Tax Time

Today, is farm tax day.
I NEVER put taxes off this long, but this year my plate has been full and taxes are the peas that I pushed to the side to eat last.
If you have been reading my blog since the beginning of time, you know what tax time on the farm was like before my Grampy moved to the big barn in the sky.
He would get EVERY slip of paper he had collected throughout the year and make 507 stacks on the kitchen table.
Tax preparations usually started in early January and would end with an extension sometime mid Mayish.
He would have receipts from the sausage egg mcmuffins that he shared with the dogs on Tuesdays and the receipt for the new washer for the faucet for the sink in the utility room.
There were stacks of every electric bill (big house, little house and barn) phone bill, cable bill and car insurance bill.
Saved slips from the dogwash, the barber shop and every restaurant we patronized during the previous year, and for months they would make the daily slide from one end of the kitchen table to the other to make room for every meal, and without fail my Grampy would say these words, "Beans and Rice that's alot of GD paperwork, I need to get that sh!t together and into the tax lady."
Except, he didn't really say beans and rice.
Or GD.
And he didn't really spell sh!t with an exclamation point.
Needless to say, I have simplified the process.
I will use my Mac and be done in about thirty minutes and then take my folder into the tax lady.
I might even take the dogs to McDonalds on the way home just for old times sake.
So, I would love to sit here and talk to you all day, but I have sh!t to do.

Peas~

Another Great Day!

Holy Cow!!
My mail man lady must think I'm a rock star with all the packages I've been getting :)
Today in the mail I got a cat door from my friend Sara who read on my Never blog that I may or may not need a spouse to install a cat door in the pumphouse.
Boom!
She fired one off in the mail to me THAT day.

I'm excited to put it in, but I may wait and have my friend Becky do it when she comes for a visit.
She's really good at handy work like that, and you know what Red Green says...
"If they don't find you handsome, they should at least find you handy"

Wendy is coming for dinner tonight!
Well, she said she was coming so I'm keeping my fingers crossed, but I didn't tell Wyatt just in case.
That way, if she does come, he's happy to see her and if she doesn't come he doesn't think she's a buttface liar.

I swung in to the feed store today to get a pin for the pin to hold the wagon on the lawn mower, so Wyatt doesn't have to ride in the front of it to hold it down.
While I was looking through the gagillions of hardwarey pieces I heard the faint sound of chics in the back of the store.
Well, of course you know the rest of that story...
Two white ducks are now in the tub with the chickens who got their walking papers to the brooding room in the henhouse last night, but they rallied against me in protest.
I am only one but they are many.

This is one of the new baby ducks.
I bet you would keep these guys in your tub too.

Wyatts home, gotta go,

Eye Heart Ewe Fahren

I am SO happy!
I got the pasture leased out to some really nice cow people.
This means that now the fences will get fixed and I won't have to mow pastures this summer.
Also, I love the fact that they're Border Collie people. They have two, Molly and Millhouse, so Bart and Buddy will really be looking forward to their visits.

I got a package in the mail today from my favorite sister J.Carlson.
Do you want to know what it is?
Me too!
I'll go get it and see...
I think it must be gold or diamonds or jewels or something because she has enough packing tape on it to keep the pirates out.
Hang on, I have to get a knife.
If I cut myself with the knife I'm going to kick her ass.
K, got it...
Oooooo, it looks like something good...

Getting close...

Closer...

It's a MUG!!

Made by my niece FAHREN!!
Ok, I'm confused...

It says "Happy Birthday MYFAM" (My Favorite Aunt Marilyn)
Ok, wait, now I'm cring and canr see very well.
I love you lots too Fahren, and there is NOTHING better than an early birthday present!

I am the luckiest girl in the world because not ONLY did I get this stellar gift today, but yesterday Shelley sent me a box FULL of goods too.
Even a package of chicken gravy and you know what they say... You can never have too many packages of chicken gravy.

Tween Stink

I just left comment 1422 over at Pioneer Woman's place.
You people really need to pick up the pace here.

Ugghhh....
Today is Wyatt's first day back to school after his week long break.
I love having him home.
I live for winter break, spring break, summer break and September still makes my stomach oogy just at the thought of going back to school. Even if it isn't me who's going back.
I would home school in a heartbeat, but I don't think I've got what it takes.
I think we would spend all of our time doing mod podge and playing poker.
Making soap and painting flower pots.
Playing follow that car.
We would end up being even more Grey Gardens then we already are, and trust me, that's saying something.

Last week we went to the white trash warehouse Walmart so Wyatt could spend his birthday gift card that he got from Grandma.
I despise Walmart.
I don't think there are words to describe my loathing for Walmart so I won't even attempt to tell you how I really feel.
But there we were, the most dreaded place on earth.
Wyatt was in heaven.
We were there at least an hour as he looked at and touched every single item or combination of items that he could afford with his card.
And this is what he chose...
Plastic bow and arrow set.
Sea Monkeys.
Axe.

Yes, you read that correctly.
I am now the pathetic mother of an Axe wearing tween.
I have learned these last few days that a little Axe is not enough, as a matter of fact I think if you're an eleven year old boy you can never have enough Axe.
When Wyatt walks in the room my plants wilt and the paper peels off the walls.
The dogs run out of the room and the pig in the pasture begins to squeal.
I am not even kidding you.
Who is the maker of this diabolical douche like substance?
I believe we could end the war on terror with one drop of the new and improved "A" Bomb.
That's right, one drop of an Axe bomb would send Bin laden out of the caves waving the white flag.
If we didn't want to drop a bomb and kill off everything in the vicinity, we could just send Osama a gift set for the Holidays and follow the Axe trail to his hideout.
If the CIA happens to be reading my blog and enables this tactic I want the credit for it.
The headline would read like this...
"Mother Of Over Axed Tween Ends War On Terror, But Still Wages War On The Homefront!"

I have to go open all the doors and windows now.
See you tomorrow.

Thursday Morning

Sorry, I forgot about you yesterday.

Wyatt is home from school all week, partly for conferences and partly for snow days that never were, and his conference went... GREAT!!!!

I am so excited and used so many exclamation points because Wy has always been a left brained creative artsy fartsy kind of kid.

Not much into math, reading, or anything else that involves a big yellow bus as mode of transportation in order to participate. So needless to say, I have never received stellar reports on his performance.

I hear things like, "he is such a nice boy," "shows empathy towards others," "has natural dramatic abilities," "roots for the underdog," "talented artist."

Remember last year when he organized and taught an origami class?

I always just figured he would be the next Bob Ross and live in the attic with a nice little cat painting happy little trees

But... Now I know he has scholastic ability!

I am so proud.

He has really pulled it together this year, found his groove and seems to be on the fast track for middle school!

The chickens are still in the bathtub.

Is that a bad thing?

That bathroom needs remodeling anyway. We had to rip up the carpet and cut and cap the waterline to the tub a few months ago, so couldn't that maybe mean that it's fate and they belong in the tub? They are so warm and happy and it's like they do little chick olympics in there. In the infamous words of Farmer Tweedy, "it's like their organized." And I swear to you they are excited to see me every time I go in there and their growing so fast and I don't want to miss out on their baby stage, it goes by so fast. I promise, if they start begging at the dinner table with the dogs, they're out.

Speaking of dogs.

The Bratty Baby Buddy and Wyatt start dog school on the 22 of this month.

We are all SO excited.

The school is close by in Oregon City and after they complete doggy grade school they can start agility training.

How fun is THAT!

Buddy will have Wyatt jumping through hoops in no time ; )

Oops

Well, I guess I planted my chickens to early this year.

Last night it got below freezing and we had to move the chics inside.

To the bathtub.

After thinking about it a little, I now seem to remember that we usually get our chicks around Easter.

When is Easter anyway?

I need to check my calender.

The weather report last night that said it was going to get below freezing and possibly snow. Of course I didn't believe it, but at the same time I didn't want to find frozen chicken in the henhouse when I woke up this morning.

It was to late to set them up in the garage so we did what anyone would do and that was to set up a nursery in the bathtub.

Really, when you think about it, who doesn't like a warm tub on a cold night.

So I had a tub full of chickens and Bart the Border Collie who made it his job to secure the perimeter and make sure the chickens stayed in the tub all night long.

I don't think he slept a wink and if he did it was only with one eye closed, and he kept letting me know he was on the job by cold nosing my arm whenever it fell out from under the blankets.

I had to keep telling him they were supposed to be in there and that he needed to get some rest, but obviously there was a lack of understanding on his part and an unwillingness to to let the event go unsupervised.

The Beagle and Pooter on the other hand had no problems sleeping and of course the Baby Buddy could care less.

I'm sure he was out cold dreaming about herding the pig though an unfenced grassy meadow.

It's still cold enough that I think I'll keep the chics in another day or so.

I'm just wondering, do you think you could house train a chicken?

Well, the weather report was right (how often does that happen) and here's a picture of what was in store for us when we woke up this morning...

That's Wyatt and the Baby Buddy heading down to the pond hoping to find it had frozen over during the night. Before long all the dogs except Pooter joined them on their journey and they all came back soaking wet.

Trust me when I tell you that nothing wakes you up in the morning like the smell of three wet dogs.

Well, maybe the sound of chickens in the bathroom.

Chic Day

We got our baby chics on Saturday!

So cute.

Here's the deal though...

If #6 was here I would have said, "Will you please go move the heat lamp and unload the six bags of feed from the truck and we'll go."

And then he would have moved the lamp , unloaded the truck and we would have gone.

Here's how it went instead.

I went down to the henhouse to move the heat lamp that was clipped to the ceiling beam on the hen side, to the brooding side where the chicks were going.

I had considered buying a new clamp lamp at Fred Meyer earlier that morning but decided I already had two and that was enough.

Idiot.

So, the lamp was clamped to the beam and then secured with a wood screw on either side.

I suppose 6 thought that maybe the hens might have a party that could possibly involve hens swinging from the "chandeliers" and didn't want to take any unnecessary risk.

I can't unclamp the lamp because ever since I had the second surgery on my right shoulder I've suffered from John McCaine syndrome which leaves me unable to raise my arm above my head.

*Note to self: Rule out career as carpenter, painter or porn star*

I call for Wyatt to bring me a milk crate to stand on to get a better angle on secured clamp, but worry about what 500 pounds could do to a flimsy plastic crate.

Decide to take my chances.

Stand on crate, reach the clamp lamp but not strong enough to unclamp over woodscrews.

Yell for Wyatt to bring criss crossy screwdriver.

Wait for Wyatt to pet the goats, throw a stick for the dog, shoot his bow and arrow, kick rocks, find screwdriver, throw stick two more times for the dog, shoot bow and arrow into the camellia tree, find a stick to poke at the camellia tree to get arrow back, forget that I need the screwdriver thats in his pocket until I start yelling at him while still standing on the milk crate while getting sick to my stomach because I'm afraid of heights.

Unscrew the woodscrews securing the clamp lamp and move it to the brooding room.

I know your wondering why I didn't just use the other lamp and here's the reason.

It had a bulb already screwed in that had broken so I couldn't get the metal screwy part out.

Now it's time to unload the six bags of feed from the truck.

Keep in mind I weigh five hundred pounds and have the John McCaine shoulder.

I start up the riding lawn mower and try to remember how to back up.

After some time remember that I just push my foot the opposite way of forward.

Drive down to the front pasture to get the wagon.

Struggle with trying to figure out how to hook up the wagon.

Wyatt gets in the wagon and we drive back up to the truck to load the feed to drive around to the feed room and the henhouse.

Wyatt gets on other side of feed bags in the truck and pushes while I try to pull, grab, duck and throw.

Repeatedly incorrectly load feed trying to figure out the last bag loaded, first bag unloaded system.

Wyatt steps in a hole that the dog dug in the yard and hyper extends his knee.

I get to rest and catch my breath while I comfort Wyatt and reassure him he will be ok because we don't have good insurance anymore and I can't afford to take him to the hospital.

Get back on the lawn mower and take off as the wagon pitches back and the pin goes flying into the bushes.

Gimpy and I look for the pin.

Find the pin, secure the wagon and reload all the feed to the front and have Gimpy sit on top so the weight holds the stupid wagon down.

Drive around to the feed room, unload four of the six bags eight times until the right bags have been unloaded and moved inside.

Ask Wyatt AKA Gimpy to limp over and open the gate and NOT let the dogs in the pasture.

Wyatt opens the gate and lets the dogs in the pasture.

Catch the border collie that won't listen because he's to busy herding the pig.

Unload the feed into the henhouse.

Have Wyatt open the gate to let me out and NOT let the dogs in pasture.

Wyatt opens the gate, lets the dog in the pasture, yells at the dog, I yell at Wyatt for yelling at the dog while the dog herds the pig.

Catch dog, carry dog out of pasture.

Wyatt gets back in the wagon because the pin flys out every time I go over a bump.

Wonder why anyone would have a stupid wagon when you can't even use it without the pin flying out.

Later find out I'm supposed to put a pin in the pin to hold it in.

Whatever.

I miss #6.

Anyway, we finally got everything ready and made it to the Chicken Farm and got our chicks!

Aren't they cute!