Get Real!

I have to get up on my soap box today.  It’s been percolating in my brain
for quite awhile now, and I just need to spit it out.  

GET REAL, PEOPLE!!  

As in the RealSeal (™) that you used to see on dairy products everywhere
back in the 80s and 90s.  If you saw the Real Seal on a product, it was an
“assurance that you are buying a genuine dairy product, made with milk from
cows on U.S. dairy farms, and meeting strict manufacturing requirements.”  
That’s according to the website http://www.realseal.com/ which provides
information and education about real dairy products and their benefits.

I am infuriated--LIVID--that there are companies that can manufacture,
market, and sell products as “milk” that don’t even come close to the definition of
milk.  You all know what I’m talking about.

Almondmilk, coconutmilk, soymilk, etc.  That’s not milk. It’s nut juice. I guess
that’s not a catchy marketing approach or they’d be using it.  

Before you get your bloomers in a bundle, I am not saying that there
should not be alternative choices available for those people who choose not
to drink milk for health or personal reasons.  I have no problem with that.

My beef (don’t even get me started on beef marketing!) is with the
manufacturers and the marketers. By definition, milk comes from mammals
to feed their young.  That would be animals, not plants. Look it up in the
dictionary or google it. I’m right about this.

So how the hell do these companies get off saying their product is milk when
it is no such thing?!  Do you know how they get around that? They make it
all one word, i.e., almondmilk instead of almond milk.  

Newsflash:  the average consumer does not make that distinction.  In
defense of the average consumer, it isn’t completely their fault.  They
are misinformed about some things.

Part of the reason for that ignorance (and I do not mean that in a derogatory
way) is that our society is no longer agrarian.  There is at least one generation
if not two that have no idea where their food comes from because they do not
know anyone who works or lives on a farm.  

So please...let me educate you.  I’ll try not to bite your head off like I did my
sister-in-law a couple of weeks ago.  Sorry about that, Annie!! :)

I have heard rumbles for years about how “the high price of groceries is
making farmers rich.”  Absolutely not true.

As long as we started out talking about milk, we will continue in that vein.  
A gallon of milk costs approximately $3.50. A gallon of milk weighs about
8 pounds.  Why does that matter, you ask? Because farmers are paid a
certain amount per 100 pounds.  Right now the average price paid to farmers
is $13 per 100 pounds. That’s 13 cents per pound or $1.04 for 8 pounds...one
gallon.  Less than half of what the consumer pays in the grocery store.

I’m not saying the trucker and those other middle men don’t need to make
a living because they do.  I’m saying don’t think the entire cost at the store
goes to the farmer.

And here’s the downside to the $1.04 that goes to the farmer.  It isn’t even
close to what it costs to produce that gallon of milk, which is $1.20.  That’s
a loss of 16 cents for every gallon produced. It might not sound like much
until you do the math and realize that a 200-cow dairy farm might produce
20,000 pounds of milk per day.  Breaking that down, that’s 2500 gallons of
milk per day with a loss of 16 cents per gallon for a net loss of $400
every day.

Furthermore, that production cost is a break even point, it isn’t a profit
point.  It only covers the expenses needed to produce the milk. It doesn’t
cover the cost of health insurance, groceries, or gas for the car much less
anything fun like going to the movies or on a vacation to Disneyland.  

I think I can speak fairly knowledgeably about this as I grew up on a dairy
farm (dairy princess in 1986, thank you very much), I married a dairy
farmer, and both my kids worked on dairy farms through high school.  I
know what I’m talking about here.

Obviously, dairy farmers want a fair price for their product so they can make
a decent living.  They know, however, that fair prices will not always be
the case. When prices are low, as they are now and have been for three
years, it’s easy for their spirits to droop and for them to wonder if it’s
worth it at all.  

For most of them, the ups and downs are part of the game.  They know
that the long days that start before dawn and end at or after dusk 365
days a year, the worries about a sick animal, the stress of trying to pay
all the bills, and battling Mother Nature more days than not are all part and
parcel of the way of life they’ve chosen.  That doesn’t mean they don’t want
the gratitude of their communities for navigating those hurdles as they
contribute to the cheapest and safest food supply in the world.

I can guaran-damn-tee that if just one Joe Q. Public would say, “Thank
you for providing REAL nutritious food for our family” it would go a long
way toward raising their spirits.  

On that note, I would like to give a big shout out to Culver’s for being a
vocal supporter of dairy farmers and FFA.  Thank you for your support!!

I would ask you one thing:  Thank a dairy farmer if you can, thank a
business that serves/sells real dairy products, and buy REAL dairy products.  

Images used:

http://www.realseal.com/sites/default/files/logo_1.png

http://s2.quickmeme.com/img/32/32dc8f1736b4e0648546220ebd1242ce9d74a37811cc069123f477062369b123.jpg

https://c.o0bg.com/rf/image_460w/Boston/2011-2020/2018/01/15/BostonGlobe.com/Metro/Images/BEDFORD_20180111_DAIRY_FARMERS_007.jpg

https://i.pinimg.com/736x/1d/99/f4/1d99f4c724b34fe72baa75d0a803819e--farmer.jpg

From Moms Everywhere

Dear Children Everywhere,

You have no idea how many hours we spend in prayer for you.  This is what moms do.  We teach, guide, love, and we pray.

The first three things are what we do when we can, and the last one is what we do when there is nothing else we can do. 

When you experience your first heartbreak, we give you all the platitudes about other fish in the sea, and we let you cry on our shoulder.  Then we pray that you will find love again with someone who deserves the wonderful person that you are.

When you get your driver's license, we make sure you know all the important safety and maintenance tips like how to check the oil, put air in the tires, or even change a tire.  We help you pay for the insurance but make you buy the gas.  Then we pray that you will be safe on the road.

When you apply for your first "grown up" job that you really want, we help you get a resume and cover letter put together.  We help you pick out the right outfit for the interview.  Then we pray that you have confidence and poise during the interview, and we pray that if this job isn't in God's plan for you that you will have the strength and courage to go out and apply for something else.

When you are having money trouble, we pick up an extra pack of toilet paper or toothpaste or a box of the cereal you like.  We buy outfits for grandkids, and we slip cash to you on the sly.  Then we pray that God will give you the wisdom to figure it all out. 

When you get married and have children of your own, we don't stop praying for you.  We just add your spouse and children to the list.  We pray that God will bless your marriage in all its ups and downs as he has blessed ours.  Then we pray that God will give you the same strength, wisdom, and patience with your children that he gave us with ours.

We don't care how old you are, as long as we love you--and we will always love you--we will pray for you, and we will always thank God for the amazing people that you are because you bless our lives every single day.

Love,
Moms Everywhere

Images used:
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Limbo Thoughts

Do you ever have odd, random thoughts occur to you in bed during that lull between consciousness and sleep?  It happens to me not infrequently.

Like...how come you can walk in running shoes but you can't run in walking shoes?  What's up with that?  Who decided that?  Is there a law?  Will I have to pay a fine?  Who monitors the proper usage of athletic footwear?  Inquiring minds want to know; at least mine does.

Like...how come you can disinfect with drinking alcohol but you can't drink disinfecting alcohol?  Where is the reciprocity?  Or can you drink disinfecting alcohol and I never knew it all these years?  Has it ever been tested?  Someone else can be that guinea pig; I have other plans, thanks!

Captain is usually the one who has these kinds of random thoughts, not me, so I'm not comfortable having them rattle around in my head.  His thoughts are more along the lines of how come socks don't last five years.  

Then there is the question that has plagued me for years:  how come a square can be a rectangle but a rectangle can't be a square?  It doesn't seem quite fair that squares get more opportunity than rectangles.  Where's the justice?  But that's just me.

Maybe the odd, random thoughts keep out the larger philosophical thoughts that I wouldn't have any hope of solving, thereby saving me much angst and headache.  I guess I am okay with that.

Sometimes it is children who have the profound thoughts that shake the foundation of someone's day.  Like...why can't I sit by the girl with autism at lunch?  She likes peanut butter and jelly sandwiches too.  We can be friends about that.

Or:  Love is like a magic pie; the more you share the more there is.  Out of the mouths of babes!

Then there was my kids who asked the question, "What do you mean you don't have money?  You still have checks!"

Here is the one thought that haunts me more days or nights than it doesn't:  Why can't we as a human race seem to get along and like each other?  If someone could please answer me that, maybe I could sleep better some nights.

I am going to do my Pooh imitation and try to ponder some of these things into a logical answer.

Think...think....think, think, think!

Images used:
https://i.pinimg.com/originals/c5/29/43/c529433183c072be0b08d1e6a093385c.jpg
http://thumbpress.com/wp-content/uploads/2015/08/stoner_thoughts_01.jpg
https://randomthoughtsfromlorne.files.wordpress.com/2017/01/telepathic.png?w=640
http://brainflower.com/gra/tannbclose460eng.jpg

Memory Care

I am not a crier by nature (the recent bout of depression not withstanding).  I

did not cry when I went back to work after each of my maternity leaves. I did

not cry when my kids started kindergarten.  I did not cry when I hauled each of

them off to college. Okay, I did shed a tear or two at their commencement

ceremonies but no wailing and gnashing of teeth.

However.

The first time my mom didn’t recognize me just about put me on my knees in

despair.  Even though I knew it was coming as there is a strong family history of
dementia in Mom’s family.  Even though she has called my by her sister’s name
forever. When she literally thought I was her sister and should remember an
incident from their childhood, it shocked me.  

When she started to wander away from her house looking for people who can
only be found in heaven, we knew it was becoming a safety issue and made the
decision to move her to a memory care facility.

We found a wonderful place close to Baby Brother’s neighborhood.  The staff is

friendly and welcoming and inclusive. The whole building is bright, cheerful, and
full of natural light.  The rooms are cozy, clean, and private. Best of all, there
are people there who can give Mom the kind of care she needs.

So now we have all of these memories that no one else knows and only we

remember.  

Some of my personal favorites are:

When Mom and I were trying to capture a loose calf and return it to its pen, but

when Mom got the halter on it, it jumped and ran and dragged Mom through
some yucky stuff.

When Mom made her award-winning outhouse Halloween costume out of chicken

wire and paper mache (see photo above).

When Mom and I went to my orthodontic consultation and they gave her the price

of my braces. She turned to me and asked if I was worth $2000. I told her I was priceless.

When I asked her what was the difference between liking someone and loving

someone, she told me, “You like someone because.  You love someone although.”  

LOVE that piece of advice!

When I asked her what to look for in a husband, she said to marry someone who

could make me laugh but who I was comfortable being silent with.

I've adjusted to her thinking that I am her sister now so when she asks me if I remember something from their childhood, I simply say “No, I must have been too young to remember that.”  It isn’t the whole truth but isn’t really a lie either. So even though I am not a crier by nature, this new normal with Mom does bring a tear to my eye more often than not.

Your loved ones will someday be the keeper of the memories of your times
together.  Take care to make them good memories. That’s what I call memory
care.

Images used:

http://www.quotesforthemind.com/wp-content/uploads/2013/09/Memory-of-the-Past-Memories-Quotes-%E2%80%93Good-%E2%80%93-Bad-Sayings-%E2%80%93-Quote-Life-brings-tears-smiles-and-memories.-The-teas-dry-the-smiles-fade-but-the-memories-last-forever.jpg

http://img.picturequotes.com/2/544/543144/memories-quote-1.jpg

Calm Down, Gramma, It's Just a Bear

Finally...something that inspired me to write again.  I was starting to worry that I had
“lost it” after our debacle of a winter.  Whew!!

We had a fun weekend because Cubby was around.  That kid slays me! She was here
Saturday afternoon and evening while Young Man and Mama Bear went out with some friends.  

We took her to church with us and for a Lutheran toddler, she did really well sitting through
a Catholic Palm Sunday mass!  She actually had a stare down with a whiny child behind us. 
She’s kind of judgey! 

After we got out of church and I was buckling her in her car seat, she says, “Gramma, where
are we going to eat?”  The following conversation took place. 

G:  We are going home to eat supper.

C:  At my home?

G:  No at Grampa and Gramma’s home.

C:  I want to go to McDonalds.

G:  I understand that, but we are going to our house.

C:  Why can’t we eat at McDonalds?

G:  Because we are going home to eat.

(By this time we were well on our way home on Highway 52)

C:  Grampa you just passed McDonalds.

G:  Yes, and he is going to pass a couple more on our way home.

C:  Don’t you like McDonalds?

G:  Not really.

C:  I like McDonalds hamburgers.

You get the idea.  

So we get home and I start making supper consisting of hamburgers, candied onions, and
green beans.  We get sat down at the table, say grace, and I put some hamburger on her
plate. 

“Gramma, I don’t like hamburgers.”  What the fudge?! What happened to the 15-minute
conversation about McDonald's hamburgers?  So….you just don’t like MY hamburgers.  Tough
luck, kid, eat the hamburger. 

After the battle of supper, we retired to the recliner for snuggles and Netflix.  She finally
settled on Barbie.  I could have gone the rest of my life without needing to know Barbie had
a TV series because she is more annoying than Barney.  

Over the course of several episodes, there was a bear that kept popping up in the scenes.  
After the third time, I said, “What’s with the bear?” 

Cubby looked up at my, put up her hand in that talk to the hand gesture and said, “Calm
down, Gramma, it’s just a bear.”  I almost wet myself laughing. 

I wasn’t laughing so hard later on when I went to take her home and tried to back out of the
garage without opening the door first.  We were both crying after that.  Luckily Captain is a
handy dandy kind of guy and he got it fixed good enough that it works even though it isn’t
as pretty as it used to be.  Come to think of it, I should probably look at my truck to see if
that has any damage.  Wouldn’t that just be a kicker?

Sunday morning Captain took me out for breakfast at Newts, which was nice to just have a
relaxing meal out together.  With spring rush coming, we won’t be able to do that for
awhile. 

We ran into a couple of folks from church so stopped and chatted with them for a bit before
going on a look-about.  We just sort of meandered here and there on our way home and had
an enjoyable time together. 

I worked Aisles On Line (hereinafter referred to as AOL) in the afternoon and evening.  I’m
getting the hang of the job.  For everybody (including myself) who thought it was hilarious
that I have a job grocery shopping when I can’t stand doing my own grocery shopping...this
is different.  This is buying specific items.  There are no decisions to be made, no angst of
price-per-unit differences, and no Captain beside me telling me I’m buying the wrong thing.  So don’t judge! 

I am finding it is an excellent exercise program.  I should really invest in a FitBit or knockoff
thereof.  Or maybe my phone has a pedometer on it.  Hmmm...that’s worth checking into.  

That all might not seem all that exciting to anyone but me as far as weekends go, but it
worked for us.  Being inspired to write about it just absolutely made my day!!

Blessings, my friends!

Images used:

http://punpedia.org/wp-content/uploads/2016/09/tumblr_nszlpafM451toe6ado1_1280.jpg

https://i.pinimg.com/736x/a2/26/fe/a226febcc334208eabc3cbab4ed3cd92--shopping-meme-lucky-charm.jpg

What's In Your Purse?

How many of you ladies have heard your husband say, “What do you have in this purse...the kitchen sink?” Can I see a show of hands?

Yep, 96.87%...about what i figured.

Aren’t they precious?



If you mined my purse you would find: a tube of Burt’s Bees chapstick, a tube of Carmex, a tube of lipstick, my ID badge for work, a multipurpose tool, my sunglasses, my Big Fat Wallet (™), a dozen loose receipts from Walmart, Target, and Hy-Vee, two checkbooks, a pack of Wet Ones, three paper clips, a bottle of Febreeze, four pens, a comb, and a fishing bobber (thanks, Captain).





Not one kitchen sink to be found.

Know what else is not and never has been in my purse? Kleenexes. Even when the kids were little I just never got in the habit of carrying tissues in my purse. This has caused a conundrum on occasion when noses needed to be wiped, but I could usually come up with a dried out wet wipe that would do the trick. Or the kids would just use their sleeves.

One new thing I have started carrying in my purse due to recent events is a bottle of peppermint essential oil to sniff if my tummy is giving me fits. I don’t know why it works, but it does.

I am new to this essential oil game but I’m becoming a believer. Maybe it’s a placebo effect that is all in my head, but whatever works, right? Besides the bottle in my purse, I also have a diffuser (like a humidifier/mister kind of thing) on my nightstand.

As I was tiptoeing around the internet trying to find reputable information on aromatherapy I found multiple references that ginger was one of the best oils to use for nausea prevention and treatment. So the first night I had the diffuser, I followed the directions where it said to fill it with water and add 2 to 3 drops of oil.

If you ask Captain, he will tell you that ginger oil in a diffuser smells like dog butts. Don’t ask me how he knows what that smells like...I don’t want to know. It’s true it was pretty potent and I have since found out that it is much more tolerable if you use 1 drop of ginger, 2 drops of lavender, and 3 drops of peppermint.

Captain kind of turns his nose up at the essential oil craze and calls it hoo-doo. When you think about it, though, it is probably what people used before there were tens of thousands of pills to take. I’m sure Native Americans, among others, used many of the same remedies, and they must have worked.

I just know that it seems to be helping me to use these oils so I will continue to do so until they don’t work.

Blessings to you my friends!

Images used:

http://d21c.com/micjam/Winter/Think-Spring.jpg

http://healthfoundationsbirthcenter.files.wordpress.com/2014/02/essential-oils.jpg

Even Keel

Hello, friends!  

I realize it has been a very long time since I've posted anything.  Life has been...let's just say...beyond crazy for the last weeks and months.  

For part of that time, I found myself in a dark place.  This is uncharted territory for me as it has always been a point of pride--smugness--that I could handle whatever life threw at me with the grace of God and supportive family and friends.  

Turns out I was wrong.  Oh, I still had God, family, and friends on my side.  I needed more.

Apparently one person can only take so much crap thrown at them before there is a breaking point.  Or at least a crack in the foundation.

The cumulative stress of being treated for (and cured of...YAY) breast cancer, another dismal year in the farm economy, major surgery for Captain, and extended cold snaps beat me down enough that it affected my health by way of ulcer-type stomach symptoms.  

That's easy enough to treat, right?  They have all kinds of medicine for that.  So I started taking it.  Two weeks later when it was no better I finally made an appointment with my family doctor to talk about treatment for depression.  I'm not ashamed of having to take medication for this, but I'm not totally comfortable with it yet, either.

Meanwhile, for the stomach issues, I made major diet and lifestyle changes.  Folks, I haven't had any coffee--none--in three weeks.  Actually, make that I haven't had any caffeine of any sort in that amount of time.  I don't eat anything with tomatoes in it.  I've been eating a lot of scrambled eggs, peanut butter sandwiches, and any sort of chicken soup or entree.  I've even resorted to Ensure drinks to make certain I am getting enough protein.  

I also started using essential oils (peppermint) as a topical rub and aromatherapy in a diffuser to try and combat the stomach stuff.  I sleep with four pillows behind me...so basically sitting up in bed.  

When I had my implant exchange surgery I thought that would relieve some stress.  Nope.  Now I was having increased anxiety with ridiculous and illogical thought processes.  

Back to the family doctor for a follow-up.  He assured us that after a negative abdominal CT scan, H. Pylori test, and EKG/Holter monitor testing the most likely cause for the stomach issues was situational stress, depression, and anxiety.  He adjusted the medication dosage, and we'll see how that goes for the next little while.  

I said I wasn't ashamed of having to take medication, and I'm not.  I'm--what's a less harsh word than ashamed--that I got knocked off my even keel and have actually been sort of wallowing in victim mode for a few weeks.  

I don't like that.  At all.  

So I'd ask you, dear friends, to pray for me.   That God heals me and makes me whole again.  Or, if that's not the plan, that God gives me the strength and courage to find ways to manage these health issues and not fall into whiny butt victim mode.  

Images used:
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