From our house to yours, Merry Christmas! God bless all y’all and enjoy Casting Crowns and I heard The Bells On Christmas Day.
From our house to yours, Merry Christmas! God bless all y’all and enjoy Casting Crowns and I heard The Bells On Christmas Day.
I’m pretty sure the views of this #2 most viewed Ranch Pen post come from people searching for what in the cat-hair that emoji thing is. I bet they’re very surprised when this super-countrified post turns up.
An update on the news in the old post. The kitties grew up and one, at least, became a mother. One of of her relatives, Goldfish, is mousing about the place at this very moment. Nellie’s leg is fine and she’s a beautiful dog who runs all day long, every day, chasing things. The fizzled bull is just a distant belch, but we have three or four other herd bulls who will someday make excellent hamburgers, too. The grandson, Roper, still swims like a fish and just killed his first deer this fall to put venison in the freezer for his family.
The blog suffers at times from blog stinkerosis, also known as, the-old-gal’s-got-too-much-goin’-on-and-her-head’s-about-to-explode-look-out!. It’s a real condition. Look it up. You’ll find it under C for crazy ladies. Anyway, to get us off the fourth of July post I’ll rake through some bits of this and chunks of that to see what turns–Oh, hey! I found out something interesting. Anybody with an iPhone emoji keyboard ever wondered what this emoji thing is? 😤 My eyes are going the way of the rest of me and for the longest time (at least a week or two,) I wondered why that emoji thing was chewing on a sock. However, daughter-in-law #2 asked SIRI–our professional nag–and she said the emoji is: Huffing with anger face.
A quick internet search revealed the emoji actually has steam coming out its non-existent nose, which I totally get, now, but I am going to call my emoji, Oh, put a sock in it, why don’t ya?.
Then we have the barn cat, Tip’s, little fuzz balls. They are fat as butter. If they’re half as good’a cats as their mother, we’ll never have a rodent problem again.
And Nellie, the three-legged dog on the eve of cast removal. Let us hope she has grown a brain in the past weeks and won’t try to bite tires again.
Gramps gathered a bunch of our cows last week for “preg” checking, only to find they were what is called “open”, meaning not bred. Gramps hauled the herd bull up to the clinic to get tested, only to find the bull had fizzled. A lot of things can cause the fizzle such as injuries or ill health, but the bull was hale and hearty, in the prime of his life, and a Don Juan among bulls, yet…nothing. To save Bully’s feelings, I won’t include a picture of his microscope slide. Since the bull weighs almost two-thousand-pounds and we don’t keep herd bulls for pets, he will be off to the livestock auction where a slaughter buyer will purchase him and he will be converted into many pounds of juicy, hormone-free and grass-fed hamburger.
Thanks so much for reading and God bless all y’all as you listen to The Piano Guys and this beautiful performance of O Come, O Come, Emmanuel.
This post entitled Henry Wadsworth Longfellow and Hey!What’re You Doing to My Tractor? is the third most viewed post at the Ranch Pen and has made it into the top five thrice in the past four years. (Since reading a book entitled The Adventure of English-The Biography of a Language by Melvyn Bragg, I–and anyone who would feel compelled to mess with Mr. Longfellow’s poetry–feel that “thrice” is a more interesting choice than “three times”.)
Anyway, I have no idea why the post garners its views, but the pictures are hysterically funny (unless any of those machines belong to you, in which case, you are still real mad) and the snatch of original Henry Wadsworth Longfellow’s poetry is very fine. Without further ado, here’s the old cream-puff.
I’ve recycled the following pictures from an email–an oldie, but a goodie–that circulated amongst us ranchers and farmers a year or two ago. We all chuckled. And winced. And remembered when one of the kids, or the ex hired man, or even–goodness sakes–the owner/operator buried the tractor.
For those of you who drive around on paved streets and highways, I’ll attempt to explain the wrecks below.
1. Instead of The Wreck of the Hesperus memorialized by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, we’ll call this wreck The Wreck of the Old Case International Combine. The conversation between the old sailor in Mr. Longfellow’s poem and the skipper–just berfore he wrecked the Hesperus– went like this:
The skipper he stood beside the helm,His pipe was in his mouth,And he watched how the veering flaw did blowThe smoke now West, now South.Then up and spake an old Sailòr,Had sailed to the Spanish Main,“I pray thee, put into yonder port,For I fear a hurricane.“Last night, the moon had a golden ring,And to-night no moon we see!”The skipper, he blew a whiff from his pipe,And a scornful laugh laughed he.”Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (And if you can believe Wikipedia, his granddad’s name was Peleg Wadsworth. Why don’t we ever hear cool Bible names like that anymore?)
“The kid sat high within the cab,his earbud in one ear,and he took the call from his old man,and never missed a gear.Then up and spake said old man,who’d drove that road before,Don’t go that way, son, he said,for I fear the road is sloughin’ off ’round that tin horn in the wash ’cause the county’s too cheap to pay for a longer piece of culvert.The kid pocketed his smart phone,a scornful laugh laughed he,For he would show his old dad,a real combine man he’d see…”
2. This wreck we’ll call Some Dumb Guys With Tractors. The farm wife is taking the picture for future evidence. She is saying, “Seriously? I can understand one tractor, but three? And now the trackhoe, too? But, hee hee. This picture is going to get me that new saddle. And maybe a new riding lawn mower, too.”
3. This wreck we’ll just call, Hired Man As Soon As They Get The Juice Shut Off To Those Wires And I Get My Hands On You, You Are Dead.
4. This one we’ll call, How Many Times Do I Have To Tell You To Pick Up The Bucket Before You Let Out The Clutch?
5. This one we’ll call, Don’t Text And Drive, Goober!
6. Should we call this one, Wife Buries the Hatchet With the Handle Stickin’ Out But Husband Buries the Trackhoe With the Bucket Stickin’ Out…or what? I’m at a loss here.
7. And this one…my goodness. Don’t Ever Hire Somebody to Harvest Your Corn Who Huffs Hairspray While Smoking ?
(It appears both the back and front windows have blown out, allowing the corn in the grain tank to spill through the cab and onto the platform.)
8. Ah, and lastly, a Steiger tractor wreck. I’m very qualified to comment since I’ve had many adventures in an old Steiger tractor. (But not this one, I pomise.) The scene could have gone like this:
“Whoa.” Me stomping on the clutch and brake.
“Whoa, now.” Jamming on every lever in the cab with hands and feet. Starting to sweat profusely. “Oh, Lord…I said whoa, now!”
Two sets of back duals hit the grain bin and start to climb. “LORD HAVE MERCY, WHOA!”
Using both my boots, I finally shove the gear lever out of reverse. Tractor lurches forward, slamming nose into gravel. Motor dies. I slump over steering wheel, shaking. Sitting at odd angle. Sneak peek over shoulder.
This is not my fault. I told him to fix the brakes.
So What Do Y’all Think?
As always, thanks so much for reading. Until next time, God bless all y’all and enjoy The Gardiner Sisters with one of my all time favorite carols, Angels We Have Heard on High.
No, ol’ Danni didn’t kick the bucket back at the Ranch Pen, but it’s been a dismal year for the poor blog. Maybe next year will go better. Until then, I’ll post some of the most viewed posts from this year. Surprisingly enough, none of the posts went viral–including the fourth most viewed 2016 post, Cranky at the Ranch Pen–but here she is, anyway.
I’ve got a cold and am a little cranky this week, so naturally my thoughts turned to the subject of “transgendered” bathrooms. I usually avoid political and social commentary, but the past few weeks the issue of transgendered bathrooms has cropped up in the news several times and the issue is important to me. Maybe it’s because Gramps and I just took five of our grandkids on our annual trek to the horse fair and ranch rodeo at Duncan, Oklahoma, and we used the public restrooms approximately 585 times over a two day span.
Unfortunately, more and more cities and states seem to think there aren’t enough weirdos preying on women and girls, so we need to let into our restrooms the dudes who say they feel like women. (We should just take their word on that, because, hey, that’s not weird at all, and dudes like that always tell the truth.)
Since I didn’t just fall off the turnip truck, I wasn’t a bit surprised when I recently read an article where one of those crackpot transgendered restroom ordinances had mysteriously gone awry and some dude had ended up terrorizing women and girls in a public restroom. One of the pro-transgendered-bathroom-use-people interviewed was completely baffled how such a thing had happened. Unfortunately, at this time there doesn’t seem to be a way to tell the trans people from just regular creeps, but take heart, the brains of the outfit are working on it.
Oklahoma is a conservative state, even has an open carry gun law (is it possible a man who said he felt like a woman would feel more like a man for long enough to do his business if he knew one of the old gals in the ladies room was packing heat?), so I hope the public bathrooms around here will stay fairly simple–as in dudes go in the door with the dude on it and girls go in the door with the girl on it. Even so, Gramps’ll keep watching out for the grandsons in the men’s room, and I’ll post a guard for the granddaughters in the ladies room and I don’t care what laws are passed, if a dude walks in where my little granddaughters are innocently doing their business there’s gonna be hair in the butter. That’s just me talkin’, but it might be time for some of us gals to start yelling our heads off about this before it’s too late.
As always, thanks so much for reading. God bless all y’all and enjoy Lauren Daigle doing a beautiful job on Noel.
Ok, so it’s been a few weeks since I posted, but today the Ranch Pen is back, wanting to know what is the first thing that pops into your head at the sight of the camper van in the above picture?
It’s, Sweet! That is such a cool camper van, and I wish I had one, too, isn’t it?
I knew it! None of you cracked up laughing–but secretly envious, no doubt–at the slight resemblance to Uncle Rico’s camper van on the movie, Napoleon Dynamite. (below)
Several months ago–with a west-coast family reunion looming–Gramps hopped on Craigslist and located us an economically priced camper van and we ended up driving her home after a payment transaction that took place in a small building with bars on the windows and big guys lurking around. Some of my thoughts were–not necessarily in this order–
- oh, dear
- Craigslist scams
- how’d we get this old and stay so dumb?
- No, it’s worse. Mexican cartel
- money laundering
- Ok, whew. Possibly just identity theft
- Have we been on the farm too long?
I will say the city fellas seemed to be impressed that we were farmers, however I still can’t recommend the experience to non-farmers. But that is a whole ‘nother story, as they say.
Anyway, we legally–I hope–obtained our super-sweet, new-to-us van and safely sped away. Gramps rigged it out with a custom farmer-job luggage carrier–a toolbox from the farm supply store–we gathered up our oldest grandson, Kevman, and we were off on our excellent adventure across twelve states.
Hopefully, I can write a post or two about our travels in the coming weeks, but for right now, just to give a taste of the wide range of camper vans and RVs out there that are even more excellent than ours–or, Uncle Rico’s–I grabbed these pictures off the RV Share website. You can click the link to view other astonishing RV pictures, but these seven were my personal favorites.
#7 The Clunky Chrysler Camper. My parents drove a Chrysler when I was a kid and I can’t believe my dad didn’t think of rigging it out with a camper like that.
#6 The Dodge Ram Dually Stretch Camper. We drive Dodge trucks here on our farm/ranch operation and there are always one or two of them waiting to die. What better use could Gramps resurrect them to than an outfit like that below? Outstanding! Plenty of room for all seven grandkids, no less.
#5 The Cuter-N-A-Bug Camper. Aw…It’s SO cute! I love those colors together. Maybe I like this one because I’m a girl.
#4 The Schoolbus Tent Trailer Condo Camper. As a farm woman whose chickens live in an old school bus, I am absolutely in awe. Why didn’t Gramps think of that use for our bus? We could’ve housed the chickens in an old train car, or something.
#3 The Economy Car Camper. This one made me snort my tea up my nose, but then the brilliance of it hit me and my thoughts began to race with possibilities for our old Dodge Intrepid car. A while back our Intrepid (my late father-in-law called it an Interpid) was croaked out beside the road and some doofus stopped and offered $200 for it as salvage. Begone, Sir Scavenger! We will fashion our own Interpid Camper Car before accepting that outrageously insulting offer.
#2 The Weenie Dog Camper Car This one just makes me happy. What a funny outfit!
#1 The Camper Plane Traveling just couldn’t get any better than driving down the open-road in that rig. Amazing. What wonders must the inside of that machine hold? I wish they had at least left some little stub wings on it, though.
Which of these RVs are your favorites? Feel free to let me know in the comments.
Until next time, thanks so much for reading again. God bless all y’all and enjoy For King and Country singing Fix My Eyes.
Life is crazy busy at the Ranch Pen right now and I don’t have much this week, but Gramps has been layin’ down our hay crop–as we call cutting hay out here–and I caught the pretty picture above. That particular field is triticale–a hybrid cross of wheat and rye, good for cattle forage.
Some of the years in recent past have reminded me of the Old Testament verse in Deuteronomy:
And thy heaven that is over thy head shall be brass, and the earth that is under thee shall be iron…
But this year, thankfully, we’ve had good moisture through the winter and spring and the hay and wheat crops are looking good, the cows are fat, and it’s a sight for sore eyes to all the farmers and ranchers in this area.
Until next time, God bless all y’all, and if you don’t do anything else today listen to Hillary Scott of Lady Antebellum singing this beautiful song, Thy Will.
I was going to write one of my countrified odes such as Ode To a Green Cow Dog, Ode To a Little Goat (deceased), and Trumpet of the Schwan Man in honor of National poetry month, but couldn’t think of anything that rhymed with orange, so abandoned that idea.
Then I sat brainstorming (I use the term loosely) other blog post ideas. Hmm… Maybe I could share my mushroom growing experiment with step by step pictures, including the ones with the mold? No. Limited interest since they were just plain mushrooms and not the psychedelic kind.
Maybe other spring chores I’ve been attending, such as house and yard cleaning…?
Painting old furniture with chalk paint…?
What all is going on with the crops and cattle…?
I stroked my chin whisker deep in thought. That’s when the thought hit me.
I seriously need to pluck that thing.
Then I argued with myself. Naw. I’ll have to get up and find the tweezers and nobody’ll notice one little whisker except Gramps, anyway.
But…he wouldn’t have married me if he had known I’d have whiskers in thirty-five years. You know he wouldn’t have.
Good grief. What am I thinking? He didn’t have that weird eyebrow hair back then, either. Or, hair in his ears. That’s what I’ll tell him if he brings it up.
Oh, piddle. Now, this whisker’s gonna drive me nuts…
Excuse me one second…
Okay, back again. We have entered the God-have-mercy season–otherwise known as tornado season–here in Oklahoma. There have been some weak twisters in the areas north and south of us, but all we’ve had are thunderstorms, so far. A few evenings ago, a thunderstorm rolled through and when it left, the light was just right for the super cool pictures below.
The next pictures are from a different storm and these clouds had hatched some tornados and large hail before they reached us. They were still lazily rotating overhead.
As always, thanks for reading and until next time, everybody stay safe in the storms. God bless all y’all and enjoy Casting Crowns singing Praise You In This Storm.