Learning to cook for one (again)

No, I didn't kick Glenn to the curb.  Although some days it's mighty tempting!   Thanks to Winter and the economy, Glenn's current employer has been laying off mechanics right and left, and cutting hours back to half for those that are left.   This can be a little nerve wracking with 18 horses in the pasture wanting hay! 

Add to that, the insurance company totaled Bertha truck and came to pick her up Tuesday.   They paid off slightly more than what Glenn still owed on her.  We got my Bessie truck back on the road, but she needs new tires, an alignment, a new windshield, and... unexpired tags might be nice too.   She's been sitting around with a bum fuel pump for so long, I was beginning to think that Glenn would never get her fixed.  Bessie is only 2wd, so getting hay into the pasture for the next few months will mean rolling it by hand thru the gate, up the hill,  and into an open enough area where no one will get hurt if there are fights. 

Being Bertha-less also means that Bessie needs to pick up the slack in the trailering department.   She's got a bumper hitch, but no gooseneck hitch yet.  Glenn thinks Bertha's hitch will fit her, so it's just a matter of installing it.  But Bertha is old.  She's given me a long life of loyal service and I just don't feel fair yanking her out of semi-retirement and putting her back on the road hauling a horse trailer.   But buying another truck right now is just not in the budget and I would really really really like to not go into debt for anything else right now.  Mortgage is enough these days!

 

Anywho, I just went WAY off track from the original issue.  But I guess you're used to that by now.

What I really wanted to tell you is that last week Glenn decided to go to truck driving school.  Yup, my man is gonna be a trucker.  Now I have to come up with a creative "handle" for him.  But the best part is that he'll be gone for days, maybe weeks at a time!   This is his first week and he'll be home on the weekends.  Next week he'll be in a truck at the school learning how not to wreck it.  The week after, he'll be hired by a company and out on the road with a driver.  After five or six weeks he'll probably get a truck of his own if he proves worthy.

This week I've been listing the pros and cons about this to see how I feel about it all. 

Pros

1) He'll be gone a lot.

2) More money, consistent work, not as likely to get laid off.

3) Bessie stays home for me to use and we don't need to get another vehicle.

4) He'll have another marketable skill for the local job market.

5) I no longer have to wear ear plugs to get any sleep at night.

6) I'll lose a lot more weight taking care of this place on my own.

7) My grocery bill will go down.

8) I can watch a chick-flick whenever the mood strikes me.

9) With all that extra income we can buy a pool.  And I can get a cabana.  And a pool boy.

 

Cons

1) He'll be gone a lot.

2) There are 18 horses in the pasture right now and my volunteers don't like ice, snow, or mud any more than I do.

3) He won't be here to direct in the medi-life helicopter when I ride Jewel for the first time.

4) He won't be here to fix Bessie when she breaks down.

5) He'll spend a lot of money eating out.

6) He'll gain a lot of weight and start sporting a plumbers crack.

7) I have to learn to cook just for me again.  All that garden and only one mouth to feed?   You guys want to come over for dinner 3-4 nights a week starting around July?

 

Hmmm... I'm still not sure we're coming out ahead.  Thoughts?  Comments?  Advice?  Any truckers or trucker wives out there that can chime in?

Things I learned about my garden this winter

1) It's not big enough. 

2) No matter how daunting the gazillions of onion seedlings are,  I must transplant them all into the garden.  I was purchasing onions from the store (gasp!) a month ago because we were out of the home grown supply.

3) Now that Glenn is hooked on Brushetta, I have to make sure I freeze more oil/basil ice cubes.  A 1 gallon bag has proven inadequate to get us through the winter.

4) 2 gallon sized bags of frozen breaded green tomato slices are not enough.  Not by far.  I fried some up for lunch today and almost shed a tear when I saw how few slices were left in the last bag.  {Try these on a kaiser roll with bacon or proscuitto and munster cheese, a little mayo and ranch.  Toast the whole thing to melt the cheese and meld the flavors, add baby spinach or sprouts and groan in contentment with the first bite.}

5) Someone requires at least four times the amount of spinach and collards that I canned for him this year.   I should also freeze some this year for use in quiches.

6) We have a huge old chest freezer that was left here by the previous owners.  We're afraid to fill it and use it in case it dies on us just like the old fridge did.   So instead we'll put it in the unheated root cellar to store certain crops for use all winter long -- which means I can plant more of those crops. 

7) Thanks to a new books I bought myself the other day, Stocking Up,  Best Ever Slow Cooker, One Dish & Casserole Recipes, and The Joy of Pickling I now have ways to use all the oddball stuff that I've grown for years, but never knew how to use it.  So now I can plant more of those crops as well.

8) Potatoes are a must this year.  I simply didn't have the room for them last year.

9) I need to plant more broccoli and peas.   I only had enough for fresh eating last year and would love to have some for freezing this year.

10) Mugwort has no place in the veggie garden. 

11) Plant pineapple tomatillos in their own small 1.5'x1.5' raised bed and lay a tarp or plastic under them when the fruits start to ripen.  Eventually I will become to old, arthritic, and impatient to play twister with those monsters.

12) I never need to plant Roman chamomile again.  I have volunteers coming up under 2" of snow and straw right now.  Same with catnip.

13) The orchard needs to be put in this year without a doubt. There are simply too many recipes and so little time.

14) More frozen strawberries and raspberries are a MUST.   I can't tell you how in love I am with freshly made berry sauce on French toast.  Oh my.

15) It's not big enough.  Duh.

Doing what he loves

Being part Lab, Thor loves to fetch.  He's not the fetching machine that Heidi is, but he's pretty darned good.   On the plus side, he's not one of those Labs that will run himself to death fetching.  When he's had enough, he'll take the stick somewhere and turn it into toothpicks and splinters.

Needless to say, it's difficult to take action shots of him when I'm both throwing the stick and trying to take pictures.  Somehow, the tail is the only part of him that's always in focus.

 

But I guess the picture quality doesn't much matter as long as he's this happy.

 

And as long as he's not chewing on someone's boot.

Spreading the Word

Fugly posted this link on her blog today and it's something that I'm passionate about, so I thought I'd share for those of you that don't read FHOTD.

http://www.kaufmanzoning.net/foiaphotos.html

These graphic photos are of horses that went from backyard, to auction house, to double-decker trailer on the way to slaughter. For those that don't know, double-decker trailers were built for cattle, NOT horses. The height of each level is too short for most horses so they are forced to stoop or lie down during the long haul to Canada or Mexico. The horses are packed in like sardines and those lying down typically get trampled, kicked, and mauled by those still standing. Not to mention the foals, the sick and lame, or the very old horses that can't stand for long periods of time. They have no choice but to lay down and take their chances.

Hauling horses in double-decker trailers is illegal in a lot of states, but enforcing that law is difficult at best. The odds of getting caught and the fines if you do are not enough to discourage the practice.

I can't look at those pictures without remembering the horses that were whipped onto meat buyer trailers that day at Sugarcreek, without thinking of the racehorses still wearing racing plates, or the frightened young Belgian that stole our hearts. But I also think of Sadie sitting out in the pasture munching on a hay roll right now. How, when I took off her blanket this morning, she rubbed her head against my arm to scratch the itchy places, then followed me back down to the gate hoping for treats. How she runs around the field with the herd on warm Spring-like days and doesn't show any signs of lameness at all. How she and Junior nuzzle together after dinner. How she and Kita sleep side by side in the sun.

And I think about how I can't wait to do it all over again.

More Spa Fun

To continue with the spa theme from yesterday, most of the horses gave themselves mud baths today. I think their complexions are already starting to improve.

Gentry and Jewel are the cleanest horses in the herd. I should also mention that Jewel has declared herself Queen of the Little People. As she's become more secure about herself she's also become more dominant. She's now the boss over Meghan, Willow, Radar, Sadie, and Indy. I just hope she's smart enough to stop there and not try to challenge the Brat Pack!

After the mud baths, there were many naps to be had. Check out the droopy bottom lip on Jewel -- much lower and she'll be tripping on it.

Hunter was in this position for almost an hour. Talk about a relaxed and secure pony. I hope Radar isn't supposed to be standing guard because he's failing miserably at alertness.

Is that drool?

Even Princess Kita got down and dirty in the mud. This is one mare that HATES getting dirty, but a girl's got to get her beauty sleep somehow.

Please forgive my ripped and way too big jeans. They were Glenn's. There was no way I was wearing my freshly laundered flannel-lined jeans to kneel in the mud. That would have just been wrong.

A Day at the Spa

We picked up another 14 chickens last weekend and finally let everyone out of the pen today to wander the yard and see what they'd get into. One of the chickens is a New Hampshire Rooster, who thinks he's died and gone to harem heaven with all these women hanging around him. The younger hens all swoon at him from a distance, but the older hens battle it out for his attention and throw their bodies at him mercilessly. I'm so proud of my little feathered harlots.

The older hens and roosters made it almost immediately to the garage, where underneath is a wonderful soft dirt, just right for giving yourself a dust bath. Is it just me, or are these some happy hens?

We had some grand plans this weekend, to include picking up two more rescues from the Huntington area as well as delivering Radar to his new home. But alas, Glenn wrecked the truck this morning. I think he would have done less damage if he had just hit the deer instead of going off the road to avoid them. But what do I know?

Yes, he's fine. Just in case some of you care more than I do. I'm sure I'll care more later. Maybe.

Somebody stop me

We've had four beautiful days of warm weather in a row and I really want to plant something.  I know it's still February.  I know we'll still have lots of frosts.  I know whatever I plant will likely die as soon as it germinates... if it germinates.  Does knowing all of this stop my diabolical plan?

Of course not.  I think I've got some radish seeds hanging out in the fridge.  They will be the first to succumb to my evil. 

Wish them luck.

Just another snowy day

Spent gazing into the romantic glow of the kerosene heater. 

Birds of a feather...

flock together.   Usually.  But these girls are equal opportunity flockers.  Perhaps it has something to do with the BDD sitting next to the pen staring at them, or the two cats slowly circling the pen and drooling that causes them to flock together?

 

Whatever, at least I found the camera.

Our Buff Orphington is blond (sort of), she's tough, she's the leader of the pack... she's  Buffy the Beetle Slayer. 

 

This is Rosy the Long Island Red.  She's still young, but should start laying eggs in another month or so.

 

We call these two the Judds.  Wynona the Wyandotte is on the right and Naomi the Barred Rock is on the left.  They are always together and are also too young to start laying eggs.

 

Originally we were going to call the Ameraucana Bunny.  These birds lay eggs in shades of blue and green, sometimes even pink, giving them the nickname Easter Egg chickens.  Which then led me to the Easter Bunny, hence the name Bunny.  But as I lie awake at 2:30 this morning I decided I didn't like the name Bunny.   If I said the word "bunny" in my head more than twice in a row my sleep-deprived brain came up with pictures of Bugs Bunny.  Bugs!  How cute would that be?  NOT.  Bugs is a male name and it just wouldn't be fair to name the chicken after it's favorite food.  Would it?  So after another 20 or so minutes I finally came up with the name of female cartoon character that sometimes plays the girlfriend of Bugs. 

Everyone, meet Babs.

 

And because I am plum out of name creativity (what little I had in the first place was used up on Babs), I reach out to you, my faithful readers, to come up with a name for the Black Australorp.

 

 

May the force be with you.

Meltdown

It was 49 degrees and sunny today, which was a nice respite from the frigid cold, snow, and freezing rain of the past few weeks.  Not only did the sun melt most of the ice from our driveway and snow from our pastures, but it provided the perfect opportunity to trim some hooves, spray the rain rot victims with anti-fungal stuff, and let the chickens out in the pen for the first time.

Did I mention that we have chickens now?  Actual egg laying hens that are cute and cuddly and won't have their heads chopped off any time soon.  Some friends gave us six hens last Sunday and we've had them locked up in the coop all week.   Three of the hens are younger and won't start laying for another month or two, but we still got eleven eggs in a week from the other three.

I would love to show you pictures, but I have lost track of the camera.  Yes, again.  *sigh*

What I really wanted to share with you today is the fact that Glenn and I are truly pathetic.  Like you didn't know that already?

Once the hoof trimming and rain rot soaking were done we hauled some chairs out to the chicken coop, planted our butts in the sun, and just watched our chickens scratch around in the grass.  For an hour.  In jeans and t-shirts.

We listened to the water running down the pastures and into the pond and the chickens clucking and cooing.  Heidi sat with us, intently sniffing the air and studying the new additions to the farm.  We didn't speak much unless it was to say something to one of the chickens as they wondered close.   I had my thoughts and Glenn had his, but when I asked him what he was thinking he only had four words to say "Can't wait for Spring".   Yup, that's what I was thinking too.