If Cleanliness is Next To Godliness...I am Doomed

They say that the two biggest topics spouses argue about are money and sex.  Leave it to me and Captain to dare to be different.  I can count on one hand the number of times we’ve argued about either one, or both, of those things.  Apparently we are on the same page there.  I guess that’s good.

So what do we argue about?

You’ll never guess.  

Cleaning.  

Yep, contrary to the image above, cleaning at the Brogan Ranch is when the gloves come off and vile insults are hurled around by all parties involved.  Well, no, mostly that’s me.  Captain just keeps doing the cleaning thing and sucking me into the cleaning vortex.

Don’t get me wrong.  It’s not that I am a (total) slob or that I am going to be on one of those reality shows any time soon.  But because I am a it’s-good-enough kind of gal and Captain is more of a it-has-to-be-perfect kind of guy...you can see where the conflict comes from.

We recently hosted my family’s Easter celebration at our house.  I know my family loves me with all of my quirks and foibles, so I know that if for some reason--like I had better things to do--the refrigerator shelves are not sparkly clean, they will keep right on loving me.  They might laugh themselves stupid on the way home, but I won’t know that so I won’t care.

Captain can imagine every possible snarky conversation that might happen in the cars as they leave Chez Brogan, so he goes psycho on the cleaning thing.  Maybe that’s an exaggeration, but he gets a lot more uptight about it than I do.  Then again, he gets more uptight about everything than I do.

But I digress.

As he was scrubbing the front door with Kaboom the other day--and standing there awed and amazed at the amount of dirt on the door--I told him nobody goes into another person’s home and judges them for their cleanliness.  At least I don’t, but apparently Captain does.  So, fair warning to all of our acquaintances on that score.

I told him whether I am a guest or a hostess, my criteria for a successful gathering is:  did people laugh and have fun and did they get enough to eat?  Nowhere on my checklist is there a line item for the microwave door had smudges on it or the curtains were askew.  Who freaking cares?!

I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again.  My door is ALWAYS open to friends and family to stop in.  If I know you’re coming, I will have the house in what I consider to be a presentable state.  I’ll ply you with food, beverage, and conversation.  If I don’t know you’re coming...you get what you get for cleanliness, but I will still ply you with food, beverage, and conversation.  

If you are up to the risk, I have the coffee on...come on by!

Images used:
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Never Stop Learning

I haven’t had anything exciting happen in the recent past, but I have been learning a thing or two about a variety of topics.

I learned from a talk radio show that white wine goes with white meat and red wine goes with red meat.  I’m not a big wine drinker so I’m not surprised I didn’t know this.  However, there are wine drinkers in my family, so I’m glad I learned this so I don’t make a culinary faux pas at a future family dinner.

I learned that there is a YouTube video for anything that you want to research.  Some are worthwhile and some should be deleted, but they are out there should you desire to see them.  

I found out that the method of vertically or horizontally centering things on a sheet of typing paper that I learned back in my high school typing class can also apply to centering a picture in a certain space on a wall.  Does anyone else remember those days of figuring out the total width, subtracting the size of what needs to be centered, then dividing that number by two to find out what size the right and left margins should be?  I know at least four people who should remember that because they were in my typing class!

I learned that you can filter a Google image search to include only those things that are acceptable for reuse (i.e. not copyrighted).  

I learned that using actual curlers a la Kitty Foreman to style my bangs and letting them air dry makes a longer-lasting curl than the curling iron does.  Added benefit--it doesn’t damage my hair.  

I learned that you can paint over stain and you can stain over paint.  You can paint over Mod Podge but you cannot stain over Mod Podge.  This was a big fat DUH moment for me when I tested it out on some scrap would because it says right on the Mod Podge bottle:  wood sealer.  Still, good to know for future reference!

Perhaps the biggest lesson I’ve (re)learned is that patience is not my strong suit.  I’m used to just diving into a project and not stopping until I am done.  This doesn’t work with the wood or canvas stenciling gamut because there is the whole alignment things which takes some planning and--egad--involves some math.  

With wood, the process is to stain it and let it dry overnight.  Then it’s Mod Podge and dry overnight.  Once the stencil is painted on...you guessed it...dry overnight.  Apply a final coat of Mod Podge and dry overnight.  Lastly, apply two coats of varnish with an overnight dry time in between.  Let’s count those up--that’s a six-day process.  

I also learned that it’s best to do each step to multiple pieces of wood or canvas.  Otherwise the brush gets used for a whopping 10 seconds and has to be washed right away.

I had mentioned I was looking at investing in a Cricut.  Since I can’t afford that right now, I have been coming up with workarounds, and I have learned that good old fashion paper, pencil, and carbon paper does just as good a job as a Cricut could do (in my opinion).  

Even better is printing the saying I want then putting that in a sheet protector before tracing the letters.  My paper templates last much longer that way.

I learned that using mail merge to print forms is the greatest thing since sliced bread and beats the old copy-and-paste method hands down.  

While none of these things is earth-shattering or of even remote interest to anyone else, they are important to me.  It brings home the theory that you should never be done learning.  

Holly Hobby

Here’s the thing about hobbies:  they’re expensive.  I don’t care what it is.  Quilting, crocheting, fishing...you’re going to shell out money no matter what.

But here’s the other thing about hobbies.  They are essential.  Not that you should spend all your time on hobbies, but you know the old saying about all work and no play.  There has to be a balance.  

I spent an undisclosed amount of money on yarn over the winter.  You could submit me to the worst torture method you’ve got, and I wouldn’t give up that amount.  Captain doesn't even know, and we are going to keep it that way. However, that investment brought me many hours of enjoyment, which in turn, allowed me to bring enjoyment--I hope--to those I shared my finished items with.  

It’s getting too warm now for me to crochet now.  It’s too early for gardening.  I could do some reading, but I am seriously super picky about what books I buy.  Nora Roberts (a/k/a J.D. Robb) is the only author I will spend money on.  I know I could go to the public library and get books for free, except they aren’t really free for me because I always end up with late fees.  

So this in-between time leaves me with a lot of time on my hands. I remembered I had picked up a wood burning kit on a garage sale several years ago thinking I would use that, some raw wood pieces, and a nice Min-Wax stain/varnish combo to make wall decor.  Good theory, but it turns out that wood burner isn’t as easy to use as I thought it might be.  

Go to plan B and we have raw wood items, stencils, paint markers, and stain/varnish.  My first two attempts in this arena were both enjoyable to me and wall-worthy for anyone I might decide to gift them to.  

Back to the money thing.  Hobby Lobby has a nice selection of raw wood items, and I’m sure I could find a bazillion others on Amazon.  None of them are out-of-this-world expensive but still cost something.  Stencils aren’t terribly expensive, plus they are reusable so that’s a plus.  

I bought a couple of different alphabet stencils--the kind where the whole alphabet, both upper and lower case, were on one sheet.  This worked okay, but it was a little difficult to be sure I had the letters all the exact same space apart and lined up exactly the same.

I started researching to see if I could get the alphabet stencils where the letters were...freestanding, for lack of a better word.  That way I could line them up better.  Yes, but those were a little more expensive and there weren’t a lot of choices for fonts.  

One of my bowling ladies mentioned using her Cricut to make my own customized stencils.  I had a vague idea what a Cricut was since my niece does a bunch of scrap-booking, but I had NO idea they could do everything the videos say they can do!

So here’s the expensive part of this new hobby.  Those things are $100 and up, depending on which model you buy.  I will be adding this to my wish list for the future because I had 500 ideas pop into my head while I was looking at the tutorial videos.  

Maybe I will just take my friend up on her offer and have an excuse to get together with her for coffee some Saturday morning.  You can’t put a price on that!


Images used:
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Battle Stations!

I’ve talked before about how chasing steers is fraught with peril.  This is still a true statement, but I’ve come to realize that there is something worse.  Yes, fellow farm ladies...there is something worse than chasing cattle back in.

Sorting cattle.  I’m telling you...it’s worse.  

See, the thing is, if you have cattle that have escaped their pen, everybody involved (except maybe the cattle) know exactly what the game plan is:  get them back into their pen.   

I cannot count the number of times a quiet leisurely evening has been thrown into havoc by the statement, “The steers are out!”

You’ve seen television shows of a firehouse when the alarm goes off, right?  It’s kind of like that.  Everyone scrambles to make sure they have clothes on (although I have chased cattle in my nightgown before), then get some sort of footwear on usually hopping around on one foot trying to put the other shoe on.  Side note here:  flip flops are NOT good cow-chasing footwear.  

Often, clothes and shoes may be getting thrown on as people scramble out the doors to their battle stations.  Yes, battle stations, because my friends, it’s a damn war!  The marching orders are always the same:

• Keep them off the road so a passing car doesn’t hit one
• Keep them out of the field because once they are out there, it’s a whole new ball game and vehicles have to be employed (side note:  ask Molly sometime about the time her school friend was here watching this happen)
• Keep them out of Gramma’s yard or face the wrath!

An overview of our farm looks like this:

The red area is for baby calves; we’ll call that preschool.  The blue areas is for what we’ll call elementary school; calves that are not on milk anymore but not on full corn.  The pink area is high school; cattle that aren’t quite big enough for the adult world yet.  And the yellow area...that’s college.  Where the cattle hang out until they are big enough to fulfill their life’s destiny of becoming food.  

Oh, and that blue dot...that’s our house.  By that you can sort of gauge the size of and distance to the other points on the map.

In the event the college “kids” make a run for it, the battle stations (as you look at the map above) are in the grass between the steer yard and the house; between the garage and barn right near the light pole, and between the barn and the steer yard to keep them from running through OTHER fences.  

If battle stations can be manned before the errant animals get too far, a triangle is formed and the corners thereof keep moving inward until the steers are herded back where they belong.  

I won’t go into Stage II of the battle plan (fixing the fence) because that’s a whole different level of fresh hell.  

My point is...in that situation, everybody knows where to go, what to do, and when to do it.  We are a well-oiled machine (practice makes perfect, right?).

Now, sorting cattle on the other hand is nothing but a practical experiment in bad communication.

For reference, a larger image of the elementary school yard looks like this.  The two red arrows are the battle stations should this group decide to take a field trip.  This is actually the easiest of the battles because (if they are noticed in time), there really isn’t anywhere for them to go except back in their pen.

However, when animals need to be moved between the two pens in this area, someone must man the gate, which is that horizontal dividing line.  The gates are hinged on the outside perimeter and chained together in the middle.  They are each 8 feet long and weigh...well, more than I do.

So, enter the players:  Captain and me.  I get the gate job because Captain is the one who knows which ones need to be moved around.  As he meanders in and amongst a dozen or more riled up 300-pound calves, now kicking up their heels, he is most likely facing away from me.  I hear him say something, but given the noise level and Captain’s naturally quiet voice...I have no idea what he said, so I just stand there waiting for verification.

Turns out I was supposed to get out of the way to let this, that, or the other calf through the gate.  Well excuuuuuuuuuuuuuuse me for not hearing you, dude!  Start over.

The next time, he is facing me which is extremely helpful when he says, “Let the black one out.”  Folks, these are Holsteins.  They are black and white and many times mostly black.  Buddy, WHICH black one?!

The one facing you!

There are three of them looking at me, all more than 50% black.  Can you be more [insert string of swear words] specific?

The one in the middle!

Okay, I can handle that, and we shoo him to the other pen.  

Repeat this scenario times three or four or six...depending on how many animals he wants to move around.  You can see why sometimes we are not on speaking terms, or if we are, there are death threats are being tossed about.  And just for the record:  no jury of my farm wife peers would convict me on that one.    

Do NOT get me started on trying to move the high school kids to college because that is an epic disaster nine times out of ten.  If you have a burning desire to hear about it, I’ll tell you in person someday.  It’s just too much to describe in words.  Besides, you get the idea.  

I guess I need to be grateful that we have livestock to take care of and are able-bodied enough still to do so, even when I’d rather do just about anything else.

Happy Trails!

Images used:
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Do-Be, Do-Be, Do

I need to take a moment here to clear up some misinformation that I have been perpetuating for my entire married life.

The last movie Captain saw in a theater was NOT Rocky IV in 1985 as I have been saying for 30 years.  It was Youngblood in 1986.

Whew...glad we cleared that up!

This particular tidbit of information came up in conversation over the weekend when I told Captain that when Hidden Figures comes out on Netflix, I want him to watch it with me because I really think he would appreciate the historical content of it.  I saw it in the theater with some gal pals but would totally enjoy watching it again (and again and again).  

I promised him that I would give him the cast list, plot line, and backstory before we attempted to watch it so that he would not go through his usual litany of questions during the first 15 minutes of the film.  

His response to this?  “I don’t do that.”

Dude...I beg to differ.  In fact, I begged to differ so much that I bet some of my hard earned money that I could call one of both of our children and ask them “What happens when your dad watches a movie?” and both of them would give me the exact same verbiage.  

Captain took my bet and ran with it.  First he called Molly, and put her on speaker phone to ask her “What do I do when I watch a movie?”

Her answer was loud and clear, “You ask ‘Who is that?  Why are they doing that?  What is the point?  I don’t get it.’ and then you get up and walk away.”

As I was doing a happy dance around the kitchen shouting BOO-YAH, Captain told Molly she was crazy and hung up the phone.  I continued my victory boogie while Captain called Young Man.  The call went right to voicemail the first time, but rang through the second time.  

When Young Man answered the phone, Captain repeated his question and got this answer:  “You ask ‘Who is that?  Why are they doing that?  What is the point?  I don’t get it.’ and then you get up and walk away.”

Folks, there was absolutely no containing my glory.  Both fists pumped into the air with a shout of “Those are my kids!!” and I continued to bee-bop around the kitchen and dining room while Captain just shook his head and tried to stifle the chuckles.  

The thing is, Captain just doesn’t get why people spend two hours (waste two hours in his mind) sitting around watching fiction; it makes no sense to him.  Now, if it was a documentary...that’s another story.  He’s all about that.  More, though, he is about DOING things.  

Hence all of our rambles on Sunday afternoons.  To Captain, it’s much better to be out experiencing the world and all its glory than to just observe someone else’s experiences.  I can respect that.

Due to his aversion to all things cinematic, I have--by association--missed out on many movies.  I have never seen:

Ghostbusters

The Blues Brothers

Schindlers List

Caddyshack

Groundhog Day

Silence of the Lambs

But that’s okay because I have seen waterfalls, wildflowers, eagles, barges, veteran’s memorials, and many side and back roads around our region.  I may tease Captain for his anti-film philosophy, but I have to be grateful that because of it we have spent many enjoyable hours together exploring the world around us.  

Images used:
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