Umm... yeah

When I said bye to the babies, I really meant it.

Jesse checked them out when he was home last Saturday. Here's the update:

Oscar: Seems to be doing just fine! Or WAS, until some unidentified asshole ATE him. All that is left is a little 1 inch stump. Oscar may now be referred to as 'Stumpy'.

But he's the lucky one!

Peanut: Gone. As in-- there is currently a fence around NOTHING. No leaves, no trunk, no roots. Nada. Peanut may now be referred to as 'MIA'.

I nearly cried. My father said, 'That's why you don't name trees!'

When are the next ones going out? As soon as we have the materials to build FORT KNOX around them.

Bye to the babies

If you were paying attention last April, I told a story about my boyfriend, his obsession with trees, and most importantly, our discovery of sprouting acorns. Here's an excerpt:

I have never seen an acorn sprout- and unbelievably- neither had Jesse. We put some in our pockets, zoomed to the store to buy some pots and dirt, and planted them. We now have *8* little oak trees growing in my apartment! ...

We have named them: Red Wood, Tinker, Oscar, Apricot, Bert, Peanut, Gorgon (Gorgy) and Gumball.

Fast forward 4 months and it's still dorky to name trees, but we have now planted two of them: Peanut and Oscar. Last weekend we put them in a field full of other little trees. They looked SO LITTLE in the big, fat earth.

We put fences around them to fend off the rabbits and deer, but now they have to battle the wind... and rain... and the unrelenting sun! Wait- I guess those are good things for trees...

Live on little oaks!

Nooooooooo

My mother recently downgraded from a house to an apartment. This move also downgraded the space she has to store my crap.

She is demanding that my siblings and I sort through the assorted books, games and toys from our childhood that until recently, took refuge in her attic or basement.

The most horrific thing I have come across so far: a cabbage patch kid. Not just a cabbage patch kid.

A cabbage patch kid with flaming red hair-

and a MULLET.

Farming in the City

Here's a little story I had the pleasure of witnessing.

I have a friend. Her name is Angie. She grew up on a farm near Popejoy, Iowa. Popejoy has a population of 70. Each year, the people from Popejoy and all of their lineage gather for Popejoy Days. It is called this even though it only lasts for one day.

Angie has a brother, Jeff, that is married and lives in Kansas City. He has two children- Sean (3), and Rachel (8 mos). Sean is a 'city boy', but he has a deep love for tractors that makes Grandpa Don's his favorite destination.

The highlight of Popejoy Days this year was a raffle. The prizes included various amounts of cash with the grand prize of a tractor. Not a huge tractor you can imagine plowing up a field, but a small tractor, about 4 feet tall that's good for dragging things around.

Angie's entire family bought raffle tickets. Probably 50-80 tickets between them. Angie had some, Jeff, Sean- even Rachel- everyone was up for the prizes. Sean kept asking to sit on the tractor. Angie humored him and told him that even HE could win that tractor- and if he did, he could sit on it whenever he wanted!

I don't think a 3-year-old knows what 'could' means. So Sean thought that the tractor was his. Now he wanted to go and sit on HIS tractor. Jeff was not happy with Ang. How in the world would they tell him that the tractor was not his??

So they drew the winner.

And Sean won.

The 3-year-old owner was not surprised or impressed when his name was called-- the tractor had been his for awhile now! He marched right up and climbed aboard. It couldn't have gone to a more deserving boy- city or otherwise.

Hi... I'm not dead

I'm back in the saddle again. After a much needed break from the Blogging World, I feel that I have something to contribute again.

Thanks for stopping.