Lately, I haven't gotten any sub jobs. Actually, it's a good thing, because I've gotten so much done on the farm. Bad-Ass Husband (BAH, recently upgraded from Tender Lovin' Banjo Player for reasons that will not be disclosed) says that I have joined "The Grey Economy". I have no idea what that really means, but I love it. It sounds outlawish. What he means by it, I think, is that I seem to have gone askew of the normal resource venders, and tend to find things from "That guy who lives by the coop" and that sort of thing. I call around. Use the phone book. Talk to people who tell me to talk to other people. Etc.
Today, for instance, I got a three quarter ton load of pea gravel to build a little driveway parking spot, from a place with a little sign asking you to call Tim for help. There was a number. I called Tim, who didn't answer, but then called me back right away and appeared from a nearby farmhouse. He didn't have a working scale, but he dropped what he supposed was three quarter tons into my truck, and tallied up the bill with a calculator, I paid cash and off I went.
Also, today, from going around running my mouth about how I'd like some sheep and goats and such, I located a lady who raises some sheep, and she wrote down my number that she's going to give to a lady who raises goats and might have a kid to spare.
I am also hot on the track of the leader of a conservation society who will probably be able to help us plant a little tall grass prairie in the mud hole that the geothermal dig left. He's on the answering machine. I should really do that right now, actually.
BAH thinks that if I keep this up, we will soon be initiated into the cult. The cult that makes everyone out here so darned happy, that is. Our neighbor up the road, who we share the drive with- every time he drives by, he has this enormous grin on his face. Same with his wife. It's uncanny, really. It could be a cult, but more likely, it's just the air out here.
Incidentally, I realize I am now rambling, but people are so darn friendly out here. We all know each other's business. We just do. I don't believe those stories of criminals hiding out in the country. At least not in Wisconsin. Maybe somewhere else, but you couldn't live out here for long without everyone talking. Just because. The Grey Economy, you know. We're onto you!
"The Grey Economy Cult" - another good band name, no?
Happy Salmonella Day!
It was eleven years ago today that BAH and I had to cancel our wedding because we both got food poisoning. Traditionally, I bake a cake. This year, I bought one. Isn't it beautiful?
Who's in charge here?
Aren't they just great? The guy reading the paper. The hat. The dress. The broach. The skirt. What is she saying?
And who took all these pictures?
Old Pictures
I have this little black book of pictures, and about half of them feature this girl. She doesn't like to show her teeth. (Click on the photo to see it large.)
I have no idea who the boy is. The girl is, by her looks, probably my Grandma Amy's mother. It's funny to see your ancestors as young people.
I'm thinking she finds this boy to be a complete idiot. Or... what is she thinking?
I have no idea who the boy is. The girl is, by her looks, probably my Grandma Amy's mother. It's funny to see your ancestors as young people.
I'm thinking she finds this boy to be a complete idiot. Or... what is she thinking?
Mexico Follow Up
Well, I did say the Mexico entries were over, but there are a few loose ends to tie up:
They had TLBP's suitcase all along, at the airport. When we went to leave, the lady at the desk asked us if we were missing something. Then she just went back to some other room and got our suitcase. (I called them, mind you, and they said they didn't have it.) Inside the suitcase were all of TLBP's clothes, and a better Spanish dictionary. (We might have avoided some embarrassing comments- but then what would I have blogged about?) The suitcase no longer shut properly. We checked it in again and brought it home.
At home, there was a message on TLBP's cell saying they found his suitcase. The cell didn't work in Mexico. Well, at least they called.
Little Z was not nearly as well behaved on the way home as she had been on the way there. She didn't want to go home. Also, getting back into the US is incredibly tedious.
It is, after all, cold here. Surprise! But spring is in the air!
We had ordered the chics mail order over the internet while we were in Mexico, so the day after we got back, we built a big warm box to keep them in. And then they arrived! And now they're getting big and strong!
They had TLBP's suitcase all along, at the airport. When we went to leave, the lady at the desk asked us if we were missing something. Then she just went back to some other room and got our suitcase. (I called them, mind you, and they said they didn't have it.) Inside the suitcase were all of TLBP's clothes, and a better Spanish dictionary. (We might have avoided some embarrassing comments- but then what would I have blogged about?) The suitcase no longer shut properly. We checked it in again and brought it home.
At home, there was a message on TLBP's cell saying they found his suitcase. The cell didn't work in Mexico. Well, at least they called.
Little Z was not nearly as well behaved on the way home as she had been on the way there. She didn't want to go home. Also, getting back into the US is incredibly tedious.
It is, after all, cold here. Surprise! But spring is in the air!
We had ordered the chics mail order over the internet while we were in Mexico, so the day after we got back, we built a big warm box to keep them in. And then they arrived! And now they're getting big and strong!
Old Photographs inspired by Professor Batty
One of my favorite blogs that is just a blog- that is to say, someone just writing about his or her life and general musings- is "Flippism is the Key". This is written by Professor Batty, with whom I don't have much in common, but I still really enjoy it. I think that's the best it gets in the little blogging world: taking an interest in someone else's life for no particular (obvious) reason.
Professor Batty sometimes posts old photos. I've enjoyed them quite a bit. He writes about the people in the pictures. Silly me, it only occurred to me recently that I might do the same thing! Also- well, I'm ashamed to admit this- I just figured out how to scan pictures! All the older pictures I've posted were scanned by someone else, generally my dad or stepmother.
Now, with my newfound skill, I'd like to post some old pictures. I inherited a chest of them, really, but the ones that are the most interesting are the ones where I don't know a thing about the people. I was left these pictures by my grandmother, who (as noted before) was not a great talker. The pictures don't generally have any names or dates on them, either. It's all quite a mystery, really. I like to look through them and hypothesize. I'm pretty sure about which person is my great-grandmother, just from how she looks so much like my grandmother, yet isn't her.
So, I'm going to post some pictures from this black, unlabeled old photo album. I won't post them all, just the ones I find more interesting. I think the benefit of my grandmother not telling me anything about them is that now they are a blank slate! We can surmise as we will.
The one thing I do know about my great-grandmother is only this: She died when she was about my age now (35) or younger, from making tea. She had the boiling water and somehow spilled it on her lap. The burn became infected and she died.
Great-grandparents are thought of as old, and yet mine never even lived to be middle aged.
Little Stalin and the Pecking Order
There really is such a thing as a pecking order among chickens. The chicken with the most social standing gets pecked by the others the least. He gets to eat first and enjoys all the privileges of the poultry upper class. The lowest on the totem pole gets pecked the most and eats last. Most chickens, of course, fall somewhere in between, the vast proletarian masses of egg layers and broilers, leading lives of quiet desperation. This chicken here is the king of our flock:
I know you're not supposed to name animals you plan on eating, but I call him "Little Stalin". It's not the most affectionate name, anyway. Isn't he ugly? No hair on his neck at all.
Here are some of our proletariat chickens, (Little Stalin's Mindless Minions, if you will):
We've kept them all alive and growing for a month now. I'm practically a professional.
Little Stalin and the Pecking Order would be a good band name, no?
I know you're not supposed to name animals you plan on eating, but I call him "Little Stalin". It's not the most affectionate name, anyway. Isn't he ugly? No hair on his neck at all.
Here are some of our proletariat chickens, (Little Stalin's Mindless Minions, if you will):
We've kept them all alive and growing for a month now. I'm practically a professional.
Little Stalin and the Pecking Order would be a good band name, no?
Many Buses
I suppose you might think me odd, to travel to the end of the Earth, only to ride buses. But hey, that's my thing! Here in Cabo San Lucas, Mexico, I especially enjoy the icons and decorations at the front of the bus. The best drivers seem to have the best Jesus figures and such, Mary, different saints. And then they have curtains. Notice how much of the visibility is blocked by the curtains! and then they paint the destinations on the window, too. How can they see stop lights? It's lovely. And where do they get all of these amazing curtains? Do the bus drivers' mothers sew them? Is there a "Bus Curtains Are Us" store?
This first one has Mary painted on the ceiling with tassles, an excellent curtain, Jesus on the dash, and a cute dog ad for a vet- the only ad I saw on any bus while I was here.
I wonder who the saint in the picture is on this next one. Perhaps someone to protect travelers? Or is there even a specific saint for bus drivers? No, that would be too good to be true. I think this guy also had Jesus on his key chain, not shown.
These little girls and my little hija were playing with each other, making funny faces from across the bus.
Each bus is very personal to the driver. Clearly, they have their own buses; they do not share. Something missing from the photographs, too, is the Mariache music. Each bus has a different quality of speakers, as well as saints. These buses have no set schedules, no maps, no nothing. They are all old American school buses, and some of them still have the red crossing lights working. There are a few drivers who just drive around with those lights blinking all the time, like decoration. There is one bus with Christmas lights on the front. Ah, Mexican buses, how I will miss you. Lurching around town, music playing, passing Palm trees waving in the wind, cruise ships, abandoned adobe buildings, people selling everything imaginable on the streets. Today is our last day here.
* All Mexico entries have weird dates.
This first one has Mary painted on the ceiling with tassles, an excellent curtain, Jesus on the dash, and a cute dog ad for a vet- the only ad I saw on any bus while I was here.
I wonder who the saint in the picture is on this next one. Perhaps someone to protect travelers? Or is there even a specific saint for bus drivers? No, that would be too good to be true. I think this guy also had Jesus on his key chain, not shown.
These little girls and my little hija were playing with each other, making funny faces from across the bus.
Each bus is very personal to the driver. Clearly, they have their own buses; they do not share. Something missing from the photographs, too, is the Mariache music. Each bus has a different quality of speakers, as well as saints. These buses have no set schedules, no maps, no nothing. They are all old American school buses, and some of them still have the red crossing lights working. There are a few drivers who just drive around with those lights blinking all the time, like decoration. There is one bus with Christmas lights on the front. Ah, Mexican buses, how I will miss you. Lurching around town, music playing, passing Palm trees waving in the wind, cruise ships, abandoned adobe buildings, people selling everything imaginable on the streets. Today is our last day here.
* All Mexico entries have weird dates.
Agua
You can't drink the water here. That's what they say, so we don't, but bottled water is as common as water so it's all good.
A funny thing happened about the third or fourth day we were here, though. We got this notice slipped under the door, in English and Spanish:
"Due to the temporary shortage of water in this area, we inform you that the water will be turn [sic] on for the first 30 minutes of each hour, and will be as follows:
From 12:00 To 12:30
From 01:00 To 01:30
[Then it listed every hour of the day]
Thank you for your understanding,
The management."
So, I thought, Santa Maria! They are serious when there's a water shortage here! They just turn it off!
We planned our showers accordingly. Then we went to dinner, poolside (really roughing it here) and I noticed that they were watering the lawn. What da? But it turned off at 5:30. Well, okay...
But, the funny thing was, they never actually turned the water off. They just sent us that note and forgot about the whole thing, I guess. Then we were wondering, is it voluntary? Are we just supposed to enact this ourselves? And, if so, it was very, very poorly worded- I would assume I was supposed to leave the water running for a full half of every day, if it were voluntary, which of course would not conserve any water.
So, that was kind of funny.
Then, today, it rained. A lot.
I guess the water supply is okay, now?
* All Mexico entries have weird dates.
A funny thing happened about the third or fourth day we were here, though. We got this notice slipped under the door, in English and Spanish:
"Due to the temporary shortage of water in this area, we inform you that the water will be turn [sic] on for the first 30 minutes of each hour, and will be as follows:
From 12:00 To 12:30
From 01:00 To 01:30
[Then it listed every hour of the day]
Thank you for your understanding,
The management."
So, I thought, Santa Maria! They are serious when there's a water shortage here! They just turn it off!
We planned our showers accordingly. Then we went to dinner, poolside (really roughing it here) and I noticed that they were watering the lawn. What da? But it turned off at 5:30. Well, okay...
But, the funny thing was, they never actually turned the water off. They just sent us that note and forgot about the whole thing, I guess. Then we were wondering, is it voluntary? Are we just supposed to enact this ourselves? And, if so, it was very, very poorly worded- I would assume I was supposed to leave the water running for a full half of every day, if it were voluntary, which of course would not conserve any water.
So, that was kind of funny.
Then, today, it rained. A lot.
I guess the water supply is okay, now?
* All Mexico entries have weird dates.
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