The Way Back Machine

The time: Mid-20th Century
The place: Elementary School, somewhere in the midwest

While straightening up the storage area in the basement I came across a large plastic tote filled with photos. I briefly sorted through them in an attempt to pull out the older photos. I managed to amass quite a nice collection which I set aside. I came across the photo above which was a mystery to me. I don't remember ever seeing this before and at first glance I didn't recognize any of the children.

Looking closer I began to wonder at what point do our personalities express themselves? At birth? As a toddler? Certainly by kindergarten. Look at this bunch, they look like the stinking Little Rascals.



Back row, left to right: Clueless Cowboy, Math Whiz, Destined for County Jail, Whiner.
Bottom row, left to right: Suzy Homemaker, Mama's Boy, Future Hairdresser, Another Whiner.

I do love the little Peter Pan collars.

On closer inspection I spotted the sweetest little girl.



See her, on the bottom left? What a cutie, smiling so sweetly with her hands folded in her lap. What an adorable little dress. I bet she's a grandmother by now and I bet she's wonderful at her job as granny. At this point in time she's one sweet and happy little girl in Mary Jane shoes.

But wait......

Look at that little boy on the right in the back row. MR. MISCHIEF. I'd recognize that look anywhere.

It's the Farmer!!!!!



Yep, he's spotted something off camera that promises a chance at some mischief. Perhaps there's a dog walking past and he's thinking about skipping storytime to chase after the dog. There's that wierd hair that will never behave and drives barbers crazy.

His shirt is nice and white. For sure......because the Other Mothers is the chemical industry's best customer. It's a wonder he can smell due to overexposure to chlorine bleach. He looks very well fed. I know there's plenty of sauerkraut and dumplings in his house.

Speaking of sauerkraut, I'm going to pop over to the Milk Man's WIfe to see if she's posted her tutorial on how to make homemade sauerkraut. Thank heavens she finally got herself a digital camera.

Thanks for visiting today. I was wondering, do you notice personality traits in childhood photos?

Got Eggs??

About a month ago I took a new route to the home improvement store and came across a new egg farm. I'm very excited because it's quite a bit closer than my other egg farm. I didn't stop that day because I had plenty of eggs at home. But then the weather really got hot and every time I drove past there were no eggs out by the road. I'm sure it was because of the heat.

When the weather cooled down a bit I drove past and sure enough.......EGGS!

I can't believe that I forgot to take a picture of the farmhouse because it's a beautiful yellow Victorian farmhouse. I promise next time I'll take some shots. This is a roadside operation, as are many of the home grown vegetable stands. It's self-serve and on the honor system.

She's got a nice sign.



A sturdy board serves as a cover on the insulated box.



When I pulled the board off I could see that it was originally used as a sign for a lost Bassett hound. I wonder if they found the dog.



Inside the box are the beautiful eggs. I mean, really beautiful.



I put an honest Abe in the little container. This is after all, the honor system.



And I got two dozen beautiful fresh eggs.

They range in sizes from medium to gigantic. And since the standard of measurement here "At Home....." is the martini glass, here's a look at one of the larger eggs.



Thanks for coming along with me to the egg farm. We'll go back another day and I'll take photos of the beautiful farmhouse.

Sorry that I'm late posting this today but I was out partying last night. You're listening to Shania Twain this morning and on Monday I've got a big surprise for you. Shania and Willie Nelson figure into this story so you'll want to be here. Thanks for visiting with me, I'm off to cook some bacon and eggs for the troops!

You're able to read?

It occurred to me that anyone reading this blog on a regular basis would have absolutely no idea that I actually know how to read. You know, read for pleasure, not just Aunt Jemima pancake boxes.

I think I did drop a small hint once or twice when I feature pictures of our in-home library/office. You know, the room with the bookcases groaning under the weight of $1.79 treasures from the Goodwill store. When we first set up the bookcases I arranged everything according to genre - presidential biogaphies on the top shelf, self-help books were next to history. It was a loosely organized arrangement that was probably based on color scheme.


The tip of the bookcase iceberg.

The four full shelves of cookbooks are a never-ending source of amusement for family.

"If you have over 200 cookbooks, why are you always serving the same 5 meals over and over?" they ask.

"Good question. I'm plain out of answers today. Ask me again tomorrow when we're diving into the chipped beef on toast," I offer in defense.

The downstairs library is just the tip of the literary iceberg. There are books everywhere. We had a bookcase cabinet built in next to the fireplace. It filled up quickly but it all started looking like we were living in a public library so I moved those around and created a spot for all the barware I'd been collecting.

Regardless of the warnings of bad feng shui karma I got a Crate & Barrel leaning bookcase for the bedroom. Haven't had a peaceful night's sleep since then because that's where all the true life adventure books are stored, including every book ever written about Mount Everest. All those mountain climbing disasters are washing over me while I sleep. No wonder I'm worn out in the morning.

Right now I'm reading Cindy LaFerle's, "Writing Home" and it's such a wonderful read. I'll have a full review soon. I'm just finishing it up.

I just finished a book that Cindy suggested, "The Lost Continent" by Bill Bryson. I had to check the copyright on this book (1989)because it immediately became apparent that he'd have difficulty getting this published in this day and age of political correctness. The PC police would have a field day whipping on him. i don't care what they say, it was funny.


"Passing time reading at the estate sale"

I suppose it was my wicked 6th grade teacher Mrs. Hogan who scared me off of ever attempting to write in the margins of books, even in pencil. She'd twist your ear if she caught you dog-earing a page. Lately I've gotten over Mrs. Hogan's nasty voice in the back of my head. More than once I've been driven crazy trying to find a passage that I wanted to revisit, and as a result I've been writing in the margins and dog-earing like mad!

Bryson pretty much summed up many of my sentiments in this passage from "The Lost Continent".

"Then it would be home to bed and up early in the frosty dawn to go out hunting for deer with his best friends, Ed and Art and Wally, trudging across the fallow fields, savoring the clean air and companionship. I was seized with a huge envy for these people and their unassuming lives. It must be wonderful to live is a safe and timeless place, where you knew everyone and everyone knew you, and you can all count on each other. I envied them their sense of community, their football games, their bring-and-bake sales, their church socials. And I felt guilty for mocking them. They were good people."

My neighbors often comment that we all must have earned some awesome good karma points. Anthropologists are welcome to stop by anytime and study what makes our communities tick. I don't think it's any great mystery but I don't have time to ponder the question. I've got some books that need to be read.

Have a Seat.....

If you've been reading for awhile you are aware that I've become intimate friends with my basement floor. I've been dealing with this floor for one year this weekend. Remodeling goes very slow when you're doing the work yourself and you're not keeping yourself to a strict deadline.

There have been times when we shut the door and ignored the tasks for months on end. First I had to scrape carpet glue from 600 square feet of the space using a putty knife. That putty knife is going to be framed and hung in a place of honor in the basement.

The before......



After getting quotes on installing the 4,000 lbs. of tile we ordered, we decided to lay the tile ourselves. At various times during this project I considered calling my old therapist. I'm due for a tune-up anyway.

Two-thirds of the floor (one side of the basement) has been completed, which allows us to move all the "stuff" to that side and start laying more tile! The tile is so beautiful, like a marbled terrazzo. We have found preformed pieces that cover the ugly poles and we still have to paint and install those.



We have started decorating the finished portion and that's the fun part. Basement windows are the bane of any decorating scheme. They're horrid, like underground terrariums built into the walls. I think I've got a solution, it just needs to be implemented.

We've got a nice sectional sofa which creates a movie theater corner. Still needed: area rug, lamps, candles, artwork, additional throw pillows.



The area needs a chair or two and I was thinking that it should be something without arms, something that's not too massive.This looked interesting. But it's a little bit chunky.



But in my post-menopausal and post-midlife crisis stage I feel a zebra skin chair coming on.



I can feel it.

It feels wild and right.

I need it.

The basement needs a wild side.

And so.........I'm working to earn some pin money......uhhhhhh, wild-zebra-print-chair-money is more like it.

If you check the side bar you will notice a new button. It looks like this:



It's the link to my marketplace called, "The Farmer's Wife Goes to Market". Do you remember helping me name the marketplace?

The first market is now open, titled "The Pink Market". When you pop over there you will see why.

If you see the button in the sidebar that means the market is open. No button - market closed.

As I mention on the market site, if you are looking for anything specific let me know. My sister and I have tons of mid-century items. I will be posting a market that is strictly aprons in the near future.

Thanks for reading. Thanks for shopping. Thanks for understanding my need for something wild.

And the winner is.....

Thanks to everyone for participating in the "Stood Up" giveaway.

First of all, I wasn't really stood up. Next time I'll give everyone a heads up way in advance. This was kind of a last minute event and I thought some of my local readers might like to meet up.

There were some unbelievable "stood up" stories but none can top Sadie who was stood up at the maternity ward. OH MY GOSH. I certainly hope that the hospital staff was supportive and not just gossiping about what happened to you. One can hope.

I put all the names of everyone in my beautiful 25th Anniversary brandy snifter. No, this wasn't a gift on our anniversary. i fell in love with it at the Goodwill store. The silver is not printed on, it's actually a very cool raised design.



Anyway, in my low tech drawing.......... the winner is



RUE!!!!!

I bet she'll be making peanut butter & jelly sandwiches with her new apron.

Congratulations Rue. Send me an e-mail.

Thanks everyone for participating.

Pin Money

When I was growing up my grandmother and my mom had something called "pin money". After all the kids were fed, shoed and clothed whatever little money remained would be put aside for something extra that wasn't in the family budget. It might be an fancy apron, a special lamp or in my grandmother's case she had a custom bedspread made with her pin money.

It seemed to be universal at that time. My aunt, who lived in one of the most rural places I've ever visited, had "egg money" that she earned from selling the extra eggs laid by her flock of chickens. She finally saved enough egg money to buy a washing machine. I'm not quite sure what type of machine it was because they didn't have electricity.


My aunt, walking back into the house. Cousin Jerry plays in the yard.

She made the mortal mistake of giving the egg money to her no-account husband who was going to town for the day. She handed him the money, wrapped up carefully in the sale advertisement from the newspaper. My mom was visiting at the time and warned my aunt that this was a very unwise move on her part. Like I said, the husband was what's called a no-account.

The day wore on and my aunt was giddy with excitement at the thought of having a mechanized means to lighten the load of laundry day. The hours wore on and my mom was dreading was was coming next. As darkness fell she caught a glimpse of someone coming down the dusty road. Yes, there he was....... in a junk car being pushed along by someone else because the car didn't even run!!!!

The husband felt that the non-running junk car was just what his family needed, not a washing machine! When my mom saw the car inch closer and closer to the house (well, it was really just a shack) she grabbed the no-account's loaded shotgun and positioned herself strategically on the porch.

Mustering up her loudest, most aggressive voice she bellowed down the lane, "Don't you come another inch closer. I've got both barrels loaded and I'm gonna shoot your car first, and then I'm gonna shoot you!"

"WHAT???? What'd you say woman?" he shouted back.

"You heard me. You're gonna lose a leg if you make me repeat myself. Get the hell outta here! Take your drunken friend and your dead car with you."

The no-account and his friend stopped and conferred. My mom had been born in the south but raised in Chicago. These two men didn't know what to make of it. Perhaps she was trained by the infamous gangsters who roamed the Chicago neighborhoods.

"You know I'm crazy enough to do it."

After a short conference they decided they couldn't take a chance on her sanity, so the parade of fools retreated down the road, back to town.

Of course it was just a short reprieve from the drama my aunt faced on a day-to-day basis. Although my aunt was married to a man with more than his share of baggage and problems, she never felt "oppressed". She just didn't. She was perhaps one of the happiest and generous people I ever knew. Perhaps feminists would say she was just stupid for not realizing that she was oppressed and unhappy and put-upon. Yeah, she was dumb that way.

I think she was just a person who didn't let a situation beyond her control get her down. In that time and place, without an education in the rural south there was no other option than to live your life the best you could. Perhaps if she'd been born 40 years later she would had "risen up against the man", but she developed a spirit that allowed her to be happy in a situation that would never be tolerated today.

Tomorrow we're going to continue our discussion of pin money because I'm saving a little bit myself. I'll show you what I've got in mind to spend it on. And no, it ain't a dead car!

Further reading on this subject:
It's All Over but the Shoutin' by Rick Bragg

Holy cow, I know every character in THAT book.

Berry Good Season

Berries are coming into season and although we don't have any strawberries or brambles planted, there are alot of berry farms that allow you to come and pick your own.

Fortunately my neighbors Joe and Susan have red raspberries and they love to share! There are tons and tons of raspberries on the vines but you can only pick as many as are ripe that day. On Saturday evening Joe braved the bees and picked berries. Sunday morning before church Susan dropped some off for me.



There was a little under 2 cups of berries and although that's not enough to make a pie, it is enough to make a Clafouti. A berry Clafouti is a custardy mixture that contains flour. As it bakes the flour sinks to the bottom and makes a kind of soft crust. It's delicious. You make it with any firm berries.

BERRY CLAFOUTI

1-1/2 to 2 cups fresh raspberries
3 eggs
1 cup milk
1/2 cup flour
1/2 cup sugar
1 teaspoon vanilla
1/4 teaspoon nutmeg
1/8 teaspoon salt

Butter a glass pie dish or quiche pan. Beat eggs until light and foamy. Add remaining ingredients and mix on low speed until smooth. Pour this mixture in the prepared dish and add the raspberrries. and bake 30-35 minutes at 350 degress F, or until a knife inserted in the center comes out clean. Sprinkle with powdered sugar and top with freshly whipped cream. Serve warm or cold.

Gather the ingredients.



Beat the eggs until frothy. Add the remaining ingredients and beat on low speed until smooth.



Pour the mixture into the buttered dish.



Jiggle the dish so that the berries settle into the liquid.



Raspberry Clafouti is delicious for breakfast!



I'm going to research the dates for berry picking at a farm west of here. I'd like to take you on a field trip. I'm not sure my back or my knees will tolerate berry picking, but we can certainly try.

I'm in awe of my great-grandmother who picked cotton and stripped sugar cane with a machete, well into her late 80's! Pioneer women were certainly made of sturdier stuff than I.

Thanks for visiting today. Tomorrow we'll be up to more nonsense.

Stood Up

It was a beautiful day for the Heirloom Garden Show at Garfield Farm Inn and Museum. The weather was clear and we had perfect temperatures. I arrived and checked in with my sister to see Boone County Heritage Garden's table. They had tasting of jams and preserves. My favorite? The onion and garlic jelly. WOW...it was terrific.

The Hot Pepper guy was there. I bought his hot pepper/pineapple hot sauce. It's terrific. I loved his "table". It was four hay bales and a board.



The ever-lovely Donna was there in period dress. If you remember, we toured her spectacular gardens in La Fox a while back.



There were people there with more different varieties of tomatoes than I every knew existed. One man grows 80 different varieties. Stop and think about that for a moment. Do you know how many tomatoes you get from one plant? Times 80?? That's crazy.



Mary Burnitz is pouring me a taste of her beet wine. Yes, BEET WINE! It was spectacular. So delicious. She convinced me that making wine wasn't all that difficult and showed me several cookbooks that included wine recipes. I'm going to try! Yeah, the little-ole-winemaker, me!



Mr. Bauer was making sure Garfield Farm's oxen behaved themselves.



I was waiting..........patiently.......with my Slightly Curried and Blueberried Chicken Salad, Artichokes and Olives, and Buttermilk Pie.



At about 1:00 p.m. yesterday afternoon I happened upon the Executive Director of Garfield Farms, and Historical Preservationist extraordinaire Jerry Johnson. He was strolling through the Heirloom Garden Show taking pictures and enjoying the stunningly beautiful afternoon.

"Jerry, I set up my quilt under the beautiful tree behind the hen house," I said.



He glanced over in that direction but quickly noticed the the picnic basket was hanging heavily in my right hand.

"I invited my local readers to join me here at the show," I continued. In reality I sent my invitation out to the four winds...... Norway, Jordan, India, West Virginia, Maine.....well, you get the idea.

"No one showed up Jerry. I feel like the ugly stepsister who gets stood up on prom night!"

Jerry nodded. I'm not quite sure if he has ever been stood up. His nod was perhaps just in acknowledgment of my situation.

I trudged on, hauling my picnic basket over to the tables being manned by my sister and her co-worker Pat. They were mighty happy to see that curried chicken salad and buttermilk pie.

On my way out I cut a couple of pieces of pie for the guys greeting the guests at the gate.

I suppose that I could slather myself with blue paint and dance around feigning disappointment. But the truth is that I know most of you would have loved to have spent a beautiful, balmy Sunday afternoon on the Illinois prairie. Speaking of prairies, they did have a tour of the prairie plot. I felt all of you in spirit and for my readers and their energy I am so grateful. Without my readers there is no "At Home......"

BUT....here's what you missed. I had one of my Farmer's Wife aprons to give away to the first guest who showed up under the shade tree.

I'm still going to give it away, but a mere "I want the apron" in the comment section just ain't gonna do it. Here's the deal. You're going to have to tell me your own personal "Stood Up" story. Haven't we all been stood up at one time or another? Tell me a good, juicy, awe-inspiring tale. I'm going to put all the names in a hat and draw a winner on Thursday. DANG...the Farmer is going out of town again. He's going to slip through my clutches and I"m not going to be able to photograph him in the prize apron. He's a slippery devil.

Slightly Curried Chicken Salad

Be forewarned, this is a fly-by-the-seat-of-your-pants-recipe, which means there are no specific measurements. Try cooking without a net. This chicken salad is pretty straightforward, just add whatever extra ingredients you might have on hand or that you feel will add an interesting touch. Here's the recipe for the chicken salad that I took in my picnic basket today. More on the Heirloom Garden Show tomorrow.

Slightly Curried Chicken Salad

Boneless, skinless chicken breasts, cooked and diced
(1/2-1 chicken breast per person)
Mayonnaise
Celery, diced
Salt and pepper
Curry powder

Add the following according to your whim:
Grapes, cashews, bluberries, pine nuts.

Put the diced chicken into a bowl.



Add the celery and salt & pepper to taste. Stir in enough mayonnaise to moisten everything. Add a small amount of curry powder (1/4 tsp.) stir well, taste and add more if needed. Remember, the flavors intensify as it sits, so be careful. Add grapes and cashews, if desired.


Really fuzzy photo - the camera was nipping the wine!


NOTE: Many people do not like curry, but I have found that just a small amount of curry powder will add a depth of flavor that is barely noticeable. To release the oils in a spice, heat a small fry pan over low heat. Add the spice and stir until it just begins to give off a little steam. This releases the oils and gives a bolder flavor.

I didn't have grapes on hand so I used some blueberries. Don't mix them in until the last minute before you serve, otherwise you'll have bluish, purple chicken salad and that's not very appetizing.



Enjoy!

Don't Forget

I invite all my readers to meet up with me today at 12 noon at the Heirloom Garden Show which will be held at Garfield Farm Inn and Museum.


Volunteer interpreter at Garfield Farm Inn & Museum

In addition to the display and vendors there will be an opportunity to view the prairie plot. Jack Shouba, an area naturalist will help interpret it with John Engstrom, the farm museum's new prairie manager. You can also tour the original 1846 tavern.

Heirloom Garden Show
Aug 24 - 11am-4pm.
Directions:
Garfield Farm is on Garfield Road just north of Illinois Route 38 between Geneva and Elburn, Illinois. It is about 3 miles west of Randall Road, which is at the west edge of Geneva and St. Charles. From Illinois Route 38 turn north on Garfield Road and go about 1/4 mile to the Garfield Farm and Inn.

As I mentioned previously, I will be bringing my vintage picnic basket. I'm bringing:

Artichoke and green olive salad
Crusty French Bread
Chicken Salad with Blueberries
Suzanne McMinn's Buttermilk Pie

Hope to see you there!

Higher Education

You will all be extremely proud of me because today I go back to school.

OK, it's not another anthropology class, I've taken every class offered at the local community college.

I'm going to Home Depot to take the "How to Install a Toilet" class. YES.....perhaps by this evening we'll have a toilet in the basement.

Before you know it I'll be flipping houses!

What shall we call my company? The Farmer's Wife Flips Out.....

Yeah, something like that.

Let's Play Catsup

I've got a little catching up to do, it's another version of Sweeping Out the Kitchen. There's just some odds and ends that need to be addressed.

NUMBER ONE - Bowling Balls

Someone asked to see the underside of the bowling ball garden ornament. Here it is:



The idea is that you don't need to cover the finger holes, you just turn that side to the bottom and no one will ever see it.

NUMBER TWO - Lazy People

I am of the firm belief that any terrific invention or shortcut was discovered by lazy people. How do I know? Because, regardless of all my duties around here I'm basically a lazy person. If there's a shorter, easier way to do something I'll work till I find it.

Remember when we did the bias tape tutorial? Well, I've been sewing lots of aprons and I was getting really, really sick of marking off all those little "ticks" and then connecting them. Disgusting task. So I slept on it and came up with the lazy woman's solution. I found a ruler that is 2 inches wide.

Here's the fabric with the diagonal crease:



I lay one edge of the ruler on the diagonal line, use the disappearing marker on each side.....



I move the ruler over



then I put the left edge of the rule on the line and mark again......



Someone asked me about what you do if you only need a smaller amount of bias. Just mark and cut as many of these strips as you need. If you need to sew them together you can just do a quick run through the machine till you have the correct length.

NUMBER THREE - Heirloom Garden Show, Garfield Farm Museum, LaFox, Illinois
Aug 24 - 11 a.m.-4 p.m.

Rare and specialty fruits, vegetables, flowers and herbs are displayed and sold by Midwestern growers. Member participation by Seed Savers Exchange. $6/$3.

For all my local readers - please try to make it to the Heirloom Plant Show this Sunday at Garfield Farm Museum. It's a great gathering. If you're interested in growing heirloom plants this will be your chance to meet with and question the experts. My sister will be there representing the Boone County Conservation District's heritage gardens.

I will be in attendance and I'll be packing some goodies in my vintage picnic basket. I'll spread out the quilt so join me at 12 noon if you can. I'm not quite sure what their set up is going to be for the day, but I'll try to be located behind the chicken coop. I hope to see you there!

That's the Catsup for today.

I personally want to thank the large "Amen Choir" from yesterday. Thanks ladies. We gotta stick together.

Living Under a Rock

I live out in the country, that's true, but sometimes it becomes painfully apparent to me that I've actually been living under a rock all these years. Seriously.

Many of my stories percolate for awhile, or I see something and file it away until all the pieces stick. Today was one of those days when stuff started sticking together. You will never guess where this story is heading, I promise you that.

After two horrible days in the basement dealing with grout haze, mild solutions of Sulfamic acid and rubber gloves I decided to treat myself to something special. A full body massage would have been terrific but that requires appointments and lots of moola, so I decided instead to drive the 14 miles to the nearest Barnes and Noble bookstore. It's closer than the Borders and it has about 5 AISLES dedicated to magazines. They must have 500 different magazines and heaven knows, I love magazines! I'm a magazine editor's dream.

I grabbed a stack of decorating, quilting and other mags and headed to a table. Ahhhh. wonderful. Nobody questioning me about what's for dinner or asking for a progress report on the remodeling, just me and my periodicals. I settled on the latest issue of Better Homes & Gardens which contained an entire spread on PIE. What a bargain at $3.49. Then I headed over to the bargain book section and found the most fabulous book called Cupcakes by Pamela Clark. The cupcakes and the photography are so scrumptious you could skip the baking and just eat the book. Do we see a pattern emerging here? Never go into a bookstore when you're hungry.

Around the corner there was a little book entitled, "How to Pee Standing Up - Tips for Hip Chicks" by Anna Skinner. I kid you not. Somebody wrote this book, somebody published it and Barnes & Noble is selling it.

I've never been accused of being a hip chick, and although I envy the short lines at the men's bathrooms I've never, ever wanted to pee standing up. It could have it benefits though, especially if you're dressed to the nine's at a fancy function. Usually that scenario involves a girdle foundation garment and as difficult as it is to peel off, it's three times harder to squeeze everything back into it. I don't think I need to go into how many times I've found fake fingernails trapped in my foundation garment at the end of the evening.

The book title made me think of something I saw one evening while I was reading Matt's blog. If you haven't read it, there's a sad back story and there is a bit of cussing. Be forewarned. He's a single dad who takes his baby daughter everywhere and takes photos everywhere also. So, I'm reading a post about his day at a Minnesota Twins game. Innocent enough. At some point he needed to change his daughters diaper so he went into the men's bathroom, changed the baby and took a photo. (Click on the story link above and scroll down)

WHAT THE HELL???? Seriously, what the hell is that????

I called out to the Farmer who was dozing in his Barcalounger.

"You guys pee in a trough??" I yelled.

"Wha?? What??" he mumbled.

"Seriously, men pee in a trough??" I screamed back in horror.

"What do mean?" he ventured, a bit afraid of where this was going.

"I'm looking at a picture taken in the bathroom at a major league ballpark and these men are peeing in a trough. I know a trough when I see one. My family are bona fide, card carrying, outhouse using country folk who slopped hogs in a trough. This is a trough, a really long one too. It's like three troughs bolted together."

The Farmer acted as if I'd just fallen off the turnip truck. Yes, I fell off the turnip truck. I vaguely knew about ick, ick...urinals...but I never dreamed that men peed in troughs. Did you know this? Am I the only one in the dark about this fact?

"Do you pee in a trough when you go to the ballpark?" I asked.

SILENCE ....... sounds of crickets chirping as he contemplates my naivete.

"You mean my SON pees in a trough too?"

More silence.

It was simply more than I could take. I poured myself a gin and tonic and went to bed, hoping for dreams and not nightmares. I was never so happy to be a woman than after that photo. Forget the luck of the Irish, I drew the luck of the chromosome. Hooray for me!

Can I get an Amen somebody?

Blue Paint and Moonlight

Here's what I've discovered in the last week:

- The Farmers is reading my blog
- My neighbors are reading my blog
- The Farmer's son sat down at the computer when I walked away for a moment. I was reading Kelli's blog, "Sugar Creek Farm". He says, "Hey mom.....here's some REAL FARMERS."

It seems the party is over. I have to behave myself. My words are now subject to intense scrutiny by the Farmer. He wants to know about "intent" and "meaning". Heck, I don't want to worry about my stinking intent.

I sure don't want to burst the bubble when it comes to my neighbors. They think I'm normal. Or maybe the don't. I guess I'll just have to be myself. I don't think anything would suprise them at this point, after all I attended a wine tasting in the Queen's jewels.



I take pictures of their houses at night.



I do treat them to dinner once in awhile.



My wonderful neighbor Ed let it be known that he wasn't too happy at not being listed on the Peep list as one of my bartenders. He right! I'm sorry Ed. You're name has been added because you ARE my favorite bartender.



My neighbors had a big laugh when I had to shovel a foot of snow out of my car last spring.



They problem with people in your "real life" reading your blog is that you're no longer able to create your own reality. It's part and parcel of the internet. People can know us by our words and not by our appearance, how fat or thin, or rich or poor we are. 'm thinking specifically of someone who was a regular on a forum I frequented for over 8 years. His words revealed a wonderful person with a great imagination and playful spirit. As online friends we sometimes created alter-egos and engaged in interesting storylines. Dicken once wrote a story in which he painted himself in blue paint and danced around a roaring campfire under the light of the moon. We joined in and added to his story, rattling chicken bones and chanting at the moon.

For most of us it was an interesting diversion, but for Dicken it seemed to be something more. There was always something nagging at me about this free spirit we knew as Dicken. There was something hidden, not evil or odd, just something I couldn't quite put my finger on.

The rest of the story eventually revealed itself, as stories always do. After many years of his friendship we awoke one morning to find an entry on the forum - Dicken had passed away. His wife told us what we never could have known, Dicken was very, very ill during all those years he was our friend. He was bedridden, housebound and physically unable to engage in cavorting of any kind. Only through his words and his imagination was he released to be a free spirit. Unknowingly we enabled his playful dreams to take him out of his broken body and into a different reality. When he played with us he could be young and vibrant.

I miss Dicken a lot. He taught me many things. The biggest lesson he taught me was that a broken body does not translate into a broken spirit.

If I talk about painting myself blue and dancing under the moonlight, humor me. Perhaps you could grab some chicken bones and chant at the moon.

Our Strength

At some point early in our blogging experiences we are forced with a decision about what our focus will be. In order to sustain a continuous flow of material I was forced to write about what I knew, which was our rural lifestyle and our communities.

Using the material at hand helped me to identify the strengths and beauty of this little corner of the planet. Time and time again I came up with the same conclusion, it's the people that make this place special, far beyond the million acres of beautiful corn and clouds of fireflies, it's the people.

Again and again I will sing their praises. I can't say enough good things about them.

I thought you'd like to meet a few of the special people who make up our community. Some of them are my peeps, including Rob Houtz who is my tractor guy. He sold me my first Cub Cadet at the Elburn Days celebration fourteen years ago.



He's the one that saved me when I drove my tractor into a large hole. When I asked him to pose for this picture he asked, "Are you done driving into holes?"

Here are three veterans from American Legion Post #630 in Elburn, Illinois. They were selling raffle tickets and I was feeling lucky so I bought one. They haven't notified me yet, but I'm always the optimist.


From left to right are veterans from the Gulf War, Korean War and Viet Nam. Thanks gentlemen.


You gotta love a young woman that knows how to drive a big International tractor. She's smoothing out the track after each run of the tractor pull. She steers one-handed and it's awesome to watch. I want to have a try at this job.



And then there are the kids. One of the big boys brought his big toy to Elburn Days. That's a very impressive engine and you know those young boys are dreaming of the day when they can drive.



Speaking of kids, here's a video of the senior 4-H showmanship competition. There are twelve, count 'em, twelve hogs running around this show ring. They're not exactly well trained like show dogs, hogs pretty much do what they want. As I understood it part of the task was to keep the hogs from hugging the fence line. The tapping is an to attempt to move them along. You will notice that one hog decides to stop in front of the crowd and take a pee break.



My goal is to bring you a slice of good old small town America, and to give you a feel of what it's like to live in northern Illinois.

Thanks for visiting today. I hope you enjoyed another peek into our little corner of the world.