Well, my last blog was a bit dry. I’ll admit it (I felt the dryness as I was writing, so I broke bad and asked The Husbands opinion. That should have been my first indication to give up. This is a man who willingly watches Ag PhD and Successful Farming and Agribusiness This Week or really bad reality shows where you can't understand what they're talking about because every other word is bleeped out. He shouldn't have been my judge for entertainment value). It was kinda one of those things where I saw I hadn't blogged in a month, felt guilty for neglecting it, and wrote about the first thing I could think of to write about. Sometimes you’re on fire, sometimes you just aren’t. This week I have fodder for a much more entertaining blog, so hopefully I'll get more smiles than yawns.
It’s August. Less than two months ‘til corn maze D day (yikes!). So of course the place looks like the surface of the moon, or an atomic bomb went off. I’m sure any of you doing drive bys thinking about booking a group is thinking we’re crazy. That’s okay. I promise it will be ready. If you look at our track record we’re actually getting started on this a whole lot earlier than last year. That’s what The Husband’s been working on this week, disking up the existing rye grass (if you can call it that), leveling out the ground (again with the Gator and a chain-link fence), and planting new grass. It’s a rather big area of grass, and my father-in-law had the idea that if The Husband sat on the front of our Gator (can you tell I’m a little obsessed with the Gator? Forget diamonds, get me something like that I can ride on and I’m happy), he could get it done a lot quicker. I’m all for efficiency, so I figured we’d try it. Well, it was an epic fail. Apparently the spreader requires pressure to do the spreading, and while attempting to hang on to the Gator The Husband didn’t have the force required. So it was back to ole Pat & Charlie.
|Forget Mars, they could have launched the rover at the farm.|
After grass planting, The Husband decided to go cut trees down. I was not involved in this, since felling trees was taken off my list of duties while I’m in my current condition (granddaddy calls it an ‘ailment’, Frank H says I’m ‘in the family way’, I like either of those way better than the word pregnant. I just hate the word, kind of like moist. The only thing worse is pregnancy. Ugh) and it was really humid and since the baby has decided to park itself (update on this to follow) right on my lungs and/or diaphragm humidity makes my already compromised respiratory system have to work that much harder. We've been wanting to cut down a couple trees, most of them dead ones, to a) make the place look better, b) provide more room for bonfires/picnics, and c) make room for the fence for the animals we want to get next month. The Husband comes in sometime around 4 and his hands resemble baseball mitts they are swollen so much. Apparently while cutting down one of the already dead trees he disturbed some yellow jackets and was stung at least four times on his hand. All the good stuff has to happen when I’m not around. His hands are still swollen today (I told him he now had man paws). The only thing funnier is that a tree almost fell on him (apparently he didn't account for the wind, or the fact that the tree is dead which supposedly makes the fall more difficult to aim). Both of these were prime moments that I happened to miss. The good news is he didn't get them all cut (due to the yellow jacket attack [is it weird I want to call them tracker jackers? D*** you Hunger Games!]) so hopefully more shenanigans will ensue that I can photo/videograph.
As promised – baby update for all of you interested readers. So last week we had our halfway point ultrasound, and I’m pleased to announce Sea Monkey is a GIRL! I guess that solves the mystery of a nickname. If we'd had another boy I'd hate to call him number two, for obvious reasons. I think The Girl will suit just fine.