NFL Combine

Yeah, yeah...I know all about the Combine. Handyman worked the Combine, all 23 days of it. He shot each of the candidates ("future millionaires" as he called them) inside a big black box, opposite the greenscreen, where his co-worker, a young married woman, spent her days spraying the young men down with water...so they'd look sweaty.

But here at Neverdone, we have our own stinkin' Combine. It's the NFL Combine, and by that I mean Neverdone Farm Labor Combine...where we evaluate candidates' abilities to cut the mustard, as it were, here on the farm.

Our first draftee (and by "draftee" I mean indentured servant), shows great promise and has the added advantage of living here, so her commute would be short...

Here she is demonstrating the poop-sled tow. This is an incredibly important skill, as our ATV has a serious starter disability right now. Handyman keeps asking why, if the horses are so wonderful, they forget to poop outside? Doesn't this young athlete look great?!



Once you reach the dumping ground, you gotta unload that sled, and Candidate #1 has it all together here. Her technique is efficient and smooth. Her demeanor is stable (no Ryan Leaf episodes here!) Let's see what she can do in the barn...



Here, #1 demonstrates that old quad-cramper, the muck tub drag--again, a crucial skill every barn worker must be able to do, a lot.

And then there's the "unload"--this is where skill is vital! Without the proper skill set, you can wind up with a big mess and twice as much work! #1 again shows she is the go-to-gal, with this brilliant, neat download!





After a quick tete-tete with her agent, #1 considers our contract offer (room and board with phone and internet privileges and the possibility of driving a motor vehicle and an assortment of Goodwill clothing) and discusses whether she's ready for the next big step...

Ch-ch-ch-changes

Yeah, yeah, yeah. My one fan (ccw) told me to my face the other night, that he was bummed that I wasn't blogging. Frankly, I'm bummed that I'm not blogging. I think about blogging every day. Then I think I must be pretty vain to think that my life is so entirely interesting that I qualify for daily blogger status. I mean how many times can you blog about where you have found socks? Or how many types of manure you handle in one day? (Bet I'd win.)

But really, the world is turning here at Netherfield. On Valentine's Day, Handyman's dad went into the hospital, and stayed for a long time. They tried to send him to a rehab a couple of times, but he got bounced back and then after yelling in my face that he wanted to die, he up and did just that.

It was my first up-close experience with death of a close loved one. I got to experience every single step of it, even the final end. I don't know how people go through this stuff without knowing Christ personally. What a bulwark it was for me to have God to rely on in all the various stages, with all the people I needed to help, in all the ways I was called upon to help.

All these decades of reading Dear Ann Landers and Carolyn Hax, and Billy Graham and all those columns in the magazines about life, have really helped. I was able to walk through those weeks without regret, saying what I needed to say and thanks to my dad, peeking during an altar call, I was able to reassure a lot of people that Grandpa knew Christ. And that was the ultimate peace for me and Handyman. We could say goodbye.

It was the first funeral I went to as a representative, rather than an attendee. And our friends came out of the woodwork--and what a blessing that was. You know how you never want to go to a funeral and you wonder if it's even worth your time...well it is. We were so blessed by the friends who toiled through an insane traffic jam to see us, just briefly--who bought us food because the stupid funeral home didn't even have a coffee pot that worked, who put on lunches for a huge entourage after the way-out-of-town burial--who colored with our kids in the funeral home kitchen so we could keep shaking hands. Note to self: remember how many ways you can be the body of Christ.

I actually stood at someone's bedside as they passed into eternity and I had absolutely no fear in my heart because I had said goodbye, days before, face to face, when he knew what I was saying AND because I knew he had asked Christ into his heart. Honestly, I always wondered if he remembered that he did that, and I probably should have talked more about it with him, but "that peace that passes all understanding" thing? It's real.

I could walk my kids through this first major loss of their lives with confidence in God and offer them peace for their broken little hearts.

Spring is coming now, I think. We have chicks in our attic room, with their mothers. We have contractors bidding on some alterations to our roof that are LONG overdue. My new horse is in training and I also have the opportunity to ride some other nice horses, to get legged up. #1 thinks she might get her drivers license this summer and #2 and #3 are going to school in the fall. Should be an interesting summer.

I have about 295 blogs in my head regarding the switch from homeschooling to public school, that I will be happy to unload at some point, but we're wrapping up some strep throat, orthodontia and raccoon attacks, so I really have to get out of this chair. Oh, and I didn't get pictures of the big crawdad I caught in the pasture this morning, complete with tail full of caviar, I mean eggs. I did release her into the creek and boy was she happy...

Menu Plan Monday--AGAIN!

In trying to upgrade my organization level this year, I am trying to stay on the wagon with Menu Plan Monday at the very helpful blog I'm An Organizing Junkie. She has product reviews, challenges, giveaways, ideas and encouragement. And I pretty much need all of it. Her links are pretty great as well.

I used a menu for the last two weeks and both of them were very modest--just little scraps of paper with two-word titles of recipes. But it made a big difference, no only in my stress level, but my demeanor throughout each day. Since I wasn't stressing about feeding my family at the end of each day, I had more energy to take on the big things, like chicken bathing and 47 doggie trips outside and shoveling horse manure!

Here's my plan for this week--gratefully, mostly stolen from OrgJunkie and her links:

Today, Monday: Pasta Fagioli soup with breadsticks--this is a very good Olive Garden knock-off recipe, pretty simple, great results.

Tuesday: Crock Pot Thai Chicken Never tried it, but it sounds good and my mom left me a bunch of frozen chicken legs when she left for FL last week.

Wednesday: Beef and Vegetable Noodle Bowl This is a link from Orgjunkie's Family Favorites list. Pasta makes the world go 'round, doesn't it? It helps a lot here. And I love the yellow box Barilla pasta, although my friend DF can't use it due to nut allergies, so beware.

Thursday: Mexican Lasagna My recipe came from the Saving Dinner cookbook by Leanne, at FlyLady. I do add some add'l stuff, like hominy or corn, if I have those. This makes a FULL lasagna, so be prepared for leftovers. There are a zillion variations, so you can make it however your family likes it. Just google Mexican Lasagna if you've never made one before...

Friday: Crockpot 40 Clove Garlic Chicken Once again, taken from Orgjunkie's family faves list. Worth a try--can't be worse than fish sticks and tater tots. And I got a new super dooper crockpot for Christmas! Thanks Mom and Dad!

Do yourself a favor, and put something down on paper, just a teeny step forward on the organizing path, and let me know how it works for you!

I had a wonderful weekend scrapbooking and being away from the grind for 48+ hours. Being away for even a little while always perks me up to dive back into the fray. I was sad to see Kurt Warner and the Cards go down in such an ugly way, but New Orleans is a worthy opponent to lose to. Won't surprise me if Kurt retires now.

I'm looking forward to seeing the Colts get their revenge on the Jets--who are only in it because they got a big fat gift on a silver platter, from the Colts!! Guess what?? We're taking it back! :)

Spring must be coming...

UPDATE: Red-wing blackbird on my front walk today!! They are one of the first nester's to return in the spring! I saw robins awhile back, but many of them do not migrate--so this is a definite!! Just like all the buds the deer have eaten off my tulip poplars...

Reno has started shedding. I remember he did this last February too. I was shocked at how early it started. But I suppose when one's hair is 3" long, one must use the time wisely. This must be the reason he rolls in mud everyday. I dutifully use my old pin hairbrush to break up the solid masses of mud caked on top of his back. Much of it ends up in my mouth, no matter how hard I try. I dig and rake and spit. And the next day, it's the same. On the same side. Even as far as his cheek. I do not brush his cheek while he is eating or three pounds of dust falls into his bowl. When I am "done" (a relative term), I see a silhouette of dust outlining us on the ground.

Yesterday was warm and sunny--my favorite combination. So I did what all spring-lovers do--I emptied the horse water tank, scrubbed it and refilled it. Here's the "plug" that comes with the tank heater. Plastic (read fragile), and tough to get at. Also, recently tightened by Handyman (read impossibly tight for female hands.) How do you get at that thing?!

Enter my new favorite tool:(besides my Muck brand boots and my 20-year old ATV. And the lids that snap on my 5-gallon buckets. And my dog that cleans the kitchen floor for me.)


What do you do with that thing--you ask??




Open says-a-me! Voila! Ah, there's nothing more cheery than 15 gallons of COLD water filled with 4 months of hay detrius, horse spittle, old leaves and some vile form of algae that can grow in antarctic conditions. My assistant for the day was PRINCESS--the large pony who thinks she's a dog.

She did the requisite shove against my bum while I was leaning over a tipped-up tank, almost sending me headfirst into the fence and muck that was pouring out. Then there was the lipping of the sleeve. The request for carrots and the sniffing of the empty tank. She is such a charmer. But what a gut! This gal has bellied up to the hay bar a little too often. I don't think there's a wii fit board that'll work for her.

When I brought out the clean water, she was all about sipping each dose as it was added. Handyman needs to do a little adjustment on that fence section behind the tank. The bottom plank is too high to set the bucket on unless I want to pour it down the waistband of my pants. The top plank is literally 1/2" too close to pour the bucket between the planks. So it works out like this. Open the bucket on the ground. Lift carefully to waist height and pour 1/2 between the planks. Then tell Princess to get her big mug out of the tank or be doused. Then lift the bucket to chest height and pour over the top of the entire fence. Now do this eight more times!

Gives the old reconstruction a workout! Everything held--don't worry! ;)

And the better news: My handy-dandy tool has a little brother:


Then again, it might make a terrific crop!


I wanted to get this task out of the way because there is rain forecast for today and tomorrow and then snow for the weekend. If the tank's going to refill on its own, thanks to Handyman's ingenuity, I wanted it to be clean. Princess gave her opinion on the clean water with a happy lip curl--"Weird Mom! It doesn't taste like fermented hay anymore?!"

Today's job--empty muck tubs and clean barn. Did I mention there was another barn "invasion" this week. This time it was #2 who left the people door open. When we drove in, I could see the big guy in the barn aisle. When we got there, he was wedged between the hayloft ladder and the people door (blocked by #1), with the worktable immediately to his left. The saint let me squeeze by him and unlock the big sliding door. He wasn't sure about jumping out, but gave it a shot and thought it was so fun, he bucked too on his way by. I love that horse!

There had been an open bale of hay on the 2' high stack of rubber mats. The bale was, of course, scattered all around the pile of mats. And there were two piles of poop on the mats! I wish I had a camera going in there; watching them standing on the mats like circus ponies. I guess I need to start showing in trail classes.

A three-hour tour...

Lewis, Clark and Sacajawea put in just south of the driveway.
As they head for the rapids, a friendly Mandan watches...
...and helps them over a shallows.
They turn east at the juncture with the overflowing creek.
and approach the notorious poultry penitentiary, nearly submerged.
Passing between the garden plot, piled high with "horse product" and the chicken "pen", they continue eastward, toward the "fort".
A friendly "native" joins the little band.
Another low spot. Lewis has to drag the dugout.
View from the fort.
Approaching Trail's End.

Clowns, comedy, kids, crazy horses, mud

Aren't these cute? We had the largest snowfall in about a decade--or these girls' lifetimes--a few weeks ago and this is what resulted. Now, while you're oohing and aahing, I just want to say that those eyes are not coal. We don't have any coal laying around up here. But we do have thousands and thousands of frozen, dark blobs dotting our landscape. Well, various, selected parts of our landscape. Including the garden area just beyond where these were taken. It all originated with one of my many horse catalogs. There was a t-shirt with a little boy building a snowman, and standing off to the side was a cartoon horse saying, "Hey! Little boy! Those aren't lumps of coal." Need I say more...


Yesterday, #3 was practicing her phonics/reading with some cards with three-letter words. One card had the word "wax". She dutifully sounded it out and said the word. I was duly impressed as this is not a common word for a child. She was excited by me and yelled, "Like earwax!" with a big grin. Yeah, like earwax. Ewww.



Although the beautiful snow is now gone, leaving lots of mud in its wake, I did turn out horses a couple days ago, when the ground was just starting to go soft. Unfortunately, I left the "people door" open on the north side of the barn. I had tossed out some hay and begged the horses not to run around wildly and they had agreed. When Handyman drove out for his daily sabbatical to Menards, he saw no horses. Upon investigation, he found two horses INSIDE the barn, pooping in the gravel, carefully avoiding the workbench in the center of the aisle, but dragging their blankets onto the ground and making complete nuisances of themselves.

Now I expect this from Princess--the large pony who believes she is a dog--but not from Reno. Reno is 25 years old, 16 hands and 1200 lbs. To get into the barn, he had to climb up two rather small steps (the top step being less than 24" across), squeeze through a three-foot door and navigate around a table on sawhorses, a stack of barn siding and a stack of rubber mats. He is also completely besotted by the large pony and cannot bear to be out of her sight. He was willing to risk all for love...

Of course, when Handyman arrived, even as he headed for the large sliding door to send them packing, the guilt hit with a vengance and they weren't going to wait for a horse-sized escape. They whirled and headed again for the people door where they both leapt out beyond the steps and proceeded to run hysterically pell-mell around the field. I, of course, received the chastising phone call for leaving the door open, along with threats of spanking.

Needless to say, when I went out later to feed, the field around the barn and beyond looks like a meteor shower happened, with horse divots EVERYWHERE. So much for maintaining grass. I guess the vitamin supplements are doing their job.


This was just too cute to leave out...

How cold is it?

I hate the cold. I really hate the cold. There hasn't been much wind and we're way behind on the snowfall; but I really hate being cold. Thank goodness my MIL bought me the second pair of fleece-lined jeans or I'd still be wearing the pair I put on in November. Once they're on, I can't bear to part with them. I am a poster child for effective winter gear. I was selling fleece-lined jeans to some lady at my chemo treatment six weeks ago! I have cuddle-duds. I have Muck brand boots. I have a down-filled coat from LL Bean that MIL gave me before I got married (!!), that I still wear when it is colder than all get out. It's the best. I have smart wool socks. I have these fleecey pajamas that actually make me almost too warm. I have a bed heater. The only thing I don't have is a butt-warmer in my car. Handyman got used to one in a truck he uses on occasion and I think we'll be having one in our next truck, whenever it comes.

In fact, Handyman appears to be weakening on the whole seasonal-demeanor issue. He seems to be suffering this year more than ever. I never noticed it too much. It was always me whining and complaining. He is the one who taught me about great outdoor gear. He made sure I acquired all the right stuff. I made sure we got a good bed warmer. But this year he has been whiney and slow to get outside. I may be making headway with the whole "let's retire further to the south" thing.

But back to the headline--how cold is it? It's so cold that I bedded my stalls with straw last week. Seeings how I have next-to-no sawdust left and it was going to be -15 overnight, I felt they had to have something more than their blankets between them and the ground, so I used a couple bales of free straw that came home from a shoot. Looks great, makes a big mess to clean up.

It's so cold that Handyman broke three muck tubs trying to empty them. This brought on the "don't fill tubs with wet sawdust when it's zero degrees outside" lecture. Also noted that the $17 muck tubs from Tractor Supply did not break. Only the $6 from Menards. (Note to self.)

It's so cold that my plastic muck fork doesn't really cut it since the piles are rock hard. So, the effective method is pick them up...by hand. Grab one dooper with your (gloved) hand and the whole pile comes with.

It's so cold that Reno had frost forming on his ear hair. It's so cold that the snow on the barn roof won't melt so we had to haul water twice last week. It's so cold that the heat lamp has been running in the chicken house 24/7 for more than four days.

It's so cold that my million-dollar geothermal furnace has been running on "auxiliary" (read BIG BUCKS) power for four days plus. It's so cold that all my gloves have frozen snot on the back of all the thumbs.

It's so cold that we're burning through the hay and will be needing to get more--of course. Of course the RCI vacation guide came in the mail this week...wonder how much a horse-sitter charges for January, if I provide all the polar fleece you can wear?

Dear Old Dad had to haul water for me yesterday and today he is bringing SAWDUST! I can't remember the last load of sawdust we got! Unfortunately that means I have to remove all the sodden straw that I had to use this past week...so out to the barn I go to muck, on this one glorious day of temps above 35--it's a divine gift to give me hope that there are better days coming!

I might lay on the asphalt just to pretend it's summer!

I can't ever go back...

I spent some formative years on a flat piece of cornfield that had been left with about 5 scraggly big trees in a fence row. My parents sculptured it to their liking--you can do that when you purchase earth-moving equipment for fun--and forced me into landscaping slave labor for eons, but it turned out really well. Then I went to college.

Then, like most people in this country, I moved into the city for a job. I had apartments, rental house and in-town neighborhood life. Where, when I washed my dishes in the sink, I could wave at my neighbor while she washed dishes in her sink. And where my oldest roller-bladed on my next door neighbor's paved driveway, RIGHT under my dining room window. The neighborliness was fun in some ways. Anyone who had Handyman for a neighbor was blessed.

Then one day, one of our kids' friends pulled too many needles off a pine tree when he was playing...and then Handyman's bike got stolen out of the garage while we were home and then there was the guy sleeping off his drunk in the BACK OF OUR CAR in the driveway. And the dogs couldn't even get their heart rates up going back and forth across the yard...

There is something so wonderful about opening your kitchen door and sending your 5 yr. old out with a baggie for chickens and two dogs to accompany and never having a worry. There's no neighbors to irritate, there's no roads to fret over, there's no pristine suburbia to damage...I don't know how others do it. We don't need no stinkin' curtains! ;)

We can dig big holes if we want and just leave 'em. We can pile leaves higher than our heads and then, leave 'em. We can fling manure over the paddock fence and pretend we're fertilizing the yard. We even sprinkle grass seed down the center of our driveway in the spring--to make Handyman's childhood fantasy come true.

We've already struggled through several years of removing the previous owner/tenants' piles of crapola, here and there and everywhere. We unloaded a lot of brightly-colored Little Tykes yardware this summer and now, we just don't really want to go anywhere very often.

We like to sit and watch our leaves, or our tomatoes, or our great blue herons, or the bats at night or those ridiculous chickens. We mow and shovel and rake and seed and sit and listen and see stars that our friends in town can't find on a good night.

Yeah, the manure is continuous, but it grows great tomatoes. The mowing is pretty constant, for a season, but frankly we fight over who gets meditation time to mow, now that #1 is heavy enough to keep the motor running when bouncing over the terrain. The driveway can be a pain in the winter, but that's why God invented 4WD--and my littlest buddy can climb real apple trees, with real apples and eat them and throw them and play outdoors without supervision for hours.



The only thing we're missing is some surf...

Think I'm ready

Well, since I start chemo this week, I tried to get all the little things wrapped up for the animal/winter scene in advance. I got the heater in the paddock water tank. Both tanks are full-to-brimming from last week's rain. I got all the plexiglass put in the chicken house windows. Handyman and #1 carried in the saddles and brought up the medicine box from the barn. And, Handyman brought home some mouse traps for the hayloft. My mom has repaired the mouse damage in Reno's blanket, so it is ready to roll. And this week, while I'm "laying around", shedding--Handyman is going to get going on the stall mats and then the south outside wall. Yea!

I can't wait to have level flooring in the stalls, with no pee holes! Hoowhee! I know, it takes all kinds. Everybody has their dream--mine is a stall floor with cushy bedding and no pee holes.

The hens have finally caved and started laying again. We're getting 4-6 eggs per day--up from ZERO for a month! Yikes. It's not a henhouse, it's a "fowl" nursing home. #1 will be fashioning little walkers for them. Lemme tell you, they are SICK of apples. Now that they live in an orchard, it was fun in the beginning. They refuse to look down now. It's denial.

I'll try to be fair

Since I started off the day by complaining and whining, I will try to balance it out somewhat...I abhor it when my progeny complains, so I need to work on my attitude a little.

I am excited that the days are getting longer! I can tell that they are! This is not a positive reflection on my state, since it is the result of my longitude or latitude or GPS or something. But, I know that they are. I was able to feed, empty five muck tubs using the poop cart (no snow for the sled), and muck out before dusk!

I broke two muck tubs (Handyman will be unhappy.) I was just a little upset that not only do I have to endure this life on Hoth (thank you #1), but the muck was actually frozen into the buckets. Give me a stinking break! It's not enough that the hens have frostbite on their combs, even though we lubed them up...not enough that the horses have frostsicles on their whiskers, the poop is frozen into the tubs. So I dropped them and kicked them and heaved them around until I broke two of them. Then I complained that they were cheap.

I think I was supposed to be mentioning things that I'm glad about...what were they? Oh, I am thankful for the anti-viral medicine that makes my COLD sores go away. Way thankful. I was glad to see a glowing orb in the sky today, albeit briefly and it gave no heat. I am glad for orange extension cords that go for miles, even under flowing rivers of ice. I am thankful for sawdust and the friendliest pony in the world who wants to bite the handle of the poop fork while I'm using it. I am thankful that my horses are so gentle that I can move all around them without concern, unless I have a shred of carrot left in any pocket in which case I could be knocked to the ground and mauled.

Did I mention that my husband has been out of town for months? Okay, three days. He's on his way home now. I'm so glad because I'll probably have to haul water tomorrow and it's snowing tonight, again. Oh, my parents called from FLORIDA, so I could go through their mail for them. And they're not going to be back until a few days later than originally planned. Hey, no problem! Their dogs are eating the frozen doots about as fast as I can bring them up from the barn...

Gotta go put on those blankies. It's a balmy 19.2 here. I've been wearing these same jeans (fleece-lined) for two days now. Nowhere near my record.

Barn Spirituality

To me, stall cleaning is a spiritual experience. And not in the sense of, "Oh God, do I have to keep doing this?" or "Oh God, how can they produce this much?" Whenever I clean stalls (every morning), I think, this must be what God feels like with me.

He is sorting through my life, picking out the piles of yuck, here and there, thinking--"Good grief, Child. Not more. I thought we dealt with this already." He's not angry. Just diligent. More piles, more cleaning. Fact of life.

I'm not mad that there are piles. That's what they do. Part of keeping animals is cleaning up the mess, day after day after day. I am pleased when the stall is clean. It makes me feel good. I am a good keeper for them, to provide a nice, dry bed. Then in my analogy, I have to add the chickens. Because in my barn, there is usually a hen who is very anxious to get to the manure piles before me. The hens can usually lead me to the piles that have been camouflaged with sawdust. I might miss them, except there's a hen, dutifully uncovering them.

So today I thought, (I am so deep), that the hen is the Holy Spirit. I have tried my best to cover up some of the yuck; to make it blend in. But there's that Holy Spirit, not missing one blemish. But uncovering the mess, for my benefit, actually. Bringing it out in the open, so the Lord can deal with me and it. I would rather the piles stay covered, but that diligent Spirit is bringing them out, allowing the Lord to take it all away.

Something about a barn, makes a lot of big things, a lot simpler. Cleaning stalls is good therapy.

The Poop Sled

Yeah, it's not a real inspiring title, but it's reality here. Last winter when the snow got too deep for the lawnmower to pull the trailers full of manure to the garden, we had to come up with another way to haul that black/green gold to the tomato beds. So Handyman being the genius that he is, came home from Menards with a large, heavy, plastic sled. The tag had a lovely illustration of a deer carcass haphazardly slung across said sled, but we had bigger plans! Hitch up two children and numerous small dogs and voila! Poop sled! Yeeeha!
This year, it's gotten even better. Now we have an ATV! I swear, we must look rich to the outside world. We are just the grateful beneficiaries of terrific friends, who have cool stuff! Handyman's friend Mark races ATV's with his son, who has now gone away to boarding school. Their very first, little-guy ATV was lonely and unloved in the barn next to the big, manly, racing ATV's. So Mark sent it to us, for free! It's perfect for us girls! It has electric start and no clutch. We love it. It's so little, it kills Handyman's tail bone when he rides it further than 20 yards, so he has to kneel on the seat. He sort of looks like those one-legged skiers.
Anyway, now we throw the rope of the poop sled over the back of the ATV seat and away we go. We had to convince #3 that she really shouldn't ride the poop sled when it's full. Her head is about as high as the top of the muck tubs and with all the joyous high-speed bouncing, her hat can get a little, well, you know. Sooooo, she rides the sled back to the barn, after it has unloaded its glorious cargo.
I was hauling and emptying the sled all by myself the other day and wondering if we should do some kind of cool paint job--a la "Primp" my ride. I know that's not the real title, but I am not going there. I called Handyman and asked him if anyone would go for a show called "Primp" my poop ride. He did not get it at all. What? What does that mean? My wicked humor was lost on him. I don't know if those flame painter guys could do flaming manure piles or something on my itty-bitty ATV. Too bad you can't see it!