Kev and Andy are leaving me (ok us, since Miss Kat is staying home with me.) The menfolk are going on a fishing trip this weekend. They're meeting up with our former hunting buddy and my "other" husband at the Glen Elder Reservoir in north-central Kansas. This trip is something they used to do quite frequently. Gene, the hunting buddy used to take his little boy, and Kev would take Andy and Lynn would take himself, but Lynn is the one I used to worry about. He just can't be trusted not to teach little boys things that Mamma's don't like.
Like how to put out the fire without using water, but using another readily available liquid. (Think of boys spelling their name in the snow.)
And to think, that I call Lynn my "other" husband. There must be something wrong with me...But anyway, Andy's grown up and Lynn doesn't teach him any bad things anymore...at least I don't think he does.
Back to the trip. They're leaving Friday morning. And Kev's been working fairly hard these last few days at getting them ready. He's checked out the camper, he's checked out brakes and lights and gathered up umpteen fishing poles, other manly things like that.
Me...I'm getting their food ready. I'm not going, and I still have to cook for this trip. Where's the justice in that?
Last night, I made two batches of Enchiladas for the boys to take. See, Kev only married me for my Enchiladas, and the "other" husband likes them almost as much (but he hasn't offered to marry me yet...what's with that?) I made a double batch. Four or five men...20 enchiladas...it should be enough for one meal.
20 tortillas, 4 cups of homemade chili sauce, probably 4 lbs of deer burger, 3 tablespoons of minced garlic, two large onions and two pounds of cheese. That's a lot of food! I was tired by 9:30 when the last pan came out of the oven.
Tonight, I get to make corn flake chewies for the boys. I think those cookies will be the last thing I cook for this fishing trip. But somehow, I don't think my involvement in getting ready for the trip will be finished tonight.
I wonder, why does a fishing trip require so much work from someone who isn't even going?
Wednesday, July 29, 2009
Monday, July 27, 2009
picking beans
Early yesterday morning, I went out to the garden to pick beans. It was a nice cool morning and I enjoyed being outside.
The cats followed me out, and as I was squatting there in the garden, minding my own business, picking beans, one of the cats decided that he needed a change of view.
I was busily searching for beans to pick when I felt claws climbing up my back. I didn't want to jump up, because then those claws would dig in deeper, so I hunched lower, thinking if it was an easier climb, there wouldn't be a need for claws. And, I hoped that I was simply an obstacle, or something fun to climb across and then the cat would jump back down.
I was mistaken.
Once up the back, he laid down across my shoulders. He laid down, stuck his head in my ear, licked it and purred like a motorboat. I'm squatting there in the beans, wondering how in the world I got to be so blessed to have this cat on my back. I still thought about standing up and dumping the cat, but his claws were still too close to my flesh for me to want to do that.
So I kept on picking beans.
With a 10 lb. cat wrapped around my neck. Who was not napping, but kept licking my ear, eating my hair, playing with my hair, purring in my ear, patting the back of my neck, occasionally wrapping his leg around my neck, thoroughly enjoying himself.
By now, I needed to move down the row, so I carefully straightened my back, hoping he'd take the hint and jump off.
He didn't, he just wrapped himself more tightly around the neck.
So, I reached up and dislodged him. He jumped down--without using the claws and decided to just roll in the dirt, quite proud of himself.
I finished picking beans without any further mishaps, instead of climbing back up my body, he decided it was more fun to hide in the beans and scare me.
Stupid cat.
The cats followed me out, and as I was squatting there in the garden, minding my own business, picking beans, one of the cats decided that he needed a change of view.
I was busily searching for beans to pick when I felt claws climbing up my back. I didn't want to jump up, because then those claws would dig in deeper, so I hunched lower, thinking if it was an easier climb, there wouldn't be a need for claws. And, I hoped that I was simply an obstacle, or something fun to climb across and then the cat would jump back down.
I was mistaken.
Once up the back, he laid down across my shoulders. He laid down, stuck his head in my ear, licked it and purred like a motorboat. I'm squatting there in the beans, wondering how in the world I got to be so blessed to have this cat on my back. I still thought about standing up and dumping the cat, but his claws were still too close to my flesh for me to want to do that.
So I kept on picking beans.
With a 10 lb. cat wrapped around my neck. Who was not napping, but kept licking my ear, eating my hair, playing with my hair, purring in my ear, patting the back of my neck, occasionally wrapping his leg around my neck, thoroughly enjoying himself.
By now, I needed to move down the row, so I carefully straightened my back, hoping he'd take the hint and jump off.
He didn't, he just wrapped himself more tightly around the neck.
So, I reached up and dislodged him. He jumped down--without using the claws and decided to just roll in the dirt, quite proud of himself.
I finished picking beans without any further mishaps, instead of climbing back up my body, he decided it was more fun to hide in the beans and scare me.
Stupid cat.
Friday, July 24, 2009
Rant on...
Can someone explain how a CEO, or President of an institution can justify a nice raise for himself, but tell his entire staff of over 150 people, that they wouldnt be getting a raise.
Someone?
Anyone?
Cause sorry, I don't think that any CEO, or President of an institution is the only one there who deserves a raise at the expense of 150 other people.
And, I will say, that if I were a CEO, or President of an institution and my staff wasn't getting a raise; I wouldn't be getting one either.
Yeah, it just pisses me off.
Rant off...
Someone?
Anyone?
Cause sorry, I don't think that any CEO, or President of an institution is the only one there who deserves a raise at the expense of 150 other people.
And, I will say, that if I were a CEO, or President of an institution and my staff wasn't getting a raise; I wouldn't be getting one either.
Yeah, it just pisses me off.
Rant off...
Couch potatoes
Kev and I usually get quite a bit done around the house in the evenings. He'll go outside and do "guy stuff", like mess around in the garden, mow, run the weed eater, pull stickers, spray weeds, mess around in his shop, mess around with his smoker, etc.
I'll do supper, clean up the kitchen, yell at Miss Kat for leaving the kitchen a mess all day, pick up the living room, pay bills, go outside and water my flowers, mess around with the cats, yell at either Andy or Miss Kat for something, gather eggs, talk to my chickens, check on my lilac bushes and plants, cross stitch, etc.
But not this week.
This week, we've both been very lazy.
I mean, I haven't yelled at either of my kids all week! What's up with that?
No, we've been serious couch potatoes this week. We watched movies every night this week. And, if we're on the couch watching TV, we aren't outside doing all our other "stuff." I can't remember any other time when we've been so lazy for 4 nights in a row! That's insane!
(But, I haven't been as lazy as Kev...I've been cross stitching while watching those movies, so I'm not as much of a potato as he is!)
This morning, we discussed what all we want to get done at home this weekend. And, then Kev said, "Bring home a couple of movies."
We'll see how this weekend turns out...
I'll do supper, clean up the kitchen, yell at Miss Kat for leaving the kitchen a mess all day, pick up the living room, pay bills, go outside and water my flowers, mess around with the cats, yell at either Andy or Miss Kat for something, gather eggs, talk to my chickens, check on my lilac bushes and plants, cross stitch, etc.
But not this week.
This week, we've both been very lazy.
I mean, I haven't yelled at either of my kids all week! What's up with that?
No, we've been serious couch potatoes this week. We watched movies every night this week. And, if we're on the couch watching TV, we aren't outside doing all our other "stuff." I can't remember any other time when we've been so lazy for 4 nights in a row! That's insane!
(But, I haven't been as lazy as Kev...I've been cross stitching while watching those movies, so I'm not as much of a potato as he is!)
This morning, we discussed what all we want to get done at home this weekend. And, then Kev said, "Bring home a couple of movies."
We'll see how this weekend turns out...
Wednesday, July 22, 2009
Gardens, Green Beans, and the women I love most
It's Green Bean season. Beans are ripe, and need to be picked and either canned or frozen, or even eaten fresh. I love home canned Green Beans. They are so much better than those you can get at the store. Much much better. Well, except the French cut beans...I like those from the store...
We had gardens at various times when I was a kid, and Green Beans were always a staple. I hated picking beans. They are (duh) green, and so are the leaves. They hide among the leaves. You have to bend over when you pick them. Rows are long. Your back hurts. You have to pick every few days....
I hated helping Mom pick beans. But, I liked snapping beans.
Mom, and Grandma B. snapped beans. Meaning, they used fingers and snapped the blossom end and the tip off the bean, then snapped the bean into 3 or 4 pieces. Grandma Woodruff cut her beans. Where we snap, she used an old paring knife to make those same cuts. I think she cut because she raised 7 kids and had a much bigger garden than Grandma Berends did or even my Mom. My Aunt Ruby also had a huge garden, and I remember seeing her 6 or 7 rows of beans and felt sorry for my cousins who had to help pick all those rows of beans. (And, I felt grateful that I didn't have to help!)
I can remember helping Grandma W. snap beans sitting on the front porch. The time I helped, they still lived on the farm, so I was younger than 10. I remember sitting there with her, bowls on our laps, beans between us, just cutting our beans and talking. I felt very grown up, helping my grandma and getting to use a knife! I can still see her sitting there, in her dress and sensible shoes, her beautiful white hair shining in the sunlight, snapping beans. I have the feeling that she was enjoying herself, sitting outside, enjoying the weather, watching the cattle out in the pasture and watching Steve and I play. I don't think I helped very long, I probably lasted a few minutes, but Grandma let me help, and when I was done, she let me run off and play. Just an ordinary day, but for some reason, that memory has stuck with me.
I spent more time helping Grandma B., because I stayed with her more often than I did Grandma W. So bean picking and snapping memories are more common and more of a chore. After all, you do get tired of doing beans long before the season is over. Grandma B. usually put a newspaper down on the kitchen table for the ends and bad beans. Then, when we were done, I took that newspaper outside and shook it off so the chickens could eat the parts we didn't use. Mom did it the same way, except we didn't have chickens, so we just tossed the tips and bad pieces.
None of my "womenfolk" let me help with the pressure canning. I could wash the beans, and help pack the jars, but working with the pressure cooker and hot water was something that the adults did. I was scared of the pressure cooker.
Now, I grow my own beans. I like to snap them in the kitchen, or sometimes in the living room, in front of the TV. We didn't plant enough rows that I get enough each time to can, so I'm freezing my beans this year. But, just doing this activity that I did with my Mom and with my Grandma's gives me a sense of belonging and tradition. It's a tie from my present to my past and to them; the women I love most.
We had gardens at various times when I was a kid, and Green Beans were always a staple. I hated picking beans. They are (duh) green, and so are the leaves. They hide among the leaves. You have to bend over when you pick them. Rows are long. Your back hurts. You have to pick every few days....
I hated helping Mom pick beans. But, I liked snapping beans.
Mom, and Grandma B. snapped beans. Meaning, they used fingers and snapped the blossom end and the tip off the bean, then snapped the bean into 3 or 4 pieces. Grandma Woodruff cut her beans. Where we snap, she used an old paring knife to make those same cuts. I think she cut because she raised 7 kids and had a much bigger garden than Grandma Berends did or even my Mom. My Aunt Ruby also had a huge garden, and I remember seeing her 6 or 7 rows of beans and felt sorry for my cousins who had to help pick all those rows of beans. (And, I felt grateful that I didn't have to help!)
I can remember helping Grandma W. snap beans sitting on the front porch. The time I helped, they still lived on the farm, so I was younger than 10. I remember sitting there with her, bowls on our laps, beans between us, just cutting our beans and talking. I felt very grown up, helping my grandma and getting to use a knife! I can still see her sitting there, in her dress and sensible shoes, her beautiful white hair shining in the sunlight, snapping beans. I have the feeling that she was enjoying herself, sitting outside, enjoying the weather, watching the cattle out in the pasture and watching Steve and I play. I don't think I helped very long, I probably lasted a few minutes, but Grandma let me help, and when I was done, she let me run off and play. Just an ordinary day, but for some reason, that memory has stuck with me.
I spent more time helping Grandma B., because I stayed with her more often than I did Grandma W. So bean picking and snapping memories are more common and more of a chore. After all, you do get tired of doing beans long before the season is over. Grandma B. usually put a newspaper down on the kitchen table for the ends and bad beans. Then, when we were done, I took that newspaper outside and shook it off so the chickens could eat the parts we didn't use. Mom did it the same way, except we didn't have chickens, so we just tossed the tips and bad pieces.
None of my "womenfolk" let me help with the pressure canning. I could wash the beans, and help pack the jars, but working with the pressure cooker and hot water was something that the adults did. I was scared of the pressure cooker.
Now, I grow my own beans. I like to snap them in the kitchen, or sometimes in the living room, in front of the TV. We didn't plant enough rows that I get enough each time to can, so I'm freezing my beans this year. But, just doing this activity that I did with my Mom and with my Grandma's gives me a sense of belonging and tradition. It's a tie from my present to my past and to them; the women I love most.
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