Life on the Farm Ain't Kinda Laid Back

Well, life on the farm is kinda laid back,

Ain't much an ol' country boy like me can't hack,

It's early to rise, early in the sack,

Thank God I'm a country boy.

Well, a simple kinda life never did me no harm,

A raisin' me a family and working on the farm,

My days are all filled with an easy country charm,

Thank God I'm a country boy.

When John Denver penned these now famous words to his song "Country Boy" he had, apparently, never spent time out at my mother's place.

She and my step-father live in the country. They moved there when they married. I was nineteen and on my own for years. This was their exclusive hideaway. They intended it to be just the two of them and a variety of animals for food and companionship. And they achieved their goal. It just wasn't exactly from the pages of "Country Living" magazine.

I started thinking about it when I saw two dead opossums on the road this morning. 'Possums and city life don't mix well but two is a lot in one day. I wondered if they were escaping my mom's place.

Critters come and critters go and my mother has never been incredibly sentimental about separation. In the fifteen years I lived at home we moved fourteen times. Animals came and went as the wind blew. If they were a problem, they were gone. If we couldn't have them at the next place, they moved on and so did we. She was well suited for the life-and-death decision making that sometimes comes with country life.

It served her well.......I guess.

One country-charming, pastoral day, she awoke to find a coyote had broken in to the hen house. Feathers and squawking chickens were fluttering everywhere. One old girl had gotten the worst of it and the outlook was decidedly Colonel Sanders, if you know what I mean. Mom grabbed her up and, with the expertise of a washer woman, wrung her neck and dispatched her to that big frying pan in the sky. Round One.

Several hours later one of the ducks was looking decidedly dejected. She moped and laid and leaned. Mom was resolved that the suffering could not continue and the most likely issue was an impacted egg. With shovel in hand, her make-shift guillotine forever separated Ducky's mind from her problem, so to speak. My mother proceeded to perform an autopsy. Yep. Egg impaction. Round Two.

As the evening wore on, she and my step-dad turned in for the night. They were awoken by a beastly ruckus in the backyard. The dogs had cornered a 'possum and had gone completely hoodlum with it, bullying it and tossing it to and fro. By the time my mother showed up, well, the grim reaper even paid attention and started taking notes. She felt a .22 would make the quickest work of it but it was the middle of the night and that might alarm the neighbors. She surveyed the yard for options and landed on it: a barbeque skewer. I'll spare you the details but suffice it to say, chicken-neck-wringing and duck-head-detachment are practically children's bedtime stories in comparison. At least the poor thing was long gone when she went back to bed and left it for the dogs. Round three.

All I have to say is this: Whenever I'm not feeling well, I steer far clear of my mother's place. I'd advise you to do the same.

Copyright 2009

Australian Wild Fires

Australian Wild Fires - Requesting Prayer

For any of you visiting my site for very long, you may have seen a blog on my sidebar by "Tatersmama." She is a transplanted Californian living in Australia and is surrounded by news of suffering and death right now. She is not directly affected by the fire itself (meaning the flames are not on top of her but they aren't very far away), and there is some involvement, she says, which she will post about when she can. We will just have to wait and see.

There have been so many deaths (update: 180+ as of Wednesday) and injuries. Whole towns have been wiped out. People trying to flee in their cars have been unable to outrun it at times. One survivor, recounting his experience last night on the Weather Channel News, described it as "raining fire." The horror and swiftness of this inferno is almost too much to comprehend. You can read one of the latest stories here.

We are keeping them, and Tatersmama, in our prayers and just asking those of you who would, to do the same. So many are suffering. I don't feel I can post about anything else right now but will resume my regular post tomorrow.

Thank you all for caring and I'm sure Tatersmama would appreciate any words of encouragement you would want to send her way. She is an incredible woman. She wouldn't want me to say so but it is true. Her daily life includes caring for autistic and developmentally disabled children in her home. Additionally, she has contacted the Red Cross to see if she can offer shelter to victims of the fire. We are grateful for you TM. You don't talk about compassion and caring, you live it. Our prayers are with you.

With Love,

Robynn

News of the Day and Tidying Up

Dognap Alert:

I have been beseeched by Libby, at Neas Nuttiness, to help bring home her pooch. It would seem his little plastic canine self has been dognapped! To frighten the criminals with fiercesome threats go to: http://www.cliffdevries.blogspot.com/

There, you will see photos of poor Percy and his perils. And you'll be able to leave a message on behalf of his release and Lib's request that they also recompense her with bagels and cheesecake. Really, it's the least they can do.

And this just in.........

I visited Humor Bloggers, a small little group, and decided to try and join. I have been rejected. Apparently, I am not funny when compared to their scintillating wit. I encourage you to go here http://www.humorbloggers.com/ to decide whether I should be dejected or delighted. Then please advise and I will emote accordingly.

Lastly........

Please check out the new button to your right - 5 Minutes for Giveaways - to give you an opportunity to enter great contests. I do not make anything for your clicks but I thought it was such a fun idea to have this quick link. Enjoy the rest of your weekend!

Observational Twitter 10

Esoteric:

"The pen is mightier than the sword." Edward Bulwer-Lytton

Exoteric:

"Were the pen mightier than the sword 'Pirates of the Caribbean' would have been a very different movie."

Jack Sparrow: "See here, Barbossa! I'm going to write something unkind about you on the gang plank!"

Captain Barbossa: "You worm, hold fast! I shall poke you in the eyeball with my pen!"


Copyright 2009

Sleep Survival and Angels of Mercy

Meet the Wild Man on a Normal Day

Must look Confident and Serious

Show them you have Teeth, my son, so they know we've left our Ditchbank Trailer Days behind

Dear Deborah - our Lovely Angel of Mercy

Frankenstein preparing for the Launch of the Space Shuttle
(notice the ratty pillow which has lost it's covering and the tag still attached so as to prevent risk of arrest if ever removed)


Wild Man is in survival mode and loving the challenge. Only the strong overcome. (And does this kid rock, or what, for letting me take and post this picture. I owe him now.)

And though you may find it hard to believe, I may have overstated my potential sufferings at the sleep clinic.

While I wouldn't recommend this as a hotel, I have certainly slept far worse places. My hospital informants who contacted me knew not of what they spoke concerning my sleeping accommodations. My bed was, in fact, the very type I slept on when my son was three. It was a chair that folds completely flat. You wouldn't have any desire to purchase it from an infomercial, but it beat an airline seat on a red-eye flight, all to heck.

I slept. My son slept. Our technician, Deborah, couldn't have been nicer and more helpful. She chatted comfortably with us and was incredibly knowledgeable. I did a little clock watching and following of my son's monitor through the night. Fascinating to see your precious child drawing peaceful breaths and observe what is happening in his body. And yes, he has sleep issues. Has to see an Ear, Nose, and Throat specialist about those overly large tonsils (forgot to put that in the singles ad - had mine out when I was 25).

We both fell into deep sleep around 5a.m. - when they were supposed to kick us out - but Deborah, our angel, took mercy on us and let us sleep until 6:30. We walked out to a beautifully rainy day. The StonePowellReillys love weather. Must be our English/Scottish/Irish roots. Ah! thunder just now! And POURING rain!! Gotta go....the tradition is porch swing, hot chocolate, and stories on rainy/thunder days and I must heed the call! Thank you for all the prayers. They were answered!

To Sleep, Perchance to Dream (Bill Shakespeare)

Tonight my son and I will sleep (yeah, right) at a sleep clinic in a children's hospital. My sleep talking, sleep walking, shower taking while asleep, thrasher, turner, midnight oil burner, wake up exhausted son.

He takes after me. We don't "do" sleep easily. It's something we chase and it is not readily caught. Once we've got it pinned to the ground we duke it out and thrash around uneasily. We tend toward sleep apnea on my side. And we have both types: obstructive (low palette, fat tongue - would make a great singles ad) and central (brain doesn't show up for work and tell you to breathe). Grizzly Adam's side gets restless legs. Our poor son dove head first into the shallow end of the gene pool.

So tonight, naturally, he will not exhibit any of those aforementioned behaviors because they will be watching. And we all know how that goes. He'll have the best sleep of his life.

Not I. I am being relegated to a chair in his room. He will sleep lying down and I, presumably, will sleep lying up. And why I must be right there, every moment, in the room while he's sleeping, I have no idea. Don't get me wrong. I'm all for staying with your kids for just about everything. Hey, I HOMEschool for Pete's sake. But when he was three, and in the same hospital, they told me I could go home and they would take care of him. Of course, I didn't go home. I slept in a chair that laid down. But now that he's 13, I have to stay with him in the full-and-upright-airplane-crash-death-defying position?

Well, that's just the way it is. He and I have pulled our share of all-nighters. What mother hasn't? I'm just spoiled because I thought when I weaned him we would now sleep through the night. And we did. Five years later.

So here we go toward another "Night of the Living Dead." Maybe I'll try to find a shower, like my son, and go lay down on the floor of it and sleep. When some tired, naked janitor steps in and turns on the cold water to wake himself up, I'll know it's time to go home, or go blind.

Copyright 2009

Follow the Yellow Brick Road (or me!)

I have watched Feedjit bringing in some of the most fascinating places and people. I am truly grateful. If I keep posting things that entertain or interest you, may I ask a favor? Would you consider signing up to follow? Even if you're not one to leave comments, and not everyone is, you can let me know you're hangin' out with me by following. It would be MUCH appreciated. It's not hard. Just look to your right and you will see an option "Follow This Blog" above the little group of photos. It just takes a minute. The more followers I have the greater visibility it gives me and helps me to get my work out there.

Thank you for dropping in and for caring. And for all of those already following? A very sincere THANK YOU!! It means so much.

I hope to repay you through a contest or two. If I can hit 75 followers I will have a rockin' contest that'll be worth your while! You all are the BEST!

With Love,

Robynn