faith that your followers will spread the love to other bloggers.

5. And most of all - have fun!

I struggled with which five blogs to give the Liebster to. I finally settled on five of my favoritest blogs who have the least amount of followers and/or comments to their posts. So here are the winners - go show them some love! Become followers AND leave them comments!!

Carolyn Renee at Krazo Acres - she's hilarious. Heeeee-larious. And she's honest. I adore her blog, and love that sometimes "Paul's take" (her husband's smarty pants response) is added to whatever conundrum she finds herself in.

Candy at Lazy J Bar C Farm - If I ever gather you all up and start up a commune, this darlin' is in charge of the bread. She makes me strive to be a better baker. And she's a sweetheart, too!

Fearless Farmgirl - I love bloggers who are honest. Who not only talk about the good times, but also the times they struggle. That takes fearlessness, and her blog title says it all! I've enjoyed learning about making cider, a sweet rescue dog named Sam, and how knitting saved her life. :)

Tiny Gardener - I love that when TG has a question about something (especially chickens) she posts about it on her blog. Isn't that the greatest use of technology? I enjoy reading her gardening posts...and posts about life in general, and her profile pic still makes me believe that she is just pure awesome.

Mooberry Farm - As the homeschoolin' mama of eight kids and the keeper of the most darlin' milk cow I've ever seen (as well as plenty of other animals!), the Mooberry Farmwife is one busy gal! I very recently tripped across her blog and have enjoyed reading it ever since. If you go to her "About Us" tab, you'll learn more about her family and her farm, but the best part is she ends it with "Life on the farm is good." Exactly!

Congrats, winners!

And now, my farmish friends, I've got to get to work crocheting that sash. :)

Sunday Scribbles, #31

2011-09-11T04:00:00.000-07:00

Sundays at this farmish place are reserved for Scribbles - short, random musings that collect while my mind has time to wander on this day of (supposed) rest. Enjoy, and feel free to add your own in the comments.

1. I love the crisp smell of an early fall morning. I do not love the stuffy nose rubbed raw with kleenexes that comes with it.

2. I love that Farmboy Iggy was excited to get his braces (which made life much easier). I do not love emails from Health Savings Accounts that inform you "it against their policy to pay for braces up front"...after the braces have already been put in.

3. I love orthodontists who are able to work with us to re-do a payment contract that will satisfy both our pocketbook and the Health Savings Account policies. I still do not love our Health Savings Account.

4. I love boyish backyard fun. I do not love when that backyard fun gets out of control resulting in broken eyeglasses, two gashes beneath an eye, and a really nasty shiner.

5. I love all my blog readers and the conversations we have (here or through email). I do not love that I can't just scoop you all up from your various locations. You know, to start a commune together. ;)

intruder?

2011-09-09T03:52:00.000-07:00

Guys!

Come quick!

I think there is an intruder inside the chicken tractor!!

Hurry!

Or...um...

Wait a second.

Nevermind.

It's just Dog Lovin' Mama...

...loving on the youngest chickens.

Thanks for your concern, everyone. But I've got it under control. I just have to figure out how to get Mom out of the chicken tractor.

You may now return to your normal Friday activities. We, however, will continue on being as un-normal as we can. :)

The "other" chickens

2011-09-08T04:00:00.000-07:00

I tend to talk a lot about Rocky and his Crazy Posse.

But the "other" new-ish chickens have told me they're jealous they aren't getting as much screen time with all of you as Rocky does.

My deepest apologies. How could I forget to introduce Moe, the silkie/Americauna with a mohawk? Ain't s/he a sweetheart?

Then there is Tom Hawkins, supposedly an Americauna, but we joke that s/he's part turkey or hawk.

I mean, really. Have you ever seen a chicken like him/her?

There's a silkie named Ash

A something or other named Pop

and the sibling Corn.

Another unidentified named Meat Stick by Farmboy Ooky. I'm pretty sure this is a Roo.

There's plenty of others, but they move too fast for me to get a good picture of them. Rocky and his Crazy Posse think that's ok, though.

Ever since Rocky found out he was named after a movie character, he's really decided he's the main event.

I wonder if he realizes he's sitting on a campfire grill in the above picture.

I think we'll keep that little secret between you and me. ;)

crazy delicious banana goodness

2011-09-06T04:30:00.000-07:00

We're a little bananas here today around the farmish place because it's our "not back to school" party, where my farmboys get their you are now entering your 4th year of homeschooling gifts and we all eat ice cream for breakfast. To see what our homeschool days generally look like, read this post.

We're also bananas around here because we discovered a new recipe that is a super yummy and super easy way to use up any bananas that happen to ripen too fast for my boys to inhale. (It does occasionally happen. Honestly.)

Super Yummy Awesome Banana Muffins

Originally posted at Cat Can Cook. Go show her some love.

Ingredients:

Mashed banana - original recipe calls for 3-4. I used two and it was fine.
1/2 cup sugar
1 egg, slightly beaten
1/3 cup melted butter
1 tsp baking soda
1 tsp baking powder
1/2 tsp salt
1 1/2 cup flour (Hungry farmboys require at least half whole wheat flour.)

Mix the mashed banana, sugar, egg, and butter together. Set aside. In a separate bowl, mix together baking soda, baking powder, salt and flour. Mix wet and dry ingredients together. Pour into greased muffin tins and bake at 350 for 20 minutes.

Cat Can Cook suggests these muffins are even more flavorful the day after they are baked.

They were supposed to last that long?

Oops. ;)

Sunday Scribbles, #30

2011-09-04T04:00:00.000-07:00

Sundays at this farmish place are reserved for Scribbles - short, random musings that collect while my mind has time to wander on this day of (supposed) rest. Enjoy, and feel free to add your own in the comments.

1. I type to you now with sore, somewhat blistered fingers. Anyone here have personal experience with how cruel guitar strings can be after you lose your callouses? And does anyone here have personal experience with not wanting to give up because the song you're currently trying to learn is so very fabulous? Come on. Someone out there raise their (blistered) hand...

2. I've been playing guitar for 22 years. In the beginning, I had rock hard fingertips. But my fingers have since softened with only occasional playing. Playing only occasionally is ok for a farmgirl, right?

3. The thing is, now I have two farmboys who want to jam with mom in our own strange bluegrass beatboxer (backyard only) band. All the time. Therefore, I have to be workin' on my wicked awesome guitar playin' skills. Farmboy Ooky told me if I practice long enough, and I'm well behaved, he will buy me a mandolin for Christmas.

4. Farmboy Ooky better start savin' his pennies. :)

5. Oh, by the way. I have been informed our band's name is Pickled Rump. And, as if you needed me to tell you, I was not in charge of the name.

Farmgirl perfume

2011-09-02T04:00:00.000-07:00

Seven-year-old Farmboy Ooky and I were snuggling on the couch after a lovely farmish day. We weren't saying much, just relaxing and enjoying each other's quiet company. Suddenly, Ooky spoke:

Him: Mom?
Me: Yes?
Him: You smell like fruit. And mud. And chickens.
Me: (after a giggle) Are you telling me I'm sweaty and need a shower?
Him: Nope. Mom, those are all good smells to have.

And we went back to snuggling.

I figure smelling like fruit and mud and chickens is about the best life you can have. A seven-year-old farmboy who will still snuggle with his Mama doesn't hurt either. :)

We be freezin' (summer squash)

2011-09-01T04:00:00.000-07:00

I love to can. L-O-V-E it. But my canning stuff is packed from the Move That Didn't Happen...Twice and is still in storage an hour away.

My garden, oddly enough, started to sprout forth actual vegetables in the past week and, paired with the items we get from our weekly CSA delivery, we need to start either eating more or somehow preserving.

We're in an odd spot. Not enough veggies for me to feel as though its worth the hour drive to get the canning supplies, but too much stuff to eat as it's picked.

The vegetable in question?

Yellow squash.

Through the power of the internet, I have discovered the solution. It's simple, really. Just freeze it. Here's how:

Wash all that glorious dirt off...

Chunk it up into 1/2 inch slices...

Drop those babies into rapidly boiling water...

And blanch for three minutes.

Sink 'em into ice water...

to stop the cooking. After they are good and chilly, weigh them for whatever amount you think is best for the recipes you normally use.

Then, bag 'em up and stick them in the freezer.

See? Easy as pie!

Actually pie is way more work. ;)

Drumroll.....

2011-08-31T04:50:00.000-07:00

Well, farmish ladies, its time to announce the winner of my Purty and Prepared Giveaway. Here's some clues to the lucky gal!

She has three pugs and a newfie/mastiff mix. That's three lil' dogs and a REALLY big one!

She thinks farmgals are purty because they can kill it and cook it. (A gal after my own heart...)

She's looking forward to having a MamaTea Made headband and scarf because the colors will really enhance her leather bomber jacket.

She loves to travel in a 40 ft fifth wheel, and blogs about her fabulous adventures.

(Well shucks, that blog link probably gave it away...)

Congratulations, Labbie1! Email me (farmmilkmama-at-yahoo-dot-com) by 10 pm central time on September 2nd to claim your prize!

Thanks to everyone who played along! It was a lot fun reading your definitions of a farmgal. My husband agrees with all of them. ;)

Bavarian Cabbage

2011-08-30T04:00:00.000-07:00

I love slow-cookers. You may call them crockpots. Whatever you call them, they are magical. When a farmish kind of gal wants convenience, this is where she goes.

I have a pretty good relationship with my slow cooker. I have to admit, though, I did have an issue at my old house due to my inattentiveness in the kitchen with my slowcooker. I had started something to cook in the aforementioned slow cooker...without knowing the power cord had been accidentally caught between the crock part and the heating part. Do you know what happens when you heat up the power cord on a slow cooker?

Never mind. You don't really need to know. Just don't do it.

The slow cooker has since ~~been repaired~~ forgiven me and we now work together to create fabulous autumnish meals such as this:

Bavarian Cabbage

1 cabbage, thinly sliced
2 onions, chopped
2 red apples, chopped
2 tsps salt
2 cups hot water
3 Tbsps sugar
2/3 cup apple cider vinegar
6 Tbsp butter or bacon grease.
1 kielbasa/sausage ring/similar meat type thing, cut into bite sized pieces

Now here's the best part of the recipe. It's why I love slow cookers. -

Put all ingredients in slow cooker. Cook for 8-10 hours on low. Serve.

Did I mention I love my slow cooker? She's a real gem. :)

Note: I also love giveaways. Have you entered mine? It ends tonight!

feathered things, growing up

2011-08-29T04:00:00.000-07:00

At our place, there's a chicken system. Y'all might think its a little wonky, but hey. Most things in a farmish life are. ;)

When baby chicks arrive (who aren't hatched out by a hen in our coop), they stay here.

Yes. That is half of a dog crate. With a board on the end where the door should be. And chicken wire spread out over the top. If a heat lamp is required, we hang it from the ceiling above this fabulous "brooder".

I know. We rock.

When the baby chicks get a bit older and need some outside time, they get loaded into this...

...(yes, that's a cat carrier)...

and transferred to this contraption.

Yes. That is a ferret cage. One of those fancy multi-tiered things you see at the spendy pet stores. I don't know how it ended up at our house, but we took the tiers out, knocked it over on its side and wound chicken wire around it. The chicks love it. They spend the day in it and go back to the brooder for sleeping.

When the chicks are pre-teens (or thereabouts), they get to move up to the next gorgeous place. It's a permanent move. No more brooder time at night. This chicken tractor (built by Farm Man Extraordinaire) is a complete deal, inside and out.

When the pre-teens reach teenagerhood, they generally get let out to free range in the yard during the day, but come back to the tractor at night to be locked up for sleeping time.

At some point, usually determined by who is waiting next in line for the chicken tractor, the teens are told to go sleep in the coop with the big chickens.

This sometimes takes intervention from MamaTea and Dog Lovin' Mama. Sometimes the teenagers are...well, too chicken to go in with the big chickens. And sometimes Chowder The Rooster is too...well, cocky to let the teens into the coop. All chickens in the coop generally get along after a nice chat from the Biggest Hens, though.

Me and that Dog Lovin' Mama, we can be pretty convincing. :)

Note: My giveaway ends tomorrow night! Make sure you're signed up!

Sunday Scribbles, #29

2011-08-28T04:00:00.000-07:00

Sundays at this farmish place are reserved for Scribbles - short, random musings that collect while my mind has time to wander on this day of (supposed) rest. Enjoy, and feel free to add your own in the comments.

1. You're probably going to be shocked, but an outsider recently referred to my family as redneck.

2. Apparently it is un-cool (to outsiders) for a family to spend a day together watching contestants pump out the bluegrass tunes at a Fiddle Festival.

3. I'm not surprised at the redneck comment, though. We've been known to do lots of redneck things. My seven year old is quite handy with a hatchet. My eight year old swears he's on the verge of building a Tom Sawyer raft. And this farmish Mama can carve a mean looking spear out of a fallen branch.

4. In fact, we're so redneck, there are aspects of our lives we didn't even realize were redneck. A favorite pastime of our is to read Jeff Foxworthy's "You Might Be a Redneck" book and see how many comments apply to us. It's not uncommon to hear someone in the family say, "Wait a second. Since when is (insert thing we probably just did within the last 24 hours) considered to be redneck?"

5. Ah yes. We claim our redneckedness with pride. But I'm a little concerned to have the farmboys someday find out that my main aspiration in life until I was about 20 was to be an actress on Broadway. Yup. I was gonna live smack dab in the city. At that bit of news, I think my little redneck men just might fall over dead. ;)

Hey! Don't forget my giveaway...it ends Tuesday at midnight! Don't need it for yourself? Think Yule/Christmas!

honest mistake

2011-08-26T05:29:00.000-07:00

Last night, my husband left for work, and I went into the backyard to assist the teenager type chickens in now finding the coop (not the chicken tractor) for their beddy-bye time. I'd been out there about ten minutes, explaining to Rocky's Posse and Tom Hawkin's Hens that it was in fact ok to go in the coop with the big chickens when Farmboy Ooky came screaming out the back door.

"Mom! Mom!" he screamed.

I poked my head out of the coop.

"What?" I answered.

He was standing at the back door, jumping around.

"Dad just bought a horse!"

What??

"No," I said. "Dad just left for work. How could he have bought a horse?"

"He just called!" Ooky said. "He left a message on the answering machine and he said he bought a horse and its really expensive!"

The man had literally left ten minutes ago and had almost a 45 minute drive to get to work. Why would he be calling and leaving a message about horses...especially when we don't have room for one yet?

Farmboy Ooky had me intrigued.

Once inside, I pressed the button on the answering machine. This, dear blog readers, is what my husband's message from the gas station actually said:

"Hi, hottie. I just wanted to call and let you know gas is freaking expensive. I think I'm going to buy a horse."

And now you have your Friday Funny for the day. :)

farmgirl getting fiesty

2011-08-25T04:45:00.000-07:00

I will apologize now. Just so you know.

As a farmish kind of gal, I've always had a sort of love-hate thing with the internet.

The internet is an amazing (read: good) thing. I love it for the ease of blogging, the convenience of looking up a new recipe, and the fact that my children can have obscure historical or scientific facts right at their fingertips. I can immediately know what to do when my baby chick is suffering from pasty butt. I can learn a new crochet stitch. I can hear the newest song by whomever strikes my current fancy.

But I also think the internet has done amazingly horrible things to our social skills. Odd, seeing as how you can gather with hundreds of like minded people in a forum or a networking site like Facebook. Shouldn't our social skills be improved with all those people in constant "contact" with each other?

Perhaps not.

I present to you for your Thursday entertainment...

MamaTea's Rules for Proper Social Behavior on the Internet

1. If a mom posts somewhere they are sad and will miss their 2nd grade son when he returns to school after a long summer break, the supportive response is NOT "Well, if you would just homeschool your kids like I do, you wouldn't have to be sad, would you?"

2. If a mom posts somewhere that she's really struggling with attitude issues in her preschooler, the supportive response is NOT, "Well, if you had to deal with a sassy teenage boy, you'd realize you don't have anything to complain about!"

3. If you don't agree with something someone has posted somewhere, you are not bound by law to post a passive aggressive comment of retaliation to them. In fact, you're not bound by law to do anything. You could stop the finger clicking and just press delete. The computer actually does turn off.

4. If you don't agree with something someone has posted somewhere, and you choose to post a response, try to make it a similar response you would feel appropriate giving if you were in that person's living room. Do not spout off horribly intense things you would never dream of saying in a face-to-face encounter. Bravery Through A Computer Screen isn't quite what its cracked up to be, and it makes things really uncomfortable when I run into you at the grocery store.

5. If you're going do the whole Bravery Through a Computer Screen thing and you get called on the carpet for something you said, don't try the lame (and over-used) cop-out of "I didn't mean it that way! You took it wrong! It's so hard to tell what people really mean when you're reading it on a screen, isn't it?"

6. As far as I know, "friend" is a noun. Facebook turned that into a verb. Which is weird, because apparently there's now way less to do to be an actual friend to someone. When someone posts about a tragedy in their life, we can type : and ( and we're free and clear. When someone is excited about something, we press the Almighty Like Button and move on to the next post. What happened to baking a pie for someone? What happened to meeting for coffee to chat? What happened to sending a card to say "thinking about you" or "way to go!" ?

7. People use social networking and forums for different things. If you posted something ten minutes ago (or even ten days ago) and I see you at the grocery store, don't assume I saw your post. When I politely ask you how things are going, do not be offended that I didn't ask about your new puppy, your daughter's soccer game, or the issue you're having with your car. I really had no clue.

8. If you are prone to severe cases of verbal diarrhea as soon as you touch a keyboard, you probably should not touch one. Someday there will be a cure for folks suffering from this unfortunate disease which causes them to type terrible, hurtful or just plain moronic things and then press send without thinking. It's a tragedy, really. But until a cure is found, the only prevention is not turning on your computer.

This farmish gal is not against social networking. Used in the right way, its a fabulous way to connect people. What concerns me, however, is that social networking via the internet has almost replaced Real Life Socializing for thousands (millions? billions?) of people. What bothers me is that people have forgotten the most basic of kindnesses which are required in communication, and because social networking is so gosh darn fast and easy, the lack of human civility is out there everywhere, all the time.

What really bothers me though is that most times, I get a more civilized conversation out in the barn with the chickens.

Which is where, if you need me, I will be for the rest of the day.

Rant over. Thanks for listening.

Note: If you're needing something to feel farmishly peaceful and purty again....there's always my giveaway!

Be Vewy Vewy Qwiet

2011-08-24T04:26:00.000-07:00

Shhh. I know it looks like I'm just warming my hands by the fire...

But really, I'm waiting for it to get dark so I can sneak up on a certain Rocky and his Crazy Posse.

After it gets dark, Rocky and his Crazy Posse take to the highest point they can get to: the farmboys' playhouse. Which is really a lame attempt at roosting, since anything could hop up and grab them.

Now, since the playhouse isn't the safest place to roost, and chickens won't move much after it gets dark, I go in and take them from the playhouse and move them to the chicken tractor (which is much safer and more secure). They've kissed and made up with the Americauna gang, led by Tom Hawkin, the chicken who looks like some weird mix of a turkey and a hawk.

Anyhow, this ultimately means I get to hold Rocky and his Crazy Posse.

Which is worth the wait.

We've become pretty friendly, actually.

Rocky even said he'd teach me the Posse's secret handshake. So right now, my life is feeling pretty complete. :)

Purty-n-Prepared Giveaway

2011-08-23T04:00:00.000-07:00

Believe it or not, the nights here in Minnesota are cooling off. You know what that means?

Fall is coming.

Farmgirls have a habit of being prepared for the change in seasons. We also have a habit (don't deny it) of being downright purty. (That's "pretty" for those who don't speak Farmish.)

Note: Just so I'm clear, purty doesn't necessarily mean "gussied up". A farmgirl can look purty with no makeup, a skirt, a shirt that needs to be washed, a pair of mud boots, and a dirt all over her hands. Just wanted to make sure we're all on the same page about that.

Because I know you're all so purty and because I want you to be prepared for the upcoming weather change, I'm having a giveaway!

Up for the takin' is a genuine MamaTea Made scarf and headband, modeled here by Yours Truly:

The scarf is 8" wide and 60" long, perfect for wrapping up to stay warm!

Both pieces are made from Deborah Norville's Serenity Yarn, which is 100% fine acrylic. It's thick, warm, and soft. :)

READ CAREFULLY!! Here's the details for how to play along:

Entries will be taken until midnight (central time) on August 30th. Winner will be posted the morning of August 31st. Winner must contact me by 10 pm (central time) September 2nd or a new winner will be drawn.

There are three ways to enter. Each way you enter requires a separate comment on this post to be valid.

1. Leave a comment about what you think makes farmgirls the darn near purtiest things in the world!

2. Add A Farmish Kind Of Life to your bloglist in the sidebar of your own blog. (If I'm already listed in your sidebar, go ahead and add a separate comment here telling me that!)

3. Mention this giveaway on your blog (and leave a separate comment here with a link to it).

So....then, what exactly does make a farmgirl purty? Ready...set....go!

mercy

2011-08-22T04:00:00.000-07:00

Paired alongside the really fun parts of the farmish life are the not-so-fun parts. Like those that involve an act of mercy with a knife.

Bear, one of our 1 year old hens, had been acting strangely for over a week. First she'd keep to herself in the yard, preferring to wander alone rather than hang out with the flock. A couple days later, she'd park herself in the shade and sleep most the day.

There's something wrong with Bear, I said. But no one knew what.

A couple days after that, Bear refused to leave the coop at all. She wasn't eating or drinking, and we noticed her comb and wattle were pale pink instead of the normal vibrant red. The following day, she could hardly stand up.

There's something wrong with Bear.

She wasn't showing signs of being egg bound. It wasn't a major mite infestation. But past that, I had no clue. Worms? Did she eat something poisonous? Was she contagious?

When Farmboy Ooky and I went out that night to close up the coop, we found a weak Bear being harassed, picked at, and stepped on by the other chickens. Not wanting to upset Ooky, I suggested we separate her in an empty cat carrier and check on her in the morning.

I figured she'd be dead long before that.

Early the next morning, I went back out to the coop. There was no movement from the carrier and I whispered a small thank you that it was done.

Except...it wasn't. She was still half alive but unable to move the bottom half of her body. I took her out of the carrier and realized the bottom was covered in a sort of lime green yellowish goo.

She was not going to get better.

Damn it.

It was inhumane to let her slowly suffer.

Damn it.

I walked into the house to grab the knife and for a brief moment considered waking up my husband to take care of it. He could end this chicken's life, no problem.

Why couldn't I? We've butchered chickens plenty of times before. I hunt grouse and ducks and geese for cripes sake. Why was this so freaking hard?

I have to do this. It's my chicken. My responsibility.

I will not cry.

I carried her out of the barn, away from the other chickens.

I will not cry.

I laid her down on the ground.

I will not cry.

I apologized to her.

I will not cry.

I slit her throat.

And then, I sat down. And cried.

Sunday Scribbles, #28

2011-08-21T04:00:00.000-07:00

Sundays at this farmish place are reserved for Scribbles - short, random musings that collect while my mind has time to wander on this day of (supposed) rest. Enjoy, and feel free to add your own in the comments.

1. You cannot crochet all day with friends and then even attempt to play the piano the same night. Well...you can, but its not advisable. After banging on the keys for awhile to try and figure out Regina Spektor's "Samson", my hands put up quite a protest. You should have seen it. They tore themselves right off my arms, curled up in the corner, and died.

2. Farmboy Iggy's calling in life is to be an entrepreneur. He recently built a redneck hot tub. He's also studying reflexology so he can open his own "massage doctor's office". I can tell you from experience he gives one heck of a hand massage. And he only charges a quarter.

3. Farmboy Iggy also gives a pretty awesome "brain massage". But if you admit to him he's actually making your head tingle, he will charge you an extra 10 cents.

4. Farmboy Ooky's calling just might be music. He's recently decided he wants to learn to play the violin. I offered him a challenge (to buy time for hunting down a used violin). He took it and...well, you're just going to have to read the other post to see what happened. :)

5. So...then...if Ooky is going to learn to read music better, it will follow that I will also learn more. If Ooky is going to play piano more, it will follow that I will also play more. Which, paired up with crocheting, means we will keep brother Iggy's "Massage Doctor's Office" quite busy. See? It's a win-win for everyone. :)

Amish Coffee-n-Cake

2011-08-19T04:00:00.000-07:00

Coffee and cake is a fabulous thing. What's even better is when there is coffee in the cake.

Amish Coffee Cake

2 cups brown sugar
2 cups flour
3/4 cup shortening
1 egg
2 tsp vanilla
1 cup hot coffee
1 tsp baking soda

Mix brown sugar, flour and shortening until lumpy.

Reserve 1 cup for topping and set aside.

Dissolve the baking soda in the hot coffee.

Add the coffee to the remaining lumpy mixture, along with the egg and vanilla.

Pour this (runnier than you're probably thinking it should be) batter into your pan. A 9x 13 makes a thin cake. I use a 10x7 for a thicker cake.

Sprinkle the reserved topping on top.

Bake at 325. 30-35 minutes for a 9x13, 45-50 minutes for the 10x7. The cake is quite moist - keep that in mind when checking for doneness. ;)

Serve this fabulous dark cake (with an intriguing light flavor) to your family and/or friends with a scoop of ice cream.

But serve it to yourself with heavy cream poured over the top.

Ignore your mom when she tells you there is something wrong with you for eating your cake that way. She doesn't even know what she's missin'. :)

ID, please.

2011-08-18T04:00:00.000-07:00

Sometimes I need help identifying things.

Most times I'm pretty smart. Like, when this honey bear came in the mail, I knew it was a fabulous gift from a sweet friend.

And I knew that these delightful items (sent along by her MOM!) were a scrubbie, a dishcloth and a mug rug.

But these?

An apple cozy? Something you put a bar of soap in and scrub away with? A fancy cuff bracelet?

No, silly, The Apple Pie Gal said. You use them for...

Like I said. Sometimes I need ~~a lot of~~ help.

In any event, darling farmish readers, I need your help with identifying a couple family heirlooms we came across. These are from my mom's side of the family. Tack six or so greats in front of grandma, and that's who these pieces came from.

First, this piece of work.

It's hard to get a zoomed in picture, so forgive the blurriness. What we are mostly wondering is what kind of needlework this is and how it was done.

Next, we have another piece of work.

And now zoomed in with the same question: does anyone know what this kind of needlework is called or how it is done?

Last item up for identifying: the front says "Souvenir of (something) Mass." The bottom is stamped Made in Germany.

Something tells me its not just some random decorative piece, and that it had an intended use. What has been most often suggested to us so far is:

Obviously my modern glasses are much bigger than the wire ones of long ago. Does anyone have a different suggestion?

Creative guesses are always welcome. :)

I done good

2011-08-17T04:00:00.000-07:00

If you have children, you often wonder what life will be like for them when they are older, and you might wonder who they are going to spend that life with.

Well, I'd like to let you farmish type readers know that my stress about this subject is over. For my eldest Farmboy Iggy and I recently had this conversation:

Him: Mom?
Me: Yes, dear.
Him: I've figured something out.
Me: What's that?
Him: If I ever do get married, she's gonna have to be a redneck woman. You know, just like you.

I am pretty sure no bigger compliment could be paid by a farmish kind of boy to his Mama. ;)

Size matters

2011-08-16T04:00:00.000-07:00

Let's not pretend size doesn't matter, shall we?

I mean, if you use the wrong size crochet hook or the wrong weight yarn, your pattern isn't going to turn out. ;)

Take a look at these two apples. Same pattern (except one got a stem, the other didn't). Same hook. Different yarn....

... and NOT the same size product. Can't tell? Here. I'll stack them for you.

Sometimes with crochet, size doesn't matter. But often times, it does. When something is supposed to be a dishcloth, but instead turns out as a potholder for a Paul Bunyan sized hand, you know you've done something wrong. Like (in my case) substituted worsted weight (#4) yarn for DK weight (#3) yarn.

See? It just goes to show: size does matter. ;)

HEADS UP NOTE: To meet a friend who is far more experienced in crocheting (and other crafts) than me, and enter a giveaway for a fun fall decoration she made that looks good enough to eat, go here!

Wherever they may roam

2011-08-15T04:00:00.000-07:00

I'm sorry to report this post will be a continuation of a tale of woe.

Rocky and his original gang of six have now been further reduced to a gang totaling three. Lucky tacked UN in front of her name again, as she and her sister ventured into El Dog Cage-o once more to meet their permanent end. (I feel as though I must point out here that we had even added extra chicken wire around the bottom of the dog fence so the Barred Rocks could not slip through the larger fencing holes. Yet, somehow, they still ended up going in. At some point I've got to assume they were playing some strange Kamikaze game, and I have to let it go.)

So now we have Rocky and two hens strutting their stuff all over. And I mean all over. Front yard. Back yard. Side yards. Long weedy grass on the fringes. Hoop building. Play house. Heck, I wouldn't be surprised if they put on water skis and took to the creek. Why, we even found them here:

In the garage, giving their opinion on a refinishing project.

Seriously.

The Americaunas, same age and size who now freely wander the backyard, have not so much as flirted with the idea of leaving the safety of the one acre chicken yard. But these Barred Rocks...

...they're a different kind of bird.

Will they make it to maturity?

Will they survive to egg laying and flock protecting age?

One can only guess.

Sunday Scribbles, #27

2011-08-14T04:00:00.000-07:00

Sundays at this farmish place are reserved for Scribbles - short, random musings that collect while my mind has time to wander on this day of (supposed) rest. Enjoy, and feel free to add your own in the comments.

1. This past week I informed my husband I'm not really a fan of George Strait's music. My husband informed me I did not deserve to wear cowboy boots if I didn't like Mr. Strait. I told my husband if he so much as looked at my boots sideways, he'd be sorry.

2. A bag of cherries, a bag of grapes, and a bunch of bananas cost me $16 this past week. If I was a different person, I would take that $16 and fill my pantry with bunches and bunches of Ramen Noodles or Macaroni and Cheese. Sometimes when I look at the checkbook, I wonder why I'm not that person. I'm just sayin'.

3. Do you ever look around your bedroom and wonder how there got to be a mess of unorganized fabric and yarn and patterns and other jumbled up crafty type things threatening to take over the entire room? No? Um....me neither. Nope. Not me.

4. We went to the orthodontist with Farmboy Iggy last week and discovered he's got an extra tooth up in his gums that is preventing his front tooth from coming in. Oh, so that's why there's been a hole there for two years. And you want how much to fix this? While I was suffering a minor heart attack, Farmboy Iggy was entertaining the female orthodontist and her female assistant with hunting stories. And they were obviously impressed with his eight-year-old manly self. So according to him, the appointment was awesome.

5. We give two thumbs up to MamaPea's Blueberry Buckle recipe. We tried it, we loved it. Pistol Packin' Papa tried to tell me that it was terrible, and he would do the noble duty of eating the entire pan to save the rest of the family from distress...but we saw through his scheme. MamaPea, it was seriously fab-u-lous, and it has earned a permanent spot in our "Keeping Recipe" box.

Yellow Squash Yum

2011-08-11T05:34:00.000-07:00

This blog started out as a food blog, you know. And then I got distracted by things like chickens. And crocheting.

How about a recipe then, shall we? It's a goodie, and quite useful for people who actually have gardens that produced this year. (Other folks, like myself, have to rely on the CSA box to arrive.)

Squash Casserole

**Credit goes to my penpal in CT who blogs here.**

1 pound yellow squash, sliced
1 medium onion chopped
1/2 tsp. salt
14 crackers, crushed (Ritz or Saltines)
1 tsp sugar
1 cup grated cheese
2 eggs beaten
1 cup milk

Cook the squash with onion and salt.

Mix up the remaining ingredients, stir in the cooked squash mixture, and dump it all in a well- buttered 1 1/2 quart casserole dish.

Now, I know you're eyeing what's left in that sleeve of Ritz crackers. Because 14 crackers is only about half a sleeve. ;) If you're me, you'll just crush up what's left and sprinkle it on top for a little extra somethin'. :)

Place that casserole dish in a shallow pan of water. I use a 9x13, about half full.

Bake that baby up in a 400 degree oven for an hour.

Dig in! Careful not to burn your mouth. ;)

a rare breed

2011-08-10T05:44:00.000-07:00

Farmish people are different. A rare breed, we are, to say the least. After all, if you compare farmish, ol' fashioned folk with a good chunk of the rest of America's population...

Shining Qualities of Farmish Ol' Fashioned Folks

By MamaTea

When something goes wrong for farmish type folks, we don't expect anyone to make it better for us. We pull ourselves up by the boot straps, put our hat back on, and make it better ourselves.

When something goes wrong for a friend, we are ready to do whatever we can, no matter how inconvenient it may seem to non-farmish type folks. And we'll probably bake them a loaf of bread at the same time.

We believe in words like work and responsibility and limits. If I have one more person tell me that I'm ruining my kids by 1) telling them they can't have a third piece of cake or 2) making them clean the bathroom, I'm going to kick that person with the toe of my boot. Hard.

We are smart. We don't need to be told by the weather guessers that when it's 100+ degrees outside, we should remember to drink a lot of water. We don't need to be told when the roads are icy and a blizzard is in its way, to stay home if you can.

We hate hypocrites. If you're on food stamps but can still afford a $200 tattoo, it it will be really hard for me to bring soup to you when you're sick. Seriously.

We know what is important. Family, friends, and health. I don't care about the $400 purse you bought and I sure as heck ain't putting on makeup just to run to the store.

Any other reasons you can think that we farmish folk are a rare breed?

extra money maker

2011-08-09T06:06:00.000-07:00

With the economy and all its troubles, I figured it's time to find a way to make a little extra money. And after a great deal of thought, I decided what I'm going to do.

Today I will sneak out to my farmboys and suck a bit of their energy out through a giant straw.

Then I will bottle it.

And I will sell it.

I'll label it "Spring Chicken Spirits."

Any takers?

Unlucky and Lucky

2011-08-08T04:00:00.000-07:00

This is a tale of woe.

A few days ago, unbeknownst to their Chicken Mom, Rocky and his Gang ventured somewhere they should not have been.

El Dog Cage-o.

Rocky and his Gang were hangin' out, chillin' inside the dog fence that fateful afternoon when the dogs got let out into El Dog Cage-o and Yard-o. Now, if Rocky and his Gang would have been extra cool, they probably could have slipped out the back, unnoticed.

But no.

They had to squawk. They had to flap their little Gangster Wings. They had to be all You're Not the Boss of ME and...

Did I mention this was a tale of woe?

One Rock was brought up in the mouth of a certain two year old Golden Retriever. It was dead. The Golden Retriever said she was sorry. That poor birdie was very Unlucky.

The Black Bird of Rocky's gang was brought up in the mouth of an eleven year old Golden Retriever and laid on the ground. It didn't move. I really do believe the dog thought duck hunting had opened early and was expecting a treat for his retrieval.

Not quite, buddy.

About this time, Farmboy Iggy announced that the other four birds had ran out the dog fence and were bolting for the safety of the daylilies. I was thankful to still have four and figured...

Wait. What was that?

The Black Bird just chirped. Squeaked. Squawked. Something. Swear to God.

It's alive! My mom said. Give it here!

It's not alive, I said, trying to be practical. It's laying upside down with its feet sticking straight up. It's not going to make it.

Just like her daughter, my mom is stubborn. Give it here, she repeated.

I handed the Black Bird to her, the upside down mauled mess s/he was, and Mom whisked it away to the house.

I shook my head.

It's not going to make it.

Moments later, Mom appeared in the backyard. The Black Bird had been placed inside an empty cat carrier (with a soft towel) which she placed in the shade.

He might make it, Mom said.

I shook my head and told her she was on crack.

One never quite knows what's going to happen in this farmish life. Seems to me just about the time I think I have things figured out...

...we have Black Birds whose names get changed to Lucky because they are standing up in the cat carrier twenty minutes later, good as new.

Let me out! Lucky says.

So I do, and Lucky runs off to be with Rocky's Gang Minus One.

I tell you, I give up. I resign myself to the fact that in a farmish life, you just never know.

But in this instance, I was glad to be wrong. :)

Sunday Scribbles, #26

2011-08-07T04:00:00.000-07:00

Sundays at this farmish place are reserved for Scribbles - short, random musings that collect while my mind has time to wander on this day of (supposed) rest. Enjoy, and feel free to add your own in the comments.

1. Some people's idea of good entertainment on the weekend is a day spent at the mall or the movie theater. My idea of great weekend entertainment? An auction.

2. There can be more history at an ol' auction than you'll find in any classroom textbook. And they don't even charge you extra for all the dust or dirt still left on the items.

3. The auction we attended this weekend was of a distant relative - cousins on my grandma's side. So besides the normal amazing history you'll find at any auction, these all happened to be historical items from our family. That just about blows the "awesome" factor through the roof.

4. It's not every day that an auction doubles as a family reunion. The fabulous part was that a few of the family members I had never met before, but we immediately hit it off and had a great time chatting. Truly, it was a jackpot of a day.

5. Yep, auctions are the best. Heck, when I'm planning on spending the day with a bidding number, I even put on my good pair of jeans. :)

i meant to do that

2011-08-05T04:00:00.000-07:00

Every so often while shopping at a thrift store, I'll run across a wool sweater whose tag says it should fit me, but the actual sweater appears to be more appropriate for a Barbie Doll. Or her baby. If she has one. I always giggle at the shrunken dreadlocked yarn and think, "Man, someone's mama didn't show them the difference between washing in hot and cold..."

Imagine my surprise to find out there are people who wash things "incorrectly" and shrink them on purpose.

For real.

Actually it's called felting, and while messing around with The Chicks With Sticks Guide to Crochet, I learned all about how to do it.

"Felting is cool," a fellow crocheter told me. "But the problem is you have to start with something so big to get it to shrink down to a size that's still useable."

Like how big? I wondered.

I followed the directions in the book for the Chicks' Slit-Top Felted Bag and ended up with this:

Which, after following the felting directions, ended up shrinking to this:

I think that's pretty darn cool! After the felting process, the look of the piece totally changes. If felted correctly, you can no longer see the stitches of the crochet, and instead you have a tightly woven, very thick solid wool fabric.

And to think, all you're doing with felting is washing wool in hot water. Something we've all been told not to do.

Oh gosh.. I wonder if there are any other rules I can break that would net me something as neat and useable... ;)

** To felt an item, you have to use 100% wool yarn. After the piece is crocheted, place the item in a zippered pillowcase protector. Wash in hot water and a small amount of detergent on the longest wash cycle you have. Add a pair of jeans or a couple towels to the load to help with agitation. Check your crocheted item every few minutes to see how the process is going. The stitches will get fuzzier and blur together until they finally seem to become one big thick piece of fabric. Do not allow your washer to go through the rinse or spin cycles. It should be done felting before that time. Gently squeeze out the excess water (don't wring) and then wrap the item in a few towels to get out as much water as possible. Do not put the item in the dryer. Take the item out of the towels after they have soaked up what they can, and let the item air dry overnight or until dry. (Paraphrased from "The Chicks With Sticks Guide to Crochet" by Nancy Queen and Mary Ellen O'Connell)

fall down, go boom

2011-08-04T04:00:00.000-07:00

A couple mornings ago, as I let Rocky and his gang out of the chicken tractor and made rounds with food and water, I resigned myself to the fact it would probably be another rainy day.

I was wrong.

Rainy is one thing. Gi-normous fantastic freak wind storm is quite another.

Hey! Look out the patio door! See what just missed the house and the garden?

Not that there's anything amazing growing in the garden, but I still gave the white pine two thumbs up for placement. :)

How 'bout part of an oak that just missed my dad's truck?

Sweeeeeeeeet.

There were small branches and bigger branches down all over the place. This is one by the front door, in my mom's perennial garden.

In the woods, we counted 13 trees down. Another six had their tops snapped right off.

Not bad for a storm I didn't even know was coming. :)

Actually, as if escaping the storm without structural (or human/animal life) damage wasn't exciting enough, there was something else fabulous that came along with the storm.

Ah! Of course! Pulling on the gloves for storm cleanup! How could we forget that??

(Actually, if you look closer, you'll see what the real excitement is.)

That, dear friends, is a hole in the thumb of my leather glove, put there from HARD WORK. And anyone who truly understands the farmish life will understand why a hole worn through your leather work gloves is cause for celebration. It's right up there next to...well, not getting blown away in a storm. :)

When in doubt, ghetto-fy

2011-08-03T04:00:00.000-07:00

Wanna take a guess at what this is?

Give up?

It's a perfectly ghetto-fied emergency storm shelter. For chickens.

Well, for a certain six Rocky chicks in particular. But you know what happens when a super wicked, top 'o the line storm shelter hits the market. Everyone wants to be there.

Even the geriatric hens. They know where it's at. Don't be hatin'.

No, seriously. This is what you quickly build from a gymnastics mat and two shortie tables when it's supposed to storm all day and you realize Rocky and his gang may be without shelter. You know, since they can't be with the Americaunas.

Want to know what's even more awesome? After I built this totally ghetto storm shelter, and the adults (who have a coop) took over...Rocky and his Gang ran around the yard. In the storm. Happy as could be. Like little ducks.

I am so not the boss of them.

not the boss

2011-08-02T05:00:00.000-07:00

Meet Rocky and his gang of chicks.

They came to my house recently by way of a Craigslist posting. Six barred rock chicks, three weeks old. I emailed the posting to say I would take them. The lady emailed back Great. I'll let you know when I have caught them all. Hopefully it is sometime this week.

Um...what?

Apparently, Rocky and his gang of (not all) barred rock chicks had been running free as...well, birds...with their mama since day one. A lovely free range family whose matriarch met her untimely demise by way of a badger, they are now a rough and street wise gang of (not all) barred rock chicks.

The seller caught Rocky and his gang, shoved them in a box, and put them in the back of my Trailblazer.

I took them home and gently put them in the chicken tractor.

"Say what?" said Rocky. "You're not the boss of me. We don't do chicken tractors."

Rocky and his gang lasted less than 24 hours in said chicken tractor. A) They were wickedly terrible (and I do mean terrible) to the Americaunas we paired them with (same age, body size, same number of chicks, etc.) B) They paced the inside of the chicken tractor like...well, caged animals. It was pathetic.

I struggled with the decision: do I let them out into the yard with the cats, the hawks, the fence that won't keep them in because they are small enough to go through, the adult chickens who might chase them off, etc....etc....etc....Or do I keep them in the chicken tractor where they are safe but will eventually kill the Americaunas?

Hmmmm....

I guess that settles that.

So now Rocky and his gang are free in the yard.

And all is well with the world.

The funny thing is that Rocky and his gang come back to the chicken tractor at night. Which apparently is ok with the Americaunas for sleeping time. But as soon as the sun comes up, get those bullies outta here!

I tell you. With this much drama in the backyard, who needs television?

not entirely my fault

2011-08-01T04:50:00.000-07:00

People have different ways of dealing with frustration. Some people drink a lot. Some people smoke a lot. Some people yell and scream and kick and fight.

Me....I do something different.

I know you think this post is going to be about crocheting.

You're wrong.

It's about babies.

Feathered babies, to be exact.

Feathered babies of various breeds and ages.

I think about 18 of 'em will do.

Yes, indeedy.

I just want you all to know that this feathered baby explosion at my house is not my fault. I blame it entirely on The Apple Pie Gal. After all, she posted a video in this recent post. And once you remember how cute those feathered babies are with all their feathered baby antics...oh, Apple Pie Gal...I couldn't refuse.

Life is good with feathered babies. :)

Sunday Scribbles, #25

2011-07-31T05:17:00.000-07:00

1. Yesterday I was sick in bed with some sort of summer bug. It takes a strong person to lay in bed right next to the yarn dresser and stick to her guns about the crocheting time-out.

2. I am not a strong person. After I was done sleeping and could sit up right without my brain pounding right outta my skull, I crocheted a lovely triangle head scarf bandana type thing. Don't be jealous.

3. Speaking of the yarn dresser, who knew that cabinet/dresser hardware was so stinkin' expensive? Does it make sense to find a free dresser to refinish if the drawer pulls cost $40 to replace?

4. Of course it doesn't. That's why you leave Home Depot and take out the stripper and Tung Oil at home and re-do the wooden ones that originally came off the dresser. Because you know you can get them beautiful, lovely, good-as-new. Ain't gonna be spending my (husband's) hard earned cash on something I can do cheaper with a little elbow grease.

5. In any event, I'm feeling better today. You know why that is, don't you? I crocheted. I was feeling sick, I crocheted, and now I'm better. I tell ya...maybe we should send some how-to-crochet books to our government officials trying to figure out this debt ceiling disaster. The way I see it, crocheting can heal the whole world. :)

Happiness is...

2011-07-29T03:54:00.000-07:00

Happiness is falling asleep on the grass in the warmth of the backyard sun and waking up to a Buff Orphington who has mistaken your bare toes for a snack.

Happiness is refinishing a six-drawer dresser and realizing its the perfect place to store all your yarn.

Happiness is hanging all the laundry out to dry before 8 am because your father put the clothesline back up for you the night before.

Happiness is the giggle that escapes when you put on lipstick for a special occasion and your youngest son tells you that you have "too much fashion today".

Happiness is your oldest son adventuring in the backyard in ripped up sweats and a mismatched hat, swinging from the tree branch like a monkey singing "Don't Worry, Be Happy" at the top of his lungs.

Yes, indeed. This is Happiness.

what. is. this?

2011-07-28T16:46:00.000-07:00

I don't normally post twice in one day, but TG over at Tiny Gardener and I are trying to figure out what's going on with our chickens. (Feel free to hop over to her blog and give your expertise over there, too!)

I promised I would post a picture of my hens to show what's going on with them, and hopefully my more experienced blog readers can give some heads up as to a diagnosis?

Is this just molting, or something more serious?

All my hens have, at one point or another this summer, looked almost exactly like this. They have almost all recovered, except for one Red and one I-don't-know-what-you-are.

I know the missing feathers on the top of the back are from Chowder, our Roo. But the missing feathers all underneath the tail and even around to the belly?

They are still eating, laying eggs, and happy. Well, as happy as you can be when it's a million degrees out. They have been DE'd several times in case it was mites, but we never found anything on them.

I'm counting on you, my fellow farmish gals. What do you think it is? Molting, or something else?

lonely little vegetable

2011-07-28T05:00:00.000-07:00

It has begun.

This teeny little cuke is the only vegetable looking thing anywhere on our property.

Don't get me wrong. I've got lots of vegetable plants that look lovely and are supposed to put forth something edible, but they are currently just lovely leaves and flowers.

Know why?

There aren't enough bees.

At first it was one of those things we noticed because we weren't constantly cleaning drowned bees out of the oriole feeder. Then came the realization that Farmboy Ooky hadn't asked about his Epi-Pen once this entire summer because he hadn't seen any bees. Then came the realization that regardless of the fact we planted the garden late this year, it seems to be even farther behind than it should be.

Just look at this one teeny tiny baby cuke holding on for dear life. Not even any vegetable friends to keep him company.

Where did all the bees go? Did they skip my house for something more fun? Did I not see the invite on facebook? Did I offend them in some way by attempting to move this year?

I'm deeply sorry, Bees. Please come back. Or I won't have anything to can or freeze this year. Please?