family

LOST MEMORIES FOUND.

/ helbergfarmstories / 2 Comments

I love remembering things from my childhood.  The best ones are the rare ones that a unique smell, sight, or sound recalls.  This cart is just a prop for a local business, but it is exactly like one we had as kids with our horses:

We had a black and white spotted Welsh pony named Dolly.  She was a brat.  It was obvious that she had been abused by people somewhere in her life, but now she was with us, and ALL of our critters were spoiled rotten (even the ones we would eventually eat – eek-haha!).  Well-fed.  Plenty of pasture room to roam.  Beautiful barn for housing everyone from the harsh Wisconsin winters (we were not far from Lake Michigan, and the winter winds off the lake are brutal).  We worked all summer long to store enough food for our critters, ourselves, and some friends and relatives.  We had some new neighbors move into the small home across the road, and they had three young boys – about our age.

Once we got to know them, they realized that we played like boys even though we were girls.  Mud was a blast.  Getting into stuff we were not supposed to was classic.  Then there were our horses which was an instant draw for all kids. 

The folks splurged on a 2-wheeled little cart (just like the pic above) for us to try to train Dolly to pull.  Keep in mind, most of our training was self-taught.  They got us a good harness, taught us the basics, and then we had at it.  When the boys next door found out, they could not wait to get up on it.

Jeffie (the youngest of the three boys) ran up to the cart all excited and was not paying attention to what he was grabbing ahold of to try to get up.  He placed his hand on the wheel instead of the seat, then pony leached forward (because she was a brat – remember?); his hand slipped in between the spokes and got caught on the edge of the seat, thus breaking his arm.

We ran him back home at once, and his folks took him to the doctor.  He came home with a cast that had to stay on most of the summer.  It never slowed down his wanting to get on the wagon, ride a horse, or just play with us. 

The best part of remembering this story now is that no attorneys, lawsuits, courts, or any of the nowadays B.S. usually happens.  It was just kids playing, and it was an ACCIDENT!  Yes, accidents really did happen back then.  Apparently, there is no such thing as an accident anymore?!?  Our parents even offered to pay the doctor bill, but the neighbors would not hear of it – “they were just being kids.”, was their reply. 

Isn’t it funny, the things you thought were long forgotten, then a simple something like seeing a cart can bring them all back? 

You can also check me out at:  https://lifelessonslived.com/ for all the fun things I have learned in life.

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WHAT ABOUT THE REST OF US?

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I just opened another email about food, and I have had it!  Why are all of these beautiful dishes designed for master cooks?  Shaved asparagus salad – really?!

I love asparagus but NEVER thought of shaving it. I didn’t know it was that hairy.  Are they just talking about a trim or remove the entire beard – and where is it?

Seriously, who has the time, techniques, and of course, tools to make all this stuff?  If I can’t put it all together in one bowl and in less than thirty minutes, it ain’t gonna happen!

I don’t mind cooking or baking; I just don’t like to spend a ton of time on it.  My sister, on the other hand, finds it her perfect hobby.  Now, I don’t envy her or her hobby; but why am I always the taste tester?  No wonder I can’t lose any weight.  I will do great all week, and then she turns into a bake-a-holic on the weekend, and all I just lost comes back to visit – grr!

I love Martha Stewart’s stuff, and I know that once-upon-a-time in her life, she was a fabulous cook.  That is how she became who she is and KUDOS to her for it.  I, however, do not have that passion.  I am thrilled with myself when I can make pizza pockets with my sandwich maker:

  • layout already made bread,
  • fill it with something,
  • put the top piece on,
  • close the lid and ta-da, sandwich!

That is my gourmet cooking ability.  I like to make homemade fudge and angel food candy at Christmas.  I also have an excellent recipe for homemade granola, and ratatouille and that is about it.  Everything else better be a mix, can, or noodle dish, or it won’t get done.  I have begone experimenting with slow cookers and insta-pots.  So far, so good.  I like the idea of just throwing it all into one pot, turn it on, and let it go.  No muss, no fuss!

So, here’s to the not-so-great cooks out there that agree with me.  I love to eat. I just hate to mess with it.  Oh, and my most favorite way to get my food is fresh from our gardens.  Nothing better than pulling a fresh tomato or cuc right from the vine and munching – yum!

You can also check me out at:  https://lifelessonslived.com/ for all the fun things I have learned in life.

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I CUT HER LOOSE – LOOK OUT!

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This last weekend I finally cut my sister loose and let her play in the dirt.  There are two big things in her life that bring her great joy:

  1. Playing in the kitchen because she has a passion for cooking.  
  2. Playing in the dirt, in this case it is starting seeds. 

I brought all the grow lights, heat pads, and various other seed starting items up from the shed.  It took her about two days to get “her” areas set up.  Yes, they are “her” areas as it is her job to do the starts.  My task now is to design all the plot areas on our little farm and what will go in where.

If you think about it I got shafted in this deal.  All her job is done in the house and in just 2 places:

  • Her porch (it is hers because that is where she can smoke and contemplate life issues).
  • Her kitchen (yes, I can cook in there too, but it is mostly just warming stuff for me).

I am better with the computer than she is, so I created some charts.  The first is centered around seed starting and maintaining the starts until transplant time – this is Spring.  The second I labeled Summer.  This will be my turn to track things.  It will have when and where I put in the transplants.  It will also have all my direct sowing information. 

This will be the first year in many, many years that we actually have some kind of handle on our gardens.  Too many disasters have stretched out too long for us to properly concentrate on the gardens.  The only bummer is that my body is only a fraction of what it was 10+ years ago.  Simple things like getting down on the ground (my favorite place to work on plots) and getting back up again take enormous effort.  Fake knee and shoulder joints, massive surgeries for my major joints, and replacement parts add to my dismay.  You would think they could come up with something like the Bionic Woman for replacement parts by now?

Yes youngsters, that was a real TV series, and yes oldsters, I watched it.

What a wonder it would be if I could just pull weeds stronger, faster.  I could pull my garden carts without major issues.  Best of all, I could get down on the ground and back up again, without looking like a Flamingo on ice (not a pretty sight but very funny to watch – oh, and don’t get me laughing or I will NEVER get up!).

My major task over the last 20 years is to make life easier and not harder.  So why does life want to throw a wrench into my ideas every time I turn around?  She is so wicked that way.  Wish me luck on my endeavors this year.  Maybe we will finally have a great fall harvest.  I will let you know how it goes.

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I HAVE TO TIE MY SISTER DOWN.

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She is only allowed to be hands-free when she goes to work or is in the kitchen.  Our seed orders are coming in, and I gave her a new “toy” this year, a seed planning, planting guide.  My BIG mistake!

Dirt is in our souls.  We grew up on a farm and will (hopefully) die on a farm.  With that said, we both share particular duties on our little patch of heaven.  She is in charge of the “starting,” and I am in charge of the transplanting and keep it running.

We go through the same mess every year.  She gets the garden bug way too early, and then I am last minute slamming things in wherever I can find the room, so they don’t die.  She gets them started far too early, and we have flowers appearing before the last frost is done.  If I don’t get them in somewhere (fast), we could lose them.  This year I have decided to tie her down to get-our-ducks-in-a-row!

She has specific orders NOT to start any seeds until our new cheat-sheet guidelines say so.  (Got it free from a fellow blogger/grower here in Colorado.)  Even though they were developed by a “foothillser,” and we are plains people, it is all Colorado.  Mountains would be very different, but the foothills are close enough. 

According to the charts, she should not be starting anything until the end of February.  Then, the only ones to start at that time are the long-term veggies.  The rest is not to be started until mid-March, and it is killing her!

I told her that she could play with her seed starter, soil mix to her heart’s content.  But she must leave the seeds in their packets!  At least the new charts are keeping her busy.  She has to list all the packets and the standard info on them.  Oh, and she also has to have them sorted by category, as well as alphabetical.  Hee hee, I can be mean when I want to.

In the meantime, I am mapping out all of our plots and planting spaces.  I am also revamping our backyard double plots into a mini-greenhouse.  I want to move our starts out there when they start getting into the hardening-off stages.  The side walls will be rollups, so I won’t have to move anything, just open the sides and let in the sun, air, and whatever.  I will try to remember to get pics as I go to share here.

I think my plan will work as long as she does not start setting seeds in the middle of the night (yes, we do wake up at all hours of the night – it’s the age curse).  I check her fingernails when I get up to make sure she isn’t trying to sneak a seed or two in.  Sisters?!?

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TIME TO BRING THEM BACK?

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Growing up on a farm in Wisconsin in the 1960s was fun.  It was a ton of work, but I don’t remember thinking of it as work. I do remember the “special” things we did each week and other stuff just once every couple of months.

The weekly fun things were the Friday night trips to the grocery store with my dad, followed by a fun dinner (usually Dairy Queen-yum!).  Between my dad and my younger sister (his favorite by the way), it was always an enjoyable experience.  My sister did everything in her little power to make him laugh.  It was most times, her physically acting out.  Walking down the aisles as a mini-Hunchback dragging one arm and then talking to dad like the old movie icons: “Hey Roy (his name was Ray), can I hab dis?” Holding a chocolate bar in her hands.  He AWAYS gave into her!  I’m pretty sure it was mostly because she could make him laugh after a hard week at work.

The semi-monthly thing I remember was the outdoor movie theater.  Dad would make up a bunch of snacks (popcorn, mini-sandwiches, and cool-aid), so we never needed to buy stuff there.  Mom made sure we had blankets and pillows because we ALWAYS fell asleep before the movie ended. It was just us, our family, enjoying several hours together.  Yes, there are other families in cars around us, but we never knew they were there once the movie started.  We were in a world all our own!

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We would load ourselves and all of our supplies into the car, and away we went.  First stop was always the long line of anticipation – the drive-thru ticket taker (which NEVER seemed to move fast enough):

movie T ticket

The next phase was for all of us to scream at dad to “pick that spot, no – pick that one over there” to make sure we had the perfect place for all of us to witness the glory of the big screen (oh silly us – the area was designed so that every spot was for ideal viewing.).  Once found, the astounding addition of the speaker was added to the car.  It had to be hung on the partially rolled up window (oh – no electric windows for us back then) in just the right spot.  Several adjustments were made to position and sound for our absolute listening pleasure.

movie T speakers

There was the allure of the mystical Snack-Shack left hanging in the back of all the innocent child minds.  All cars had to pass it on the way in (bonus for the theater to entice the kids – sneaky!), thus urging everyone to run and purchase the necessary munchies and drinks BEFORE the previews started.  Get there fast.  Get there now.  Don’t interrupt the family movie night while the movie is running!

Our parents were brilliant!  They made the most of one of the cheapest, easiest ways to entertain the whole family:

  • We had food.
  • We had drinks.
  • We had blankets and pillows to keep us snug even on the coldest evenings (we NEVER turned on the car and wasted gas just to warm us up).
  • WE WERE TOGETHER AS A FAMILY!!

The last statement was the best of all.  We were together as a family, and that was the best thing:

  • No one was calling on the phone (yes youngsters – we had phones that hung on the wall or sat on a stand. Oh, and they did NOT tell us who was calling, because there was no fancy answering machine, so we had to answer the phone.) to interrupt us.
  • No one was stopping over unannounced. (Actually, our family had tons of family get-togethers which include kids playing on the farm while adults talked, played poker, and gossiped.)
  • No one or nothing could stop us from being all together, and having fun as a family should.

So, AMC Theaters (or whichever indoor theaters might happen to read this), here’s a money-maker idea for you:

  1. BRING BACK THE DRIVE-IN’S:
    1. Make everything drive-thru:
      1. Take tickets like they used to right from the cars as they pull in.
      2. Create a drive-thru Snack-Shack. Have the snacks posted just like fast-food restaurants have today. Make them long enough and large enough that the whole family can read the menu on their way to put in the order.  They (through the speaker system, also just like modern fast food) state their order, pull forward to pay, and pick up the goodies.  All from the convenience (and distancing) of their vehicle!
      3. Now here is where you should spend some money: speaker or sound system. The old drive-in sound systems were large and clumsy and sometimes had static.  With our modern technology, you should be able to come up with a much better, lighter system.  Still make it hook into each vehicle for that personal family experience.  Maybe something wireless?
      4. One last update addition: A unique bathroom system. I’m not sure how to do this, but if you can figure out an automatic system that can tell how many people in vs. how many people out.  You could still have several stalls, but the structure would know to unlock the “in” door when someone used the “out” door.  You could hang plastic sheets along the waiting hall so that people would have to stand and wait between the layers.  Perhaps an overhead sterilizing spray would go off as the “out” door would open, and people would move up to next-in-line?

I know you all think I’m on crack or something after reading this idea – well, no, I don’t do drugs.  I just read an article about the fight between AMC Theaters and Universal Pictures because movies need to go out, even when the theaters have to be closed.  I understand and sympathize with both sides of the story, so I came up with this beautiful idea for them all to get along.

Theaters make money.

            Movie-maker companies make money.

                        Safe distancing protocols would still be maintained.

                                    FAMILIES HAVE A FANTASTIC TIME ALL TOGETHER!

I say we start throwing this idea out there and get it done!  BRING BACK THE DRIVE-INS!

Movie T end

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ONCE AGAIN: SHORT, SIMPLE, AND SMELLY?

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We knew that living the rural life had many benefits, but never expected things like this to happen:

  • No coffee filters.
  • No toilet papers.
  • No dish or laundry soaps.

We have found that rural is better for pandemic problems too. The only time I saw a shortage of any of the above items was during the initial hoarding. Since that first time, I have had no problems obtaining any of those items whenever we need them.

We also are major R.R.R. people.  Those of you that do not know it stands for Reduce, Reuse, and Recycle.  This is the one individual habit we put in place decades ago and are very proud to have it.

Reduce Reuse Recycle keep calm

My email inbox had another wonderful message from my buds at familyhandyman.com:

What to Do If You Run Out of These 5 Household Items

Harrison KralUpdated: Apr. 10, 2020

It’s a great read, but I do have a few adjustments to contribute:

  • Borax: If you don’t know what it is, it is one of the original dry soaps.  We always have a couple of boxes on hand for dozens of different reasons (including pest control in the gardens).  The contribution here is, “get it online!”  It is not carried in stock in many places.  Your best bet at the best price is to get it online.  We get ours from Amazon (not affiliated), but I am always on the hunt for better deals.

Borax(This is the big one we get every couple of years.)

  • Baking Soda: We use that and cider vinegar to clean most everything (another goodie for pest control in the gardens).  Make sure you read the whole story, INCLUDING the things you DON’T want to use with baking soda.
  • Coffee Filters: Not sure why those are running short in areas, but we also invested in a permanent coffee filter.  It is a fine-screened, plastic-framed cup that fits in most coffee makers.  If you can’t find one, or one that fits appropriately (like our larger, commercial, coffee pot), I simply took some fine-screen material and cut it to fit the inside of the filter cup.  It does the job very well.  You simply lift out the wire lining and shake it in the trash.  We shake ours over the garden plots in our front and back yards as the grounds are great for the soil and plants.  If you are in an apartment, you could shake them off into a bucket (old coffee cans work great too), then spread some on your house plant soil.

Fine-screen material (click on the pic to go get it)

  • Toilet Paper: This one is great, and I have heard/read this idea before.  The only thing none of the articles I read, explained is how to deal with the smell.  They all talk about simply throwing the used material or cloth into the trash – NO – YUCKY – SMELLY!  You must have, or get, a bucket or garbage with a lid!!!

trash w lid(click on the pick to see great review on these)

I cannot stress this enough.  Tons of places online had great little trash cans with step openers and lids – PERFECT!  You get done on the potty, step on the foot lever to open the lid, and put in your leftovers.  No muss, no fuss, and the only smells are the initial opening nasty.  Two other hints for the smell:

  1. Sprinkle some baking soda on the bottom of the trash can BEFORE you add the liner bag. Then once you have your bag in, sprinkle some more in the bottom of the line.  This helps keep down the smell a lot.
  2. If you have the funds splurge on some stick-up air fresheners. They are perfect as they can be stuck to the inside lid of the can and help the baking soda to keep those icky smells under control.
  3. CHANGE OUT YOUR LINER BAG ON REGULAR INTERVALS. The intervals depend on the number of people in your household.
  4. My last helper hint is if you choose to use cloth for toilet paper – DON’T CRINGE (you can giggle). Cloth diapers were around for centuries.  All you need to do is have a bucket of soapy water and a bucket of clean water near the toilet.  Make sure EVERYONE in the household understands how to use it!  The soapy bucket is to rinse off the cloth after usage.  Then place the cloth in the cleaner water bucket to be put in the clothes washer and washed up for another useable day.
    1. Make sure to only fill the buckets about half full of water to have ample washing ability.
    2. Make sure to change out the waters often (but don’t go nuts and change them every time someone uses the toilet) on the soapy bucket, not as much needed on the pre-soak 2nd bucket. The cloth in the 2nd bucket should be semi-clean enough to go straight to the washing machine—no need to try to wring anything out (week).

2 buckets                          old wash machine

(2 Buckets – no waiting.)                          (Good old-fashioned washing machine-LOL)

Stay safe.  Stay well.  Stay smart.

talk about garbage-raccoon

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MASHED POTATOES DO NOT STICK.

/ helbergfarmstories / 1 Comment

A dear friend reminded me of how much fun doing housework can be.  The following story is true from my past days growing up on the farm.

***********************************************************************************

Our father was way too trusting.  He believed that when he told his young daughters to do something simple like clean up the kitchen after dinner would be done without any issues.  Wrong!

Dad loved to cook but hated to clean.  This was fantastic for mom as she was just the opposite.  With parents that handled these specific chores in such a manner, what were two mischievous daughters to do?

  • Put leftover foods away.
  • Do the dishes.
  • Clean up the area.

Simple right?  Nope.  My sister and I are, even to this day, well known for never doing the simple ways.  We usually do things in a round-about way or come up with a better way a couple of years after-the-fact.  Cleaning up was perhaps where this whole issue started.

We had a very fun childhood, and our parents encouraged us every step of the way.  This was maybe not such a good idea.  Dad made dinner, which consisted of fried chicken and mashed potatoes.  Our father came from a big family, so he consistently made too much for us to eat in one sitting.  When he very innocently to clean up the kitchen, I don’t think he was even close to being prepared for our idea of “clean up.”

It all started out the right way, put the extra food into containers (Mom was very proud of her Tupperware) then put it into the fridge.  Fill up the sinks with dishwater on one side and clean rinse water on the other.  Put the dirty dishes (after emptying them) into the dishwater.  One daughter washes and rinses, the other dries and puts the dishes away.  Once again, very simple, right?

The whole concept came to a screeching halt when my younger sister decided that mashed potatoes were a lot like clay or playdough (we had lots of arts and crafts stuff – mom’s idea to turn us into creative wizzes).  Yep – it molded into a ball beautifully when cupped in 7-year old hands.

ball mashed potatoes

It was only a matter of time before we were tossing it back and forth like you would with a ball in a game of catch.  Our game of catch turned into dodge ball.  I don’t know exactly when it happened, but somehow one of our throws ended up on the ceiling. – WOW – MASHED POTATOES STICK TO THE CEILING!

We got so squirrely excited and made the mistake of giggling.  Dad finally noticed our noises and called out from the living room (his after-dinner routine: Nightly news from his comfy recliner.),

“What are you two doing?”

To which we so innocently replied: “Nothing.”  We calmed down, and he did not bother to come to check on us.  Awesome!

LET THE STICKING BEGIN.

  1. Scoop up a nice hand full of mashed potatoes.
  2. Roll them around in your hands until they form a smooth tight consistency.
  3. Locate an easy-to-fling spot on the floor with a clear aim to the ceiling.
  4. Squat down a bit with your hand holding the potato ball hanging between your knees.
  5. Tighten your shoulder and flex your arm muscles to get an intense action.
  6. Then let-er-go!

OUTSTANDING!  The balls of mashed potatoes stuck on the ceiling.  The downside – not for very long.  We found that when we flung them up there, they would stick, but due to the butter used in making them, they slowly eeked loose from the ceiling and fell to the floor.  Then the next game became trying to catch them when they fall.

After about an hour of this (personally, I just think the news was over and he finally really heard us), dad decided to get up and see just what we were up to.

We were having so much fun that we never noticed just how many mashed potato balls were on the ceiling or floor, nor did we have any dishes done.  On our behalf, the food was all put away (except the game ball goo), and the kitchen was clean – for the most part.

Dad stepped through the arch and into the kitchen just in time to see us both throwing up our next ball.  He screeched out a: “WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON HERE?”, making both of us jump to attention and immediately stop laughing.

He proceeded to reprimand us and give us follow-up instructions to get things back in order.  We heard none of it.  We both caught the fact that there was a stuck ball on the ceiling just above his head, slowly preparing to fall.  All we could do was stare at his face.  I am sure he thought we were finally being good little girls and listening close to follow his every command.  Nope, we were just waiting – quietly.

Then it happened.

The mashed potato ball above his head finally lost its grip and flopped right on top of his head.

ball to the head

It should be noted that our father was a stellar father.  He never raised a hand to his children (that was mom’s job, and she was delighted to be the Executioner) and that in most circumstances, he acted more like a kid than we did.  This, at first, was not one of those times.  He never saw it coming even though he did see dozens of residual oil spots on the ceiling.  It never dawned on him to look up before standing in a place.

We poor well-behaved children could not hold back any longer.  The laughter exploded from us to the point of rolling around on the floor and holding tight to our little tummies that ached with laughter muscle overload.

ball laughter

Initially, dad was furious (you could see it in his eyes) but, either it was the fact that it caught him by surprise, or seeing us rolling on the floor in explosions of laughter, he also could not hold back his funny bone anymore.  He burst out in laughter along with us.

Once we all calmed down a bit, he made sure we finished cleaning the rest of the kitchen up.  The unfortunate mashed potatoes that had brought so much joy were dispensed to the critter bucket (all foods that we did not reuse were given to the critters unless it was compostable.  The compostable foods went into the garden.) never to be flung again.  So sad.

I don’t know how he did it, but after we went to bed, he managed to get all the greasy ball marks off the ceiling before mom got home.  If he had not told her about our escapades, she would have never known.  Personally, I think he was so proud of our ingenuity, that he was just bursting to tell someone.  Mom just happened to be the first person he met.

Now that I have shared one of our most favored family memories feel free to try it with our own children.  The world is full of scary stuff – why not throw in a few mashed potatoes.

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Another Fun Year on the Farm – woohoo?

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I do believe in God and Angels.  I also believe that he has a very warped sense of humor, and he is in cahoots with Mother Nature.

I like to think that Angels watch over us.  I used to think they helped to protect and guide us, now I think they are more like messengers.  Yes, they are watching us, but they do it just to report back to their boss.  We all know that the best way to get “in good with the Boss” is to make them laugh.  Pretty sure that my Angel is the Bosses Right-Hand-Man providing all the juicy info on me.

gossip gals

All I wished for this year was a boring year – no drama at all.  Nope, apparently, the powers that be decided it gets too dull for them if I’m not going through some type of issues.

It started out with my 10-year old Grandson stealing from me, then lying about it (like Grandma’s are stupid – really?!).  That was then followed up by a Bomb Cyclone – WHAT?  I had never heard of such a thing before, especially not here in Colorado.  Tornado (oh, wait – that was last year) yes, but Cyclone?

Our tools started disappearing?  We keep them specifically in a small shed that we worked very hard last year to turn into our “tool” shop.  First, I thought we had someone sneaking onto our property when we were not home or in the middle of the night.  I also questioned my own mental faculties, thinking I had used and just misplaced them.  I finally found one of my hammers sitting out in the pasture behind the chicken coop.   It was not sitting by anything that needed to be hammered, which could only mean one thing.  I questioned my Grandson, “Did you take out my tools, without asking, and not put them back?”

“OH, NOOO, GRANDMA!” Shot out of his mouth before I could even finish asking – a dead giveaway.

“Then how do we explain this hammer being found in the middle of the field behind the chickens?  You know, right where you have been playing.”

I got that I’m innocent look at first.

It soon turned into the Oh shit, I’ve been caught look.

Which then became the Quick, make up a story to get out of this look.

Yes, I have seen and know them all on him, and he just doesn’t get it.  There are only three of us in the house (unless you count the cat and she refuses to do any kind of work) and if my sister and myself did not do it, there is only one person left.  So, I put a lock on the tool shed.

  • Followed by a lock on the bigger shed.
  • Followed by a lock on the roofless greenhouse because he was sneaking in through there to get into stuff.
  • Followed by locks on all three of the barn doors.

The only thing that is not locked (yet) is the chicken coop.  It’s all stupidly sad because I use some type of tool around here almost daily and I have to unlock everything, get what I need, then lock it all back up again – EVERY SINGLE TIME NOW! Grr!!

multiple locks

Once we mostly had control of our tools again, we took on moving the mutts.  The older/bigger female – Corona – digs holes everywhere.  We only have about 3 plots where flowers once grew that are not completely torn up.  But, worse than her digging is the escape artist – Pig Dog (full name: Weiner Pig because he is one – jerk!).  He has escaped from the fully fenced and latticed front yard more times than I can count.  That’s bad enough, but each time he gets out, something dies.  Usually one of our cats or chickens.  I have tried:

  • 3 different collars
  • 2 different chains
  • Shock Collars
  • The old farmer method of tying a dead animal that he killed to his neck (worked with other farm dogs, but not this monster).

Nothing worked.  Now they have a separated pen of wood, t-posts, lattice, and wire.  He got out again.  So I moved his heavy-duty chain into that special area originally hooked up to the porch rail.  Oops – too close to the gate he slipped out of his collar (again) and was over the gate the minute I turned my back.  Now I am down to the heavy-duty chain, hooked to a separate post, and a choke collar (but hooked through both loops, so he doesn’t choke).  I hate to do it, but nothing else is working.  All the newer dog collars have plastic latches, and he snaps them apart in an instant.

bad dog 1    WHO ME?    bad dog 2

It rained last night and somewhere in the night that big-giant-panzie managed to slip out of the choke collar, open the gate big enough for both dogs to get through, and ended up back in the front yard again.  Now I am down to using the choke collar the way it is meant to be used.  When it warms up this weekend, I will try to get a dark cover on the outside of the whole pen.  My thought is that maybe if he can’t see it, he won’t try to get out after it – wish me luck…PLEASE!!

stupid chicken   Ah, life on a farm is never a dull moment.

You can also check me out at:  www.lifelessonslived.com for all the fun things I have learned in life.
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GOTTA LOVE FAMILY WITH A SENSE OF HUMOR!

/ helbergfarmstories / 2 Comments

I was feeling pretty rotten yesterday. Not sick, just in the dumps depressed (not good for a person that takes anti-depressants – eek!) Most of my life I have had to fight my anxiety. It showed up after I was molested at eleven and never completely went away.

I had a great Therapist when I tried to commit suicide in my senior year of high school. She warned me that I carry deep emotions and that I needed to write down everything that happens that affects them. She reasons that by spilling my guts on paper, I would not feel the need to keep carrying them around like such heavy dead weight (which they are). Probably the main reason I love to write so much now.

Yesterday, as I said, was a rough one at least until I opened my email. My cousin (love her so much) sent me this little tidbit:

flat screen vs ours in the 60s
I just burst out laughing. Can’t stop giggling right now. Yes, the statement is true. We had one similar to that growing up in the early 1960s, but that’s not why I was laughing so much. WHAT IS ON THAT WOMAN’S HEAD?? Ah, laughter is the best medicine!

The dress looks just like something my mom used to have, but only wore on very special occasions. It took “the support bra from hell” to wear it, and that was her main reason for the limited fashion shows. When it comes to breasts, my mother was not lacking (neither am I so I can understand her frustrations) and trying to get into all those stylin clothes back then was next to impossible without the proper under-gear.

She also had a couple of wigs. She originally had some beautiful red hair but insisted on dying it, covering it up, ironing it (yes, with an iron – for clothes…been there, done that, different story), and whatever else she could do with it. Back then, the beauty parlor was a temple. It was a woman’s safe harbor in a world filled with men and their macho-isms.
Go back and take another look at the picture – not the phrase but specifically at that hair. Now check these out:
hair poof 1 the early to mid-1960s hair poof 2
hair poof 3 the 1950s
hair poof 1940s the 1940s
hair poof 19302 the 1930s
I don’t see a frizz or curl out of place in any of these pics?

Mom had beautiful natural curly hair. We got lucky, and she passed it on to all of her daughters. Dad also had curly hair, but a tighter curl. Mom was so frustrated with trying to get a brush through our hair that she would simply cut it off every spring. I was partially grateful because it was so thick and heavy and hot. The other bit of gratitude came whenever we got near low hanging branches when riding, gooseberry bushes when picking, and chasing wild kittens in the hay. The longer and curlier the hair, the more you got all caught up in something. To this day I hate moths! Kids with tight curly hair playing under a yard light at night during summer in Wisconsin will inevitably catch moths in their hair-not by choice.

I don’t know if the moths were blinded by the light bouncing off our curls, attracted to the possibility of a great nest, or just plain dumb; but I can’t count the number of times I heard and felt the crunching of trying to get the dang things untangled and out of my hair. Even now I am cringing.

This post is all for my cousin Dawn. Thank you for the outstanding laugh, the fond memories, and getting me out of my funk – love ya cousin!
You can also check me out at: www.lifelessonslived.com for all the fun things I have learned in life.
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ARE YOU A ROCKER?

/ helbergfarmstories / 1 Comment

I have this thing for rockers.  No, not the Rock-n-Roll type rockers (but yes, I am one).  I’m talking about rocking chairs.  I do so many things during the course of a day without realizing that I am doing them.  One biggie is movement.  I am a Yarnie (i.e., One who works with yarn crafts) and can be found working on a project almost every day.  I recently noticed that while I am working on a project, I am rocking, or my foot is rocking.

Rockin cat

The only rocker in our home that I remember as a child was an antique glider rocker.  It was so beautiful that mom would not let anyone touch it.  You could get an immediate slap just for playing too close to it.  We were farm kids, so our play area was not as important as the play itself.  Can’t tell you how many times my sister and I got a smack for getting to close to it.  Once we ran into it and that put us in separate chairs, staring at the ceiling for the whole morning.  It was excruciatingly painful just to sit!
old glider rockerI’m not sure where exactly my love for the rocker came from, I know I can’t go a day without one.  There is something so soothing about knitting or crocheting, while I am rocking.  My grandmother on my dad’s side was a baker (explains a ton about his love of cooking and my sister’s addiction).  My grandmother on my mom’s side died when I was very young.  I don’t remember what her passion may have been.  My mom insisted that I learn how to knit my very first year in 4-H.  She knew how to crochet and always wanted to learn to knit, but never did.  She was good at making sure her girls knew how to do things that she never had the opportunity to do (like playing the piano but that is whole other torture).

It may have happened because I was so young and it was something to share, just mom and I.  I think I have this thing about the way the yarn feels.  My hands are not very big, so manipulation of the yarn is one of the few things in my life that I can control (yes, I am a control freak).  I used to hold the yarn in my left hand, but when I lost half of that index finger, I thought I was going to have to give up my passion.  I taught myself how to use the other hand.  Takes a bit longer but it worked.  Since the amputation (6/2014) I have also taught myself a ton of different ways to hold the yarn.  I guess you can teach an old dog new tricks.

old dog new trick

There is a certain kind of peace that goes along with rocking.  On several occasions, I have found myself rocking to the rhythm of my yarn working.  Most times I do not even have to count or pay attention to the stitches I am working.  It becomes a type of “Zen” world for me.

My hope for you this new year is that you can find a comfortable old rocking chair somewhere, sit back in it for a bit.  Close your eyes and rock.  Try to rock to the rhythm of your breathing.  You might just save a ton on therapy by doing this simple thing?

zen stone n sand           =      cat in rocker

You can also check me out at:  www.lifelessonslived.com for all the fun things I have learned in life.

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