Morning in America

This is from the side of our house (the south side), looking east down towards the cow pen.



This is a picture of the cattle pen from the "down" side, looking up towards the house (and a little to the left, or south).



This is looking from the pen into the NE corner of the pasture, the pasture I would like to get fenced asap so that my new animals can eat all of that good grass. After all, I can't just put them on leashes and stand there while they nibble for 18 hours.



Enjoy!

Found the Pictures!

Turns out I AM a good farmer!

The pictures I thought were lost were still on my camera. When I put the errant memory stick back in, it only showed the pictures on the memory stick. When I took the stick out, wa la! Cow pictures.

Violet is on the left.

Lulu: Cattle Rancher

I was going to post some pictures of my cattle, Rose and Violet the beef-strain Red Polls, but I forgot to put the memory stick in my camera and all of my "Morning In America" photos vanished in the ether. Obviously, I'm not much of a farmer.

Anyhoo, Rose and Violet arrived two nights ago and quickly took a liking to their new, bigger-bully-cow-free water tub and feeding trough, their spacious, recycled-oak sided loafing shed, and their green, green, poop-free (for about 90 seconds) grass.

Providence has smiled on these little heifers, and they will probably get to live long beyond their "usefulness", meaning past their first couple of calves. Am I playing God? Yes. Yes I am. But it occurs to me that some cows deserve to just live, have some babies, and, one day, fall asleep on the grass and never get up.

Will I slaughter their male offspring?

Yes. Yes I will.

Sheep are next!

Congratulations, 10,000th Visitor!!!

I wasn't there to honor you, dear 10,000th checker of my blog, but I admire you and wish you all the best.

(I'm pretty sure it wasn't me.)

Now if you'll excuse me.... As the new Internet Wunderkind, I have many interviews with daytime TV pundits and sales pitches from major corporate advertisers to attend.

In honor of Flip's techie post

www.blueruin2.blogspot.com

Yesterday I called AT&T to ask for a better rate on our home phone. No one calls us and we rarely call others (sorry, Others), so spending $54 a month (all those damn taxes!) seemed a little extreme.

In order to get a better rate, the gal on the phone was exploring packages.

"Who is your current Internet provider?"
"Well, AT&T at work, but not at home."
"Who provides your Internet at home?"
"We don't have a computer at home."
Pause.
"Do you plan on getting a home computer soon?"
"No." (Don't I spend enough damn time on them already?!)
Pause.
"Who is your current cable or satellite provider?"
"We don't have cable or satellite."
"How many TVs do you have in your home?"
"One."
"We can provide you with 100 channels for $34.99 a month as part of a package."
(Skeptical.) "Mmmm...."
Pause.
"And we can send you $25 cash back for signing up now."
"Well, it's a kind offer, but that would mean I'd be spending MORE each month, when really I'm trying to spend LESS. Plus, there's only about 3 channels that I would actually want. (ESPN, Bravo, and Comedy Central) So no thanks."
"We can give you a $5 discount on your phone bill each month."
"HOLY SHIT! THANKS!!!"

So I'm saving $60 a year on the same service just for asking. I may be some sort of tech-ailing freak, but I'm not afraid to ask. Actually, we've been really happy with our AT&T service! We pay them about $400 a month for 4 phone lines, Internet (at work), and 2 cell phones (I hardly ever use mine), so they throw us a bone every once in awhile in the form of a gift card. And their customer service has been very good! This is not a paid advertisement for AT&T, but when you get good service and a deal (though one that is not really a deal for the behemoth but it beats a sharp stick in the eye), it's actually blog-worthy.

Woah, these are loathsome times....

American Splendor

I'm sick of all of my movies. But I wanted to watch something last night after a long and productive work day followed by a long and productive meeting that caused me to miss "The Office" and I didn't want to watch "Pan's Labyrinth", one of two at-home Netflix offerings. So I dug through my movies, evaluated how sick I was of each one of them, and decided I was least sick of "American Splendor".

About the time I sat down with the remote, Kevin pulled in, triumphant from finally getting caught up on the stone blasting (finally! after a week of late nights). He really should watch our other Netflix choice, "Maya Lin: A Strong, Clear Vision". I've seen it a few times now and he's seen it once, but he should watch it again now that he is a professional "funeral architecture memorialist". We stuck with the Splendor, not unaware of the american splendor present in the room. Two adults, in ersatz pajamas, settled into their cheap furniture that's mostly comfortable and surrounded by little piles of folded laundry that no one (me) has gotten around to putting away because, well, there will be more tomorrow. Might as well wait and get it all at once. After a brief debrief, we pushed play.

If you've never seen "American Splendor", you probably should. It's about Harvey Pekar, the real-life man behind the real-life comic book series about his real-life called "American Splendor". When I first watched it, I was hoping it wouldn't be as disturbing as that other comic book hero documentary, "Crumb". That movie creeped me out. This one didn't--not at all. It's really clever and interesting and Paul Giamatti does an amazing job of keeping his face in a painful-looking scowl throughout. Grade? A-.

The reason I'm writing is this: I've often thought about just why I blog, and why I get so personal, so 'refreshingly raw'. I've wondered if I'm some sort of exhibitionist, or if I'm a megalomaniac who thinks my life is so beautiful that I must share it with a underprivileged world. After some shallow searching, I can assure you, dear reader, that it is neither of those.

It's more of a cathartic thing. I'm purging the bowels of my soul here! I've often batted around the idea that there is nothing more interesting than a regular life well-told, and after that same idea was voiced in the movie last night it hit me full-force, 'Yeah. That's true. That's why I blog'. See? Full-force. I realize that my telling isn't always, shall we say, eloquent, but it's honest (though I do keep some things in reserve) and it is most definitely real. What do we do with the short time we have? How do we get through each repetitive day? What keeps us going, why do we make plans (or not), who do we shack up with, how do we deal with the other monkeys that surround us, what makes us the same and different? It is the minutia of life that I enjoy hearing about and writing about. There's a lot of good stuff in the mundane.

And another thing I know is that I am an educator by nature. Whenever I learn something new, my brain immediately begins working on how I can transfer that knowledge to others. I like knowing that about myself, about my 'nature', and I'm pretty good at it and enjoy sharing. So, when I reveal "personal" things that others won't touch, like withering bank account balances and marital issues and the like, it does open me up to unspoken judgment I suppose, but it also (I hope) shows people how certain people do certain things like start a business or raise a couple of kids. If you enjoy reading about it, I'm glad. If you don't, well, there's lots of other things to do.

It is also a direct rebellion against those articles I've spoken of in the past that talk about people who give up the rat race for country tranquility and then don't offer any details about how in the hell they managed it beyond "Mr. Farmer used to be a high-powered investment banker in NYC." Well, hell, it's not real tough for a multi-millionaire to make his "country dream" a frickin' reality! What about the rest of us chumps?

On that bitter note, I just got my new issue of Country Living magazine which, I can assure you, has NOTHING to do with the realities of country living that, for now, I can only read about in real country living magazines. It's all about suspiciously wealthy 30-somethings who live in these suspiciously manicured (but beautiful) homes that I want to live in filled with suspiciously expensive things they pick up from quaint--and suspiciously yuppie--flea markets (most of which I really don't want. I'm really, really getting sick of so much shit in the world and in a house). In other words, it's all about style, and it does make me a little envious, and I'm thinking of writing a nasty letter before cancelling my subscription. But I might not. In a world of things to fight for....

Yesterday I donated about $40 to a hospital that is trying by the skin of its teeth to help the women and girls who are being raped, mutilated, and killed by guerilla fighters and even UN peacekeeping troops in the Dem. Rep. of the Congo. I read an article about it in my mom's Glamour magazine (I know, right? It made it that much more difficult to give a dang about the ridiculous wares offered up on the other pages) and then promptly did nothing. But I got all over it yesterday, donating AND printing off form letters to the do-nothing president of the DNR, addressing and stamping envelopes, and sending them to people to sign and send. Then I attended a meeting of the Concerned Citizens for the Black Community and took some of the burden off of the one increasingly frantic woman stuck doing all of their grant paperwork. So I fought the good fight yesterday. It was a good day.

Stop Judging Me, Woman!

It's been a surprisingly long time--long enough to give me false hope. However, last night, my m-i-l pissed me off.

When I pulled into the drive last night, my parents-in-law, an uncle, and a cousin were chatting. I unloaded the kids, and Mark and I joined the chat. Soon enough, the only people left were my m-i-l, Mark, and me. I was flipping Mark around, throwing him up and catching him. When I put him down, he'd run right back to me. This was enjoyable for all.

I put him down again and, again, he ran right back. I asked in that mommy-to-adorable-baby tone "Why do you keep running back to me, Marky?" and m-i-l immediately answered...

"Because he misses you, mom.... You put him in day care all day."

And that's not the first time. It's probably the 5th or 6th time she's dug into that particular wound-that's-not-really-a-wound.

I said, in a "light, jovial" tone, "Don't try to guilt trip me, Beth." (I picked up Mark and began walking away) "Marky, tell your grandma that when she wants to start supporting us, you can stay home from daycare." Light laughter, and we're on our way down to Stevie, who is freaking out because he can't ride his bike on the driveway because the cracks in the asphalt have just been sealed.

Remember--this is all from a woman who constantly cracks on her own stay-at-home-mom daughter for turning her grandchild into a clingy monster who is holding his mother and hated new brother hostage because he throws screaming fits anytime his mom's attention is not 100% focused on HIM. (My sister-in-law, by the way, realizes that she may have overdone it and is trying to make amends.) And this is also from a woman who once told me that, while she hated waiting so long for grandchildren, she's glad that her daughter waited to have them until she could "stay at home with them while they're little". So I know what she's thinking.

And then it began to fester. And then, while I waited for an ever-later Kevin to get home (an hour went by!), it festered more. I took Mark outside and started picking up pecans and missing my own mother--who would never say crap like that--and all my friends at the Hill, whom I could vent to on a daily basis if need be. I missed Ted and Judi, stalwarts in the ongoing struggle against m-i-l stereotypes (she fits it big time, Flip). And then I felt really lonely and wanted to watch that Netflix movie that's been sitting around, the one about a young widow who goes off to an uncertain future in Wyoming in someone else's house. It seemed relevant somehow.

And here's why the wound isn't really a wound: I am an advocate for daycare! Good daycare. And that's where Marky is. I can't quote you studies, but I can tell you that kids who've gone to quality daycare and then home to quality parents tend to thrive in the real world--meaning the world beyond their own living rooms with no one around but their own mom. And I say "mom" because, in this scenario, it's only up to mom to make the decision on whether to stay home or "leave him in daycare all day"--her son has nothing to do with this (mostly) non-existent "choice".

What do these tiny daycare prisoners gain?
1. Self-sufficiency
2. The ability to deal with other adult authority figures
3. The ability to get along with other kids
4. The important ability to tune-out other kids
5. The chance to play and learn all day with people who know a damn sight more than I do about early childhood development
6. There's more, but those are the big ones, except healthy immune systems and...
7. Food, shelter, clothing, toys, vacations, art supplies, savings plans, cars filled with gas to take them places--places that usually have an admission fee, and--oh yeah!--parents, including FEMALE parents, who get to use their education and talents to build a business or career/serve the community/volunteer and otherwise thrive in the real world--the world beyond their own living rooms with no one around but their kids.

This is important: I am, in NO WAY, saying that moms or dads who DO stay home for whatever reason are having some sort of negative impact on their kids, or aren't thriving or sharing their own talents and gifts, etc. To each parent, her or his own. Period. In my house, both parents working is not only necessary but desirable. I have the flexibility I need to tend for my kids in the way I see fit, so I'm good. And, even if I could stay home full-time, I can guarantee you that my kids would be in daycare at least part-time.

The bottom line is that good parents with the intention of producing independent and responsible and happy children often do, no matter how they go about it. Period. And they can do without those "light" but heavily-loaded judgments.

Still Too Busy. Sorry.

Remember: I'm only at this computer half the day, M-F, and I still have to 1. work and 2. pick up Stevie at 3 and Mark by 5:30. That doesn't always leave a lot of time to write.

Getting closer to getting the animals. Still wrangling over fencing, but at least their windbreak shed is getting built. No chickens this fall--I'm afraid it will set Kevin over the edge. Yes, I think he's being unreasonable, even though he's being completely reasonable.

Still on the very edge with the money situation--the bills piled in last week to the tune of about $3,000. We are selling monuments and other monument-related services, but people want small gray stones around here--the cheapest kind, of course. And we never try to upsell.

There's been tension between Kevin and me regarding my animals and his self- and work-focus (self and work--same thing?). The money issue was to be expected and we're fine with each other about that, but it does add an undercurrent of stress to anything else that floats along.

In a word? Drudgery.
Future outlook? OK!