Mouse in the House

As quick as the blink of an eye
something seemed to fly by!
Eek!!
There's a mouse in the house!
I must set a trap!
And for sheer ease
I'll bait it with cheese;
but now I'm wondering,
which will he like better,
Velveeta or sharp cheddar?

So I put a small bit
on the paddle's tip
and set the spring in place.
Mouse has waited all day
to come out and play,
and when the lights go out
he runs round about,
right past the trap by the wall.

He passed the cheese.
He wants a treat;
something gooey, soft and sweet.
He didn't think I'd hear him
as he wriggled and chewed inside the sack.
But he didn't know I had quite a knack
for listening for little mouse smacks.

I grabbed the sack by its top
and he jumped and he jumped to no avail;
he couldn't escape from this cat food bag jail.
I'll take him to the barn where there are cats.
No more mouse in the house, and that will be that!

                                                                  Charlotte

With all that's going on in the news these days, I thought this was just the thing to start your day with a chuckle: 

This was taken from The BACK FORTY Calendar, 2015, by Lex Graham, and distributed by a local propane company.

Have a good day!

Charlotte

Two cans

sit on the bathroom vanity; both are the same size, very similar in color and design.  Both are aerosol cans and the contents are unscented.  One is "extra hold", the other "lasts all day".  What if ...............

Think about it.

Charlotte

I felt a little like Joseph today

since I had my dental appointment this morning.  Why do we always dread going to the dentist?  I think I hate being leaned back so far; makes all my insides feel like they're sliding up into my throat.  Then, I never know just what to do with my tongue, and I'm sure I'll strangle on some excess water.

I'm having trouble with my teeth; they've shifted enough that it's hard for me to eat some things.  I guess it all goes back to having a crooked tooth all through my childhood and into adulthood.  It was always there, an embarrassment of sorts, until I reached my mid forties and took the plunge to have them straightened.  I think I wore the braces for about three years and always thought it was one of the best decisions I ever made.  When the braces were removed I was fitted with retainers which I wore at night until the last few months.  After two jaw teeth broke off after eating hard peanut brittle, I left the retainers off for a while.  Suddenly, I can't chew well because my back teeth don't line up properly, and the top retainer won't even go over my teeth.  Isn't it strange, after at least 25 years, that the teeth would move?  They're still straight, just shifted.  I've also had TMJ and wonder if this could be the reason.

Today the dentist tried to adjust the retainer for me but it still wouldn't fit, so I have to make the decision: to have the two caps put on and a new retainer.  Since my teeth are strong I think I must do this for myself.

Have a good week,

Charlotte

 

Pot Paradox

Pots are a toil

To watcher or rover.

Watched, they won't boil,

Unwatched, boil over!

-----Barbara Vick

When the farmer laughs...

you know it must be something worth reading.  He takes a weekly paper, Farm Talk, and I don't usually even look at it since it's filled with ads for farm equipment, tractors, auctions, etc.  But when I hear him laughing and he says, "You ought to read this!" then I give a little of my time. 

His favorite column is "Viewing the Field with Milo Yield";  since there is no other name given as the writer, we'll assume his name is Milo.  He writes about things he has experienced in his 71 years of living, from farm to current happenings.  Then he always throws in a paragraph or two of humor such as the following:

"Another overheard coffee shop statement: 'The reason why baby diapers have brand names such as Luvs and Huggies, while undergarments for old people are called Depends is that when babies mess in their pants, people are still gonna Luv'em and Hug'em.  When old people do the same, it Depends on who's in the will.'"

Think about it,

Charlotte

A Woman's Version of The Night Before Christmas...

T'was the night before Christmas and all through the kitchen

I was cooking and baking and did I mention,

I've been here for hours, I can't stop to rest.

This room's a disaster, just look at this mess!

Tomorrow I've got thirty people to feed.

They expect all the trimmings.  Who cares what I need!

My feet are both blistered, I've got cramps in my legs,

The cat just knocked over a bowl full of eggs.

There's a knock at the door and the telephone's ringing;

frosting drips on the counter as the microwave's dinging.

Two pies in the oven, dessert's almost done;

my cookbook is soiled with butter and crumbs.

I've had all I can stand, I can't take anymore;

then in walks my husband, spilling rum on the floor.

He weaves and he wobbles, his balance unsteady,

then grins as he chuckles, "The eggnog is ready!"

He looks all around and with total regret, says,

"What's taking so long...aren't you through in here yet?"

As quick as a flash I reach for a knife;

He loses an earlobe; I wanted his life!

He flees from the room in terror and pain

and screams, "MY, MY, WOMAN, YOU'RE GOING INSANE!!"

Now what was I doing, and what is that smell?

Oh dear, it's the pies! Now I must tell...

I hate to admit when I make a mistake,

but I put them on BROIL instead of on BAKE!

What else can go wrong?  Is there still more ahead?

If this is good living, I'd rather be dead.

Now don't get me wrong, I love holidays;

It just leaves me exhausted, all shaky and dazed.

But I promise you one thing, if I live 'til next year,

you won't find me pulling my hair out in here.

I'll hire a maid, a cook, and a waiter;

and if that doesn't work, I'LL HAVE IT ALL CATERED!

(I didn't write this, but rather it was given to me, and I have no idea who did write it to give her credit.)

Charlotte

From My Cartoon Collection and Ice Update

It can still happen ;)

Ice is still on the farm, one week later...

Some icicles actually reached the ground before they fell off.

Stay safe and warm,

Charlotte

The Lockhorns

Have a good evening!

Charlotte

The Lowly Bitterweed

 

If you are a city gal, you probably won't be interested in this:

I grew up with bitterweeds.  They were around our barn and even in the yard.  Maybe you aren't familiar with this plant, so I'll give a brief description of it.  The bitterweed is a low growing plant, 6-20 inches tall, with bright yellow flowers and a very strong oder.  They are aggressive in their growth in overgrazed pastures, along roadsides, and waste areas.  Where tame grasses grow thicker the weed is usually not a problem.

The bitter weed contains a toxic substance to livestock, especially horses and mules.  Most animals won't eat it because of the foul, bitter taste.  Allowing animals to graze bitterweed, even in small quantities, can cause a cow's milk to taste bitter.  And maybe that was my first encounter with the lowly bitterweed.  Whenever the hot sun dried up the grass, the weed thrived, and Mama's milk cow ate it, making our milk and butter taste bad.

As two little children playing in the barn, my cousin and I found a perfect use for those yellow blooms.  With the sand he brought to me, I made mud cakes and pies in little tin pans, and decorated them with the flowers.  But that wasn't the only use we found for the weed.

During the day, Mama's hens roamed the yard where we played and it was nothing uncommon for us to step barefooted in a hen's droppings and have the wet stuff ooze between our toes.  There was no hose with a nozzle, in those days, connected to an outside faucet for us to wash them, so we found a bitterweed, put the stem between our toes, and pulled up our foot, letting the green foliage swipe off the mess.  It might have taken more than one swipe, but hey, it worked!

I never see a bitterweed without remembering those days, and if this makes me a redneck hillbilly, then I wear the color and the name with pride.

Charlotte

Newspaper Clipping

There were several newspaper clippings in box I brought home with me after my mother's death in 1987.  Most were about her grand children's 4-H activities, wedding stories, etc.  A few days ago I took another look into the box and came across this small article about my Aunt Marie and her laying hen:

Our local paper has always been small, and women from different communities used to gather up news from their neighbors and have them printed each week.  I'm sure that's how this came to be printed; someone thought it was news worthy.

 

Charlotte

 

(Click on the article to enlarge it)

It's Time For Santa Letters...

 

and it seems Santa is already busy, reading and filling those requests.  Our local paper tells us, "Kids, it's time to start making those lists and getting those Santa letters in so they can be published and Santa and his helpers will have plenty of time to start filling those Christmas orders."

 

I don't remember writing letters to Santa, but I think I will write one now:

 

Dear Santa Claus,  I know you read my blog; I've seen you sitting at the computer, smiling at my words and stories, my Christmas memories of years gone by when five dollars worth of presents were under the tree for me.  My how times have changed!

 

I have tried to be good this year, with the exception of my yelling at the abandoned dogs, and in spite of my "old" age, I've continued to do my share of the farm work and  gave of my quilting time to open and close gates and shuttle the farmer back and forth between tractors while we feed cattle.

 

I'm not asking for big things, nor things that money can buy;  I already have plenty of "stuff".  Instead I'm asking for things that come with the price of that precious possession you have, called TIME.  So, here is my list: 1)Trim around the window and door in the bathroom; it's already painted. 2)Hang curtain rods and the little shelf in my bedroom. 3)Put glides on my closet doors; they've been swinging for three years now. 4)This request could cost money: either fix the potty or buy a new one to stop the screaming it makes when flushed! 5)How about a trellis for the clematis vine?  The lattice board was bought years ago.  I won't ask that you paint the bedroom because I know you don't like to paint.

 

Now Santa, if you don't have time or energy to spend on doing these things, perhaps you know of an elf who would.  Since you don't eat many cookies anymore, how about a baked sweet potato?

 

Love,

Charlotte

 

 

 

 

Wordless Wednesday ??

Charlotte

Am I Too Old to Learn?

In our family, when we learn something new, we say we have a new wrinkle on our brain {whatever that means}.  I still like to learn new things although I am "old".  When we first connected to the Internet, I determined to learn a new word every day, using Wiktionary {just for fun, today's word(s) was salad dodger meaning an overweight person}.

We watch the TV show, Are You Smarter Than a Fifth Grader, on Sunday nights, and I've found that the questions I can't answer are learning experiences for me; I'll remember them most of the time.

This is all leading to the question, am I too old to learn to knit?  When I was about ten years old, my grandmother gave me two short pieces of baling wire (I'm assuming they were her knitting needles) and someone taught me two stitches and how to cast the thread onto the "needles"; I made several little purple squares, about the size of a small potholder.  I've looked online and found a simple pattern for a baby blanket to be knit on circular needles.  My daughter brought some needles to me and when I get a chance to buy yarn I'm going to give it a try.  If my brain can't hold another wrinkle, I know that knit things are as easy to unravel as crochet work.  

Charlotte

Friday Humor

Hope you have a wonderful weekend!

Charlotte

My Attempt at Becoming a Movie Star

Do you watch movie stars on the red carpet to catch a glimpse of their dazzling gowns and shiny jewelry? I'm not much interested in that sort of thing; somehow I don't think I'd get very far in a dress with a long tail dragging behind me; neither would I want that kind of life.

When my first grade teacher made her way around the room, asking each child what he or she wanted to be when they grew up, I had no idea how to answer; when she gave me some suggestions, and a movie star was one of them, I said "yes" that's what I wanted to be. There had been very few times in my life when I had even seen a movie; maybe a western film on a Saturday afternoon, while we waited for Daddy to get off work at the cream station. Most likely there weren't glamorous women in those.

There was a picture of a pretty woman in a magazine I had seen and someone said she was probably a movie star. The thing that caught my attention in the picture was a beautiful brooch, or pin, she was wearing; diamonds, someone guessed, and the movie star was wearing it right . on . her . skin! This fascinated me!

Now sometime earlier, Daddy had brought home some things from Aunt Rhody's and there was a pretty pin included. (Uh-oh! You're getting ahead of me!) It looked like a diamond pin to me, but since it had a tight clasp with a prong on the back Mama thought it must have come off of a hat band or coat lapel. My mind raced whenever I made a connection between this pin and the one in the picture; I could wear this pin and be a movie star!

I pinched up a little spot of skin on the left side of my chest, hers was on the left side, and carefully put the pin over it and released the clasp. The sharp prong on the clasp dug into the tender flesh and pain radiated from the prick it made. It had to come off! But how could I opened the clasp without making things worse? Mama heard my squeals of pain and released the clasp. I didn't care to be a movie star anymore!

Maybe this is why I'm not symmetrical!

You know, I still wonder how the pin was attached to the woman!

Hope you've had a good day!

Charlotte

Farm Wife ~~ Hand Signals

Image taken from the Sept/Oct, 1995 issue of Country Woman magazine

Hand signals can be confusing for a farm wife; sometimes I feel like I'm supposed to read Popa's mind. It's the worst whenever I'm the one in the tractor; what do all the circling motions mean? Turn the steering wheel right or left? Move forward or stop? The wave, back and forth, are we finished? The one signal I do know is the disgruntled frown; I just don't know, but I can't read minds.

An Attention-Grabbing Expression

We had a good Christmas dinner and everyone sat back, full and content, visiting with one another. Then, one by one, the cell phones came out for everyone except Lily and me; I don't have one and the one she has is old and used. She calls it a dinosaur. I have a cordless phone. The grandchildren text one another, even though they're sitting right next to each other, and maybe send a message to someone having dinner with their own family. One son-in-law brags, "My phone has over 600 songs in itunes!" Another holds his phone in the air and says, "My phone has these pictures we took!" Even Popa has his cell phone out, and looking through his bifocals he looks intense as he scrolls and drags his finger across the screen. Not wanting to be left out completely I try to join the conversation, and amid all the discussion I interrupt with, "My phone has a new battery; now I can take it to the bathroom with me!"

All this took me back to a story I have heard since I was a child. I suppose it is true and it went something like this:

A group of women were sitting around a quilt, and as they stitched, their conversation turned to a discussion of their geese. "My goose got really big this year and..." Another chimed in with her boasting, "My goose got in the garden and..." A shy young woman sitting at the end of the quilt thought she would tell about her goose, "My goose..." She was interrupted as another woman said, "My goose raised four goslings this summer..." Each time the young woman tried to tell about her goose, someone else would tell about hers. Finally, in desperation the young woman said loudly, "MY GOOSE!" All the ladies stopped talking and stared at her as she meekly said, "My goose has soft feathers."

People I grew up with used the expression, "My goose". Usually it would be used between friends, privately, who found themselves among several people in a room, who were talking loudly or all at the same time. So, whenever I tried to tell about my cordless phone, I looked over at my daughter and said, "My goose!..." She knew what I meant!

You're probably thinking, "How stupid!" But we were a close-knit community and had ways of bringing a little humor into a life filled with hard work; laughter brought us together.

Porch Prayer

This was sent to me in an email and thought it worth sharing:

There was a little old lady, who every morning stepped onto her front
porch, raised her arms to the sky, and shouted: 'PRAISE THE LORD!'
One day an atheist moved into the house next door. He became irritated at the little
old lady. Every morning he'd step onto his front porch after her and yell: 'THERE IS NO LORD!'
Time passed with the two of them carrying on this way every day .
One morning, in the middle of winter, the little old lady stepped onto
her front porch and shouted: 'PRAISE THE LORD! Please Lord, I have no
food and I am starving, provide for me, oh Lord!
The next morning she stepped out onto her porch and there were
two huge bags of groceries sitting there.
'PRAISE THE LORD!' she cried out. 'HE HAS PROVIDED GROCERIES FOR ME!'
The atheist neighbor jumped out of the hedges and shouted:
'THERE IS NO LORD; I BOUGHT THOSE GROCERIES!!'
The little old lady threw her arms into the air and shouted:
'PRAISE THE LORD!
HE HAS PROVIDED ME WITH GROCERIES AND MADE THE DEVIL PAY FOR
THEM!'

Ninety Five Horses

You've heard the quote; "Build a better mouse trap, and the world will beat a path to your door", a phrase attributed to Ralph Waldo Emerson. On a farm, the same holds true whenever a new piece of machinery shows up. For instance, this morning Popa's new tractor was delivered, and immediately there were men waiting to look at it, walk around it, run their hands across the shiney New Holland blue paint, feel the deep unused tread of its tires. Two sat inside the cab on cushioned seats, covered with plastic, and started the engine, listening to its power and feeling the cold air swirling from air conditioning vents. "Does the radio work? Let's run it through its shifting cycles, and what about those sparkling, dust-free windows?"

And then it's back outside to raise the hood and look at the engine; there's a ninety five horse power engine in there you know, with no dust or oil drips. Now to wrap my mind around what that really means, I see this: ninety five sleek, muscled work horses, harnessed to the hay cutting machine, come charging out of that hood whenever the engine starts, and around and around the field they go.

This evening, about sundown, I'll take my turn looking and touching, for I want to know if anything is different in the way to start or stop those ninety five horses.

Charlotte