"Pssst."

"Marica?"

"Yes, Missy?"

"Shhhh. You'll wake him up."

"Okay. What is it?"

"Marica. I've been doing some olfactory investigations and I fear that funky smell isn't just the moldy drywall in this room."

"What do you think it is in addition, Missy?"

"Well... . I hesitate to say but I think it may be... . Oh! This pains me so to say because I love him so. But I think it might be... Rocky."

"RUFF!!???"

"Now. Now. Calm down, Old Friend. Nothing personal."

"RUFF! Ruff ruff ruffffff. RufffffffFFFFF!!"

"Now, now, Rocky. No need to go all ad hominem on Missy."

"Oh! Why I never!! You have cut me to the bone, My Friend."

"Ruff. Ruff."

"Me? A big silly sissy?? Is that what you are calling me? Because I enjoyed my bath and you cut yours short with clear maloderiforous consequences?"

"Ruff?"

"Yeah. I don't think that's a word either, Rocky."

"Well! Be that as it may, I aim to please. And if I enjoyed the bath Miss M gave me, and if I smell good as a consequence, so be it. YOU STINK, My Dear Friend. And come to think of it... . Well."

"Alright. Alright. Rocky. It's true you don't smell all that good, even after your half-bath."

"Ruff."

"I know. You are a self-sufficient dog and you think you can keep yourself clean. Perhaps it's a matter of standards."

"ruff."

"And Missy isn't a silly sissy. You know that."

"Indeed I am not! I scared the sh.. "

"RUFF!"

"Oh. Sorry. ... I scared the living daylights out of that fellow who came to the door the other day."

"Ruff!"

"Thank you, Friend. I am quite intimidating when I bark in my low voice and jump up, aren't I?"

"Ruuuufffff... ruffff! Ruuuuufffff!"

"Okay. Okay. Enough. You know, Rocky, Daughter C will be back on the Farm soon. Maybe you would allow her to give you a decent bath."

"RUFF!! RUFF!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

"What? Sister C is coming home!!???"

"Yes. For a little while."

"Oh my goodness! Oh my goodness!! We have so much upon which to catch up on! Hey! Rocky! Want to come into my box and snuggle and chat? Gosh! I wonder if she'll take us to the pasture?"

"R.u.f.f."

"G'night, y'all."

"Oh! Of course. Good night, Marica. Oh! Rocky!! C'mon, boy!"

"Ruff." 

What you've missed while I've been not blogging | A Photo Post with a Few Captions

That's the pile of ripped out carpet over there on the right. Trash fellows won't pick it up because when your bedrooms get flooded and you have to rip out the carpet-- you're "remodeling." We're "remodeling" alright.

Because there is always an appropriate seriousness to silliness ratio.

This woman driving the lift is amazing. Stubborn as the day is long. She will not be beaten by a low shop porch roof. 61 sheets of drywall. Under cover.

Misc. stuff.

Constructing The Greenhouse at Highland Heights

For Daughter C-- real electricians!!

It's been 20 days since the flood.

It's been a long 20 days. 

But Thank the Good Lord Almighty the kitchen didn't flood!! Pork stew served with 

Sweet Potato Biscuits

"I don't like it in here"

"Well. That's just too bad."

"It smells bad."

"Rrrruuuuufff!"

"Well! I never! I do my best to smell good. What are you saying, my 'friend'? That I smell as bad as this room?"

"ruff."

"Honestly, Marica, it does smell ... funky in here, doesn't it?"

"Ruff?"

"Where in the world did you hear that word, Missy?"

"Well, you suggested I increase my vocabulary. I think I've gotten a 'quote unquote' classical vocabulary nailed but what I lack is a 'colokeelal' vocabulary, so while you've been out doing God knows what these last few days, Rocky and I have been watching those DiNoMite dvds and I took note of 'funky.' I thought it one one those words I could use every six months or so for impact-- you know, to impart a greater shade of meaning to my thoughts. And I do see that it has made an impact."

"Ruff!!"

"Good for you, Missy. It does smell funky in here."

"You know, Marica, sometimes you get sidetracked. I don't like it in here."

"Well. That's just too bad."

I'm blogging!!

Miss M has discovered that pennies work magic in perking up plants in water.

Also, mint deters flies from flying around mint's microenvironmint.*

It's summer in Mississippi. (I hear tell it's cool in L.A.)

And the best chicken Mr. Big Food has ever made. Little bit of olive oil & some salt and pepper & herbs in a 450 degree oven. Yum.

*I did that on on purpose.

Well, the good news is

Rocky has finally decided he should have his own blog. "Ruff!"

He feels Missy is upstaging him on The Blog. So he set himself up a little nook-- made out of flooded-room furniture remnants-- in the corner of the living room, and he got himself a google identity (heads up Mr. Low-Man!) and he commenced to blogging about Life on the Farm These Days from His Perspective.

Okay. 

That's a lie. That would be funny but I don't have the time to keep the blog up, let alone help Rocky with his. He has a limited vocabulary, don't you know. That would be a lot of work.

But the actual good news from Ricky-- the fellow with the micro-, mini-, back- and track hoes-- is that I will not lose the herb garden. 

Ricky could not give us a project estimate on what it will take to do what needs to be done. He charges by the hour. The micro-mini track hoe is $75/hr. The big ass one is $125. What this means is that if we want to be economical, all of the herbs need to get gone so they don't get in the way. It's an efficiency/priority issue. Water barriers and French drains trump herb gardens.

According to Dwayne, the herbs can be put back. But Ricky doesn't need to be spending time cherry picking through herbs to do what Dwayne needs to be done to put in a water barrier and French drain.

All told, it will take "a load"-- a love that as a unit of measure-- of gravel. Do you have any idea what a load of gravel costs?

Now all I have to do is figure out how to move the herbs.

Good thing I have a spare thinkin' cap in my drawer.

Would that this was my only concern this evening. 

WHAT?

http://www.breitbart.com/Big-Government/2014/06/20/Threats-Bribes-and-the-KKK-The-Most-Insane-Story-Of-The-MS-Senate-Race

The one thing that has kept me sane these last few weeks has been following the insanity of the Mississippi senate run-off. As we-- here at the Farm-- move from total and utter chaos to mere complete disarray, the race has been moving in the other direction.

I take that as a good sign for us folk at the Farm.

~~

The critters are confused. And I'm not just talking about my fellow citizens. Poor critters. 

Good Lord. Why is Missy barking at Snaps?

Gotta go.

A. Leland's Chuckwagon

Left: Ribeye; Right: T-Bone? Plus grilled squash

A. Leland has claimed Wednesday as his night to cook supper. This evening he really out-did himself.

Mac & cheese

The steak was medium rare throughout. Here's how he accomplished that.

After what was apparently much research, he discovered an alternative to the classic streak-grilling paradigm. 

Subject to modification, and from memory:

• build a very hot fire on one end of the grill
• put the steak on the "cold" end of the grill and grill until it comes up to an internal temp of 115 °; might take 30 minutes or more
• when it reaches that internal temperature, move it to the hot end of the grill to sear-- I guess flipping it once or twice
• grill until the internal temp is medium rare-- whatever that temp is

When you think about it, it makes sense. 

It really was nice and pink throughout. And quite delicious.

Plus he made homemade rootbeer ice cream for dessert. Served in little waffle cones. 

Yesterday Mr. Big Food made chicken & pastry. 

"Good week of food," as Mr. Big Food often says. 

"What in the blue blazes is going on?"

"Ruff!!"

"Oh! Very good, Missy. I see you have discovered colorful and polite phrases to use instead of those nasty, ugly cuss words. Good girl!"

"Ruff."

"Dear friend, did you really think I wouldn't live up to the challenge?"

"ruff."

"As I was asking, what in the devil is going on, Marica? I haven't seen Sadie or Snaps in days, the living room is filled with beds on their sides and books and more books-- not that it wasn't already filled with books and more books but these are just randomly stacked up everywhere-- and strange people are coming and going-- you might think you're fooling us by sequestering us in the den but we can smell them, you know-- and there are new noisy machines running day and night. So I am most politely asking for an explanation as to what in the ordered universe is going on."

"Ruff?"

"Okay. In a word, disorder-- chaos, almost."

"Would you mind providing a bit more detail?"

"Ruff."

"Well, you know Daughter C's and Miss M's rooms flooded."

"Oh yes! It was a soppy stinky mess."

"So we had to take everything on the floor out of their rooms and I called the insurance agent and... . Three men can empty a room in a heartbeat! And after that, they ripped out the carpet and then... ."

"Oh! Marica!! What has become of Sadie and Snaps. I know I torment Sadie to no end-- as does she, I-- but I do hope she and that friendly little kitty are alright. OH! GREAT HEAVENS!! They didn't get swept away by the flood, did they?????"

"RUFF!!! RUFF?????????"

"Calm down, boy. Your friend Snaps is fine. So is Sadie. They are just confined to their respective bathrooms."

"ruff."

"Poor dears. Carry on with the story, please."

"Where was I...?"

"Ruff."

"Oh right. Rip out carpet. And then there were multiple rounds of cleanup and drying. And then we started to take out the wet drywall and then... ."

"Wait. What?"

"Ruff?"

"Wouldn't wet drywall be more properly called wetwall?"

"r.u.f.f."

"Shall I continue? Or do we need to talk about nouns and adjectives?"

"Pray, continue. Far be it from me to do or say anything to prolong this story."

"Ruuuufffffff!!!"

"What are you laughing about, Rocky?"

"ruff."

"I know, Dear Friend, I did ask. My apologies. Please forgive me."

"Ruff." 

"Shhh... . Speak quietly. She can't hear and she can't speak dog."

"ruff."

"Anyway--  our neighbor, Dwayne the contractor,  came out and he counseled to not buy any dry drywall because we have to get to the bottom of the problem and he suggested we call ... ."

"ruff."

"Me too, old boy. Oh! Look! It's young Wesley Crusher on Star Trek Next Gen reruns. Boy! Are you seeing this?"

"RUFF!!"

"Shhhh... ."

"And Belinda surveyed the situation and agrees with Dwayne. We need French drains."

...

...

"I said, 'We need French drains.' Surely one of you has a response."

"Oh! Of course we do! It's the only logical solution. The French are such a logical people. Don't you agree, My Dear Friend?"

"Rrrruuuuufff....f....ff.f.f"

"Good Grief. You've lost interest already?"

"Well... . It was a long story and our sense is you could go on all night without ever really answering my initial question."

"ruff."

"Okay. Short answer: Chchchcanges. Changes. BE PREPARED."

"How hard was that?"

"Sometimes I wonder why I bother to talk to you."

"Oh. Please. Marica. It's because I am such a good conversationalist."

"ru... f.. f."

~~

THANKS to Miss M & Mr. BIg Food's Dad for the kick in the pants I needed. 

Disaster Update

Okay-- in the grand scheme of things it's not a full-fledged disaster. It just seems like it!

The carpet & padding are in a pile by the dumpster. The tack strips are gone and every fan we have is running like crazy. I'll be heading to Starkvegas to get a dehumidifier. Oh! By the way, the wet/dry shop vac is amazing.

Next step-- start scraping the latex paint off the floor in Miss M's room. What idiot... ?

Speaking of idiocy-- I have here in front of me Volume Two of Diseases of Infants and Children by J.P. Griffith, M.D., Ph.D. (1921). There are eight pages on idiocy. Fascinating stuff.

Welcome To My World

Ah, Man... I Almost Cried

From Kat who saw it on Facebook today. She said it was captioned, "Spotted in the Albion Beatnik bookstore in Oxford, UK."

Thanks, Kat!

A Day Late But Still Worth Remembering

May 26, 1907 - June 11, 1979

John Wayne... was the movies' most powerful and popular embodiment of masculinity. He personified all of the qualities that were once considered admirable and good about the male sex: He was six-foot-four and broad as a horse, with a craggy face and heavy-lidded mastiff eyes, strong and generally silent but with an authoritative, resonating voice that Life magazine once described as sounding "like someone sandpapering the strings of a bass fiddle." Beyond his majestic physical presence, John Wayne created an image of heroism in this movies that stood for generations of Americans... as America's brightest beacon of moral purpose, gallantry, and honor.

[From Encyclopedia of Popular Culture, Jane & Michael Stern, Harper Perennial, New York, 1992.]

Everyone knows 'John Wayne' wasn't his real name-- but did you know how he came to be 'John Wayne?' The director John Ford-- with whom he made many many epic films-- suggested he choose the name of "someone in American history he really liked, so he chose Mad Anthony Wayne, the American Revolutionary War general." 'Tony Wayne' was too Italian sounding (!) and so 'John' it was.

Your favorite John Wayne movie? 

:-)

Sadie Is Not Amused

When I play with my cat, who knows whether she isn't amusing herself with me more than I am with her.

--Montaigne (1533-1592)

Sadie is not amused by the state of affairs in Miss M's room.

Snaps isn't all that happy about things, either, but she'd taking it in typical Snaps fashion. 

(Thanks to Daughter C recommending I post about the cats.)

Dear Richy--

All of punditry is now in the game of explaining what almost none of us saw coming in the Cantor race.

--Rich Lowry, Editor, National Review

Please accept an invitation from Mr. Big Food and myself to come on down to the Farm sometime this fall-- at your convenience, of course, and after the NRO cruise.  

We will wine and dine you (to the extent possible in a dry county). We'll introduce you to some local folk and customs-- maybe even let you shoot a gun! 

And we'll sit around the picnic table and 'splain things to you. 

Looking forward to hearing from you, 

Marica

What a dumb ass. I've got a crappy old book or two by William F. Richy is no Buckley. 

What a Pleasant Morning!

• I found two old socks and two empty water bottles. The dogs are content.
• It's not raining.
• Got an apologetic email from the newspaper editor.
• And Eric Cantor lost BIG. Hahahahahahaha!

And now... off to unload the dishwasher.

When I'm Dead and Buried

up at the summit, I want my tombstone to read:

Marica Caroline Bernstein
December 4, 1958 - xxber X, 2xxx
Loving wife and mother who loaded the dishwasher time & time again

I want those italics in there.

People: It ain't all that hard! You can do it, too! 

Miss M even made a magnetic sign to guide you.

I am trying to salvage Daughter C's portfolio.

from the flooded closet

And would very much appreciate folks rinsing and then putting their dirty dishes in the dish washer.

Thank you!

We are so great! UPDATED

Prosperity tries the fortunate; adversity the great.

--Pliny the Younger

It's raining!!

I will resume being light, gay-- amusing even-- just as soon as I've had a bowl of Rice Krispies and fed the cats.

Carry on.

#firstworldproblems

UPDATE: Should have posted much earlier today. I must had hit the wrong button. 

This has been a long day

Mr. Cotton Field's fields got flooded, as did Miss M and Daughter C' rooms.

I got a new shop vac.

Things are not going well.

Me & my new wet/dry vac have sucked up gallons of nasty water from the carpet in Miss M and Daughter C's rooms.

The wet/dry vac has amazing suction power.

We-- that's the wet/dry vac & me-- peeled back some carpet.

Not pretty. It's wet to to the  core.

More Than We Asked For

For the last few days A. Leland and I have been asking for a little rain for our gardens.

Poor Missy