Mind tricks:

Not far enough behind on anything I can’t honestly write I did a lot today. So, lets see if I can’t stretch a truth or two so’s I look more accomplished moved all the baled hay off the hay-field before lunch bringing some home taking some to the other end. Tried calling on Chip’s help only he left his cell phone in his truck after his shopping. Glad I never do anything as silly. But Handy had made the mistake of being outside when I was about to pass. If he hadn’t been so handy he’d not been drafted. (snicker) Between us we got in and out of the yards without any a single bovine critter falling out. Then it was lunch time.
Just naturally I messed up, I raided the ice box mistakenly missing Frieda’s already prepared luncheon soup. Opps! I better be having it this evening. With her daily knee’s range of motion improving she just might be capable of kicking my arse before the month’s over.
Having had some trouble reloading grease guns, taking a couple of them apart figuring they was the problem I found the bladder piston inside the grease dispenser at fault. Looks like I’ll be sucking up the grease or hand packing with a stick. I hates it when a labor saver goes amuck and I’ve wasted half a day try to fix an unfixable. (error)
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Stopped over and saw one of the Sixguy’s boy’s. I was anxious to line up our corn-stover harvest. An inch of rain four days ago has muddied up that harvest idear but good. Even their four wheel drive combines weren’t making it though the fields low spots. Well, this news gives me some leeway to prepare the stover change over equipment and hopefully install the rebuilt engine to the JD gear train. I just happen to like all the physical fitness weight lifting involved installing flywheel and clutch assemblies. (I’d like to see some of these physical fittness jocks handle those parts.) I dislike this harvest time delay pushed back our facing some left over Dakota’s weather possibly sending snowstorm left over’s our Shorthorn country way. (fret)
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Approaching an un-find-able chicken noodle soup in the ice box, I had to ask, “Where’s the soup?”
“Right there in the big bowl in the bottom of the refrigerator.” she informed me.
While I didn’t say it, It looked like “Yuk!” to me. But I had better give it the benefit of a doubt and dish me up a couple slices. While I nuked that, I poured my milk, and prepared my landing site to devoir my supper. It might not have been a pretty mess but it sure was good, more liking a knife and fork casserole. I didn’t need the knife, and I had to finish it if I were to enjoy dessert. Nothing fancy, Cherry Ice-cream my love had dished up special for me. BGKC.
Fernan