Sunday, June 19, 2011

Father’s Day

Frieda’s still sleeping. She’s doing more and more sleeping all the time. I’m setting here all alone thinking I’d be better finding me a note book to make daily lists everything I want to rapid freely say for her benefit when she’s up. It isn’t she’s tired exactly, she wears herself out finding it so very hard to get her breath.
A couple things have changed for me. One of them when I retired last night it was my nose itching and my eyes running. So what? So waking late this morning, I Must have had a busier day that I realized my waking so much later than usual this AM, 7:00 AM. Gosh and then I suffered sitting up right cause here it comes again, the Spring lately runny nose and the back to recent normal itching eyes.
The sun has risen and it looks so pretty out side. When I’ve waited my hour and eaten, I’m out of here. The ground grain sits in it’s wagon box at the end of the ramp ready to roll. Just a Quarter mile down the road Juan’s probably got as many as a dozen two bushel tubs filled with grass waiting for me. I might just as well pick up those tubs when rolling by along my way.
Ah what to do today? Deliver ground grain naturally comes first fastened to Ugly truck. Been sitting here putting together needs for tomorrow morning? How about freeing a Oliver tractor for a combined fertilizer/seed broadcasting. I’m feared it’s going to be the Indy Ollie. Though this Ollie needs the rebuilt hy-drive I’m going to take the old baler off it’s back. Groan. The waste of a pretty day the shop needs some picking up. Everything dropped in the door way this last month it is one tricky passage steppin’ through the stuff to walk(?) into the shop. In that mess I’ve got a couple five gallon cans to carefully remove the lids off them and then skim the good oils off them having let the contents stand to settle out contamination some years ago. All of a sudden lubrication prices near off the planet averaging around $8.00@gallon. What I can’t save I’ll bottle in easily handled two quart juice containers saving them just for quickie winter woodstove fires. Liquid kindling’s I call these brews.
HEY! I got it. For something really needing doing I should get into some wood cutting. Lets see? I need to unload wood (literally) pallets for firewood storage on. Got a couple three/four/five trees down in the tenant house barnyard to cut up.
OR attack the broken AC multi speed pto driven hay rake. Choices always choices. It is a wonder a body don’t worry wear-out a perfectly good brain.
Holy Heavens to Mergatroid!… Her Mostess, Herr Clink, my best friend, my lover, my bestess all around playmate, my confidante, my world’s center, the elastic glue having always pulled me home, the one so full of surprises I’d lost any possible way of counting…… Frieda’s up, sitting but a yard (36”) away from me. I said, “Well!”
“Well what?” she answered.
I mentioned something about missing her, her in her horizontal resting…. And our conversation faded away just like that. I wish she’d yell or holler, something! Did I mention she’s good fighter and oh so much fun making up with. There were so many instances it took hours to make up whether there‘d been some thing to make up for or not. Was the time it didn‘t take anything to get it on. Unless it were an in the way kiddy delay? Then it might have been one of those times it was us against them. (grin)
On the road by 8:00 AM I took to cleaning up the shop. Gosh, I don’t remember leaving all that stuff in the big doorway. It were getting on 1:00 PM and hungry, Bro’ shows up dawning his day. He needs help with a couple things, needs old baler parked in front of shop, and I’m celled, You’ve got a calf out!” Great Bro’s priorities, mine, now a wayward yearling heifer. This means a fence needs fixing. I fixed fence for four solid hours postponing lunch already. The time I got home, so hungry I passed up on the rattlers opting to take them two hours after eating. And, whatever it was I had heated up for myself was filling. Don’t know what it was but it was filling. Then it was off to the races. I’ve got to bale what hay I’ve already cut in my backyard. Sheesh that hay I had cut where the Ollie had broke down will be ready for baling when I’ve finished this home cut. Getting late by that time that last field may have to wait until tomorrow.
What a day tomorrow’s going to be. Starting out a tractor short to seed and fertilize. Must drag last worked field twice before and after seeding. Then that hay field I can’t get to tonight I must fit in tomorrow. And hopefully that busted part will be fixed and needing put back on tractor, plus mustn’t forget the lost hydraulic fluid must be replenished.
And, if I ain’t got enough to do I patently listen to some idiotic arm-chaired want-a-be farmer try and tell me what I aught to be doing.
The time I came moving to my own beat I was anything but waltzing to a popular tune. If I were to take the time to wind the clock I’d finished that by 8:00 PM.
I’m draggin' arse so slow, by the time I finish this and post it I’ll want my bed and sleep. Nope, there was no skimming oil, no unloading pallets, no wood chopping, nor even studying AC hay rake. All I can say if I could see to read this over the top my up lipped yawn……
PS: Only, Sneak, would appreciate this comment, “He’s no idea how hard I worked today to have missed his phone call.” (grin)

1 comment:

Paula said...

No matter what comes or goes you and Frieda have the bestest relationship.