Thursday, April 9, 2009
bunny money
Wednesday, April 1, 2009
farm fiction
This is Ben. He's a cow in the movie, Barnyard. Ben has a cow son named Otis, and the two of them are the leaders in the barnyard. They are in charge of keeping all the other farm animals safe from the coyotes. I realize there are obvious fallacies with talking cows, but can you identify something else misleading about Ben and Otis?----------------------------------------------------------------------
Yes, obvious to most of you, our boy Ben here on the left has the wrong anatomy. Perhaps the movie producers blushed at the thought of animating the correct body parts? But gosh, I feel like all those city kids need an accurate education.
FYI for all you city slickers:
bull - full package male used for breeding and rodeos, no udder
steer - snip snip male used for hamburger, no udder, no package
heifer - female before having babies, no milk, not a prominent udder
cow - female after having babies, milk producer, prominent udder
if you didn't already know this stuff, don't feel bad. I had to learn it too!
Monday, March 23, 2009
real royals to the dishes
Wednesday, March 11, 2009
marley and me

Reasons this film struck a chord with my life...
1. If Jennifer Aniston lets her dog live indoors with the family, then I can't feel too much like a slob when I do. (we are pretending the movie is real-life here folks) True, I didn't see Jen sweeping the floor 5 times a day (like I should be doing with my dog indoors), but her dog did eat it's fair share of furniture, so we'll call it a wash.
2. Family Values are not quite dead in Hollywood... it's SO refreshing to see a couple in the movies get married before the kids come and decide to have more than one hobby child. No nannies, no daycare, no divorce.
3. How fun would it be to write a column in a newspaper and get paid enough to live a Ralph Lauren lifestyle complete with a barn house and riding boots? I would opt for the Pennsylvania homestead over the pool house and flip-flops in Florida. I should have majored in journalism!!
4. Dogs, dogs, dogs. No one understands why we get so attached (I'm speaking to all you fellow dog lovers). Am I right? Dogs exist to please their owners. If a man were to lock his dog and his wife out of the house for a week, which would be the first to forgive the man when he finally let them back inside?... enough said.
5. Back to Jen (and still pretending the movie is real life). It's nice to see a house that looks lived in: baby bottles sitting on the counter, toys scattered down the hallway, minivan in the driveway. It made me feel less guilty going home to a similar scene after the movie was over.
6. Lovely little parallels. Life is never what we expect it to be - college, marriage, parenting, our job. We think we know what will be best for our future, but life isn't like a "to-do" list that we can check off (trust me, I'm learning this the hard way). The best lessons usually come from the unexpected "growing pains" along the way.
7. It doesn't matter how big a pain your dog has been during his lifetime, how much furniture he has destroyed, how annoying his barking was at 2 am, how much money he has cost you, etc., etc....after that dog is gone he will become perfect in your eyes. A legend that all future pets will be measured against. You will insist that no other dog can or will take his place.
In loving memory of Buck, Schnibdibbly, and Scout the wonder pup: Remember, all dogs go to heaven.
Tuesday, March 10, 2009
attack bird
Now I believe all the things I read about these birds attacking and killing snakes! My garden bugs will have no defense against this attack...sweet.
p.s. Wondering what the "we love wierd birds" is doing chalked on our deck? That is the spot the bird likes to sit and gawk at it's own reflection in the glass door. The kids and I were just being silly with the chalk one day.
Friday, March 6, 2009
dairy day
We lived in Wisconsin for awhile and it's neat to compare both diary worlds (old-school vs. progressive). In Wisconsin it's very picturesque with tie-stall barns, silos, and small herds. The cows are part of the family. Here where we live now, dairies are huge in comparison. Cows are known by their number, not name. Still, anyone would appreciate how well the cows are cared for and the type of management required to make the dairy run healthy and efficiently.
My favorite part of the day was spending time at the maternity pens. Here are some of the brand new calves.
Thursday, March 5, 2009
Sticking up for moms

Tell Me About It by Carolyn Hax
Tucson, Arizona Published: 06.05.2007
My best friend has a child.
Her: Exhausted, busy, no time for self, no time for me, etc.
Me (no kids): Wow. Sorry. What'd you do today?
Her: Park, play group . . .
Dear Carolyn: OK. I've done Internet searches; I've talked to parents. I don't get it. What do stay-at-home moms do all day? Please, no lists of library, grocery store, dry cleaners. . . . I do all those things, too, and I don't do them every day. I guess what I'm asking is: What is a typical day, and why don't moms have time for a call or e-mail?
I work and am away from home nine hours a day (plus a few late work events), and I manage to get it all done. I'm feeling like the kid is an excuse to relax and enjoy — not a bad thing at all — but if so, why won't my friend tell me the truth? Is this a contest ("My life is so much harder than yours")? What's the deal? I've got friends with and without kids, and all us child-free folks get the same story and have the same questions.
— Tacoma, Wash.
Dear Tacoma:
I keep wavering between giving you a straight answer and giving my forehead some keyboard. To claim you want to understand — while in the same breath implying that the only logical conclusions are that your mom friends are either lying or competing with you — is disingenuous indeed.
So, since it's validation you seem to want, the real answer is what you get. In list form. When you have young kids, your typical day is: constant attention, from getting them out of bed, fed, clean, dressed; to keeping them out of harm's way; to answering their coos, cries and questions; to having two arms and carrying one kid, one set of car keys and supplies for even the quickest trips, including the latest-to-be-declared-essential piece of molded plastic gear; to keeping them from unshelving books at the library; to enforcing rest times; to staying one step ahead of them lest they get too hungry, tired or bored, any one of which produces the kind of checkout-line screaming that gets the checkout line shaking its head.
It's needing 45 minutes to do what takes others 15.
It's constant vigilance, constant touch, constant use of your voice, constant relegation of your needs to the second tier.
It's constant scrutiny and second-guessing from family members and friends, well-meaning and otherwise. It's resisting the constant temptation to seek short-term relief at everyone's long-term expense.
It's doing all this while concurrently teaching virtually everything — language, manners, safety, resourcefulness, discipline, curiosity, creativity, empathy. Everything.
It's also a choice, yes. And a joy. But if you spent all day, every day, with this brand of joy — and then when you got your first 10 minutes to yourself, you wanted to be alone with your thoughts instead of calling a good friend — a good friend wouldn't judge you, complain about you to mutual friends or marvel at how much more productively she uses her time.
Either make a sincere effort to understand, or keep your snit to yourself.