The Prom

I suppose it had to happen sometime. You bring home a little pink bundle, you feed and water it, it grows into a very lovely young lady. She talks about not being one of those silly girls who are all about the boys. But, eventually, one comes along and changes things. She's still not silly, but there's this boy...

And then the school announces a prom...The prom was held at the Wisconsin Dells, and involved a boat ride and a day at a water park About 40 students and dates attended. Our Korean daughter, Minah, also attended.

Mary and Ryan.

Mary and Minah.

Mary and her good friend, Ana.

Minah, being very elvish.

The little pink bundle, about grown up.

Saturday Farm Report

Some gardening done this week; potatoes and beans planted. We've had good rain, and I've been grateful.

We had our first harvest this week! Radishes, asparagus and rhubarb. The radishes were hot, hot, hot! I planted French Breakfast radishes, because they've been sweet in the past, but these were speecy-spicy. They were a good snack, though. The rhubarb will go into a rhubarb pie or crisp today, and the asparagus into an omelet. There wasn't very much of that, since I dug out my asparagus bed last fall. I plan to re-plant it this spring, but finding paying work has put a crimp in that plan. It'll get done, but late.

Today we're off to my dad's to help with final packing. He moves next week. Best get to it!

The Morning Cuppa

How do you take your coffee? Wait--you DON'T? Are you some kinda crazy person? Even my daughter took a sip this week and said, "Ahh...I like that." It's an All-American thing. It should read, "Baseball, hot dogs, apple pie, Chevrolet and coffee," but I suppose that would play havoc with the meter or tempo or some aspect of the jingle.

I digress.

How do you take your coffee?

Back when I was a pup, I took my sugar and milk with 2 tablespoons of coffee. Since this all went into a 6-8 ounce mug, you can guesstimate the amount of add-ins I was using. And, while we're on the subject, what is it with the size of modern coffee mugs? Yes, it's comforting to wrap cold hands around a steamy boat-o-coffee, but then it takes long enough to drink the thing that it's cold halfway through. Boo!

In college, I filled my mug a little more than halfway, added 2-3 teaspoons of sugar, and a large bloop of milk. (That's the technical term. Look it up.) When my kids came along, I stayed just under 2 teaspoons of sugar. When I turned 40-something, and tried the Atkins diet, I actually drank my coffee black for a while. It tasted good, but wasn't satisfying. I dunno. I guess I just needed the milk. Or, to be more exact, the half and half. Or heavy cream. But usually half and half. About 2 tablespoons of half and half go into my 12 ounce mug of African yumminess. Yes, I prefer the African coffees. Or the East Indian. But not Brazilian. But you know that about me, if you've been paying attention.

Today I walked to the frig to mix my morning cuppa, and found -le gasp- no half and half. I was reduced to putting whole milk into my coffee. Now, sometimes that's not a bad thing. When we have raw milk in the house (yes, I'm one of those) whole milk is scrumptious. but we've been having difficulties with picking up our raw milk, and have been reduced to buying the stuff at the store. Although it, too is whole milk, it's just not the same. So my first cup was a meh blend of espresso and whole store milk. For my second cup, here at work, I am using powdered creamer; the generic kind. It has a flavor, but, again, not satisfying. This is what we call a first world problem, my children. I am fully aware that I will live to half and half again. but what does it say about both of us that I took the time to write about it, and you took the time to read? (Insert great big honkin' grin right here.)

(By the way, if you actually took the time to look up that technical term from paragraph 5, you are more first-world than I thought. Second grin.)

Inquiring Minds...

This will probably label me as a big honkin' bigot, but something has been bothering me for ages.

If gay folks like members of the same sex, why do they tend to dress/act/express themselves as members of the opposite sex?

Once I knew a man who was so androgynous, I did not know whether he was male or female for over a year. Apparently, I was not the only person who didn't know. He worked in a medical office I went to, and, eventually, the staff gently told their clients by saying something like, "You know that gentleman,Pat, who works here? Well, he..." OK, no big, he did his job and that's what counts, right?

Then I learned he was married to one of the doctors in the office. SHE was very, for lack of a better word, manly. Yeah. The effeminate-ish guy married the manly woman. Another client once said to me, "Hmmm...Guess they figured it out. Why is it so hard for so many others?"

Yeah.

So, today, I went into the coffee shop. The man who took my order was very much like Pat. He had the feminine hairstyle, perfectly coiffed, colored, and flipped. He flipped it in that airy way many women use. His eyebrows were better tweezed than mine, and I just did them last night. And his outfit, while it fit the coffee-corporate uniform, was impeccable. He matched down to the shoelaces. His voice was sweet as honey and his giggle was light and ripply. Only his mustache and beard gave him away.

I hope he works with a nice, Katherine-Hepburn-ish woman.

(Note; yes, homosexuality is on the outs with my religion. No, I would not be happy to learn that someone close to me was gay. But I really don't care if anyone else is. I just really wonder about that question I asked, earlier on...)

A Wish

We're coming up on the one-year anniversary of our great adventure. A friend of mine is soon to leave on her own. So, Glenda, auf wiedersehen and arrivederci! Gute Reise and buon viaggio!

Annie

Remember this cutie?

Well, yesterday she wasn't feeling well. We found her, later in the day, curled up in the pasture, calling for help. We brought her in, called the vet, followed directions...

My friend Wendi often says, "Baby animals are always looking for a way to die." Although we brought her inside, wrapped her up nice and warm, and watched over her, sometime in the night, she found her way.

-sniff-

It's always the cute ones. And the ones you have plans for. She wasn't going into the freezer, this one. She was going to be bred, to supply us with milk and future meat.

Well, such is life, I suppose. At least we know we tried.

Goodnight, Irene

I remember my grandfather singing this to my grandmother, whose name was Irene. So, when my friend Paula, posted it on Facebook this morning, I got to miss them both.



Thanks, Paula!