Oh Deer!

We interrupt the silence to pose a few questions.

1) What in heaven's name are you doing in the back yard?

 2) Don't you know the good acorns are up on the hill just a few yards from the tree stand?

3) Where is your mother?

4) Do you by any chance know where your father likes to hang out? 

Check It Out

All. Social Functions. All

I checked the catalog at both libraries and the book is available to be checked out. 

Thanksgiving Turkey

"Catching the Turkey" Grandma Moses 1940

More in the "Catching the Turkey" series here. 

Though I know little about Grandma Moses, primitivism, or art, I am a fan of Anna Mary Robertson, and enjoy looking at her work.

"A Blizzard" 1956

A lot can happen

I thought it might be a hoot to spend some time reading about the years leading up to the first Thanksgiving from the perspective of folks on the other side of the pond, so I pulled a few crappy old English history books off the shelves.

From pages 137-8 of A Manual of English History by Edward M. Lancaster (American Book Company, New York) comes this about Utopia:

Thomas More-- From the prophetic pen of More appeared a work entitled "Utopia," or Nowhere, a satire on the times, especially the reign of Henry VII. Utopia was an ideal commonwealth which an imaginary companion of Amerigo Vespucci, deserted on the American continent, found somewhere in the midst of the wilds. It had wide and clean streets, comfortable houses, a system of public schools in which every child received a good education, perfect religious toleration, and universal suffrage, though with a family, and not an individual ballot; and the sole object of government was the good of the whole people, and not the pleasure of the king. Had More's pseudo-voyager but wandered to the American continent a few centuries later, he would have found his model "Utopia" a real as well as an ideal republic.

(My emphasis)

Utopia was first published in Latin in 1516. It was first translated into English in 1551, about 20 years after the start of the Reformation in England-- and More's execution in 1535-- and 70 years before the Pilgrims landed. The text from which that passage comes was first published in 1905.

A lot can happen in a few centuries can't it?

There's a lot of space here at the Farm

It going to be cold tonight.

When it's cold, the smart thing to do is divvy up the space into small units & heat only those that are necessary.

Rocky is under the covers. Missy's on top of them. The door is closed and I can still smell Daughter C's fire which warms the greater surrounds.

I'll go check on it.

Meanwhile. It's right toasty here with the little electric heater and warm mist humidifier running in this 12x12 dogxdog space.

Laziness. Pure & Simple.

Miss M did not think too much of the fact that I simply bulk uploaded the photos from the Christmas Market the other evening. She was particularly troubled by all the work you, Dear Reader, would have to do to see the store front candy canes.

I have no excuse other than pure and simple laziness. 

Fortunately, I have a minute this morning to correct the situation.

On July 5, 2014 two Downtown stores were almost wholly consumed by fire. I hear tell the owner(s) of the buildings did not have insurance-- but that's just what I hear on the street. 

I think this building is testiment to the Great Southern motto, no matter what your circumstances are around the Christmas Season, You Can Never Over-Decorate!

Rocky Update

Rocky is doing well. Thank you all for asking! 

He is not supposed to exert himself for 10 days. Daughter C has sequestered him in her room. He comes out occasionally to say "Hello" and to see what's up in the world. I think he's recovering quite nicely. 

Miss Missy, on the other hand, is a mess. She sits by his door and cries and cries. And then when he does come out, she's embarrassingly preoccupied with his... his... . Well, let's just say she's noticed Rocky is not the same boy he was a few days ago.  

We Participated in the Market to the Tune of $42 AND Contributed ... 42x0.07 = ...

$2.94 to the coffers of Mississippi

There are days when I think the Girls & I should be in charge of these events. 

Only one shop had cider. If WE were running the show, all shops would be encouraged to have cider.

Here's a bit of what I found picture-worthy:

This you have to pay attention to. Note the candy canes.

Seems early to me

First Daughter C fire of the season-- a Beauty!

Daughter C is such a fanatic. She refused to start a fire until I'd moved the highly flammable books and deer away from the fire box. 

I fuss at her for being overly cautious but... . Who am I to judge? She might be right. And believe you me, I would rather wake up tomorrow morning to a nice hot cup of coffee brought to me by Mr. Big Food who brewed said coffee in our very own unburnt kitchen than to the sound of fire engines.  

So I moved the deer and the books and the fire is almost out.

It's early to have a fire. It's not even Thanksgiving. 

a sad post

Rocky is having surgery tomorrow morning.

See?

I wasn't making that up. I even marked a passage to share:

That public virtue which among the ancients was denominated patriotism, is derived from a strong sense of our own interest in the preservation and prosperity of the free government of which we are members. Such a sentiment, which had rendered the legions of the republic almost invincible, could make but a very feeble impression on the mercenary servants of a despotic prince; and it became necessary to supply that defect by other motives, of a different, but not less forcible nature; honour and religion.

from Gibbon's The Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire, Moses Hadas (abridger), Fawcett Publications, Greenwich, Conn 1962 (page 27).

Security alert !

So. I am sitting a few seats down from a woman who cannot refrain from placing call after call after call on her not-iPhone6. If it were not so annoying it would be entertaining.

I have learned that she's thinking of selling her house and the address of said house. I have learned where she banks and what pharmacy she uses. I can't remember her friend's name because I don't care but I do know she isn't well and that folks at the church are praying for her. I know she missed a call from her insurance agent the other day and that it was nothing important.

I also know that the new iPhone6+ she ordered from a particular store in Madison came in but was returned. Why? Her credit card was hacked and she had to o cancel it. Imagine that.

I am now going to start reading an abridged version of Gibbon's The Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire. 

Hey! Yo! Mike!

I'm re-doing the bookshelves in the BunkHouse! 

We are moving at the speed of  .   .     .       putting things back together here at the Farm after the Lost Summer. As evidence, I submit to you this shelf

which is finished  and is accidentally symmetrical. God works in mysterious ways ;-) [Please attend to the two crappy old books.]

Dang. Double Dang. You can't see the bottom shelves. They are dreamy, civilized hoots. I'd also like to draw your attention to the slim volume on the war shelf over there on the right.  

I do enjoy putting together book shelves-- libraries of a certain sort-- for folks (Mike) to peruse. The re-do of the BunkHouse-- now known as the Jager Haus-- Library has been fun. Out are the many volumes of needlecraft encyclopedias and kitchen decorating magazines.

In are Dogs & Guns & Star Trek.

Which reminds me. Hey. Yo. Mr. Low Man. I didn't even think of you when I was putting this little library together. I didn't even consider what you might find interesting. 

Sometimes There's Just No Tellin'

what's happening here on the Farm. (Yes. That is is a 10ml beaker. I have hundreds of them!)

Take this evening, for example. I went to lock up the Jager Haus (formerly known as as the 'Bunk House'

which is still not  yet put together properly)

and I came upon this:

What the H-E-Double Toothpicks is this sitting on the table that is the staging area for the 

bar Refurbishment?

It's Western Cedar. We-- that' s Daughter C and I (!) -- have been breathing paint stripper for months. I've rehabilitated an ancient Craftsman belt sander which works like a charm. It's-- the bar, not the sander-- almost ready to move inside and assume it's place under the bar top (see photo above- look for the orange drill, place bar under bar top) which, I might add, I've stripped and sanded AND stained.

Where was I? 

No Tellin'.

~~

"Marica?"

"Yes, Missy?"

"What aren't you telling?"

"Oh, Missy! You silly. There's no tellin' what I'm not tellin'!" 

What do you want to bet

we manage to shimmy through that break in the line? 

Okay.Okay. I know that we-- as in my location indicated by that little stick thing-- aren't going to shimmy through anything. We are pretty much stationary. We don't shimmy.

But what do you want to bet that little break in that big mean green line breaks up even more right before it passes over my little stick?

I'll bet you One United States Dollar that we don't get near as much rain as-- at first glance-- you would think we might be getting. 

Mac & Cheese: This is Serious

Data

Everyone-- which is to say each and every solitary individual who has ever lived and is worth his/her salt-- wants to to consider him/her/itself special. And so it should come as no surprise that Mr. Big Food & I thought ourselves quite special this evening. Really? How many other folks in our little county were doing statistics on macaroni & cheese recipes? In the state, even?

Let that sink in. How many other people in the Sovereign State of Mississippi-- besides us here at the Farm-- are engaged in a Macaroni & Cheese Contest? This Year.

One of the first challenges we had was converting the ordinal good-better-best scale into something more orderly. You may recall that here on the Farm we like numbers... but we do NOT like people who try to make numbers out of things that are not numbers.

Anyhoo.... After we'd settled on the scoring scheme-- W-L-T-- we tabulated the wins, losses, and ties. Diner Mac is the clear winner, thus far, with a record of 13-1-1. I do feel a little bit sorry for custard mac (1-14). It wasn't that bad. 

Meanwhile, I see that I took some photos from earlier in the day-- when I thought Daughter C was never coming home with store-bought bagels.

Photo Op

"Hello? Have you seen Marica? I've been looking everywhere for her!"

"What? No! Who!! I'll eat your tail if you keep talking, you measly amphibian!!"

"Now, Missy. That's no way to talk to the ... gecko... lizard... chameleon... , is it?"

"RUFF!!"