In light of the recent suggested start and concerns over a potential swine fku epidemic this was written by a man too tired to write his journal. He instead thought he’d I-mail a grand lady who’e faithfully looked in commenting like 80% of the time. This was last nite. If we weren’t committed to our different time zones I think at one time I theoretically could have gone for her If it weren’t for the fact I’d always been an hour behind. Good morning Miss Calabash were ever you’ve been. (grin)
~~~~~~~~~~~
I asked a Lady: “staying Flu free are thee?
She’d said: I will be right back.
From here On I carried on our conversation by myself, enjoy: or hsvr you frieghtened them little buggers backacross the border? LOL
Takr you time.
I want to writr an entry for journal. A mind block has taken over my brain.
May pass on it again tonight yet.
Am so tired most my writen words make no sense. Have put in 14 hours today. That's all one day. Day before yesterday it not only seeemed like 2 days it(they) felt like it also.
Lets see ? I fed orphan calf 3 times to day. GL she's big. her bulk might have been her mother's undoing. She's funny calf. hand feeding will spoil her sure. She already wants more of my attention than I can spare.
need a couple kids 6 to 8 yrs age, to feed ad play with her. She's already a delight!
Thankfully she didn't demand a lot of my time tonite (sun going down).
I managed topickup a 12,000lb. load shelled corn. Put the loader saddles upon shop housed overhauledd JD. rather tham whrestle with their weights We used chainfalls to near put them where they belonged, one at a time just guided hr pieces to frame and bolted each one at a time.
Oh by, I'm having dificulty hanging on. Have got to say good night and go horizontal.
Say ""hi" to John for me Good Nite
Fernan”
~~~~~~~~~~~
Should-a wrote, “God night Miss Calabash wherever you are.”
~~~~~~~~~~
Dear Lady, forgive me my what? My presumed indiscretion? Every so often I’ve practiced being a cad. This has to be one of those times as simply stupid my behavior. I’ll try and catch you another evening, provided of course my Herr Clink doesn’t get wind of this liaison. (smiles) Oh, it is so much fun being a scoundrel, even if it’s in my own warped mind. (grin)
Tuesday, May 5, 2009
Sunday, May 3, 2009
Tired or tiring day
This morning’s picking up where last nights left off I fixed baby bottle. Went out and calf gave me a good run around the stall. Third times the charm having a critter do you your will. Yeah right? It did my will alright when I went out and come back with a halter. Butting that critter into a corner, slipping that halter on it and tie it to the rail I had it cornered. Swinging one leg over the small beast and wrapping my knees about its neck, I loosened the halter a might and presented the bottle. GD critter any way?
Then it behaved like getting that bottle was all it’s own idea. When we had finished it was up and down my legs, in, out, about even between my limbs either liking I was its best buddy or parish the thought I was it’s mama. And just a little while before all this it didn’t want me in there, now al of a sudden I wanted out.
Next last night’s left over’s, I go to work on fence. I found one open circuit right out here in the barnyard, but the test was telling me that wasn’t all of it. So a nice leisurely walk about the perimeter in the refreshing spring air soaking up all manner or rays I was off. “I was off?” However had I slipped that misnomer in here? Why! I’m as solid as a rock. Would you believe sand stone?
I found some minor infractions, a grape vine, some mulberry, some maple; nothing big until I was back to the barn yard a spitting distance from where I had started. (groan) Here I suspected a leg had a short in it, so I turned if off for the moment. Brought checker into use and all the lights lite up excepting my eyeballs. Got one of them jolts up both arms yesterday which ironically brought all the real old vocabulary I’ve been trying to quit. I started to walk it off while I continued cleansing my mind. It sure as the devil might not have been nice, but I sure as Hell felt better afterward.
Fishing my walk I found no more infractions one way or the other. I was back home via west side’s yard. Next thing on my agenda move 983’s remains clear of the west pasture without loosing all the ladies falling into the next as yet un-mowen pasture. It was here I took what I call a well deserved morning Tea.
~~~~~~~~~~
Having had my tea with a sweetening dash of honey (bees) I was ready to take on the world again. This time I had to take care of Funeral arrangements for 983. And wouldn’t everybody know it everything was short on one thing or a couple.
I must have word with Chip! I bring cans of fuel home for use in machines here. He comes by for the log splitter and takes my fuel with him. Somewhere in all this convenience logic I manage to have to haul more cans. Arrggghhhh!
My having enlisted Terry’s assistance even before I had totally prepared to lay 983’s bones to rest all the ladies (I mean all just as I’ve described the scene) in the neighborhood had quietly passed as she were in review, bowing their heads in turn, one now and then murmured something I quite didn’t understand. By and by when 983 was ready for transport Terry on the Cushman took care of traffic control at the present pastures boarder. There on the and including the burial site the services were simple and short. I had thoughts, “May she never be to hot nor to cold, never thirst nor want for green hay for may she find only tempered seasons, cool sweet water and tasty lush grasses upon her next soul’s trip.”
and it was all over.
~~~~~~~~~~
After lunch it was shop time. Bro’ got to JD before I did stripping of the masking tape and putting engine’s little making it run extras back on. Then Bro’ wanted my digging out the front end loader’s saddles. Then it’ll be the bolts. I’ve got an approximate idea where they are if nobody’s tampered with my system of inspired cayous.
Having had my belly full of shop time I came home for my rattlers and eventual supper. Afterward, managed to drive the Ford loader/backhoe thru the ladies and picked Chips tree trimmings off the trees cut up last fall for fire wood. There, that’s one more Spring chore partially off my mind. I’ll use the Cushman for the incidental travels to walk off the fields another half to a dozen tree limbs, maybe tomorrow?
Here again, exhaustion is taking over any thought of tolerable English upon my expressive part. This is all folks.
~~~~~~~~~~~
One last tangible recognition, this charming lady was just one of the bevy a many fine looking girls in on this wayward heifer’s afternoon capture off the Shorthorn country spread last night.
Now, BGKC.
Fernan
Then it behaved like getting that bottle was all it’s own idea. When we had finished it was up and down my legs, in, out, about even between my limbs either liking I was its best buddy or parish the thought I was it’s mama. And just a little while before all this it didn’t want me in there, now al of a sudden I wanted out.
Next last night’s left over’s, I go to work on fence. I found one open circuit right out here in the barnyard, but the test was telling me that wasn’t all of it. So a nice leisurely walk about the perimeter in the refreshing spring air soaking up all manner or rays I was off. “I was off?” However had I slipped that misnomer in here? Why! I’m as solid as a rock. Would you believe sand stone?
I found some minor infractions, a grape vine, some mulberry, some maple; nothing big until I was back to the barn yard a spitting distance from where I had started. (groan) Here I suspected a leg had a short in it, so I turned if off for the moment. Brought checker into use and all the lights lite up excepting my eyeballs. Got one of them jolts up both arms yesterday which ironically brought all the real old vocabulary I’ve been trying to quit. I started to walk it off while I continued cleansing my mind. It sure as the devil might not have been nice, but I sure as Hell felt better afterward.
Fishing my walk I found no more infractions one way or the other. I was back home via west side’s yard. Next thing on my agenda move 983’s remains clear of the west pasture without loosing all the ladies falling into the next as yet un-mowen pasture. It was here I took what I call a well deserved morning Tea.
~~~~~~~~~~
Having had my tea with a sweetening dash of honey (bees) I was ready to take on the world again. This time I had to take care of Funeral arrangements for 983. And wouldn’t everybody know it everything was short on one thing or a couple.
I must have word with Chip! I bring cans of fuel home for use in machines here. He comes by for the log splitter and takes my fuel with him. Somewhere in all this convenience logic I manage to have to haul more cans. Arrggghhhh!
My having enlisted Terry’s assistance even before I had totally prepared to lay 983’s bones to rest all the ladies (I mean all just as I’ve described the scene) in the neighborhood had quietly passed as she were in review, bowing their heads in turn, one now and then murmured something I quite didn’t understand. By and by when 983 was ready for transport Terry on the Cushman took care of traffic control at the present pastures boarder. There on the and including the burial site the services were simple and short. I had thoughts, “May she never be to hot nor to cold, never thirst nor want for green hay for may she find only tempered seasons, cool sweet water and tasty lush grasses upon her next soul’s trip.”
and it was all over.
~~~~~~~~~~
After lunch it was shop time. Bro’ got to JD before I did stripping of the masking tape and putting engine’s little making it run extras back on. Then Bro’ wanted my digging out the front end loader’s saddles. Then it’ll be the bolts. I’ve got an approximate idea where they are if nobody’s tampered with my system of inspired cayous.
Having had my belly full of shop time I came home for my rattlers and eventual supper. Afterward, managed to drive the Ford loader/backhoe thru the ladies and picked Chips tree trimmings off the trees cut up last fall for fire wood. There, that’s one more Spring chore partially off my mind. I’ll use the Cushman for the incidental travels to walk off the fields another half to a dozen tree limbs, maybe tomorrow?
Here again, exhaustion is taking over any thought of tolerable English upon my expressive part. This is all folks.
~~~~~~~~~~~
One last tangible recognition, this charming lady was just one of the bevy a many fine looking girls in on this wayward heifer’s afternoon capture off the Shorthorn country spread last night.
Now, BGKC.
Fernan
Saturday, May 2, 2009
5-1-o9 May Day
Getting long into the fifth day, Della, still hasn’t made an identifying appearance for me. She’s eating and potty boxing. So I know she’s here or I’ve either bent or stooped to new lows in my sleep walking.
Lawd, day before yesterday, short on my 18 pound giant economy sizes multi-flavored vittles, I opened two cans them fancy sardines put up in everything from tomato paste to extra virgin olive oil.
What I wants to know is how far is a cat’s snifter or smeller good for a pickup and zeroing in on a fishy scent. Stepping into the barn this morning I swear I was met with a whole new clientele to our feline unknown bed and breakfast barn facilities.
I’ve never seen so many cats. I sure as the devil didn’t advertise yet I seem to have become a coincidental chef with nothing more than a quick zip opening on a Friskies feed sack snacks and making with a can-opener I had instantly become a culinary whiz in every cat’s mind on the block.
~~~~~~~~~~
Leaving the Physical Therapy site I managed a hug from all the working girls. They are all-right women taking care of their patients. Been invited back even if it’s a non professional visit. I conducted a funeral. Checked brand spanking new heifer calf born who’d slipped into the world while I were doing something else. I put one hay fork on the backhoe’s bucket and moved some hay rings further out of the mud. And fed the ladies two bales.
For afternoon activities we managed to get JD started and outside for an engine warm up. Adequately warmed put it back inside shop and to re-torque the cylinder head bolts and adjusted the valves for the last time before.
Damn, I can’t fish this tonight. Sleep has taken me out twice already. So, I don’t have the ability to finish this Journal entry tonight.
*************
OMG….our 39 yr. old baby boy called and said he had talked to his Aunt Della Yesterday. Small world or ESP? uuuoooweeoo…..
*************
Get up picture
Picture JD engine running, burning paint off exhaust manifold while warming engine for re-torquing the head. Three manifolds on 90 HP class engine. Top two replaced. The little one in the middle cost about half again more than upper larger exhaust manifold.
[IMG]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v343/FMGruber/Fox%20Fire%20Farn%20Tractors/FarmPics2009006.jpg[/IMG]
The skeleton-cab yonder is intended for mount on this 4020. Followed with front mounted 148# loader. Three additional remotes added for loader/bucket plus a grapple. Eventually a rear mount loader mast. Two loaders capable carrying two round hay bales at a time, the front loader capable putting the larger round bales into the hay rings, movable with the aid of this same tractor.
Two more pictures the 4020 sitting on shop apron….
[IMG]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v343/FMGruber/Fox%20Fire%20Farn%20Tractors/FarmPics2009004.jpg[/IMG]
[IMG]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v343/FMGruber/Fox%20Fire%20Farn%20Tractors/FarmPics2009003.jpg[/IMG]
…..just backed out to warm up, the hydraulics working, the engine is spirited and the clutch positive. Is going to be interesting learning how to handle this fresh overhaul.
It’d been a long and rewarding one day.
*************
Between high tailing and reunions.....rain?
Get a load of the goings-on in present pasture scene.
[IMG]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v343/FMGruber/2009%20Shorthorn%20Country/FarmPics2009004-4.jpg[/IMG]
Two high-tailing calves celebrating life to the left.
Then there’s scandalous affair to the right. The Red hair daughter (cow expecting calf of her own) is nursing on her mother, her mother with another calf at foot. A couple moments later I was breaking this up. If this continues the red cow will find her behind moved down the road.
You can see we're greening up. We should with all the rain we're getting. Hay fields slow growing our continued cool weather. Very very-little field preparations going on right now. Everywhere we look we’ve standing water just a waiting to mire man and machine. I'm averaging no more than two days a week I may even bring the Cushman out let alone use. That even goes for turning Ugly around in the farmyard. The creek across the driveway flowing almost continuously. The earth here as wet as deep as any hole may be dug just after sunrise. Leave that hole open it'll fill with water before sundown.
We's got water. It'd help if Ron would come over, bottle some of this stuff and haul it away. It's crazy...flowers and lawns are taking off on growth in urban communities the buildings breaking winds where the not near enough sun is sheltered warmer causing welcomed growth someplace.
Everything's either so slow or mixed up wet I'm hesitant to irrigate my hose so short I can't absorb solar heat enough to produce faster evaporating warmer waters. Well at least it ain't froze.
I'm telling it like it is, "Something just ain't right around here." BGKC.
Fernan
Lawd, day before yesterday, short on my 18 pound giant economy sizes multi-flavored vittles, I opened two cans them fancy sardines put up in everything from tomato paste to extra virgin olive oil.
What I wants to know is how far is a cat’s snifter or smeller good for a pickup and zeroing in on a fishy scent. Stepping into the barn this morning I swear I was met with a whole new clientele to our feline unknown bed and breakfast barn facilities.
I’ve never seen so many cats. I sure as the devil didn’t advertise yet I seem to have become a coincidental chef with nothing more than a quick zip opening on a Friskies feed sack snacks and making with a can-opener I had instantly become a culinary whiz in every cat’s mind on the block.
~~~~~~~~~~
Leaving the Physical Therapy site I managed a hug from all the working girls. They are all-right women taking care of their patients. Been invited back even if it’s a non professional visit. I conducted a funeral. Checked brand spanking new heifer calf born who’d slipped into the world while I were doing something else. I put one hay fork on the backhoe’s bucket and moved some hay rings further out of the mud. And fed the ladies two bales.
For afternoon activities we managed to get JD started and outside for an engine warm up. Adequately warmed put it back inside shop and to re-torque the cylinder head bolts and adjusted the valves for the last time before.
Damn, I can’t fish this tonight. Sleep has taken me out twice already. So, I don’t have the ability to finish this Journal entry tonight.
*************
OMG….our 39 yr. old baby boy called and said he had talked to his Aunt Della Yesterday. Small world or ESP? uuuoooweeoo…..
*************
Get up picture
Picture JD engine running, burning paint off exhaust manifold while warming engine for re-torquing the head. Three manifolds on 90 HP class engine. Top two replaced. The little one in the middle cost about half again more than upper larger exhaust manifold.
[IMG]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v343/FMGruber/Fox%20Fire%20Farn%20Tractors/FarmPics2009006.jpg[/IMG]
The skeleton-cab yonder is intended for mount on this 4020. Followed with front mounted 148# loader. Three additional remotes added for loader/bucket plus a grapple. Eventually a rear mount loader mast. Two loaders capable carrying two round hay bales at a time, the front loader capable putting the larger round bales into the hay rings, movable with the aid of this same tractor.
Two more pictures the 4020 sitting on shop apron….
[IMG]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v343/FMGruber/Fox%20Fire%20Farn%20Tractors/FarmPics2009004.jpg[/IMG]
[IMG]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v343/FMGruber/Fox%20Fire%20Farn%20Tractors/FarmPics2009003.jpg[/IMG]
…..just backed out to warm up, the hydraulics working, the engine is spirited and the clutch positive. Is going to be interesting learning how to handle this fresh overhaul.
It’d been a long and rewarding one day.
*************
Between high tailing and reunions.....rain?
Get a load of the goings-on in present pasture scene.
[IMG]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v343/FMGruber/2009%20Shorthorn%20Country/FarmPics2009004-4.jpg[/IMG]
Two high-tailing calves celebrating life to the left.
Then there’s scandalous affair to the right. The Red hair daughter (cow expecting calf of her own) is nursing on her mother, her mother with another calf at foot. A couple moments later I was breaking this up. If this continues the red cow will find her behind moved down the road.
You can see we're greening up. We should with all the rain we're getting. Hay fields slow growing our continued cool weather. Very very-little field preparations going on right now. Everywhere we look we’ve standing water just a waiting to mire man and machine. I'm averaging no more than two days a week I may even bring the Cushman out let alone use. That even goes for turning Ugly around in the farmyard. The creek across the driveway flowing almost continuously. The earth here as wet as deep as any hole may be dug just after sunrise. Leave that hole open it'll fill with water before sundown.
We's got water. It'd help if Ron would come over, bottle some of this stuff and haul it away. It's crazy...flowers and lawns are taking off on growth in urban communities the buildings breaking winds where the not near enough sun is sheltered warmer causing welcomed growth someplace.
Everything's either so slow or mixed up wet I'm hesitant to irrigate my hose so short I can't absorb solar heat enough to produce faster evaporating warmer waters. Well at least it ain't froze.
I'm telling it like it is, "Something just ain't right around here." BGKC.
Fernan
Thursday, April 30, 2009
4-30-o9 To much to do
Went out this morning finding dead calf at birth. Way I understand it, the calf’s enlarged head didn’t timely pass out/through the birth canal as it should have and die in the canal. The cow, remaining strong managed to push the calf out regardless. Life going on I had my physical therapy appointment to keep.
My 1 ½ houred PT went easily enough. Coming home a couple slices whole wheat toast with honey was breakfast. No rain, out the drive I was turning left the second time this time the grain wagon in tow, yup, I thought I’d get a jump on supply before I’m empty wagoned caught short unable to timely grind when the feed is needed next. Corn supply was backed up at least two days. I’m pleased with myself I had initiated this jump.
~~~~~~~~~~
Shelled corn unavailable so to speak, I had messed up leaving my juice can off the exhaust pipe, an 1850 Ollie. I thought I had better start it and let it run awhile for drying out any water gotten in the engine.
Spent a good deal of time looking for a misplaced JD parts manual? Never found it. Did discover the shop is one Hell of a mess. It needs a thorough cleaning up, things put away trash and scrap thrown out. The Manual just may come out of hiding once its uncovered?
~~~~~~~~~~
Somewhere in there I put the fluids back into the 4020. This was the second time this overhaul got them without having yet let me hear the music sweetly coming from the engine’s smoke stack. A funnel designed for each use the tall slender one I used for pouring the oil back into the engine I had drain just days ago, the skinny necked full bellied funnel hosting three screens temporarily accepted 50/50 coolant on its way into the radiator, and lastly I vertically dumped gasoline into the red necked gas tank‘s top. Sjayzooks, I goofed again. Pouring gas in the top the gas was running out the bottom, the floor making a mess of it. Shucks, What’ll I do? I grabbed the first gas can my hand touched and the same funnel I pour the now polluting fluid in in the first place. Next I threw saw dust all over the spilled gas. While it soaked away I hit the can’s looing for that odd brass fitting I already knew we didn’t have. I found two, one to large the other to small, I kept up my search narrowing it down throwing all the big stuff back into the can I had dumped in the first place. I found another fitting, taking it to the open pipe spilling it heart out a pail catching now rather than the smelly stuff hit the floor. It was a mite to big. Darn it a guy as got to have a bit of luck once in a while? I found it, the perfect brass coupling> I couldn’t plug the pipe but should fit. I tried it hoping I could Rub Goldberg it providing it fit. I hopefully tried it , it was no go. Something wrong with the threads. No don’t force it I went back to the last of the fast filling brass fittings can. What’s this, I didn’t believe it, my eyes deceiving surely me. I grabbed it as if I had no choice, and scurried to the flowing pipe. I didn’t even go at fitting the pieces together as I already knew they couldn’t fit together… I was wrong, without effort the new piece in my finger turned right screwed right into the leaking pipe, and amazing as it was neither that fitting nor I needed a plug as there already was one on it. A couple wrenches The gasoline flow had come to an end.
What a mess I had across the floor. The saw dust has always been a good substance for the farm shop’s floor. It has always done what I had expected to stopped the tide’s flow going any further across the floor. I needed the broom and shovel for starters. I swept the wet saw dust into a pile. The wet spots that remained I brought with the tip of the broom into the still clean and dry saw dust pushing it away from the pile to color as dirty as that material deeper in the pile. When all said and done all the sawdust of equal colors I had to put the sopping wet stuff somewhere. It’d been best to have taken it out and burned it immediately, but was raining as hard as if it were coming for a big cow standing over the scene. I put the contaminated saw dust in a supplement feed sack I had been putting my soiled newspaper rags in the last few days. All the saw dust deposited in that bag I rolled it shut and it in Ugly for the ride home. I could do with a rosy evening fire to warm my being as well as my soul.
Entering the house I assured Frieda I had the makings of a rosy fire, the rosy fire idea I was not about to loose sight of. I squished that supplement sack making sure its top was rolled and creased so it’d fit the stove’s anxious belly. The hazardous firelighter in place I stuffed several pages from one of my favorite magazines under the loaded supplement bag, placed some logs of varied sizes upon the sack, and reached for the box of safety matches. The next thing I did, I could say was crucial! I left the woodstove doors open as I struck that first and only match. Leaving the stove’s doors open I wanted to see that bag burn with plenty of air and open space about it. I was in no hurry to close that stove’s door on an explosive content. I had rather not seen such as our woodstove lifting off into orbit before settling back into place to keep me and mine warm.
All went well. The stove neither exploded, lifted of nor embarrassed me in my neighbor hood. May I suggest as been so often heard on TV, “Don’t be trying this at home!” BGKC.
Fernan
My 1 ½ houred PT went easily enough. Coming home a couple slices whole wheat toast with honey was breakfast. No rain, out the drive I was turning left the second time this time the grain wagon in tow, yup, I thought I’d get a jump on supply before I’m empty wagoned caught short unable to timely grind when the feed is needed next. Corn supply was backed up at least two days. I’m pleased with myself I had initiated this jump.
~~~~~~~~~~
Shelled corn unavailable so to speak, I had messed up leaving my juice can off the exhaust pipe, an 1850 Ollie. I thought I had better start it and let it run awhile for drying out any water gotten in the engine.
Spent a good deal of time looking for a misplaced JD parts manual? Never found it. Did discover the shop is one Hell of a mess. It needs a thorough cleaning up, things put away trash and scrap thrown out. The Manual just may come out of hiding once its uncovered?
~~~~~~~~~~
Somewhere in there I put the fluids back into the 4020. This was the second time this overhaul got them without having yet let me hear the music sweetly coming from the engine’s smoke stack. A funnel designed for each use the tall slender one I used for pouring the oil back into the engine I had drain just days ago, the skinny necked full bellied funnel hosting three screens temporarily accepted 50/50 coolant on its way into the radiator, and lastly I vertically dumped gasoline into the red necked gas tank‘s top. Sjayzooks, I goofed again. Pouring gas in the top the gas was running out the bottom, the floor making a mess of it. Shucks, What’ll I do? I grabbed the first gas can my hand touched and the same funnel I pour the now polluting fluid in in the first place. Next I threw saw dust all over the spilled gas. While it soaked away I hit the can’s looing for that odd brass fitting I already knew we didn’t have. I found two, one to large the other to small, I kept up my search narrowing it down throwing all the big stuff back into the can I had dumped in the first place. I found another fitting, taking it to the open pipe spilling it heart out a pail catching now rather than the smelly stuff hit the floor. It was a mite to big. Darn it a guy as got to have a bit of luck once in a while? I found it, the perfect brass coupling> I couldn’t plug the pipe but should fit. I tried it hoping I could Rub Goldberg it providing it fit. I hopefully tried it , it was no go. Something wrong with the threads. No don’t force it I went back to the last of the fast filling brass fittings can. What’s this, I didn’t believe it, my eyes deceiving surely me. I grabbed it as if I had no choice, and scurried to the flowing pipe. I didn’t even go at fitting the pieces together as I already knew they couldn’t fit together… I was wrong, without effort the new piece in my finger turned right screwed right into the leaking pipe, and amazing as it was neither that fitting nor I needed a plug as there already was one on it. A couple wrenches The gasoline flow had come to an end.
What a mess I had across the floor. The saw dust has always been a good substance for the farm shop’s floor. It has always done what I had expected to stopped the tide’s flow going any further across the floor. I needed the broom and shovel for starters. I swept the wet saw dust into a pile. The wet spots that remained I brought with the tip of the broom into the still clean and dry saw dust pushing it away from the pile to color as dirty as that material deeper in the pile. When all said and done all the sawdust of equal colors I had to put the sopping wet stuff somewhere. It’d been best to have taken it out and burned it immediately, but was raining as hard as if it were coming for a big cow standing over the scene. I put the contaminated saw dust in a supplement feed sack I had been putting my soiled newspaper rags in the last few days. All the saw dust deposited in that bag I rolled it shut and it in Ugly for the ride home. I could do with a rosy evening fire to warm my being as well as my soul.
Entering the house I assured Frieda I had the makings of a rosy fire, the rosy fire idea I was not about to loose sight of. I squished that supplement sack making sure its top was rolled and creased so it’d fit the stove’s anxious belly. The hazardous firelighter in place I stuffed several pages from one of my favorite magazines under the loaded supplement bag, placed some logs of varied sizes upon the sack, and reached for the box of safety matches. The next thing I did, I could say was crucial! I left the woodstove doors open as I struck that first and only match. Leaving the stove’s doors open I wanted to see that bag burn with plenty of air and open space about it. I was in no hurry to close that stove’s door on an explosive content. I had rather not seen such as our woodstove lifting off into orbit before settling back into place to keep me and mine warm.
All went well. The stove neither exploded, lifted of nor embarrassed me in my neighbor hood. May I suggest as been so often heard on TV, “Don’t be trying this at home!” BGKC.
Fernan
Wednesday, April 29, 2009
Day four….
…..for the cat I saw ah but a few back hairs last Friday. Calling “Della” I get no answer. With Frieda it has been different. Frieda talks her kitty talk to that darn cat and the cat timidly answers Frieda back. But letting neither one of see her? No way. At least she’s eating, drinking well and using her sand box. Her appetite seems to be improving and she is obviously doing her laundry, So I’m assuming she is a clean cat.
Out the door it wasn’t exactly tuxedo weather one way or another. I wore my water tight boots. Neat thing about them if I fill them I won’t loose any water until I empty them sure taking them off. All dressed up and having no place to I went for a leisurely walk around the barn. The leisurely part of the walk is look and occasionally quickly stepping from clump of earth to earth clumps what want to either mush-out from under foot or seemingly risky at no better than to let me sink to far, the found suction trying to keep a boot or two as souvenir’s my having passed so near.
My hick not without peril my keeping my footing and myself up-right I counted nine calves. Somebody had snuck another one into the herd overnight. Having made it once around the barn without a stroke ot heart attack I wasn’t chancing another muddy foot race I may not win, even though I were the only contestant. All ready winded, to old to muster up a second wind, I merely suggested to myself I might go again for a closer look to find who had dropped this ninth calf later. Could be as wet the terrain,, later could be a long time coming.
Shop time early enough to be well ahead every body else’s day’s start, I managed to get a lot done. The front crank seal looking a might less than stellar I greased it good, held the timing cover just so clear of the motor block hand turning in a few five inch guide bolts. While the bolts freed my hands for installations the bolts also held the cover gasket so it be where it belonged everything coming together when the covers own bolts were to be screwed in. This helped my re-drive the front seal on the crankshaft letting the cover to just simply follow along.
The front cover almost completed Tom come walking in. While I let Tom tighten the cover bolts I stooped to re-cleaning the oil pan. Not even started there was an accumulation of sludge in the oil-pan’s bottom after the oil had been drained.
With Tom’s help the oil pan went on easily, as did all the other miscellaneous parts we had had to take off for the split. Putting them back on we soon had gotten to push the to ends together again. About finished with all the wrenching part, it was high time to break for late lunch. I get back I’ll add three fluids and JD should be ready for start.
~~~~~~~~~~
A sneak peak at poor JD just a few details to add before pushing it all back together….
~~~~~~~~~~
E-gads! Lunch was so late my Fillis had stopped by on her way home from work. We chatted some she told me she had been photographed working at and the picture published in last Sunday’s Flint Journal. I looked for it not finding it. Maybe in a day or to?
Talking her into spending some time with me we rode an 1850 Ollie around in the mud identifying calves to cows. There’re nine calves out her now. Next we took Cushman down the road to collect soil samples of a recently planted hay field to be checked for what we might broadcast on it to improve crop production. The Cushman’s tricky behavior had me introducing Fillis to one her neighbor’s Juan and Genie. If that weren’t bad enough Cushman insisted on my introducing Fillis to another neighbor. The last stop was Handy’s home. Before we turned truck for home Handy needed ride to druggist’s for prescriptions. I promised I’d be back, dropped my baby girl off at her home. Bro’ and Keith tattooing and tagging calves Bro’ pointed out fence shorted out. Swilling rattlers down changing shoes for boots I fixed fence, changed boots back I was of to pickup Handy for the druggist’s. Written enough I call this day quits. BGKC.
Fernan
Out the door it wasn’t exactly tuxedo weather one way or another. I wore my water tight boots. Neat thing about them if I fill them I won’t loose any water until I empty them sure taking them off. All dressed up and having no place to I went for a leisurely walk around the barn. The leisurely part of the walk is look and occasionally quickly stepping from clump of earth to earth clumps what want to either mush-out from under foot or seemingly risky at no better than to let me sink to far, the found suction trying to keep a boot or two as souvenir’s my having passed so near.
My hick not without peril my keeping my footing and myself up-right I counted nine calves. Somebody had snuck another one into the herd overnight. Having made it once around the barn without a stroke ot heart attack I wasn’t chancing another muddy foot race I may not win, even though I were the only contestant. All ready winded, to old to muster up a second wind, I merely suggested to myself I might go again for a closer look to find who had dropped this ninth calf later. Could be as wet the terrain,, later could be a long time coming.
Shop time early enough to be well ahead every body else’s day’s start, I managed to get a lot done. The front crank seal looking a might less than stellar I greased it good, held the timing cover just so clear of the motor block hand turning in a few five inch guide bolts. While the bolts freed my hands for installations the bolts also held the cover gasket so it be where it belonged everything coming together when the covers own bolts were to be screwed in. This helped my re-drive the front seal on the crankshaft letting the cover to just simply follow along.
The front cover almost completed Tom come walking in. While I let Tom tighten the cover bolts I stooped to re-cleaning the oil pan. Not even started there was an accumulation of sludge in the oil-pan’s bottom after the oil had been drained.
With Tom’s help the oil pan went on easily, as did all the other miscellaneous parts we had had to take off for the split. Putting them back on we soon had gotten to push the to ends together again. About finished with all the wrenching part, it was high time to break for late lunch. I get back I’ll add three fluids and JD should be ready for start.
~~~~~~~~~~
A sneak peak at poor JD just a few details to add before pushing it all back together….
~~~~~~~~~~
E-gads! Lunch was so late my Fillis had stopped by on her way home from work. We chatted some she told me she had been photographed working at and the picture published in last Sunday’s Flint Journal. I looked for it not finding it. Maybe in a day or to?
Talking her into spending some time with me we rode an 1850 Ollie around in the mud identifying calves to cows. There’re nine calves out her now. Next we took Cushman down the road to collect soil samples of a recently planted hay field to be checked for what we might broadcast on it to improve crop production. The Cushman’s tricky behavior had me introducing Fillis to one her neighbor’s Juan and Genie. If that weren’t bad enough Cushman insisted on my introducing Fillis to another neighbor. The last stop was Handy’s home. Before we turned truck for home Handy needed ride to druggist’s for prescriptions. I promised I’d be back, dropped my baby girl off at her home. Bro’ and Keith tattooing and tagging calves Bro’ pointed out fence shorted out. Swilling rattlers down changing shoes for boots I fixed fence, changed boots back I was of to pickup Handy for the druggist’s. Written enough I call this day quits. BGKC.
Fernan
Tuesday, April 28, 2009
April Showers….
….continued rain is getting real tiresome. The muds aren’t deep but sure as the devil annoying. It’s like one day a week Ugly and I may come in and out, come and go, once without spinning a wheel and loosing traction. The barn down yonder is water front property again with it lake’s outlet the creek free running again; I must ford when I go to the barn. Arrggghhhh!!!!! And here I am, lucky me, when I’ve handily got my holey boots by the back door. The dry ones are out in Ugly’s care. Ya’s ‘spose they’s a may-west available on Craig’s list? Three more days they’s better be a lot of blooming flowers!!!!!!!
~~~~~~~~~~
“Son of a bitch,” through the wisdom of our Fedral Gobbermint ordered the airforce to buzz Nude York with Air Force One. If Nude Yorkers weren't already paranoid enough. Where's DC's flubisity hound's heads? Up their ass-is's!
This act is no freaking Joke.
Fernan
~~~~~~~~~~
Since Della’s arrival into our happy home last Friday evening, Sweetheart’s been in and out of the house twice. Better yet SH is giving my lap and I a rest this evening so I may type upon my keyboard in peace. Egads, it’s been four days and Della ain’t showed her face to me yet. From wherever she’d hiding she’d coming out sustenance and sand box use. Oh well, three days is usually the norm, so she’ll fit right in this place’s abnormal misfits. So we wait to see what we got?
~~~~~~~~~~
Looking out over this morning’s landscape everything looked normal and quiet. Nothing too awful exciting going on. What I wanted was a real needing me scene for my doning boots without drainage holes in them. So I went PT where I was advised I had week to go. I’m gonna like that! Getting back……where are they? Looking out across the landscape somebody found some mischief outside the bounded areas. It was the heavy boots time. It was also time to call up backup. It was a good idea anyway. First couple calls were fruitless. One last call Bro’ he’d be on his way. I could just see myself pulling him out of the mud. I might luck out if he displays some commonsense and with him shows up the bro for my first called candidate. I get a piece of wire a couple insulators, make three quick fixes all’s be set. The girls un realizing there were no fences beyond all their beyond. All I had to do was fix that original RR Crossing wires and they’d drive home none the wiser. With help of two more. We had what looked like a mob. Even with the help of one I’d no be out flanked. So the homeward drive went well. Only the girls all of a suddenly became dumb as to where they had come out from. That fence fixed I let them back home through the barnyard way-out-pasture’s gate.
More than ready enough for lunch I did it, lunch I Mean. Afterward I tried winding either a short or open wire in the fences. I found a couple. Slooging all to much mud I was through for the day. Came and searched the net for a plow I know not the name for it. Description, it looks like a right and left put together back to back. Use, drawn across wet fields surfaces it makes a temporary ditch for field surface drainage.
One shortened look around and I’m off to bed. Oh, one last thing the two cows (924 & 870) each trying to claim the attention of the same calf, 870 had her’s today in the rain. Now, she’s happy. BGKC.
Fernan
~~~~~~~~~~
“Son of a bitch,” through the wisdom of our Fedral Gobbermint ordered the airforce to buzz Nude York with Air Force One. If Nude Yorkers weren't already paranoid enough. Where's DC's flubisity hound's heads? Up their ass-is's!
This act is no freaking Joke.
Fernan
~~~~~~~~~~
Since Della’s arrival into our happy home last Friday evening, Sweetheart’s been in and out of the house twice. Better yet SH is giving my lap and I a rest this evening so I may type upon my keyboard in peace. Egads, it’s been four days and Della ain’t showed her face to me yet. From wherever she’d hiding she’d coming out sustenance and sand box use. Oh well, three days is usually the norm, so she’ll fit right in this place’s abnormal misfits. So we wait to see what we got?
~~~~~~~~~~
Looking out over this morning’s landscape everything looked normal and quiet. Nothing too awful exciting going on. What I wanted was a real needing me scene for my doning boots without drainage holes in them. So I went PT where I was advised I had week to go. I’m gonna like that! Getting back……where are they? Looking out across the landscape somebody found some mischief outside the bounded areas. It was the heavy boots time. It was also time to call up backup. It was a good idea anyway. First couple calls were fruitless. One last call Bro’ he’d be on his way. I could just see myself pulling him out of the mud. I might luck out if he displays some commonsense and with him shows up the bro for my first called candidate. I get a piece of wire a couple insulators, make three quick fixes all’s be set. The girls un realizing there were no fences beyond all their beyond. All I had to do was fix that original RR Crossing wires and they’d drive home none the wiser. With help of two more. We had what looked like a mob. Even with the help of one I’d no be out flanked. So the homeward drive went well. Only the girls all of a suddenly became dumb as to where they had come out from. That fence fixed I let them back home through the barnyard way-out-pasture’s gate.
More than ready enough for lunch I did it, lunch I Mean. Afterward I tried winding either a short or open wire in the fences. I found a couple. Slooging all to much mud I was through for the day. Came and searched the net for a plow I know not the name for it. Description, it looks like a right and left put together back to back. Use, drawn across wet fields surfaces it makes a temporary ditch for field surface drainage.
One shortened look around and I’m off to bed. Oh, one last thing the two cows (924 & 870) each trying to claim the attention of the same calf, 870 had her’s today in the rain. Now, she’s happy. BGKC.
Fernan
Monday, April 27, 2009
My parents good old days
Today’s topic
My parents met in So. Haven, Mi. Mom unintentionally took her best friend’s boy friend and married him six months disowned by her grandmother who’d raised her. Their first home was built with lumber Dad had traded for with hand cut fire wood. Seasonal farm labors they were paid in produce. Nobody had money.
Gambling on a big move, Dad bought two Maxwell automobiles sitting in the Black River’s bottoms behind the fruit exchange. He swapped parts to make one run, cut the back half body off, added a deck, and loaded what tires on wheels he could save for spares. The half made Maxwell truck loaded with what possessions they had they headed for Detroit. There unloading/abandoning the Maxwell one tire still holding air they were welcomed into a Marine Corp Buddy’s home.
Born 1936 Detroit during the depression when the economy was looking up. Their purse filled slowly Mom worked at the 5 & 10, Dad a day worker at one of the auto plants whenever he’d guess right the position they needed filled that day. Their heat was coal carried up four flights from the basement. Hot water came out of a manually lit on and off gas hot water heater.
Dad aspiring to be an automobile repairman found he was allergic to motor oils and grease. He eventually found a job in a camping trailer factory. In the cabinet shop he found his alternative calling. Visiting book stores he built himself a whole library upon the subject. The one book I found most interesting was upon the steel square it’s illustrating there’s scarcely a mathematical problem that can’t not be solved on a steel square (provided the user had the complete set). Into the late 1940’s Dad was a recognized master carpenter teaching apprentice Union carpenters on the job.
As for me, back when, when I started walking and talking (every man passing called, “Daddy”) coincidently my red faced Mom harnessed me on a leash to the front stoop’s iron railings. At age three my parents fed up with the city life started move North to 12 mile road, lumber ordered, delivered that same day, was stolen that same night. Only enough money for a very small room’s lumber Dad slept on that pile every night until he had built us a cozy little tar-paper shack. So small it was Mom and Dad had to get up from their trundle bed, slid it together so’s one of them could tend me n my crib. By age 5 yr starting school I learned the bigotry’s bad side for having the wrong Sir Name. Those lessens learned by the time I entered high school I was already swearing no such bigoted notions would ever enter my head or cross over my lips. Dad and I got on some serious odds over that subject. Enough of this this day, I’ve calves waiting to see me either again or for the first time. You all have a good day, specially Sir Ron!
**********
The morning warm and sunny I hope the weather terminators are wrong about this afternoon’s rains. My drive had just gotten dry enough I can turn around in it. Back in the house for breakfast, informed I must grind, I had counted 8 calves, one of them brand new overnight. Finally confirmed one anxious cow indeed didn’t have the calf she had insisted was her’s when in fact it truely belonged to another. Anyway, all the mama’s and the baby’s are all matched up for now.
~~~~~~~~~~
Look closely at photograph. Two calves left center are running about celebrating their births in a world new and strange to them. Their tails high the upper ends flying like pennants; this is where the term “High Tailing” come from.
~~~~~~~~~~
The JD semi split the front crank pulley and timing gears cover removed the timing gears for crank and cam shaft were timing marked right ON as I had insisted. Backing the tractor up the real culprit was the guy who had insisted he’d set the oil pump timing himself way back when. It weren’t, it were the engineer, Bro’. He’s going to take more heat than he got today for sure. I’ll not let this fowl up go away lightly. No sir reeee.
So as it were to turn out I had a delightful afternoon (with Tom’s help) draining oil and removing the oil pan. That easy part done one of us had to get down and get under. In a democratic society meeting within the farm shop I was dually elected to go under as my one vote remained one vote shy to even make it a tie with the other two. (grumble-grumble) While I had tried to catch the oil drops I laid way done and under I lost. Taking some clever manipulating I opened the bent over lock washers and with a number of wrenches and drives I removed the oil pump bolts. While I held the oil pump Bro’ used my lead headed hammer to gently strike the oil pump’s case. When it had come loose, myself prepared it settled safely within my hands, at that moment I had also bathed me in an overt amount of crankcase oil. My hide well covered in softening elements. Either that or I had just become a most unusual hairy likeness to Oil Can Harry whom I haven’t seen from such a long time ago.
The oil pump reset, retimed from two gears off I enjoyed re-bolting the oil pump back into the JD’s block. This was also where we stopped working on JD while we were ahead.
~~~~~~~~~~~
Here we also started Bro’s chores. Those finished, it was my time to hit the road and do whatever it was needing doing at home. I went out counted the calves, thinking I had just seen nine out there I never found the rascal. So I accepted the eight count and called it a day.
Finally in I showered as I needed it, started my laundry as my clothing needed it as much as I did. The wrist brace I bathed it in pure dish washing detergent before letting it show the rest of my laundry how to come clean. I swear, I asked no questions. As far as individual water boarding I skipped it giving the whole bunch an equal opportunity to come clean with one of the best agitator’s in anyone’s employ. Plus a couple additional spin dry’s to leave’em dizzy coming out of there presumed brightening space ship ride.
~~~~~~~~~~
It being late, having lived another full day, I’ve simply got to lay it out, before exhaustion takes me over. Good night Mrs. Calabash wherever you’re spirit resides. BGKC.
Fernan
My parents met in So. Haven, Mi. Mom unintentionally took her best friend’s boy friend and married him six months disowned by her grandmother who’d raised her. Their first home was built with lumber Dad had traded for with hand cut fire wood. Seasonal farm labors they were paid in produce. Nobody had money.
Gambling on a big move, Dad bought two Maxwell automobiles sitting in the Black River’s bottoms behind the fruit exchange. He swapped parts to make one run, cut the back half body off, added a deck, and loaded what tires on wheels he could save for spares. The half made Maxwell truck loaded with what possessions they had they headed for Detroit. There unloading/abandoning the Maxwell one tire still holding air they were welcomed into a Marine Corp Buddy’s home.
Born 1936 Detroit during the depression when the economy was looking up. Their purse filled slowly Mom worked at the 5 & 10, Dad a day worker at one of the auto plants whenever he’d guess right the position they needed filled that day. Their heat was coal carried up four flights from the basement. Hot water came out of a manually lit on and off gas hot water heater.
Dad aspiring to be an automobile repairman found he was allergic to motor oils and grease. He eventually found a job in a camping trailer factory. In the cabinet shop he found his alternative calling. Visiting book stores he built himself a whole library upon the subject. The one book I found most interesting was upon the steel square it’s illustrating there’s scarcely a mathematical problem that can’t not be solved on a steel square (provided the user had the complete set). Into the late 1940’s Dad was a recognized master carpenter teaching apprentice Union carpenters on the job.
As for me, back when, when I started walking and talking (every man passing called, “Daddy”) coincidently my red faced Mom harnessed me on a leash to the front stoop’s iron railings. At age three my parents fed up with the city life started move North to 12 mile road, lumber ordered, delivered that same day, was stolen that same night. Only enough money for a very small room’s lumber Dad slept on that pile every night until he had built us a cozy little tar-paper shack. So small it was Mom and Dad had to get up from their trundle bed, slid it together so’s one of them could tend me n my crib. By age 5 yr starting school I learned the bigotry’s bad side for having the wrong Sir Name. Those lessens learned by the time I entered high school I was already swearing no such bigoted notions would ever enter my head or cross over my lips. Dad and I got on some serious odds over that subject. Enough of this this day, I’ve calves waiting to see me either again or for the first time. You all have a good day, specially Sir Ron!
**********
The morning warm and sunny I hope the weather terminators are wrong about this afternoon’s rains. My drive had just gotten dry enough I can turn around in it. Back in the house for breakfast, informed I must grind, I had counted 8 calves, one of them brand new overnight. Finally confirmed one anxious cow indeed didn’t have the calf she had insisted was her’s when in fact it truely belonged to another. Anyway, all the mama’s and the baby’s are all matched up for now.
~~~~~~~~~~
Look closely at photograph. Two calves left center are running about celebrating their births in a world new and strange to them. Their tails high the upper ends flying like pennants; this is where the term “High Tailing” come from.
~~~~~~~~~~
The JD semi split the front crank pulley and timing gears cover removed the timing gears for crank and cam shaft were timing marked right ON as I had insisted. Backing the tractor up the real culprit was the guy who had insisted he’d set the oil pump timing himself way back when. It weren’t, it were the engineer, Bro’. He’s going to take more heat than he got today for sure. I’ll not let this fowl up go away lightly. No sir reeee.
So as it were to turn out I had a delightful afternoon (with Tom’s help) draining oil and removing the oil pan. That easy part done one of us had to get down and get under. In a democratic society meeting within the farm shop I was dually elected to go under as my one vote remained one vote shy to even make it a tie with the other two. (grumble-grumble) While I had tried to catch the oil drops I laid way done and under I lost. Taking some clever manipulating I opened the bent over lock washers and with a number of wrenches and drives I removed the oil pump bolts. While I held the oil pump Bro’ used my lead headed hammer to gently strike the oil pump’s case. When it had come loose, myself prepared it settled safely within my hands, at that moment I had also bathed me in an overt amount of crankcase oil. My hide well covered in softening elements. Either that or I had just become a most unusual hairy likeness to Oil Can Harry whom I haven’t seen from such a long time ago.
The oil pump reset, retimed from two gears off I enjoyed re-bolting the oil pump back into the JD’s block. This was also where we stopped working on JD while we were ahead.
~~~~~~~~~~~
Here we also started Bro’s chores. Those finished, it was my time to hit the road and do whatever it was needing doing at home. I went out counted the calves, thinking I had just seen nine out there I never found the rascal. So I accepted the eight count and called it a day.
Finally in I showered as I needed it, started my laundry as my clothing needed it as much as I did. The wrist brace I bathed it in pure dish washing detergent before letting it show the rest of my laundry how to come clean. I swear, I asked no questions. As far as individual water boarding I skipped it giving the whole bunch an equal opportunity to come clean with one of the best agitator’s in anyone’s employ. Plus a couple additional spin dry’s to leave’em dizzy coming out of there presumed brightening space ship ride.
~~~~~~~~~~
It being late, having lived another full day, I’ve simply got to lay it out, before exhaustion takes me over. Good night Mrs. Calabash wherever you’re spirit resides. BGKC.
Fernan
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