The Gas Tank and Zelle

Fill Her Up

Zelle is a good thing. Today our son was on the way to an OBGYN appointment with his girlfriend. He realized that he had no gas in his tank. He gave his dad a call and asked if he could Zelle him $40 to put gas in his truck. He said he will pay us back on payday. He does pay back these amounts.

This reminds me of a day that my mother ran out of gas. She had just purchased her first car on her own. It was a gigantic very old style car. The fuel tank gage did not work. Even if it did, she probably would not have enough money to fill it up. She had three young children in the car. The car sputtered and stopped.

We were getting ready to start walking to a gas station. It was dusk. We started the walk. Along came a man in a shinny new pickup. Oh it was pretty. The man was a handsome cowboy with a sparkling smile. This was the first time ever I saw momma flirt. She told him that he must be her night in shinning armor. We sat in the bench seat of that fine pickup, three little girls, my momma and that fine cowboy. It was a tight squeeze.

My daddy was not a cowboy. He had problems financially. Mother was driving a crappy old car with hardly any money to keep gas in it. It is strange the things that get put in front of us.

The cowboy filled a gas can and drove us back to our car. He put the gas in the tank and made sure the car started. He wrote his phone number on a piece of paper and told momma to call him if she ever needed her tank filled again.

That night late when my dad came home mom put cold dinner out on the table for him. Daddy asked her how her day went. She told him the car ran out of gas and a nice “old” man and helped us out. Oh my..

Chuck always tells me to keep my car full of gas because it is better on the engine. He is always eager to put gas in my tank. This is a good lesson for our son to learn?

Cowboy at dusk

Forks

My grandma’s kitchen was one of my favorite places. On her wall she had a large plaster of Paris fork decoration. My grandma’s kitchen was a place where everyone gathered. There was always some kind of food cooking. The kitchen was the hub of the family. It was the nucleus of the atom. This is where prayers were said as a family. This is where dominos were played with neighbors on Saturday nights.

In my childhood family home all the women would work together to prepare meals. We did not communicate very well outside the kitchen but cooking was a passion for all of us. I was the youngest. My mother would give me busy work during this time. My job was to organize the silverware drawer. I am very compulsive and this was one of my favorite tasks. I was later told by my sister that as a child I had favorite silverware that I would eat with. Other family members were not allowed to use my utensils because I would break into a crying fit. (There is a visit to the spectrum.)

Being the family nucleus is what I want from my kitchen. We love to host exchange students and my kitchen is where the action happens. Cultures are shared through singing and cooking. We have had one student’s grandmother come over from Spain and make us a wonderful meal. I have shared eating grapes on New Year’s Eve. My kitchen is my safe haven.

I currently have a single mother living in our home. She loves cooking and baking. Her father owns a restaurant in a neighboring town. Sharing my kitchen with her has been hard. Her habits are different than mine.

Our grown son and her have become a couple. Our grandchild is due in May. The two adults, two babies and three dogs are planning on moving out within this month. That is enough said on that subject for now.

I have noticed that my silverware collection has dwindled down. The other day I cooked supper for Chuck and only had one metal fork and one flimsy little white plastic fork. Needless to say, my patience was wearing thin. In retaliation, I took those two forks and hid them in my sock drawer. If I couldn’t have forks neither could they. I was proud of my plan.

Sooooo later that day I was on the phone to my sister. We discussed family memories. I gave her an earful of all my current kitchen situation. This sister asked if I had communicated in a non-hateful manner that my forks were missing. She told me it was pretty stupid to put forks in a sock drawer. Well no…sooo I got my fork out of the sock drawer and asked the young lady if she knew where the forks are. We now have four forks in the silverware drawer.

Who would have thought that forks can make such an impact on family dynamics.? Do you readers have any good fork stories?

Cheap Meat Dinner

My family did not have much money when I was growing up. My father was a music teacher and owned a music store. My mother made grocery money stretch beyond belief. A favorite food was hamburger hash. It was very tasty and very filling. If someone showed up at dinner time she would just add another potatoe.

Tonight Chuck was not real hungry but thought I probably needed to eat a little something. We had company most of the day and I had been walking the farm with them. (That’s another post.) Chuck did not want me to overdo since I also had a COVID shot today. I decided to make hamburger hash.

The recipe is easy Peasy .Brown a pound of hamburger,one chopped onion, and about four cubes red potatoes. Fry this all together in a covered dish on medium heat until it starts to brown. Add a cup of water. Season with salt, pepper, garlic powder and Worcestershire sauce.

I drown mine in ketchup. It is amazing and cheap. Let me know if you like it.

Walked The Place

Pink lady

Today a young couple came over and I walked the farm with them. It was so exciting to hear their young minds full of passion about what could be done here. We talked about cattle. We talked about crops. We talked about stocking the pond with fish. We talked about hunting deer. I told them to have at it. My mind would love to do these things but my body is just not up to it.

So today I hopped fences. I carried around a big stick to ward Off snakes and over eager heifers. I dreamed of adventures and projects. My adhd was on mind overload. The sunshine brightened my face. I had a renewed sense of drive.

Chuck and I normally host exchange students. I would like this farm to be a gift to them in the form of an unforgettable school year. The more projects and adventures the more memories they will go home with.

We ended the day sitting on an exquisite tree with their four year old daughter. Under this tree I have started a fairy garden. The little girl and I discussed the nooks and crannies of the tree and the possibilities of where the fairies could live. I will have to add to that project. I cannot wait for the dancing ladies to bloom there.

All in all, it was a great day. I gained new insight of what the purpose of this farm is. This young couple did a great deed and touched my heart today. Thank you God for sending them my way.

Retirement Blues

I have always been a list making goal setting diva of a worker bee person. I have taken an early retirement to help my husband with his medical condition. I am thrilled to be home with him. My accountant told me that with our retirement we should not work anymore or we will be heavily taxed. I have never been told something like this. It is not that we make an abundance of money. We live from paycheck to paycheck like many other people.

So the first month I was making to do list out the wazoo. I even took a forty minute time frame to make the hundred list. I am coming up blank. I do not have any items I am interested in purchasing. I do not want to do long projects such as quilts. I have found satisfaction in crocheting potholders this week.

I am not sure what to do with myself. Chuck has been laying up in the bed and he enjoys my company while watching tv. I have entertained myself with Dragon Merge. I have spent many hours merging stars and plants and mushrooms. I also have a sweet little town in the Klondike. I stay up till all hours of the night writing my blog and sleep in till I am cooking breakfast for dinner.

I am making a resolution. Beginning tomorrow I will get back to my old goal driven self. I will update my 100 list and I will do some form of exercise an hour a day. This will be good for me and Chuck both. I will have more to blog about.

Oh wait, tomorrow is Sunday— a day of rest. I will start Monday for sure.

The Crazy Train

I got married right out of high school to my first husband. My home life was a little troubled and I was brought up thinking that if you could not afford college then you found a husband and settled down. So as soon as I graduated I had a full time job, went to school part time and went to a few discos hunting for a good man.

He drove a tanker truck for a local milk company. He had a job, I had a job. He rented a house with his sister from his mother. I kicked out his sister got married and moved in. I was now a grown woman at the age of 19.

We had a one night honeymoon at The Friendship Inn and went to Six Flags. It was LGB day. When we got back to the house he told me there were sheets in the bathtub that he had puked on the night before. He also asked me if I knew a girl named Tammy. He met her at the strip club and she said she went to school with me. Now that I think about it, they must have hooked up. Oh boy,married life.

It was about a month into the marriage and I heard him on the phone talking to someone. He was going on a long haul and needed medicine to keep him going. He drained the bank account all but $40 to make this transaction. I cried and yelled and told him drugs were not acceptable. He got in the truck and was gone for a month. I went to the store and spent $20 on groceries for myself for a month. peanut butter and crackers go a long way.

We stayed married for 26 years. He later worked for the railroad. We had babies, we lost some babies, he has affairs, he got redeemed, he gave expensive presents and begged for forgiveness. I tolerated this life out of fear and greed for stability.

I sold the house we raised our children in to a young couple. This couple had some extra cats that they needed to give away. Guess who answered the Facebook ad. Yes, that old ex-husband and his new wife. The couple told me that I had definitely married up this time. It was apparent that my ex and his new love had an addiction problem.

I don’t have hate for this man but my heart has also grown very cold to him. We have not spoken in over 10 years. I have pitty on my children for his condition. I hid many things from them about their father. I just had to put my life back in working order.

Now I live with a wonderful man who adores me and I adore him. We ride on a different kind of crazy train dealing with age related problems but I would not take the world for him. As a matter of fact, he is the person I bought the peanut butter and crackers from.

Stay tuned. I have many life stories to tell. I am old and really don’t care any more about what judgement readers pass on me. I am an open book. This train ride will be a good one.

Barn Cats

Barn cats are a must for a farm. Cats are usually kept at a farm to maintain the mole, mice and snake population. The cats are fed by the farmer but are not shown much attention. They have a job to do and are important to the farm as a whole.

I learned about barn cats at an early age. I was about ten when my mother sent my sister and me to stay with my grandmother for a few weeks. My mother was going to have her “baby parts” taken out. My grandmother had a special cat named Smokie. He was allowed in the farmhouse every morning after breakfast. Grandma would give Smokie the dish of milk left over from her shredded wheat biscuits. She would pat him on the head and tell him what a food mouser he was. Then Smokie would be put outside to do his man cat duties.

That is what Smokie would do. He would bring decapitated mice to the front porch and proudly display them for my grandmother. Smokie would also mingle with the lady cats. His lady cat friend brought her children to my grandma’s back porch for their breakfast. Grandma named one of the babies precious.

I spent most of the first week holding those baby kittens. I adored them. It was nice to see my harsh mean grandmother show a gentleness to those kittens every morning on the back stoop of the house. She would pet them and tell them what good mousers they would grow up to be.

I loved my grandmother. I spent the week watching her with her household tasks. She taught me to cut and sew a quilt. She was great at making blackberry cobblers. She was smart and very whimsical. She also loved cats just like me.

One morning my grandma went out to feed the cats and they did not come. Smokie has been in for his morning meal but the kittens were no where to be found. Grandma spent the morning calling for precious in her crackling little aged voice. I spent the morning calling for that cat.

The next morning my grandma was calling for the cat again. My older cousin Paul was sitting beside me planning the day out for us. I said how sad it made me that grandma was looking for her lost cat. Paul said she would never find that cat. The kittens had crawled in the car engine and grandpa got them stuck in the fan blade, Grandpa had taken them down to the pond and shot them dead. Why did he not tell grandma.

The next morning and for the rest of our visit grandma would go to her back door and call for Precious. I would sit in the porch swing with big ole tears crying for my grandma not knowing my grandpa’s secret.

caretaker

The other day I was chatting it up with my father God. I asked him what was his next project for me. I have learned that if you are not prepared for following through with what task God has planned for you do not offer your services. The task he has for me is one of the most painful I have ever been assigned.

Now if you are not a person that communicates with God then this will sound like I hear voices. Let me explain how this works for me. I do not hear a voice from God. When I speak with him and am given instructions it is just a definite knowing of what he wants from me. If I am in doubt then I will ask for a confirmation from him and he folllows up with signs for clarification. If you are one of Gods children then you get this whole concept. If you are not one of his children I will not spend time in confrontational conversation with you. I will just agree to disagree. Having communication with God does not make me pious or eccentric it just makes me Gods child. Onward to the heart of my story.

I have been instructed a total of three time from God on what my task was. All times it has been to care for a person. First was my mother, second was my stepfather and now God has instructed me to take care of my husband. It sucks for my husband because I am not the nurse type. I am now taking blood sugars, giving insulin shots, preparing meals, helping with hygiene, keeping track of bodily functions and making sure medication is given properly. I am tired and have not had a hair cut in over two months. I am up at 4 in the morning trying to get myself ready for tomorrow. My husband is depressed and it takes much encouragement on my part to get him out of bed every day. I am not complaining. I am thrilled to have Chuck alive and physically mobile.

I know that God blesses me daily and he has control over my life. I am protected from all evil by his army of angels. As for me and my house we will serve the Lord.

Oh my, he has the heater on 90 degrees.