This is the way we pack our bags...

I'm packing this morning for my big Billings dental trip. Traci and I are going to spend the night, after shopping for stuff, eat pizza in the hotel room, because we can, and I go under the knife tomorrow morning. (Shudder...)

I'm concerned about two things:
1. The lack of caffeine until 2 p.m.
2. Traci may take pictures of me while I'm still coming out of anesthesia and use them as black mail
fodder.

This is something I've been wanting to blog for a while, but haven't had a reason to up 'til now. It's the packing habits of men vs. women.

When a man packs for an overnight trip, this is what he takes:

• Change of underwear (hopefully clean)
• Extra pair of jeans
• Team sweatshirt (in case he goes someplace fancy for supper)
• Toothbrush and deodorant (see previous reason)
• Extra pair of socks (optional)

When a woman packs for an overnight trip, this is what she takes:

• 3 changes of underwear + 2 bras
• 2 pairs of jeans (one "skinny" pair, one comfortable pair)
• tshirt and sweats (in case she has to run to get more ice or chocolate from the vending machine)
• Swimsuit (possible pool and/or hottub at the hotel)
• 2 pairs of shoes, BESIDES the ones she's wearing
• 2 dressier outfits (in case they go someplace fancy for supper)
• 3 carefully sorted clear cases of toiletries (may do a pedicure in the hotel room, all the face spackle and makeup, hair care products)
• brush and comb
• curling/straightening iron
• 3 pairs socks or hosiery
• plastic wine glasses and travel corkscrew
• light jacket
• leather jacket
• case of medicines (in case someone gets a headache, sore throat, scratch, cold, can't sleep, forgot thier prescription)
• camera (to capture the travel moments)
• book and magazines (in case the television at the hotel only gets 180 of the promised 278 channels)
• Bible (because if you were in an accident, you would want this reported to your mother...I actually kind of like the Gideon Bibles)
• emergency food (in case the vending machine doesn't accept anything smaller than a $20)
• towel (optional)

Go figure.

Don't wear white...

So, I've been doing laundry this week, embarrassed into it by my husband's commando comment on his blog. And as I chuff the clothes in the washer and haul them to the kitchen table to fold, I've noticed we really don't have a lot of whites. (Besides the much whined about underwear...)

Here's a tip, if you come to visit the Farmer's Wife: Don't wear white. It will come here white...glowing, fresh and crisp...and it will leave here a little, um, mottled or pinkish or tannish.

Here's the reason: If my kids like you, they will swarm you, and whatever unknown substances that are attached to them will transfer to you. AND we may have to hop on the four wheeler for an impromptu bovine relocation assignment. Whatever is on the four wheeler will transfer to you, as well as whatever flies up from the wheels. AND when we get home, we'll dutifully squirt the white article of clothing with Spray and Wash, and launder it, but because of rust in the water, it will acquire a different sort of finish. That tannish thing I was talking about.

It occurred to me that you could probably place the location of someone's home in Garfield County by the color of thier"whites"....I'm thinking within 10 miles, at least. At Big Dry School, there was a lot of coal in the water, so the whites were gray. There are places the water comes out of the faucet a delicate shade of orange, and those whites are yellowish. Here at my house, you can't see the rust, because we were told it's "ionic", but it will turn things tan OR, my personal favorite, mottled. (Resembles the giraffe print on my handbag. Nice, huh?)

This has been a public service announcement. (My posts are dramatically shortened when the kids wake up and Wayland comes back from the barn...)

The Farmer's Wife tells all..Part I

I'm never sure who's really reading this, so here's a disclaimer: I signed up for 5 interview questions from Princess Jennevieve, and if you aren't ready for unvarnished, unplugged Farmer's Wife opinion, you may want to check out another blog. I'd suggest Country Wife, Country Life...she's not controversial and has great pictures of Montana. Keep in mind Princess Jennevieve and I have never met, face to face, so she made up the interview questions with just the information from my blog.

So, without futher ado or warning, Interview Question #1:

1. Your house is burning and you, your family, and pets have all been safely evacuated. What 3 things do you grab on your way out of the house and why?

First of all, this is a question that has kept me awake at night many times. After much reflection, this is what I came up with.

First, I'd grab my Bible. My folks gave it to me for Christmas when I was a Junior in high school, and it has traveled many life journeys with me. When some photo or note is especially meaningful to me, I stuff it in my Bible, which is causing great stress to the binding, but nothing Gorilla glue can't fix. I have obituaries, birth announcements, marriage announcements, handprints, notes from family and friends, and my funeral plans in the back. (You can never be too prepared. Right down to the list of songs to be played there and pall bearers. ) So it's the Word of God and the story of my life. Handy, huh?

Secondly, I'd grab my camera. It has become an extension of my person, and I feel lost without it! Besides, with my procrastination tendencies, it has all the pictures I haven't printed...500 of them, so it's like grabbing a scrapbook.

Thirdly, and again, sometimes it's a blessing to procrastinate, I'd grab that big file box of photos of my kids and friends and family. If I had it all together, they'd comprise 18 scrapbooks, but I haven't had the time to paste them in. It would appear that it's easier to grab and carry the valise o' photos than 18 scrapbooks, so that'll work.

Stay tuned for Parts II-IV.

Happy birthday, little dog!

Molly turns 10 years old on St. Patrick's day this year. And make no mistake about it, she's my dog. In her little world, the ladder looks something like this: Molly, Mom, (this one is tricky...Vickie or Marisa) friends, bunnies, the guy who feeds her, his offspring. She ranks the guy who feeds her second to the bottom because he shoots guns, just to fray her nerves. If he didn't distribute dog food, he wouldn't make the ladder at all. The kids are there because they drop food...there's really no other reason to have kids around, because they shriek unexpectedly, and take the good spots on the couch and bed.

Molly knows how to roll over, shake, balance a treatie on her nose until she gets the nod, sit and down by hand commands, the alphabet. I can ask her if she likes the Broncos?...no response....the Cowboys?....no response....San Fransisco?....barking and some excitement, so a treatie. I can shuffle the treatie under my hand and she'll tap the right one. When she needs to go out at night, she "whispers" her wuff, and if given the shush signal, can bark with her mouth closed. We spent a lot of time together, alone, in a trailer house those first couple of years!

The week Angus was born, Maggie was horribly sick and it was harvest time. I had to take the kids to Miles City to the doctor...Angus was only 4 days old...and they wanted to hospitalize Maggie, because of dehydration and fever. I had had NO sleep, and was nearly wild with worry, when Wayland called and said, " I ran over your dog. With the loaded grain truck. I don't think she's going to make it." My mom and sister drove my car north, and met him, and picked up my dog to bring to Miles City to the vet, while I nursed the babies, and cried, and prayed. Wayland had given me enough information that I was sure I wouldn't see her alive, but when I got to the vet's, they said they couldn't find anything broken, and she was trying to wiggle at me! We finally got home that night, and Wayland assured me he had completely and accidently run right square over her body, because he felt the speed bump sort of feeling in the truck.

Now, the crazy thing is that I truly believe God had His hand over that little dog, because I couldn't take another thing, not one more thing. I've not seen miracles, much, or maybe never recognized them until later, and I will never understand why a dog's life was spared, but others lose those people dearest to them. She's been my constant sidekick for 10 years, now, and I'm grateful everyday for her little presence in my life.

Pot O' Gold

The treasure isn't always really obvious, despite the cartoon depictions of the leprechaun, rainbow and gold. I'm surrounded by little people everyday, and sometimes I miss it. (Of course, they don't have beards and a lilt, but they do jig, especially when they have to go potty, and they play tricks, just ask the cats with nervous tics...) Sometimes I think the rainbows come from the spray of water from the tub, during bathtime, or tears when Barbie doesn't fit in the horsetrailer.

My treasures are tiny gems, hidden in the dirt of the day. I need to watch for them, because sometimes I miss the little hand that pats mine, when I'm picking up the 200 miles of Thomas traintrack, or the slobbery smooch as I hand over the "cocoa bobboo". (Chocolate milk...in code.) When the dog collapses beside me in companionship, or the cat escapes the Little People Castle/Torture Chamber and seeks me out for a minute of purring. When new friends call, out of the blue, and make me laugh, or when old friends call, predictably, to share stories from the trenches...those are gems. My husband clears the table, because he can tell that picking up another Honey Nut Cheerio may just put me over the edge, or when he makes me coffee, for no real reason at all, or laughs at my corn-ball sense of life. He's a gem!

As I write, my mind starts thinking of all little treasures in a day; all the people and blessings that I've been missing, and the pot is running over with jewels of joy, moments of gold, silly silver seconds and diamond days. My prayer is that I will learn to see not an empty life, but all the amazing gifts, and be able to fill other people's heart pots.

(And if I was a good writer, I'd stop there, but I just can't. Because you know, I keep thinking that the overflowing pots are usually the toilets in this house, and you don't want to know about the treasure I find there. )

Happy St. Patrick's Day!

Ten things about the man of my dreams...

Were you thinking this would be a post about George Strait trivia?

Wayland...I'm talking about Wayland, my husband!

1. He lived in Hawaii for 3 1/2 years. BEFORE me.


2. He can't eat tomatos. Ketchup, yes. Salsa, yes. Tomatos, no. Yeah, I don't understand either.


3. He lived in the high school dormitory the same time I did, but I was a Senior and he was a Freshman, so I only remember him vaguely from that time. Since Jordan had SUCH a big school (89 students that year) and I was SUCH a bigshot (bookworm).


4. He's been to Japan, Korea, Phillipines, Canada and Mexico. And has the currency to prove it. He drifted by Guam.


5. He hates farming in real life, but he has two virtual farms. Go figure!


6. He's stone tone deaf, and can't hear a beat. Remember the kid in Mr. Holland's Opus who wore a football helmet while they beat the rhythm out on the side of his head? That's my baby!


7. He once ate an entire fish (literally, the ENTIRE fish) with chopsticks.


8. He's a metal fabrication artist...can create ANYTHING out of metal, with only a drawing on a napkin for a diagram.


9. He didn't BLINK at $10,000 to save a completely worthless Irish Sitter (sic), but whines incessantly about the estimated $3000 to fix his wife's teeth. (He suggested this little comment, so it wasn't me...)


10. He loves dogs...as evidenced by #9...and if he wasn't governed by time and space, he'd rescue every dog that comes across the t.v. screen as needing a good home.

Isn't he cool? And he just changed the most atrocious diaper. What a guy!

I'm waiting for his list of 25 random things. Turns out, we're finding out more about each other by reading our spouse's blogs. Now, how sad is that?!

The Raisin' O' The Roof

For the Garfield County Library, that is!

Tomorrow, March 15th, the Garfield County Library is having a pancake supper to raise funds for repairing the roof on the building, AND, I'm assuming, doing any other structural repairs they can.

Where? The Jordan VFW Hall

When? Sunday, March 15th, from 4-8 p.m.

Knowing Janette, our crazy librarian, costumes will be encouraged. She's a blast! If you come, just to see what she's wearing, it will be worth it.

Please come, (if you don't live in Idaho, Florida, Washington or the Dominican Republic...) and help support this little library with big problems!

Putting out pairs...

Brand new baby by the barn...I love the corrugated tin in the background!

This is one of the heifers and her calf that we hauled this morning. After they calve, they spend a little time in the "maternity ward" until the calf is strong and we know he's nursing well. Then they get hauled in the horsetrailer to a nursery pasture.
This baby is soaking up the sunshine, in the corral, next to the water tank. Those black baby calves are like little solar panels! The red tag tells that this is one of Linda's calves; Vern's cousin that we lease pasture from. I was laying on my stomach, in the alley, taking this picture...I think Vern thought I'd lost it. Again.

While Wayland hauled pairs with the trailer, I got to feed the old cows, who aren't calving yet. This is the feed pickup, with a cake feeder mounted right behind the cab, and hydraulic bale handler. And about 200 lbs of gumbo mud clinging to the frame. I love it because it's an automatic transmission, and MUCH easier to back up and load those round bales.

Little known fact #264: I'm TERRIBLE at backing up with mirror. Attach a horse trailer, and it'll take me 20 minutes. Don't tell Vern.

Two of the pairs Wayland hauled to the Jacobson place, checking out thier new digs. Montana in March is SO dismal and cold! But in about 10 days, it'll start greening up a little. And by the end of April, the green will take your breath away.

Have I mentioned that I love cows?

And I love living on a ranch in Eastern Montana.

And I hope you look at these images with generosity of heart, because to me they are beautiful and honest.

March Bookclub Report

Ah, yes, another action packed post from the Farmer's Wife...

Do you have your coffee and tirimisu ready?

Alright, here we go.

The Underground Bookclub met at Clara's house to discuss John Moore's book Loosening The Reins, with the very rare privilege of having the author present! John and Debbie Moore live just north of Miles City...a native son...and they graciously consented to a grilling by the bookclub. Well, we told them it would just be spaghetti and meatballs, but we had our questions all ready. We were going to go easy on him at first, but then get him with the zingers when he was trying to elegantly eat spaghetti.

*A side note here. If you have a guest who may accidentally intimidate you, serve spaghetti and meatballs. It's the great leveler of classes. Have you EVER been able to get around a plate of spaghetti, without slapping some of it on either your face, shirt or neighbor? Perhaps they should serve that at those stuffy White House dinners, with visiting diplomats from the Middle East. And the women could just suck the noodles through those little air holes in their burka hoods! But I digress...

We were missing a couple of bookclub members, sadly. I won't give you their real names, but "Feather", "Shelma" and "SethAnn" all had really good reasons to be gone. Calving came up frequently as an excuse, but Karen saw "Shelma" at the grocery store on her way to Lewistown for a rendezvous, so that alibi is busted...

Conversation was lively and we learned a lot about the craft of writing. At one point, Mr. Moore mentioned that we would make a good cast for a murder mystery novel, and proceeded to go around the table pointing out personality types. (Flake, Deep thinker, Has unplumbed depths, Down to earth, Mysterious, Lived a lot, English teacher) Yeah, I know. Now you are trying to go around the table in your head, placing people. He said you might do that.

Our menu was Mama Clara's Italiano Spaghetti and Meataballsa, tossed salad, cheesy garlic bread, green AND black olives, cheese stuffed pimento celery sticks, 4 bottles of wine, coffee and purtineer tirimisu. And wine.

AND at one point a tall, handsome, mysterious man drifted through the party, murmuring something about the grocery store. A brazen bookclubber requested dark chocolate. Twenty minutes later, the man returned with two huge bars of the darkest chocolate he could lay hands on in Jordan Montana, and was rewarded with hugs and kisses. He stuck around for a while after that. Too bad we are all married and so is he.

It was a really enjoyable evening, and we didn't let having the author restrain us. He, on the other hand, may never be the same. I asked Debbie to come back another time and give us the real stories, but I'm not sure she'll return, either. Unless Marisa makes more of that tirimisu... Have mercy, girl!

Pictures from CUPS

Aunt Bert, Anne, Mary, Traci in front

Aunt Bert and Anne discussing the nuances of tea and extension offices. (Bert was an extension agent at one time, Anne is married to one.)

Missing a picture of Marina! Drats! She said she'd email me one and when she does, it's going on the wall. Aren't Anne's cups beautiful? And isn't my little Aunt Bert beautiful?

Gwennie Miller, littlest Cupcake. I could kiss those cheeks all day...

AND I admire her fashion sense. That little hat is the bomb! Now if only she had some animal print...

And the bookclub selection for March is...

...in a stunning turn of events, a dark horse won the race! So dark it wasn't even part of the poll.

We will be reading the Kathleen Norris book Quotidian Mysteries: Laundry, Liturgy and Woman's Work for the March selection.

Ten years ago this April, two newly married country school teachers read a Kathleen Norris book, Dakota, and the Underground Book Club was born. We revisit her writing in the little book mentioned above, and will celebrate a decade of friendship, insanely good meals, and 100 bookclub selections!

Mike, I apologize that Once Upon A Tart did not make the final cut, but you must know this: it was not a book about women of the night exchanging castoff clothing. Figuratively speaking. I'm sorry to disappoint you, but it was a cookbook about pie tarts. And Wayland, I apologize for leading you astray on the poll by errantly listing People With Dirty Hands as People With Dirty People. Jeepers! The two men that read this blog were waiting for the showdown between those books and are sorely disappointed with the Quotidian Mysteries...

Stay tuned for a report on Bookclub at Clara's. But now you know how to place that Barnes and Noble order!

What Girl Scout cookie are you?

You Are Caramel deLites / Samosas

You are blessed with a brilliant, dynamic mind. It's sometimes hard to figure out what your focus should be. You're the type of person who does almost everything well. You are very competent but also unfocused. You're not an easy person to pin down. You are vibrantly complex. You have many facets to your personality, and they're often in competition with one another.

What Girl Scout Cookie Are You?

Cuppa love

First, to end the suspense, I lived through the dental ordeal! I have a temporary piece of silly putty in my tooth, am taking antibiotics and spent this morning lining up an appointment with an oral surgeon in Billings to remove what's left of this tooth and put in an implant. This is the second round with this molar, and I can't take the stress! So that's the latest on the tooth. The dentist was the same one my mother-in-law was talking about, but he was very kind and I think I can go back for a cleaning. With valium. (I'm NOT kidding about the valium...he prescribed it right away. This is so embarrassing.)





Now, to the really good stuff. CUPS met on Wednesday, in the Presbyterian Church basement because Mr. Miller was at death's door with the flu and we didn't really think he wanted a wake of women talking about seeds, Texas and the subtle nuances of Ghana vs. Venezualan chocolate. (The Ghana chocolate is far superior, by the way...)

Anne transported her teacup collection and real live Italian tea pot, AND about 12 different kinds of tea. It was a pretty serious tea party. She had Danish tea cookies, crackers, Laughing Cow cheese and I made the trailer court specialty of dill pickles wrapped in cream cheese and ham slices. (Someone has to keep it real. Real redneck, that is.)

My Aunt Bert and cousin Marina, from Texas, joined us. Honorary CUPS...or travel MUGS, really! It was really cozy, gathered around the 1940's chrome table, eating, laughing, kissing Gwennie, reading Aunt Bert's tea leaves. We talked about our Fontologist friend, while sampling the chocolate she'd sent, and about college days and how Aunt Bert and Uncle Bobby met, and how Robert and Marina met...good stuff!

Some very important determinations were made at this meeting.

1. Anne is interesting, Mary is weird, Traci is practical beige. This is not a news flash, but it's now an established fact.
2. Tea tastes better from fancy shmancy cups. And if it's loose leaf, it's superlative.
3. Redneck appetizers work for all occasions. Even morning tea with the relatives.
4. Texas needs CUPS. Marina is going to work on starting a group there.
5. We need bigger hair.
6. As soon as the kids can make their own PBJ's, a Montana CUPS contingency is headed to Texas as travel MUGS on a diplomatic mission.
7. Red Raider's fans outnumbered Longhorns fans at this meeting 3:1. Guns up!

I think that about covers it. I was trying to download the photos from this meeting, but my camera battery died, so this pathetic little image is all I've got! More in a photo-mentary tomorrow.

Thank you, thank you for your prayers. I am ashamed to be that big a baby, but I'm thrilled that I have such good friends who care and prayer, so to speak. Tonight is bookclub. I still don't know what we're reading, because the poll was tied. I'll announce it, then post for you. Can you STAND the suspense? I'll bet you walk around all day, chewing your nails, wondering if the Farmer's Wife will live through her dental exam and what she will choose for the bookclub selection and how CUPS went. And if you do, I'm proud to be your friend, because our lives have about the same amount of interesting incidents...

Teef

Okay, true confession #263: I'm terrified of dentists.

And not just a little nervous. Not sort of apprehensive. I want to be under complete and total sedation before getting an x-ray, and don't discuss the details with me, just fix it before I come to.

My cousin Robert, who is here from Texas as I type, is a dentist...true story. I try not to hold it against him, but we don't talk about humorous stories from the office, if you know what I mean. Sorta like being related to a mortician, in my book. Someone has to do it, I just don't want to know about it.






And a couple of days ago, a temporary filling fell out of one of my molars. First, I was in denial. Then I had a cold drink and acknowledged the truth of the matter! Keep in mind the "temporary" filling had been put in when I was pregnant with Angus...2 1/2 years ago. Pretty good for temporary, huh? I wish I had been able to baby it along until he graduated from high school, but I got careless and ate some Grapenuts. Drats!

So I called a dentist this morning, after taking 3 Exedrine Migraines (not in denial anymore...) and they said I should be there by 1:30 p.m. for an x-ray. That's NOT enough time to work through all my issues! But I thought, "I'm a big girl. I can do this. I'm a grown woman. I can do this. I need a bottle of wine. I can do this." Then I called my mother-in-law to see if she could please watch the kids, (bear in mind this is the woman who went to Mexico to get her teeth done a couple of weeks ago, FOR VACATION) and the conversation went something like this:

• Mary: A filling fell out of one of my teeth and I managed to get an appointment tomorrow afternoon with that new dentist, so would it be possible for you to watch the kids while I do that?
• M.I.L.: I hope it isn't the guy that used to be with M--------. You won't like him, if it is.
• Mary: (Praying frantically, feverishly, fervently...) I think his name is Williams.
• M.I.L.: (Sensitively) Yeah, I think that was the one!
• Mary: (On the verge of swooning) Did you go to him? What was he like? (PLEASE say he was TOO nice....)
• M.I.L.: Yeah, I didn't like him. He was pretty rough and didn't use enough deadening. It hurt.
• Mary: (Head in hands, thinking of the rum in the cupboard, definitely woozy) Maybe that's why I got in so fast. Maybe he can just do something....temporary. Maybe it's not as dire as I think. There's a dentist in Billings that does sedation. Maybe I can be referred there. Maybe I should cancel.
• M.I.L.:(Compassionately) Oh, no. You'll be fine. Just tell him to give you the full deadening. I used to be just like you are, but after sitting hour after hour in the dentist's chair I got over it. I think it's just psychological.

That's about all I remember of the conversation. So I'm writing this post so that 14 followers will know what a chicken I am, and hopefully keep me accountable. I found this little advertisement for cocaine tooth drops, guaranteed to work. A bit drastic, but I can see how one might be tempted.

PRAY FOR ME, please. This is a heartfelt plea. And pray the dentist isn't the same one. And pray that if he IS the same one, that he does really good temporary fillings. With copious deadening. I don't care if I can't feel my face for 3 days. Or that I pass out when he shows me the x-ray and wake up after the root canal....God can do MIRACLES!!!! Hold me tight in your prayers.

The Relatives Came!

My Aunt Bert, cousin Robert and his wife Marina drove to Montana from Midland, TX to spend a week and we are SO excited!!! And baffled. Who in their right mind would come to Montana the first week of March? But we like crazy people...we love crazy people....we are crazy people, so we welcomed them with open arms! That's one thing about Duttons; we hug everyone, so the term "open arms" is very literal.

My sister and her little girls came from Miles City and Karen's daughter Cari came from Billings and we drove from Cohagen for the day. What a great time! We loaded up 4 cars and went to Sand Springs to church, (doubled the attendance) and then came back to Dad's for homemade pizza.

Robert and Marina graciously played with the kids...coloring, trucks, tutus, Incredibles movie....and when we left, Maggie was bawling in her carseat. I asked her what was the matter and she said, "I'm going to miss my friends!" I asked her if she meant her cousins, thinking Kamryn and Livvie Ann, but she sobbed, "No, my BIG cousins, Mommy!!" I felt like crying too.

We hope to get to visit again this week, with the BIG cousins and Aunt Bert. We need to give them some more hugging. And maybe some wool sweaters.

Am I too big for one of these?

Tutus! Frothy pink tutus! Aunt Bert made the little girls tutus and we all fell in love with them. Do you think 37 is too old to wear a tutu? (Besides, it's just really fun to say that word!)

Sunday Morning

Here are some pitures from our morning.

Angus taking a break from playing Thomas to watch a little "Uncle Fungus" (Ice Age). He calls it Fungus, because there's a scene in the movie where Sid the Sloth wakes up and the whole family is gone, including Uncle Fungus. The kids LOVE that name, Uncle Fungus, and the movie soon started going by the same title.

Maggie and baby Vesters the cat...she snatched Vesters up right away this morning and they have been sequestered in her room all morning. I went in to see if everyone (Vesters) was okay, and found Maggie playing with her animals and castle, and Vesters in the only safe place in the room. They seemed to be getting along fine, so I left them to their world.

Confessions...

I have a favorite book, from when I was a little girl. Perhaps some of you recognize Miss Suzy. She's a little brown squirrel who lives in a teeny tiny house in the top of a tall oak tree. She's the epitomy of cozy and content! She cleans her little corner of the world, and bakes while singing this little ditty: "Oh I love to cook, I love to bake; I think I'll make an acorn cake..." And Maggie and I sing that once in a while, when we are making cookies.

This winter, I've been working hard to cultivate that sort of contentedness with my life. And for the most part I've acheived it. BUT (Isn't there always a but?), I have a really hard time being content with my kitchen! I love to cook! I love to bake! My kitchen doesn't really support all that love. It REALLY doesn't support all that love when I invite others over.

Yesterday, I went to a party at Traci's and came home coveting a bigger kitchen. Don't you hate that? Just when you get all lined out, spiritually and mentally, the devil comes poking around and stirs up junk. I thought maybe I'd feel better if I showed you a picture of my "someday" kitchen. It's not a dream kitchen, by any means, because I really don't want the house that would support a dream kitchen. This is a "wow-maybe-that-would-be-attainable" kitchen!

I'm going to go swab my "this-is-for-right-now-and-perfectly-adequate" kitchen and perhaps bake a little cake for my Texas sweeties, now. Oh, and if you ever get your hands on a Miss Suzy book, by Miriam Young, grab it quick! You'll love it, I promise.

Penny

I was frantically cleaning out my closet this morning, trying to find some sheets for the camper that seem to have disappeared in the Bermuda Triangle of my house, AND purging my closet of second-hand clothes to recycle through St. Vincent De Paul. (That's not a trendy boutique, despite it's French sounding name...it's the second hand store in Miles City. I buy most of my clothes there. The rest of my wardrobe comes from Karen's Closet, a very exclusive place in Billings. So exclusive, in fact, that only her daughters and I get the castoffs. The price is right, and Karen has impeccable taste. )

Anyway, I came across a white cotton sleeveless blouse that I've had for 12 years, if I've had it a day, and laughed out loud. "I have to tell them the story of Penny!", I thought to myself, while I continued to dig and fold and sort. (Yes, I have THAT type of closet...) I went on with my day, and took 4 bags of recycle-able clothes to Miles City and traded them for 1 bag of new-to-me clothes and 1 bag of books.

So here's the story. My friend Ty Yost once dated a very nice girl from Colorado named Penny, who also had impeccable taste in clothes. (Come to think of it, most of his girlfriends did!) I met her once, I believe, the first summer I lived with Yosts. Anyway, she had used this white shirt for a rag, and Karen Yost found it, unbelieving that she truly meant to treat it in this manner. Penny said that yes, it was old and she didn't want it any more. Karen, recognizing quality, quietly washed it up and put it in her own closet. After a couple of years of wear, she passed it on to me in a bag of hand-me-downs, and laughingly told me the story.

I loved the shirt! It's tailored, with subtle insets of stitching around the edges of the hems, and looks great with jeans, skirts, shorts, suits, capris...the perfect sleeveless linen-look cotton blouse without all the care of linen. I've worn it to family photo shoots, weddings, picnics, you name it. And somewhere along the line, I started calling it Penny. Penny and I are starting to look a little alike, sadly. Sort of dingy, a little worn around the edges. And when someone compliments me on my blouse, I say, "Oh, this old rag...?" and chuckle to myself at the truth of the matter.

Penny made the cut, once again, but I know it's not going to be too much longer she stays in my closet. I think I'm going to have to start wearing her when I garden or gather cows. I don't think I will ever be able to send her back to the rag bag, though. We have too much history, together. I have no idea what ever happened to the girl, Penny, but I think of her every time I wear the shirt and shake my head at her choice of rags. And I bless Karen for rescuing one of the nicest blouses I've had the pleasure of wearing.

Seedy

Okay, I have several weaknesses. Books are like kryptonite. Coffee, will bring me to my knees. (Or up off them!) And seeds and plants enslave me.
















Here's the short list for what I'm ordering from Cook's, Johnny's, Renee's and Scheeper's:

• Lemon cucumbers
• Forellenschuss lettuce (It's named after trout...how can I resist that?)
• Borettana Cippolini onion
• Milano Black zucchini
• Petit Poi Precoville peas (alliteration at it's best)
• Purple podded pole beans (a close second)
• Pinapple tomatillo
• Pistou basil
• Rapunzel (for Maggie)
• Kale (also for HRH)
• Kaleidoscope carrots (purple, red and yellow carrots)
• Blue and Yellow Duo peas
• Carillon beets
• Lemon balm
• Rouge d'Etamps pumpkins
• Charantais melon
• Borage
• Caribe cilantro
• Dukat dill
• Mignonette
• Starburst Aura Sunflower
• Snackers Delight tomato plants (an extravagant experiment)
• Cinnamon and lemondrop basil
• Stock
• Kiss-Me-Over-The-Garden-Gate
• Status
• Ammi
• Golden Sunshine Bean (pole)
• Scheeper's Baby Leaf Salad mixture
• Lolla rossa lettuce
• Parisienne Cornichon de Bourbonne cucumbers

I'm not ordering them ALL for just me...some go to Traci, some go to Anne, some go to those who email me frantically with seed exchanges, some are for Maggie because she wants to plant her own salad.

AND, (for those who know my personality you'd better sit down) I have a planting diagram. And a garden journal. Those are some serious boundaries for someone who plants zucchini under the rose bush. We'll see. I'll place the seed order today, when the kids nap. If you have any requests or ideas, post quickly or email me! (And yes, many of these are French varieties....I can't pass up a Charantais when compared to a Sugar Baby. Wouldn't you rather wander through your garden dropping names like Cornichon de Bourbonne and Cippolini? Especially if you live in a flyspot on the map named Cohagen? I'm the only trailer in this park...)