1st day of spring, 2010

So here is what the first day of spring, 2010 looks like out our back door:


All that snow, plus the 30 mph wind inspired me to finish up a few details of inside projects that I've been putting off for a while, which also inspired me to take a couple pictures in order to show the (pretty much) completed project discussed in a previous post. While I would ordinarily balk at working down in the basement on the first day of spring, when I've got potatoes and stuff to be planted, today it just seemed like a good idea!





This round little "reading nook" was a fun project; notice the round, custom-made seat cushion Wife made for it.

we dont have cable TV...

You see, we don't have cable TV; so out here we have to just make our own fun, instead of watching other people having fun. I happened to be getting our garden ready to till with the weed-burner (necessary because of more of my slothfulness) when I just happened to discover a little fun fact about last summer's dried and brittle gourds:


Yup; we are that Redneck! You noticed the subtle background music didn't you? It is really too bad the video didn't do the audio justice. The mike picked much, much more of the weed burner rather than the explosion. Brynn said she could hear it from inside the closed house quite well. When I was right next to it, it sounded like a rifle shot!!!
Later, one of my children made the mistake of asking why the gourds did that; boy were they sorry later! Anytime a Dad can incorporate teaching their kid something with blowing something up... watch out!
When I was growing up, I was wary of asking my dad questions about how things worked. He was all together too glad to explain it- all of it; in detail that could last for most of the day! As I got a little older,I did finally see the humor in asking leading questions when my siblings were around and would be willing to suffer the long hours of "lectures" just to see the misfortune of my older siblings while in the car; it was even worth the dirty looks, pinches, and sometimes punches I would receive from them. I see the same thing happening in my own kids when their eyes instantly glaze over as I begin talking about heat expanding molecules in pressurized compartments. Homeschooling does give me a new perspective on being willing to explain stuff to them, because without realizing it, I think that I often thought "Oh well, some teacher will explain that to them someday." It takes a bit of that "buffer" away, when you are solely (well dually) responsible for a child's education. But I'm sure that it will give them something to blog about when they are adults...
I am quite proud of what an obviously good job Brynn is doing homeschooling. I say obvious, but I guess I was more like oblivious because I am not really part of their actual formal education process, just more like the administrative discipline guy. But I needed some help holding the "dumb" end of the tape measure when I laid out the pig pen last week, and so Gracie volunteered. She seemed a likely and willing lass, so we put in some rough stakes ,then we came inside with our measurements, I started drawing out the pictures, and we commenced to figure out square footage's, and then how to go backwards and figure out how we could maximize the square footage by changing the shape of the pigpen and using the same amount of linear footage of hog panels.
I was quite shocked to see how much of this that she already knew! And, how quickly she picked up on what I did have to explain to her. I realized pretty quickly that, less whatever people skills I may have acquired over the 27 years I have on her, she could do my job! And my last job as well! (commercial roofing) I just about was blown away, and she is only 8! well at least until tomorrow, Brynn tells me. Anyway, hats off to the kids, and especially Brynn, for a bang up good job on all that! I know it is quite frustrating; I hear about that, but I guess my wife, being who she is, doesn't tell me so much about the successes.
Anyway, anytime any body feels the urge to blow up a gourd, come on out, I've still got plenty!

'49 international harvester

A collection: defined by Websters as "2: a : something collected; especially : an accumulation of objects gathered for study, comparison, or exhibition or as a hobby" Collections are a funny thing; as they can start inadvertently, if someone hears that you like say, for example, little pink stuffed bunnies, or perhaps cast iron elephants, then when it is time for gift giving (birthday, Christmas, etc) then that's what springs to mind. This continues until you are swimming in little pink stuffed bunnies, or perhaps cast iron elephants.
So, as it happens, I am the proud (really, truly) owner of not 1, but 2 1949 KB-5 International Harvester trucks. The first one was my wife's Grampa Harry's (which actually made it to the Royal Gorge and back) and the more recent was my own Grandad's (of which I'm fairly certain didn't ever make it to the Royal Gorge).
But anyway this first one was a source of fun and even a blog, because it had absolutely ZERO brakes, and now it does! Here's a picture:

Its a pretty hot little truck, huh? My Grandad's isn't in such cherry condition and is going to have to wait for my shed to be finished before anything great happens to it.
I would like to extend some "special props" to Mad Master Parts Man; Mister Michael Brown of Rose Motor Supply Inc. in Hutchinson, KS for all the Herculean effort in locating all the many and obtuse parts that literally every other parts guy in town just told me: "no, we cant get that"

Apparently, the '49 is a very difficult and rare bird to find parts for, rather than if it were a 1950; no problem, as they quit producing the KB series in '49. Anyway I just wanted to share my picture, because it has been a three month long project getting brakes on this thing, that turned into a bunch of other stuff like a new water pump, rear wheel bearings, battery, etc, and my master brake cylinder being shipped all the way to St. Louis to be re-sleeved, as even the M.M.P.M.; Mr. M.B. couldn't find a new one of those (thanks for the tip, Dad), but St. Louis is nothing to a truck that made it over the Royal Gorge!!!

Can you smell the bacon...

I guess it's time I came out to the closet. I got caught anyway last week, so what's the point? The one thing my dad was most afraid of hearing from one of his boys: "Dad, I wanna raise pigs" BOOM, there it is; the bombshell. Yup, there I was, at Orsheln's Farm and Home store last wed. buying hog panels, and who do I run into? My own parents... I was soooo embarrassed; what are the odds? I should have known to go to a store in a different city, or even a different state!

I know, I know. This probably is wholly unremarkable if you didn't grow up in the same household as me, but I gotta say it out loud: "I like pork!" This is despite my parents best efforts to keep kosher. Not really, actually the conversation went like this: (imagine a squeaky-voiced pre-pubescent little Dan'el speaking here) "why don't we eat pork, Daddy?" Dad: "We don't EAT pork because we don't RAISE pork. We EAT beef because we RAISE beef." Makes sense, I guess, but raising beef is a lot larger project for me to jump into, so for a much smaller amount of money, I can be pretty well set up with a little hog pen, and seeing how hogs are omnivores, much as humans are, only less picky, I can feed them all my zucchini, squash, pumpkins, okra, and table scraps etc, etc, that doesn't get eaten around here, since even the chickens can't keep up with me in the summer months.

I had planned on planting tall, covering grassing in front of my pig-pen, hoping that no one would notice it, but there is no point now. Anyway, the pen is nearly finished and here is a picture of it.

Everyone that I have talked to says that pigs are nearly impossible to keep in, so I tried for a piggy-proof fence, but we will just see I guess. I buried the bond-beam blocks halfway into the ground, then set the panels into the "well" of the block, then drove the T-post through the bottom of the block. I dunno... Its my own design, maybe it will, maybe it won't. ALL of my knowledge of swine came from books, which is the worst possible kind of knowledge, as it leads to a false sense of acumen.

I had one friend describe to me in great detail what he predicted would happen. He claimed that before my 2 pigs achieved 50 #'s that I would shoot them both after chasing them around the yard after they escaped, (he had spent some time chasing pigs as a youth, and claims knowledge of my general temperament...) which brings me to another point: I am interested in pig stories; if any of you have them; funny is good, but not required. I don't know very many people who have pigs, or had them growing up, but a lot of people had grandparents that had them, so if you have stories, just click on the "comments" button and share. (Dad, I wanna hear your sow/chicken story too!)

In other news around the Foster Farmlet/Soon-to-be-RANCHLET, construction of my shed is crawling along at a snail's pace, mostly due to inclimate weather, and perhaps, some slothfulness on my part. However, I am pleased that we got the south half of the roof on Saturday.

Here is a before shot:

and after Saturday:

But anyway, if you have pig stories, I would like to hear them... Can you smell the bacon? I know I can! Oh- and I asked Emma what she thought about butchering our pigs. Her response? "Kinda sad, but REALLY yummy!!" giggle...

One of many reasons I'm glad I know Jesus...

So I had an interesting experience in customer relations today; there was a guy for whom we guttered a very large hay shed that was a very aggressive, foul-mouthed, belligerent fellow who complained greatly about everyone involved in the process of building his shed. I was a little worried about working for someone who so easily found fault in apparently everyone that walks onto his farm, but as the cold winter waxes on, I become less picky.
Anyway, we gutter his building last week, and then I send him a bill. He calls Tuesday and wants to talk to me, right? He tells Marcine that she wont do, he HAS to talk to Dan, so she leaves me the message. I'm very busy, and it's quite easy to duck returning his phone call, even though she tells me that he sounded irate-maybe because he sounded irate. Generally, I have a policy about not being a coward when it comes to belligerent jerks on the phone, but I did have a lot of irons in the fire at the time (more on that in an upcoming blog, I hope- "Can You Smell The Bacon?") Anyway, I didn't call him back yesterday; so he is persistent; he calls again when I wasn't in the office. So, defeated, I call him back this morning and he really opened up on me right off the bat:
Him: (I'm doing a lot of editing out of very obscene language here-even if it doesn't look like it) "You don't answer phone calls worth a ****, do you?"
Me: "Very sorry, Ive been quite busy, sir"
Him: "You know, dumb-***, you could give the phone to yer secretary and and she could punch the numbers for you if you ain't smart enough to figure it out on yer own..."
Me: (pinking up considerably) "yes, she's quite clever enough for that-she's a big help"
Him: "Everyone else in the world likes to call you and complain about how crappy your work is and I'm no different so I wanted you to listen to me for a bit while I tell you how it is..."
Me: (quite red by now, I'm sure -and I can actually see my own pulse in little shock-waves around my peripheral vision, not to mention how well I can hear it in my ears) "What can I do for you today, sir?"
Him: "My wife asked me what I thought about the gutter job you did for me and I'm gonna tell you the same blankity-blank thing I told my blankity-blank wife: Since day one of this whole building process, I feel like every contractor out here has lied to me, tried to cheat me, and just done crappy work in general and I am just sick and tired of taking it!!!"
Me: (to myself: "Lord help me not say something I will instantly, soonly, or eventually regret" but out loud:) "YES?"
Him: "until you guys came out here and did your guttering... that's the first time I felt like someone did what they said they would, how they said they would, when they said they would!"
Me: "Um..."
Him: "You there?"
Me: "Um, yes... And?
Him: "that's all I wanted to say; Bye" -Click

By this time I was left holding a phone without a connection with a pulse at about 200 and all kinds of adrenaline and a red face still to boot. Its easy to laugh about now, but that old Vietnam vet/farmer knew just exactly how far to push me, apparently; cause he took me right to the edge, then yanked me back again. I think of how things might have wound up if I went ahead and spoke my mind from the start, but whatever.

Here are a few words from Solomon that we have been studying:

"...I know that it will be well for those who fear God, and fear Him openly" http://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=ec%208:12&version=NASB, which is the only reason for me to hold my tongue, since for a while I figured that there was no way I was going to get paid.

and even though that may not have been it his point exactly, it held true in this one case for me.
Oh, and by the way; don't get the idea that I think i am a righteous man who never sins ... Ec 7:20: "Indeed, there is not a righteous man on earth who continually does good and who never sins".
It just happened to work out this time that I thought of the verse: Ec 7:9: "Do not be eager in your heart to be angry, For anger resides in the bosom of fools."

The point is this: in my own life, I definitely see the immediate positive aspect of being a believer, because I tried it without; and it wasn't pretty.

Note: My wife suspects that all the quiet hours on a tractor causes farmers to dream up ways to irritate gutter guys. I drove all the way to 4 miles north of Lyons to "remeasure" an estimate because his calculations were different than mine. He was right... it saved him $7.00, and cost me an extra $50.00 worth of gas. I wanna be a farmer when I grow up...

Stu-Jack (as we call him, for some unknown reason) is always looking for the answers to life's persistent questions... I'm sure that with his dizzying intellect and analytical mind, he'll be a great philosopher some day, no doubt teaching ethics in some Ivy League college. Either that, or he will just grow up to be construction trash like his daddy.

on fecklessness...

so there is this old joke it goes like this (most of you have heard it, I'm sure, but it does bear a point):

Small town cafe, same crowd sitting around every day, and a regular brings in a friend from out of town. Everyone is sitting around talking, when someone speaks up and says loudly, "Number 27!" Everyone laughs uproariously. The stranger looks perplexed. Pretty soon someone else speaks up and says, "Number 104!" Again, everyone laughs. Finally the stranger asks his friend who is a local what the deal is. He replies: "The jokes around here are so old that we just give them numbers, so it saves a lot of time telling them. Everybody knows the joke by the number". The out-of-towner thinks he will give it a shot. He calls out, "number 87!" All you can hear are crickets chirping; no one laughs. He whispers, "is #87 not a very funny joke?" His embarrassed friend replies, "Its not the joke; its how you tell it!"

Which brings me to my point this morning. I was in the boys' room the other morning as Isaiah was doing his daily "chores" which pretty much consist of cleaning up his room. He asked me if I had chores when I was a boy, and I told him that I did. He says "did you have to clean up your room?" I told him no, and as I was gathering my thoughts about how to best describe all the terrible hardships of the gruesome chores that I was required to do, (nearly from birth, of course) and how to describe the burden of carrying up to 30 5 gallon buckets heaping with feed to the calves, morning and night, every day, mostly in the dark, he interrupted my thoughts and said, "Oh, well if you did have to clean up your room when you were boy, I bet it would have been a really, really, really, REALLY big room, with lots of toys, so it would have been REALLY hard, huh, dad?"

Apparently, he has heard some semblance of the tale of my youth. He really took the wind out of my sails, I just said "yup" and left it at that... from now on, I'll just refer to the story of my chores as "Story #1"