All good things…

…as they say, must come to an end.

I have never written a chicken obituary/memorial before, but I figured that I owe one to this particular bird. The other day, as we were coming home, Jason spotted a familiar chicken that we all know and love….in the middle of the road. Quite flat, actually. I am glad I did not see it.

It was not THE Wayward Jones, but rather her sister, who apparently, even though she was warned of the dangers of hitchhiking and living loosely, still ventured too close to the road. I COULD mention the age-old joke here…but out of respect, I won’t theorize why the chicken crossed the road. Actually, now I suppose we’ll never know. Anyway, Ms. Jones was interred September 17th, 2010. Casseroles, chicken scratch, and donations to P.A.R.C. (Persons Against Runaway Chickens) will be accepted.

In other news, it is finally cooling down enough that I have made progress around the farm. Tonight, we have been working on adding a top to the chicken yard. A couple of weeks ago, I found the headless body of one of my barred Rock hens, which is indicative of a raccoon murder. Let me say here that I do not like raccoons. Sure, they may look all cute and fuzzy, what with their little people-like hands, thick fluffy coat, and ringed tail. But behind their mask lies a cold-blooded serial killer. Let’s not mince words here. I won’t go into detail about what I would like to do to the ‘coon, lest you think I am just a cruel person. So, to avoid further bloodshed, particularly for the ‘coon, we are putting a ‘lid’ on the outdoor run out of wire.

I have been lazy in my garden. I haven’t pulled weeds in weeks and haven’t really cared to. Jason made the comment the other day, “Nice bed of Bermuda you’re growing here.” I couldn’t argue. If I were TRYING to grow Bermuda, it couldn’t have looked much better than the thick, jungle carpet that has now dominated my old lettuce patch. BUT, now is the time to plant, so I hope to take new pics and show you what will be in store for winter. I am planning on having a really kick-butt winter garden this year, mainly by really utilizing row covers and my chenilles.

In farmhouse news, it’s really nothing new. Please, please, please, if you do repairs on your house, have them (or do them) professionally. And for crying out loud, please don’t use the cheapest parts you can buy. Our poor heat pump/blower was apparently brought over on the Ark, and probably the same model used by the ancient Egyptians. Ok, maybe those time periods don’t coincide. Whatever, you get the picture. Our kitchen faucet is leaky, the kitchen sink is made out of white plastic (what masochist picked THAT out???) and the supposedly new septic tank is overflowing. Not complaining, just venting. Anyhoo, it boils down to I am about to have to spend a good chunk o’ change to have a new heatpump installed, so that we don’t freeze to death this year. I mean, last year, our house was at 58 degrees. I’m sorry, but I don’t care to live in a meat locker. Thank the Good Lord for all my quilts. I looked like some sort of strange chrysalis all winter last year, wrapped in about 14 quilts, along with thermal underwear, a full set of clothes and 2 layers of socks. I didn’t go anywhere without my throng of quilts. THIS YEAR (I’m pulling a total Scarlett O’Hara here), with God as my witness, I will not freeze again! We are going to insulate the house. I hope they blow 5 feet of insulation in the attic. I want so much insulation, it is scraping the rafters. I want so much that it is spilling out of every vent and pore of this house. I can’t say enough about good insulation.

I think I will end my post here. Hopefully, next go ’round I will have some sort of interesting pictures for you all.

Can’t see the forest for the trees

*ALERT…Soap Box post*

Do you ever feel like you are the only person who DOESN’T care what the Kardashians are doing, or anyone in Hollywood for that matter? The only person who turns off the Disney Channel in disgust for the way the kids on the shows are portrayed as being more intelligent than the adults? Maybe the only person who doesn’t read the news for the fact that it is now written for ratings? The only one who actually really does care where their food comes from and how it is affecting us?

If so, you and I have something in common! I got so fed up with television’s programming, the so-called ‘news’, and the junk that we stuff our faces with that I actually decided to do something about it. Our Directv box broke down about 6 weeks ago. Haven’t missed it YET, and have cancelled service. We don’t even miss the evening news, which I thought Jason would just up and die if he missed. Turns out all he watched was the weather anyway. Now we are hooked on Netflix instant streaming video. We can pick what the kids watch. Last night we all watched Fraggle Rock, and I don’t know who liked it more; me or them!

If you are familiar with my blog, you will know that we do raise a LOT of our own food. Do you know what you’re eating? Foods are so full of preservatives, colorings, and artificial EVERYTHING nowadays. When I think about food, I think about my days working at the veterinarian’s office. Inevitably, one of the first 3 questions we ALWAYS asked was: “What is your pet eating?”. Now, I want you to think back to your last doctor visit when you were not feeling well, and you tell me….were YOU asked that question? Ever? Oh sure, we all know we are supposed to eat whole grains and lots of vegetables and fruit, but….

Seems everything now is treated with a pill. For crying out loud, Pfizer just came out with a DOG OBESITY pill recently. I read that and I swear I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry, or what. Come on now….who is really getting the benefit? Does anyone think it’s the dog? The owner, having to shell out who-knows-how-much? Isn’t it obvious that the drug companies are the ONLY ones to get benefit here? Here’s a revelation: Drug companies follow the money. Hello? Anyone listening? Sure, I am happy they are there. We need the Pfizers of the world, after all, to a degree. But not every malady on earth needs to have a pill solution. Oh, and here’s your fat dog solution: go outside and play with the darn thing. A walk would benefit the both of you, mentally and physically.

As Americans, one of our worst flaws is our dependence on convenience. We can drive just about anywhere we want. We can get in our car and go and pick up food out of a little window, go back to our air-conditioned, perfectly temperature controlled homes, and sit in front of a TV with our choice of instant entertainment. I wonder how many people stopped to think once about where the wheat that made the burger bun came from. Or the meat in the burger (which, if it is fast food, is almost always combined with an ammonia laced ‘filler’. It’s true. Look it up.) Or the tomato, or the lettuce. There is a price that we all pay for convenience. We aren’t going to see it at the McDonald’s drive thru, but think about this: Do you ever wonder who harvested those vegetables, who slaughtered your meat, or the thousands of miles that were driven to make that one 99 cent sandwich?

Does anyone but me wonder why people are so driven to make more money? When is enough, enough? Have you ever wondered why there are people who make 5 times what you do, and yet they are still filing for bankruptcy and divorce? Admittedly, we are not poverty level, but not too terribly far from it. If all of my debts were paid off today, I could live very comfortably on what we bring home, and be happy with it. I will be the first to admit that I am a very, very lucky woman who has a husband who knows his priorities. And guess what? Work is on down on that list, and we own our own business. Yes, we take off of work to spend time with the kids. Kids will only be little for so long. I also realize that we are so extremely fortunate to be able to get to do this. My plea to you is: Please don’t fall into that common mistake that people make of working harder/earning more money ‘for the kid’s sake’, or to ‘be able to live a better life’. The kids don’t care if you make five dollars or five hundred thousand. They don’t care about your promotions or that you worked 70 hours this week. They just want you there with them, spending time with them. I hate the term ‘quality time’. That is the most infinitely STUPID term I’ve ever heard. Any time you spend with your kids/spouse/whatever IS quality time. Whatever quality time is supposed to mean, I don’t even really know. And, if you don’t have kids, then spend that time loving your spouse. And if you don’t have a spouse, then spend some time for yourself. Point is, don’t work yourself into an early grave just to earn some money to make that next big purchase. Be a miser with your money, and save wisely. Please don’t go blow your paycheck on a TV or a new car. Or, just something that you really can’t afford. Don’t try and ‘keep up with the Joneses’. News flash. The Joneses were last seen on the Mexican border using the alias ‘the Smith’s’, running from the IRS for tax evasion. The Joneses were in debt up past their necks.

It’s time for us to wake up. We have been sleeping for about the past 60 years or so, ever since we gave up our farms and all decided we needed to make more money (for WHAT?) and moved to cities in search of ‘jobs’. It is time for us all to realize that Hollywood isn’t Washington, D.C., and it isn’t where the most important decisions are made that affects all of us. Most importantly, it’s time to go outside and feel the sun on your face and get your hands deep in the soil.

You are a child of Nature. You can laugh about that, but you are. You are a part of something as large and as infinite as the Heavens themselves, and you are important. We may just be a drop of water in an endless ocean, but we all are important and, most importantly, we are ALL connected. A decision as simple as picking up a burger at a drive-thru, or buying all of our goods from non-American made sources really does affect people. Maybe not you today. But it will in the long run. We are so preoccupied with Dancing with the Stars and American Idol, and who is breaking up with who in L.A., and how were gonna pay for all of that stuff that we don’t really need that we forget to pay attention to what really matters. Ourselves. Our families. Our environment. What our government is doing up there.

I don’t want to sound self-righteous. I do things that everyone else does like take out food, shopping at WalMart and the Dollar Tree, etc. But I am now conscious of my choices. Due to that, I am now a label reader. I do care where my stuff comes from, and what’s in it. I want to know what I am eating. I want to know when our government is about to pass a law that will negatively affect us. I want my children to grow up NOT sitting in front of a television set, and to be well-informed and aware adults. I want us ALL to go outside more and realize that we are a part of something bigger than ourselves and that every one of us can make a difference with each decision that we make.

And, in my own selfish thoughts….I want every kid to know that an egg comes from a chicken and not a box in the grocery store.

(I send out a virtual hug to all of you now. Now stepping down from my box and going to resume my much more comfortable position as humorist/farm life writer)

Technical Errors….

*If you are a new reader to this blog, please semi-ignore this post. It is boring and I don’t want to scare you away. Y’all scroll on down for a better post*

Sorry, readers for this completely boring post, but I just found out that a small application I am using on WordPress may have been blocking some of your comments! So, just a second ago I was reading this really funny comment by a stranger which had been incorrectly labeled as ‘spam’, laughing about it, and I am using this new laptop, and my fingers tapped the little dumb touchpad, and I permanently deleted it. ARRRRRRG. I apologize for this post sounding like a FaceBook status update, but I wanted you guys to know that I may not be getting some of your comments. :0( I’ll be working on this NOW.

No Good Deed Goes Unpunished

This is an off-the-farm story, but it was so absolutely hilarious and country, am going to share….at my own expense.

So, yesterday, we finished up this monster garage sale. The temperature was almost 100 degrees by the end of the day. We were hot, tired, and thoroughly soaked in sweat. My mascara had migrated to my neck. My clothes bore the dirt and dust of eight hours of a yard sale. After depositing the last truckload (third) of leftovers at Goodwill, we decided to run into Rusk for a six pack of SOMETHING. Honestly, at that point, it didn’t even matter, just as long as it was cold, and had some kind of alcohol content. This is what we do in Texas after a long, hot day. It just is.

Anyway, we were well on our way, when we noticed a couple, probably in their late 50s or so, with a flat tire. The man was under the truck, and the woman was standing by, trying to assist her husband. The entire situation just screamed, “We need some help”, so we turned around and got out. Here we are, on the side of an extremely busy, dangerous highway. The man was trying to free the spare from underneath the truck and couldn’t get it loose. You could see the anxiety in the woman’s face. Bear in mind, it’s also about 100 degrees, with the pavement being much more than that. Jason asked if we could help, and when he told the man he knew how to get the spare loose, you could see the relief in their faces. So the man shimmied out from under the truck, and I swear, for a second, I thought he was either going to pass out or get sick. Jason works in an un-airconditioned shop all year, so he is very used to the heat. This man worked indoors for his job, as we found out, so I’m really glad that we got there in time before he had a stroke or something.

So, the tire was changed, the couple gave Jason some Gatorade and hand wipes and ‘Thanks’, and we were walking back to our truck. The grass this time of year is very tall on the sides of the highways. I was in a long skirt. I stopped just in time to see a huge black widow on one of the stalks of grass where I was about to step. Whew! Deadly spider bite averted. What I did NOT avert, apparently, was a huge pissed-off mound of fire ants.

For those of you who are unfamiliar with fire ants, consider yourselves fortunate. Each sting is like a tiny ember of fire on your skin. Jason opened my door (as he always does), and I felt fire all over my feet. CRAP! FIRE ANTS! I was brushing them off as fast as I could, when I noticed they were not just on my feet, but my arms, hands, and ALL OVER MY CLOTHES.

Ok, big decision here. Should I:

A. Keep brushing off the unknown quantity of ants, and try my best to keep my panic level under control, whilst keeping on my clothing in the company of strangers, or,

B. Rip off my clothes in a never-before-seen manner, whilst flinging them around frantically, like a rabid spider monkey.

Well, you guessed it, I chose “B”.

I ripped off my skirt in about a nanosecond, threw it at Jason, frantically brushing the ants off of my legs, torso, and shirt, all in the presence of two absolutely complete strangers WHO NOW HAVE OUR BUSINESS CARD.

I prayed to God that they didn’t see too much of what was going on, but I don’t know what all they DID see, and I didn’t really care at the moment. At least I was wearing undergarments! As we took off, I hung my ant-filled skirt out the window at 70 miles per hour, still trying to dislodge ants. A helluva way to end a day!

Rethinking the Easter Bunny

Ok, so a few days ago, I was searching on Craigslist (dangerous for me!) and I came across an ad about “Easter Bunnies”. So, anyway, the ad was one of the longest run-on sentences I have ever read, and essentially said this: They had bought some rabbits for their child’s Easter pictures, snapped the pictures and now they were ‘done’ with the bunnies.

Naturally, this bothered me on many levels.

Soooooo, you went out, bought two live animals, snapped some photos, and then after having them only about 24 hours, put them up for sale? Sooooo, the bunnies were just living props for a photo op? Wow. People never cease to amaze me. So, I told Jason about it, and about how sorry I felt for the rabbits. What if they were in a box thrown in the garage or something? Did they even have food or water? Jason came back to me a short time later and said, “You know, we really should get those rabbits.”

Coming from him, I know that was a difficult thing to say! After all, we already have a lot of animals. But, being as we are interested in raising meat rabbits, and these are a breed of meat rabbit. Anyway, I called the number and sure enough, they still had the bunnies. We head over there the next day.

Surprisingly, they are nice people. I have to say I was pleasantly surprised about that. Surprisingly, the rabbits do have a small cage and pellets. For a very low price, we brought home the bunnies. They appear to be really healthy, but I’m still keeping a close eye on them. Oh, and of course, one is a boy (a buck) and one’s a girl (a doe). And, they were together. Well, we all know that only rabbits can breed like rabbits, right???

My point here is that I just do not understand how people can give so little thought to an animal to consider it disposable. I cringe to think of all the Easter bunnies, chicks, and ducks that get thrown into a box or even worse, turned loose into the wild. After all, they are living, breathing beings, too. Don’t they deserve a little more than being used for some holiday and then tossed away like a gum wrapper? Sigh. I’ll file this one under ‘Soap Box’.

I LOVE EGGS (and chickens, too)!

Get ready for a passionate post. I LOVE EGGS!!! One of my favorite farm subjects! I have been collecting pictures for you for months now to show off farm eggs. But first, let’s get a little political here.

I am going to first state that I am not an animal rights activist. I AM, however, all for animal welfare. There is a big difference, but I’ll let you do the research on that. If you buy your eggs from a grocery store, I want you to know something very, very important. Please first read this little article: Factory Farming: Eggs, and then come back. (Note that animalsanctuary.org is an animal rights group, therefore, they do not support the slaughter of any animal, and are vegan. While this is not my own position, we do agree that the current condition of so-called ‘factory farms’ are appalling)

Finished? Now I want you to see the visuals: Egg Farming Photos

How do those cheap grocery store eggs look now? This is the reality of buying from a supermarket. Don’t be fooled by the phrase ‘cage free’ eggs either. This just means that they aren’t in the battery cages, but crammed in a building. You do not have to allow access to the outdoors to be labeled ‘cage free’. The terms ‘farm fresh’ and ‘natural’ don’t mean anything at all. The chickens in those photos can be labeled as such. Most people have a vision in their minds of happy, plump chickens running around the farm (with a red barn, of course), eating bugs and grass and soaking up the sunshine. The reality is that there are tens of thousands of birds literally crammed into 16″ or so cages (several to a cage) so tightly that they never have the chance to even spread their wings.

And THIS is called progress?

I am passionate that I educate you about this. As more people moved from the country to the city beginning in the 1950s, they stopped raising their own food. So, companies came up with an answer: industrial farming. “Farming” (I use that term VERY loosely here) animals and crops to meet the demands of the consumers. But somewhere along the way, we got lost, ethically speaking. I always think of these lyrics by Pink Floyd when I think about this :

“And did they get you to trade your heroes for ghosts? Hot ashes for trees?
Hot air for a cool breeze? Cold comfort for change?
And did you exchange a walk on part in the war for a lead role in a cage?”

I’m pretty sure Pink Floyd wasn’t singing about egg farming, but I hope you get the parallel here. What are we willing to trade off for convenience?

Now, I will step down from the soap box, but I want to open your eyes to the truth. Factory farming doesn’t stop at eggs either. I hope you will research more about where our food REALLY comes from. I hope this will inspire you to source out local food, or better yet, produce your own! I’ll help you out.

ON TO THE EGGS!!!

Some of the first eggs I collected on the farm. A mix of Cochin, Plymouth Rock, and Ameraucana eggs. Ameraucanas lay tinted eggs in shades of blue or green.

Fun Egg Facts:

A hen does NOT need a rooster to lay an egg.

It takes a chicken approximately 24-26 hours to produce an egg, start to finish.

Yolk color depends on what the chicken is eating. Chickens who are allowed free range and who are allowed to eat insects and plants will produce an egg with a much darker yolk (and better tasting, too!)

Fresh eggs can be stored in the refrigerator at least 3 weeks before you will notice a decline in quality. The air cell in the egg will enlarge and eventually the egg will dry up on the inside.

When you hardboil an egg, don’t use a fresh (meaning real farm fresh, not supermarket fresh) egg. Fresh eggs are extremely hard to peel!

An eggshell contains thousands of pores, mostly on the larger end. This is to allow the exchange of carbon dioxide and moisture to occur for a baby chick. (So the shell ‘breathes’….weird, huh?”)

There are approximately 280 million laying hens in the US, and we produce about 75 billion eggs a year. The majority of these eggs are produced in ‘factory farms’.

A chicken egg takes 21 days to hatch.

Fertile vs. Unfertile

How do you tell if an egg is fertile? Well, do you have a ‘dot’ or a ‘donut’? Huh? In the above picture, look closely at the yolk. In the center, you will see a very light ‘bullseye’ or ‘donut’. This indicates that this egg is fertile. An unfertile egg will only have a small white dot, not a ‘donut’. A fertile egg tastes no different that an unfertile egg. Development of the baby chick ONLY happens when the egg is kept very warm (about 99 degrees or so) and under the right conditions. This is what a fresh, fertile egg looks like! You aren’t going to open up an egg and find a chicken (unless you pulled an egg from a setting hen!). It takes several days of incubation for blood vessels/tissues to develop.

Ew!!! What’s that spot in my egg!!! I thought these were fresh….

Let me address something here. Fresh farm eggs vs. Industrial Farmed eggs. When you get eggs fresh from the farm, there is a slight chance you will come across an egg with a ‘blood spot’, which is typically a small speck of blood/tissue inside the egg. This typically happens in hens who have just begun to lay or older hens. They are caused by the rupture of a blood vessel on the yolk surface during the formation of the egg or sometimes by a similar occurence in the wall of the oviduct. They are NOT the beginnings of a chicken (again, UNLESS the egg has been incubated for several days! But, if you collect eggs daily you will not have that problem.)

But why don’t I see these in grocery store eggs?

Simple. Because industrial egg farmers use electronic ‘eyes’ to ‘see’ the spots in the eggs before they make it to a carton. Small producers don’t have that kind of luxury, so you will sometimes find these spots. There is no need to throw away the whole egg. It is very easy to remove a spot with a bit of shell. It does not affect the egg in any way. In fact, many years ago it was commonly recommended to first break an egg into a separate bowl before adding it to a recipe for this very reason. So, in conclusion: Blood spots are a little gross looking, but do not affect the egg.

Difference between real farm fresh and industrially produced eggs

In the picture, I have set grocery store eggs on top, and my eggs on the bottom. In the grocery store eggs you will clearly notice a paler yolk and fairly uniform appearance. You will also see that my farm eggs are definitely different and there’s even a ‘double yolker’ in the group. (yes, chickens can produce twins!)

Factory farm eggs are produced almost exclusively by one breed: The White Leghorn chicken. It is a small chicken that makes a big white egg. They are very productive and very efficient as far as feed to production ratio. My eggs come from several different breeds, which are becoming more endangered with time, due to the fact that factory farms only use one breed for white eggs and most people only eat factory farm eggs. Another picture:

My egg on top, factory egg on bottom. Yolk color is determined by yellow-orange plant pigments known as xanthophylls. My hens are allowed to eat fresh weeds, thus the darker color.

Is there a difference in taste in fresh farm eggs and factory eggs?

I can personally vouch for this. YES, YES, a million times YES. Now that I am spoiled to eating extremely fresh eggs, I can honestly tell the difference in the two. Fresh farm eggs where chickens are allowed natural foods have a richness to them, almost like they are creamy when compared to factory eggs. Quite honestly, factory eggs taste ‘eggy’ (if that makes sense) and almost have a plastic quality to them.

Difference in egg sizes: From L to R: African Goose egg, Turkey egg (double yolker, twice the normal size), Cayuga duck egg, White Leghorn egg, Bantam egg

What do other eggs taste like?

My favorite eggs actually aren’t even chicken eggs! Actually, my favorite would have to go to the duck egg. Before you cringe, let’s discuss. An egg is an egg is an egg. Chicken eggs are no cleaner than duck eggs and the other way ’round. In fact, it surprises me that we mostly eat chicken eggs since ducks are extremely economical as far as feeding goes (they eats lots of juicy bugs and weeds, and little grain), and the eggs are so much richer. You will hear people say that duck eggs are great for baking, but the truth is that they are great for anything you do with chicken eggs. And talk about rich! Duck eggs have a thinner white, but a much richer yolk. One night Jason scrambled some eggs and I really thought he had added cheese to them, but no, they were just duck eggs. That is how rich they taste. The flavor is absolutely the same, no difference. It is always possible for eggs to get ‘off’ flavors depending on what they eat, so ducks who eat out of a pond may produce stronger flavored eggs, but my ducks stay here at the house and eat what the chickens eat. Goose and turkey eggs are also delicious. I think that they are also richer than chicken eggs, in my own opinion. An egg is an egg is an egg. Repeat this 5 times.

Julia Child’s recipe for baked eggs. Set ramekins in a pan of boiling water. Add a small amount of oil to the ramekin. Crack a fresh egg into the ramekin, and season with your choice of spices (I use salt and fresh cracked black pepper and fresh chopped herbs). Add a small amount of cheese to the top, such as provolone, Havarti, or Swiss. When egg white begins to turn white, place pan, ramekins and all, in a 350 degree oven for about 7 minutes. Do not overcook! (I still manage to over/under cook them, but they’re great anyway).

City Mouse, Country Mouse

Yesterday, I went down to our little local ‘general store’, if you will, to pick up a loaf of bread. I was talking with one of the owners, who is a very nice lady, and we were discussing their produce stand. I told her that I have been raising laying hens and would like to sell eggs, but that I had some older hens that need to be, how shall we say, removed from the flock due to their inefficiency. She laughed and said, “Well imagine that! A city girl doing all of that!”.

My mind reeled in horror. ME??? A ‘city girl’? The phrase ‘city girl’ brings up images of girls who would never dare to soil their hands, touch a bug, or do anything which was ‘unbecoming of a young lady’. A girl who wouldn’t touch an animal outside of a dog or cat, would rather stay in the air conditioning than to go outside, and would rather do anything on earth than sit on a pier with a fishing pole. I also see visions of acrylic nails, country clubs, and attempting to keep up with the Joneses. Ok, maybe I am confusing ‘city girl’ with ‘spoiled rich brat’, but I will venture to say that I am neither, perhaps with the exception of being spoiled.

After all, we are talking about a person who, at a tender age of about 6, would chase the little boys all over the school playground with caterpillars, and BEGGED my Papaw to shoot a rabbit, so she could have its fur. This same small girl fished with her Papaw as often as possible, and watched in awe when he cleaned them because she wanted to see what was going on in the inside. A person who, while in high school, brought home a pot bellied pig to live in her bathroom, took auto mechanics, and skipped school to go bass fishing. A person who, even still at the age of 32, has four insects mounted on a styrofoam Dairy Queen cup in her kitchen ‘because they’re cool’.

A ‘city girl’? Perhaps in my location, but never in my heart.

What would you like to learn about?

I’m going to take a little poll. Is there any subject which you’d like to read more about on this blog? Such as: gardening, how-to’s, livestock, cooking/recipes, crafts, etc. Please post your response as a comment and I’ll be happy to oblige!

Crafty Country

What else to do when the days get short, cold, and dreary but to whip out the glue gun, glitter, and yarn? Yes, I’ve gotten crafty in the country! I find that my mood greatly improves just by gluing, glittering, or baking something. This week’s crafts include a candy wreath, lampshade, dog sweater, and a mystery craft, which I will reveal soon!

THE CANDY WREATH

So super easy to make! I bought 2 – 3# bags of hard candy @ Dollar General for about 6 bucks. The hanger was free and the ribbon was a dollar for 9 yards at Wal Mart. I am going to post the how-to video, but may I say first that I deviated from the instructions (what a shock!) and did not clip off the ‘hanger’ part of the hanger (why create extra work???) and just simply did no wire cutting and used the ‘hanger’ part to hang up the wreath. My wreath came out looking more like an oval shape, but what do you expect when you have 6 pounds of candy hanging on a little wire? Oh well, it’s still tasty.

My Candy Wreath

Fun for all ages! Plus you get to eat the leftovers!

RE-COVERING A LAMPSHADE

I took the girl’s lamp and re-vamped it for my 1950s look. I got the chenille bedspread out of the trash (some poor creature had tossed it out not thinking about all that CRAFTING you can do with it), so it was free, and the lamp was my Mamaw’s, I think, and really all I purchased was the shade and the ball fringe (WallyWorld). I am posting a video so you can see how I did this. I did tuck the fabric back up into the shade on the edges (should have trimmed it more, but oh well), and lastly I hot glued the ball fringe on the inside of the shade. Originally the shade was just a plain white number, but somehow it got a greasy stain on it, and I am kinda glad that it DID, otherwise I probably wouldn’t have thought to re-cover it.

This was so super easy and fun to do. I have now officially fallen in love with spray adhesive. For the record, I used Elmer’s spray adhesive, but 3M’s Super 77 is awesome stuff, I just didn’t have that much cash on me!

Well, that’s it for this go-round! More crafts will be revealed later this week! Stay tuned!

Friday Night Yard Fire

So, last Friday, we were invited to a real country get-together, known in these parts simply as a ‘yard fire’. Let it be known that most everyone ’round here has some kind of fire pit in their yard somewhere. For entertainment, simply throw some logs into the fire pit, ignite, and serve drinks. There ya go.

Anyway, I was so excited because we really never get to go out and do much of anything, especially with other adults, so I was all geared up for a great time. However, J wasn’t home yet, and I was slap starving to death, so I decided I’d venture out all alone (well, my daughter was with me), stop at Bertha’s and pick me up a fried steak sandwich and their awesome onion rings. Let me take just a sec here. Remember when Sonic made REAL onion rings? I mean, the hand battered kind…back in the days when Pickle-Os still graced their menu board. Anyway, Bertha’s makes these hand battered, delicious rings that remind me flavorwise of those tasty Sonic rings. Naturally, Bertha’s are even better because they’re big and thick. Anyhoo….so, we stopped off at Bertha’s, grabbed our food, and headed out.

Let me just say that it was now pitch black, and I had never been to this house before. AND it’s way off in the country. AND I get no cell phone service out there. AND I have a semi-flat front tire. AND I have NO gas. So much for being prepared. However, I decided that there’s nothing like a little pioneer spirit (The Donner Party, anyone???). So I plodded on. And on. And on. And I came to realize that I may not be in Kansas anymore.

My directions were to ‘go until the road turns to a dirt road’. Well, I did that. Unfortunately, I had taken a wrong turn and was in some God-forsaken, Deliverance-looking part of East Texas. No fences, no lights, no houses. No sound….except for the very faint first few chords of Dueling Banjos. Now starting to sweat a little, I called my friend*. Don’t ask me how I got any cell signal. It was a sheer miracle, believe me.

“Where are you?”, she asked.

“I don’t know, but I hear banjo music and I just passed a deer that threatened me with a box cutter.”

“Ok, what did you pass?’

“Well, besides a church about 2 hours ago, lots of grass, red dirt, and a house that looked like it was in the Texas Chainsaw Massacre.”

“Turn around and meet me at the church.”

She didn’t have to tell me twice. I zipped around somehow (looking in my rearview for toothless rednecks wielding banjos and shotguns and deer with box cutters) and hauled some major you-know-what. Sure, I shook my brains out on the graded dirt roads, but by then I didn’t care. I followed her truck as closely as I possibly could. When we got to her house, she exclaimed, “Wow, did you see that huge armadillo on the side of the bridge back there?” I told her if it wasn’t her tailights I didn’t see it. It could have been the second coming of Christ himself on the side of the road, and I assure you I would have never seen it.

Well, it turns out we had a great time (albeit having a near falling-in-the-fire experience), and we got to spend some time with some great people.

Here’s to yard fires!

*names have been omitted to protect the innocent