On the way to the hay rack tonight a funny thing happened.  Well, actually it happened after visiting the hay rack, but, the point is, it happened.  Kent left for a meeting after dinner, and just as he was going out the door, he turned and said, "I need someone to give hay to the cows."  Well, it just so happens that that particular "someone" is me.  So, I went out to give hay to the cows.  It is really muddy right now.  We have had a lot of rain and snow and freezing and thawing going on around here, and that makes for major mud issues...especially in barnyards.

Today is Tuesday.  Tuesday means a lot of folk come over to our house for dinner, and today's meal had most of the usual crowd attending.  So there were hundreds of kids and dozens of adults both in the house and running around in the yard when I went to the hay rack.  I pulled on my trusty boots, not the ones in the picture above, those were from years gone by, but my nice muck-type boots, and headed out with hopes that I wouldn't get stuck in the mud.  And, I didn't get stuck, but something funny did happen.  It happened because I am so short and the mud is so deep.  I got the hay out of the barn, walked fairly well toward the rack, and then just as I reached it, I sunk in deep.  The top of the rack was over my head, so I had to push and shove and heave to get the hay up and in.  In the process, a load of hay went down my front on both the outside and inside of my shirt.  It was in all the wrong places and immediately began to itch like mad.

I had to go back into the barn to turn off the light, and before turning it out, I had the brilliant idea to take off the offending clothing items and pick out the hay.  Immediate relief!  However, as I was standing there with my top half in the buff, I heard distinct squelching noises come from right outside the barn.  Panic ensued!  I yelled, "Don't come in yet!" and I began to get unbuffed as quickly as possible.  It may have taken me 30 seconds or more to realize that the squelching I was hearing was the poor cows navigating through the deep mud to get to the rack.  What a relief!  My hide was saved, and I can give hay in the future with the knowledge that no one is the wiser to what an old woman looks like who is trying to unhay herself in the barn on a muddy day.  

Turkey Stories

This morning Kent and I headed out to pick up our car that had been worked on yesterday.  As we were tooling down the road, just enjoying the fresh air blowing through the windows, we got behind a large tractor.  I think it was a tractor with a hayrake.  When we got to the stop sign at the junction, I gasped and said, "No one is driving that tractor!"  I could see the seat, but there wasn't any head sticking up out over it.  The only thing I could think of was that a VERY short person, like a 5 year old, was driving it.  

Kent looked at me in disbelief and replied, "Laurie, that tractor is on a trailer."  And, well it was!  It was on a trailer and being pulled by a black truck."  

So we giggled a bit.

Then, Kent looked at me again and said, "You know those plants in a little rectangular pot that are on Ashley's back porch?"  (Ashley owns Loma Linda, which is where Kent is a maintenance/grounds keeper).  "You mean those succulents?" I asked.  "Yep," he replied, "Ashley called me over to look at them yesterday." Then it hit me, Kent was probably watering them 3 to 4 times a week, and they only need it once a week at most.  I gasped again.

But, it gets worse....  "You have been watering them too much," I said.  "Yep, way too much.  They are artificial plants!"

Ashley was wondering why the pot was rusting out.  Now she knows.

Now we weren't giggling, we were roaring, and gasping again, but this time for air.