Some Photos

This is Luke the cat. He and I were both pretty good looking when we were young. Then we discovered women. I haven't had to fight every male that came around but he has. He obviously didn't have Angelo Dundee (of Muhammed Ali fame)as a 'corner' man to preserve his pretty face and ears. Marilyn had him neutered so he would stay near home. I told her I would stay voluntarily.

Grandaughter Georgia wondering, "How old do you have to be before your parents quit sucking on your face?"

Two of my kids. I thought this was an excellent pic.

And finally, I've figured out why son Dan spends so darn much time in the shower. Thanks to him for these photos.

Farm Cats

We have a problem. We were down to just a few farm cats. We like them hanging around. We subsidize them with cat food and in return they keep rodents from taking over the farm. Recently we thought they were looking a bit scruffy so we increased their food. The number of stray cats increased with the increased handouts. We now have four litters of kittens on the farm. So reports my Grandchildren.
We will have to increase the food for the new cats and that will in turn draw more cats to the free food. Seems the more we give away, the more cats there are standing in line for the food. And then they'll quit hunting mice because none of the other cats have to do that kind of work any more.
Extending this line of reason into the future we will eventually need to start buying cat food by the semi load and have a 'staff' veterinarian for cat health care. I'm not going to pay the veterinarian very much so I hope the cats aren't expecting much from my Vet. When they get old they'll just have to plan on kickin' the bucket because, well, I'll be calling the shots on the health care and we'll be limited on Drs and such.
I'm not worried because I know I can borrow money for cat food and if I die before I get it paid off, my Grandchildren can pay for the free cat food and veterinary health care debt that I've accumulated.
The good news is that Marilyn and I are now VERY popular with the cats. They hope we can survive forever. They just love us. Life is good. They've indicated that they would vote for me, no matter what, if I run for farmer again next year.
I hope they don't find out the truth about this not being sustainable.

A View From The Porch

This first picture was taken this morning looking northeast from our door. It shows our lawn. It is freshly mowed. I've started doing it myself. Everyone thinks I'm too critical of their mowing. I insist that every blade gets cut. I think that big, dark green patch that looks like a giant patch of native grass is actually a shadow...from a Stealth Bomber,,, that happened to be flying over. Yeah, that's what it is.

The above picture is taken looking straight east out of our front door. If you'll look at the field just past that old gas tank (that Marilyn should haul away)... you'll see an interesting quirk of nature. The rays of the morning sun have bent at just the right angle off of my rounded camera lens to make it look like those rows are crooked. Amusing isn't it. Everyone knows I plant straight rows. Right?

I'm a Hero...for now.

For the Midwest Producer
April 24th Edition
It’s hard to become a hero when most of your time is spent on a farm. But it has happened to me. I have a 10 year old grandson, here on the farm, who thinks I’m a hero now. He watches or is aware of nearly all that is said, or written or acted out. I’m also certain that he remembers everything that he’s ever read, and he reads a lot. His favorite topics are sports, especially pro football. He’s a constant reminder that the adults on this farm need to be very careful about the example we set. Being his hero for this one incident is okay but I’d have to say “no” if asked to take a lie detector test. Let me explain
He began by checking out and bringing home Sports Illustrated for Kids from the library. After they were well out of date the librarian even began letting him keep a few of them. He knew every name and number and running and catching and receiving stat in all of the magazines. So for his birthday I found the website for S.I. for Kids. I ordered a subscription and was told it would take 6 to 8 weeks to begin arriving in the mail. They had this nifty card I could download announcing the subscription as a gift. I printed it, and with a slight amount of fanfare, presented it to him in the dim glow of a birthday cake. We heard words like “awesome” and “sweet” and “cool!” And then, that was that, because we had five to seven weeks to wait until his subscription arrived.
At the four week point I began to receive questions from Grandma reporting to me that our grandson was wondering if we should call about the subscription. “Grandpa, do you think something is wrong?” he would ask. I postponed the great SI Inquisition until the beginning of the 6th week. My wife called from her business phone and asked if I shouldn’t call about the magazine because he keeps asking if Grandpa has called yet.
I found the phone number for Sports Illustrated on my Visa bill. I was fully aware that this call might take longer than driving to Denver and back. The lady on the line said “are you Cliff?” I said yes. I wanted to say “how’d you know that.” But I knew there was magic involved so I didn’t ask. I said, “I want to check on a gift subscription.” She cut me off and asked if it was for my grandson and used his name? I said “well yes it is, I’ve been under heavy pressure to call you and see if there was a problem?” With a great deal of interest in her voice she asked, “Pressure, from whom?” I said “Well from my wife …” then she interrupted with my grandson’s name. I said “yes” and continued with, “and from” she cut me off again and finished with “His Mom, right?” I was beginning to look over my shoulder. This lady appeared to know more about me than our UPS delivery man whom I’ve always thought might be a CIA operative.
She said he should receive his first issue no later than next Tuesday. I said “good and thank you.” I hung up the phone, and called and reported the good news to my wife who in turn passed it on to our grandson as he got to her office after school. And then one of those miracles happened, after finding out that I had just got through calling about his magazine, He went into the house to find the first issue of his Sports Illustrated for Kids. It had arrived with that days mail. It probably came a few minutes before I had made the call.
A half hour later he rode his bike to our house. He fairly burst through the door and with a gleeful smile he yelled “Thanks for calling Sports Illustrated Grandpa, my first copy came today.” And with a high five and a hug, he was back out the door.
I know what you’re thinking, but who am I to burst a little boy’s bubble. Besides, he left so quickly that I didn’t have time to tell him the truth. Really!
So, as it stands at this telling, I’m a hero. Unless of course, he starts reading my columns.

Ode To Ralph

Ralph was here for 24 hours
Just enough time to smell the flowers.
And play some golf and eat a steak
And home grown corn and spuds we'd baked.

He left early morn on Monday last
No sun to see, it was overcast.
He made it home to see his sweetie,
And now we're hoping he comes back soon and brings his wife and helps around the farm like harvesting and mowing and the like, and if we get enough work out of him we'll get the pontoon out and go up the river for supper and that neat restaurant. (If'n he'll buy agin.)

THE NEWS

I was just reading an online news story. It was quoting someone from the U.S. Justice Department's (are you ready for this) 'Public Integrity Section.'
I don't care who you are, that right there is funny.
After the tears from laughing subsided I got to thinking;
1. Really...there are actually people in Washington in charge of Integrity?
2. They're not doing their job so we need to fire them and save more money. We could use it to add to the 100 million in cost cutting the administration is pursuing. Lets see, 10 trillion minus 100 million.
At least we're making progress. (kind of like dipping a gallon of water out of the ocean.)

Planting

I've been planting and meetieing. (new word I just made up, it means: going to meeting after meeting, or 2,a hopeless feeling)
I'm down to just planting after the banquet I emcee'd last night.
Don't forget me. I'll be around one day to visit your blog.
I've got an old friend visiting for a bit on Sunday and am really looking forward to that.
So I'll be going east and then west and then east and west add infinity on my planter tractor.

I had a Dr appt. I told him "Doc, I can't quit singing 'The Green, Green Grass of Home.'
He said "It sounds like the Tom Jones Syndrome."
I asked, "Is it common?"
He said, "It's not Unusual."
That joke is to help me determine my blog's demographics. If you got it you're old. Like me.

Meeting The Deadline Is Easy

6:45 AM Phone call.
Me: Good Morning, This is Cliff. You're at work early this morning.
Fran: Yes Cliff I recognized your voice and yes I'm always here. (I think I must have a distinct voice because most people say they knew it was me with a 'well duh' in their voice.)
Me: I've almost got my taxes ready but I've got too many meetings to get done.
Fran: Well I've been wondering about you. I'll file an extension on your behalf.
Me: Thanks. Bye.
I love small towns.
Also:
1: Procrastination is a wonderful thing.
2: I wanted to keep it legal because Timmy is going to 'crack down' on tax cheats. (and he DOES know what he's looking for.)
3. Or I could just not pay them all together and get a job in DC. (Dang! I've already sent in my estimated quarterly payments. Now I'll have to keep farming.)

Overheard An Hour Ago.

Let me set this up.
I was in the kitchen working a bag of radishes I had purchased.
My first grader grandaughter was doing what she likes to do best. She was kneeling at the coffee table in the livng room while writing a story with her newly acquired reading and writing ability. She can sound out most words. She was having some trouble this time and asked her grandma how to spell a word. She usually has grandma's full attention but this time there was a good movie playing. The conversation.
C: "Grandma?"
G: No response.
C: "Grandma?"
G: "Yes C." (said while still staring at the TV.)
C: "How do you spell knock?"
G: No response.
C: (louder this time) "Grandma, how do you spell knock?"
G: "K N"
C: (even louder) "No Grandma, how do you spell knock?"
G: "K N" (I'm beginning to shake from laughing but at least I'm not laughing outloud)
C: (Now interupting.) "I said how do you spell knock Grandma?"
G: "K N O" (still staring at the tv and not nearly as tickled as I)
C: (Now standing and walking over to grandma and talking loud enough as though she was talking to me.) "GRANDMA, WHAT I ASKED IS HOW DO YOU SPELL KNOCK?"
G: "C, some letters are silent. The K is there even though you can't hear it. It's k n o c k."

My grandaughter has now had her first lesson in logic, meaning that sometimes there isn't any involved. Or as they say; Women wouldn't have been the ones riding side saddle.

April Fools Day In The Flock

This is what happens when all of the V leaders conspire to have some fun by flying in big circles. "Begin when I start honking, this will be cool."