We flip for....

....pancakes!!!

And we really flip for pancakes at supper-time. Last night, the Cohagen school kids and their families put on a pancake supper at the community hall and we were enthusiastic participants!

If you Google Earth "Cohagen", you'll notice right away that there are only about 8 buildings; one is the school, one is the post office and one is the community hall/gym.  The community hall is used for plays, funerals, the occasional wedding, church on Sundays, bridal and baby showers, voting, P.E, usta-be-studs-basketball games, poker night, Bible studies, carnivals, Easter brunch, and pancake suppers, among other things.  The whole community (36 people and their kids/grandparents/out of town guests) fit there for a good time. There's a little tiny kitchen, two cold little bathrooms, stage, retractable basketball hoops and about 300 folding metal chairs that are older than my dad, I think, and slide under the stage on wheeled carts.  It's a great place and we're so grateful to have it.

The pancake supper was held in the community hall and there was careful planning and implementation, because two electric griddles and a coffee pot will overload the electrical circuits and blow breakers. It's a delicate operation that requires pre-cooking of bacon and alternating skillets with coffee pots.  The older school kids and teacher had tables set up, decorated with Mexican looking tissue paper flowers and white paper tablecovers handprinted in primary colors.  Very festive!

Each family brought a gift basket for a community drawing-giveaway.  Our community supports the school in so many ways, both with their taxes and involvement, and we wanted to show appreciation in some small way.  The gift baskets were hidden under boxes and numbered, and at odd intervals the kids drew names and numbers; the name drawn got the box with that number.  It was fun, and someone (I'm not naming names here) put an old toilet bowl in one of the boxes for a prize.  The kids were so delighted with it! Especially since their computer aide won that prize.

Here's the menu: (you know it's all about food...)

Scrambled eggs

Bacon

Beef sausage

Pancakes

Beverages...orange juice, apple juice, coffee, milk and water

It wasn't a really big crowd, but it was a fun evening.  People came and ate, then stayed and visited for two hours. The little kids played in the entry, the big kids roamed about refilling coffee and juice, taking pictures for the school paper. The mothers cooked, did dishes, giggled and clucked.  The dads ran kids around, drank coffee and served food. 

Sometimes its hard living far from town, and sometimes it's just a great blessing.  Last night reminded me of how much fun small rural communities are and how much I like this one. 

Bummed...

L to R: Festus, Annie Light, Daisy

Do you remember my bum calves? This picture was taken in July, I think, when the grass was beautiful and green. This is just after they got their bottles...you can see all their tongues sticking out and the milk foam.

Well, this is the rest of the story.  You know that Festus met with a sad end; he was just malformed from the beginning of his life and the summer heat and stress really took it's toll on him. So we had to say goodbye to Festus early.

We weaned Annie and Daisy with the two-year old bunch, the Sevens, and their calves.  It was funny to watch them try to integrate with that herd. They came back several times, for crumbles and Nutra-Lix Plus, and when I talked to them in the pasture, they knew me and came closer.  Daisy was the leader, and sort of the mother figure for Annie. They kept track of each other through everything, and looked for each other when we gathered the bunch. 

Today we sorted the heifer calves for keepers and shippers.  We sort off the obviously runty or large heifers, so we'll have a nice, even bunch; very uniform and all black, no baldies allowed! Vern and I have been going round about whether or not to keep one of my bums. It's going to be a real pain for him, because I have a different brand and we'll have to have a different color tag to track.

It has been several weeks since I saw all the heifer calves, and when I walked through them today, I knew right away that Annie was a shipper. She never did gain the height or muscle she needed, and she had to go. Daisy was tougher, because she didn't stand out as obviously. She fit in the lower end of the average, and all the while we were sorting, I was having an internal dialogue with myself.

 It went something like this:

"Really, she should go. She's just not as big as she should be. But we can't pick her out that easily, so she must not be THAT bad. No, she's a bum, and bums go down the road. But when we were kids, we raised a couple bums and put them back in the herd; they did alright. She's going to have to be fed all year, and she may never breed up. Or she may fill out and breed up very nicely and I'd regret having sold her. She's really a good little calf. She has a lot of heart, and she's smart. But I need to be an adult; Vern told me not to get that attached and I know this. I think she'll make it. Oh, look at her! She's got to go. No, I need to give her a chance...."

In the end, Daisy made the cut. Not because she's a spectacular specimen of a calf or because we see a lot of promise in her, but because Vern has a hard time watching me have a hard time. He said we could always sell her later, if she didn't work out. That was very generous of him because we'll have invested quite a bit of feed in her by then. But for now, the OC herd is still intact...it's miniscule, but intact. 

Annie called and called for Daisy, once they were sorted apart, and that was hard for me to watch. She'll adjust, though, and she's going to the sale barn on Monday. I can't think too much about it; I need to sell her to pay for the food that all of them consumed this spring and summer.

Next spring isn't far off, with new calves and bums, and we'll see how it plays out!

True Confession #269..or something like that

I make really ugly pies.

Some of you can attest to this, from personal experience/trauma.

It's not that I can't make pies; I can. It's just that they look like they've been made by a seeing impaired person with no dexterity. 

My home-ec teacher in high school, Mrs. Bray, rolled her eyes (Yeah, you alumni are grinning...you got the eye roll too, at one time!) and said, "Mary Dutton! You make the ugliest pies I've EVER seen!" That was my Senior year, after she'd seen 4 years of my sorry little attempts at them. And that woman had seen some ugly pies in her day! You know she had...

My mother makes lovely, Betty Crocker picture perfect pies. Her pastry is flaky, rolled out to the perfect thinness and her scalloped edges are a work of art. I used to watch her whip those pies out with no more apparent effort than making, say, pancakes. At branding time, she'd produce at least 3-4 pies and they were so pretty I hated to cut into them.

Pie crusts are the wickedest, most vexing creations in the kitchen! Whoever started the phrase, "easy as pie" had obviously not spent a lot of time making crusts.  I'm assuming that person's job was the filling, because filling is glamorous AND a snap! Crusts can cause the most patient of cooks to wail, gnash teeth and hyperventilate. They have a way of looking stable on the rolling cloth and disintegrating into a mass of 1/2 inch pieces on the way to the pie plate.  You can't re-roll, because whatever adhesive quality was there during the first go-round has absolutely dissipated during the collapse, and you're better off starting with new dough. If you even have the desire to go on, that is...

I've used Pillsbury crusts. I'm not proud of it. But when I need certain qualities, such as uniformity and relative pie-ishness to look at, they work. Here's the thing about Pillsbury piecrusts: just because they are already made for you, doesn't mean you can pull them out of the fridge and slap them into the pan with no preparation! No. If you read the fine print, you'll notice they need time to soften up; precious time that cannot be gained with a microwave. That's also in the fine print, but should be in bold, red print.

Tomorrow is a big pie day in America! In honor of this, I dug around and found the cheater pie crust recipe (relies on chemical process for flakiness...something about the egg and the vinegar together; don't dwell on it. I don't.) and made two pies. One pumpkin and one Georgia peach streusel. They are acceptable, but not photographable.

The GOOD thing is that I ALSO have plenty of heavy whipping cream to turn into real clouds for disguising any and all pie-flaws. If Mrs. Bray were to show up, she'd just be so gosh-darned thrilled I wasn't using Cool Whip that she might not notice the ugly pie underneath....

Happy Thanksgiving, and I hope you have some really pretty pies to work over!

Here's my list

I've been thinking about writing a post about what I'm grateful for, in honor of Thanksgiving and all. But I'm contrary, true to my name; generalities bug the heck out of me.  When I read lists of what people are thankful for, I'm looking for details, you know? Everyone is grateful for family, health, home and coffee. And it's true and sincere! But don't you want a little more specificity? (Which is a hard word to type, by the way...and to say! Go ahead, try it out loud. You spit all over yourself.)

Thus inspired, I give you my specific (but not exhaustive) list of Thanksgiving in no particular order of importance:

1. Running water in my home. (Not the water that is running all over the bathroom floor because my son left the faucet on while brushing his teeth with Irish Spring.) It allows me long showers, clean dishes in minutes, indoor toilets and clothes that aren't laundered in a tub. Glorious luxury!
2. Unlimited books. Think of it: we can go to free lending libraries, bookstores, second-hand stores, on-line stores, garage sales and access more books than our great-grandparents saw in their lifetime. I am afforded the great blessing of more books than I have bookshelves. Riches!
3. Freedom to worship. Honestly, this one gets me all the time...in this country, we get up on Sunday mornings and just take it for granted that we can go to church if we want, or stay home. We can have Bible Studies if we choose. We can have Bibles of 12 different translations laying right out there on the table, in full view of the world.  Our family drives almost 80 miles to go to our church, and sometimes it's only one Sunday a month, depending on roads and chores, and I stand there in worship crying because I'm so glad to be there. There are many places in the world where that cannot happen, or there's penalty of death. I can choose! I can worship freely!
4. Cows. You know I like them. Moving on...
5. I absolutely soak up the sound of my childrens' laughter. Is there anything better than a belly-laugh from a preschooler watching Sylvester and Tweety? 
6. I sink into my bed every night and breathe a sigh of complete bliss. I LOVE my bed. When Wayland made me take our wedding money and buy a good mattress, I thought he was the biggest fuddy-duddy in the world. We could've gone to Jackson Hole with that money! Or Bozeman! It turns out, the man was looking forward to when we were older and creakier. He's so smart.
7. Cordless phones. Do you remember watching your mom talk to your aunt on the phone, and that big, long cord wrapped around the house so they could talk and do housework? We could find Mom by following the cord and the empty coffee cups. Now I can take the phone anywhere! But still, the kids find me...
8. Grandma hands. I love to hold grandma hands; they are so soft and kind. Grandmas are a lot younger now than when I was little, so I guess the hands I'm holding are great-grandma hands, but you know what I mean. 
9. I adore hugs from friends who really, truly love me. I gather up all the hugs I can from Bookclub and they fuel me for a good week. Not polite aquaintance hugs, mind you. When I was a kid, my family called them bear hugs. That sort.
10. My husband's crazy inventive spirit. We are the same kind of weird, only he carries it off with a lot more style. He surprises me constantly with his projects and ideas, and I think he underestimates his talent. If only he'd let me market for him....

Eastern Montana Commute

I went to Lewistown, again, yesterday for another Quickbooks workshop with Waterman. He's the closest thing I have to a co-worker, only HIS office is 150 miles from mine. Tricky.

I took off from home about 6 a.m., in the dark. Driving in Eastern Montana that early in the morning is quite peaceful; the only outfits on the road are the occasional semi-truck or pickup and horsetrailer, headed to the neighbors.  To give you an idea of the traffic, between my house and Grass Range, approximately 120 miles, I met 12 outfits and passed one slow moving car.  The driver of the car looked to be a grandma headed to Billings for a doctor's appointment. I think she left Jordan closer to 5:30 and probably stopped in Winnett for breakfast. Toast, egg-over-easy and coffee. (I have no idea, really, but that's probably pretty close! Toast, eggs and coffee are very economical...)

Driving through the Breaks, near Mosby, the sun had just come up and the country had that soft, sleepy morning look. The shadows were blue and the hills were gold and pink; I love that time. Anyway, just ahead of me on the road, I saw some prairie going across the highway. It looked like prairie grass, all tan-gold and brown. Only prairie grass doesn't have antlers.

Three bull elk were loping across the highway, on their way to the cedars to sleep the day away.  Elk have a peculiar way of moving; they look like they are gliding, a little, and it looks like slow motion, but they can cover a lot of country very quickly. These three crossed the highway that way, and started up the hill on the other side. I pulled the car to a stop and amazingly, they pulled up and stopped too, broadside to the car. We looked at each other for a couple minutes, then the lead bull breathed out a frosty breath and turned, and they glided into the trees.

I'm glad I didn't have my camera, because I would've been trying to get the shot and missed the whole thing. But I'll have that picture in my head forever.

The rest of the day was spent in front of a computer screen, in a square office, crunching numbers incorrectly. (This accounting business would be much easier if I actually had a head for numbers...) Lisa Waterman, Mike and I had lunch at the Bon-Ton and I can report that they have excellent hamburgers and the small ice cream cones are pretty much a meal in themselves. Highly recommend it for a complete soda shop experience in Central Montana!

I didn't hit any deer, on the way home, but there's an owl flapping around near the Brown ranch with fewer tail feathers and a belly-ache.

Stream of thoughts...

I've been walking around with inconsequential thoughts in my head, looking for the cordless phone to call Traci or Beth; they are usually sitting on a mountain of their own inconsequential thoughts that they, too want to share. The phone is, of course, lost, and I'm not going to shackle myself to the wall with the corded one! So you all have the pleasure (or agony) of sharing a day's worth of inconsequential thoughts. Feel free to add any you've been sitting on...

I bought an issue of the magazine Cowboys and Indians this month because George Strait was on the cover. They could put George Strait on a case of motor oil and I'd buy it; I wouldn't even look at the weight or viscosity, either. (My husband just fell over in a dead faint, that I would know that even mattered in motor oil...)  It happened to be the NFR edition, where they are promoting Las Vegas and the Finals and Cowboy Christmas and all that jazz, and I thought it would be fun to catch up on the latest western trends.

All I can say about the latest "western" trend is that:
1. If there's a surface that can be seen, it's covered in turquiose, silver or fringe. And not tastefully covered, either.
 AND
2. I don't know how those poor little emaciated cowgirl models are able to pack all that bling around. They'd better get some workman's comp after the photo shoot and buy a hamburger. It's disgraceful.
(The article on George Strait, by the way, was well done and a bonus was that, buried under all those turquoise encrusted longhorn skulls (yes!) there was also an article about Ian Tyson. Neither Ian or George had turquoise on, bless their hearts!)

Next thought...
I urge everyone reading this blog to go buy a pint of heavy whipping cream and a bag of espresso beans, and create what I assume will be the drink offered in Heaven.  I make french press coffee, but whatever style you use, brew up something strong with the espresso beans. While that's going on, pour the WHOLE PINT of cream into a bowl, add *some* powdered sugar and a splash of real vanilla, and whip it up into soft peaks. Get the biggest mug you have, fill it half-way up with the whipping cream and top that with the coffee. I realize this is rather unorthodox, but you all need to learn to think outside the box. (You should have quite a lot of whipped cream left over, unless you just put it in the carafe and called it good.) Never mind that. Take yourself to a soft chair and drink the whole mug. (The reason you sit in the soft chair is so that when you swoon with joy, you don't fall down and needlessly splash coffee everywhere.)

Moving on...
(If you can)
I wanted to make a tutu for Miss Allie Glasscock last week, and being too lazy and/or too pressed for time to hand sew the elastic, I got out my sewing machine, Bernie. I had forgotten how sweetly she stitched and that wonderful comforting hum she made as she joined the fabric together! Bernie and I have been friends for 20 years. We've sewn together through bargain cotton, velveteen, polar fleece and satin. (Not in the same project...) Truth be told, she's holding up better than I am. I don't remember the needle having that fine an eye last time we sewed...  I put her back in the case, because I don't have room to leave her out, but the case is sitting here in the livingroom and I'm pretty sure I hear her calling me.  Perhaps we'll make some things for Christmas...

Lastly...
(I just have to tell this to you. Traci's heard it, but it still makes me smile.)
The day we shipped the steer calves, the guys and I did all sorts of sorting, shifting of cows, moving of panels and so forth. We were all pretty weary; even the cows.  The last bunch of cows we turned into the lower lot ambled through the gate and then stopped, staring transfixed, at me.  At least they were staring at what they could see of me.  I was behind a corrugated fence, so all they saw was my head moving.  Their ears were forward, their heads were up and you could just HEAR them thinking, "How'd she DO that?" 
Cows are so cool.

Underground Bookclub

The Underground Bookclub gathered, under the cover of darkness, at the Hilltop Cafe in Jordan last night. The time and location has been kept quiet, because it was feared that the place would be mobbed with wanna-be members. (Really, it was because we couldn't figure out a date that worked for everyone...but we like to give the impression that everyone wants to join our group.)

8 of the 10 members made it; Beth went to Billings, supposedly, and Karen G. was catching up after her whirlwind Disney tour. BUT the exciting new addition to the group, Miss Arianna, only 6 days old, made her first Bookclub meeting!! We were THRILLED (and a little surprised) Anne came with the pixie child. Truly, Ari looked like a tiny fairy baby! And she slept the whole time.  Baby Everett was there, too...7 weeks old...and he's a snuggler, to the great delight of all the clubbers.

On Tuesday evenings, at the Hilltop, you can order ANYTHING off the menu, even breakfast! I think most everyone ordered omelets, with the exception of Clara.  She ordered a pancake with sides. That pancake was the most amazing thing. It was the size of a Toyota hood. On a plate.  I've never seen such a magnificent speciman of a hotcake! Do you remember the movie "Great Outdoors" where John Candy eats the Old 89'r, a gigantic steak, so all the meals would be paid for? We tried to get our waitress to go for that deal, but she wouldn't. Drats.

Oh! And we DID discuss the book. "A Town Like Alice" was thumbs up all around. Anne hadn't had a chance to read the book, but we covered all the high points and not in the correct order, either.  She's very confused, now, but intrigued. The book brought up some interesting points about lifestyle and Australia. I can't reveal any more.

Thelma brought pavlova for dessert! It's basically a big old meringue nest topped with real whipped cream and fruit. I had dreams about it, last night. If you ever have the opportunity to eat pavlova, don't pass it up. Even if you're trying to lose the last 15 pounds of baby weight.

The book for November is by Jan Karon and I believe the title is "Beyond Holly Hill"  or something like that. I'll have to look it up, because I was laughing a lot when the paper came by with the title and I missed the exact title; Clara is our host next month and there was talk of singing carols. THAT ought to make for an interesting meeting!

Before...

So I started a new campaign to lose the last 15 pounds from the last baby who is now three years old and potty trained. About time, I would say...
And just so you know, it's no longer called "dieting". That's not PC. You can refer to it as "life change", "goals and attitude adjustment resulting in reduction of clothing size" or other things like that, but it's no longer en vogue to say you are on a diet to lose *gasp* weight.

This is probably the 34th campaign, so don't get all excited or impressed. And lock up your cheesecake.

I thought I would take a "Before" picture, because so many articles and books have those, and it is recommended so one can keep focused on the goal.  It was a big thing.  I took a shower, did my hair, put on makeup and spent about 15 minutes trying to figure out if I wanted to wear something baggy, so the change would be stunning, or tight, so the change would be stunning.

I asked my husband to take the picture. Big mistake. (For all of you contemplating this, have your kid or a trusted friend do the job.) He said, "Aren't you supposed to be wearing a swim suit?"
Apparently, I'm not the only one reading Shape magazine.

"NO! Just take the picture!"

"Does ALL of you have to fit in the picture?"

"TAKE THE PICTURE."

"Alright, alright....hold your horses..."

After he left for work, I grabbed the camera and downloaded the pictures.
Then I deleted them off the camera and contemplated erasing the memory card.
I took a deep breath and prepared to crop the photos to eliminate the background.
Let's just say I cropped deep.

Wouldn't you say a "Before" picture that showed fairly chubby facial features is good enough?
And NO! you aren't getting to see it, Mike...both of you. Not until I have an "After" in which the facial features have been dramatically reduced in size....

Puzzled...

My little family LOVES puzzles. The jigsaw variety, because only two of the four members can read right now. My Mom likes puzzles, my mother-in-law likes puzzles, about 4 out 5 people polled (informally) like puzzles.

I do not like puzzles.

I'm trying to learn to tolerate them, because they are QUIET entertainment. It's nearly impossible to put together a jigsaw puzzle and bounce like Tigger at the same time. We know this, because Angus has tried.

I really don't see the point in spending hours putting little randomly shaped pieces of cardboard together to form a picture that I already know from looking at the box. AND THEN (this really gets me) after a couple moments of contemplation, satisfaction from a job completed, IT IS TORN UP AGAIN AND RETURNED TO THE BOX WITH IT'S PICTURE ON THE FRONT!!! Couldn't we just sit and look at the box, instead? I think the reason this bothers me so much is that it's like getting all the laundry done...for about 10 minutes. That's not fun. Do you think that's fun?

Both my children clap with glee at the sight of a new puzzle. My son makes his little feet go 80 mph in one place, he's so excited.  And their system of doing a puzzle is funny to watch. First, find an eyeball. (There are always eyeballs in kid's puzzles. Trust me on this one. If you don't believe me, next time you're in Target, take a look.) After locating the eyeball, they go for other recognizable body parts until they've put together a whole character. They do the puzzle from the inside out. And Angus doesn't finesse puzzles; if he's pretty confident a piece belongs in a spot, he's not above pounding it in until it consents to being joined with the other piece. This upsets his sister, who deplores violence toward puzzles but has no qualms about pounding her brother until he consents to go where she wants him to....

My husband isn't nearly as excited as the kids, but once into a puzzle, he can't be torn from it. The house could be burning around him, the bathtub overflowing, his wife in a seizure and nothing will distract him from finishing the entire Lightening McQueen scene. He's focused. He's serious about jigsaw puzzles. He uses the box extensively, holding a piece up to examine the tones of red and the lines. The man will even do a Disney Princess puzzle as seriously as the pirate panorama. 100's of little pink puzzle pieces. I get woozy even thinking about it.

Maggie asked me, the other day, why we clap and cheer when a puzzle is finished. I told her it was because everyone was excited to see what they'd done, all complete. She looked sort of bemused, as though she liked finishing a puzzle but didn't think it warranted quite that much fanfare. But clapping and cheering is fun, and she'll go along with it, if it makes everyone else happy.

I'm just happy if all the little pieces make it back to the box. HOORAY!!!

Crazy Mary's Q & A

Crazy Mary has had novocaine of the brain, lately....could you tell? Did you all see the movie, "Joe vs The Volcano"? Tom Hanks is diagnosed with a condition called brain fog and it's deemed terminal. I've had a bad case of brain fog this week.

Here's the question of the week:

Here is my question for your colomn...how did you and Wayland meet? J--- asked me that because he joked that thee was no one around, how far did you have to go to find eachother, like, did you just marry becaue there was no one else?????

Very funny question! And it has a funny answer, so brace yourself...

Here in the sticks, in Eastern Montana, you can't really answer that question with a good story, because for the most part everyone in Garfield and the surrounding counties know each other from childhood.  It's more a question of "When did you notice each other?"

We went to high school together, for one year, and both stayed in the high school dorm, but I honestly don't remember him that well, if at all. I was a Senior and busy with after school activities and a job, and a boyfriend; he was a Freshman and ran with another crowd...the underclassmen. His sister Pam and I did a few things together, like Office Education Association and one housecleaning stint, but I didn't really know him. 

Life happened and about 10 years later, I was teaching in a country school across the county, with his mom's best friend (didn't know that detail at the time) and decided to try out for the Cohagen Community Play, the annual melodrama/fundraiser. (Tryouts consist of showing up and reading a part, ANY part!) Wayland showed up, too, and we were cast opposite each other as hero and heroine. The CCC (Cohagen Community Club) takes great delight in saying they were the catalyst in our romance and marriage.

Wayland led me to believe he was a rich rancher, and I fell for it.  We had such elegant dates as, moving cows on 4-wheelers, where all the Pluhars laughed at me because I got the machine in the corner and couldn't get it out. With horses, you pull back the reins and turn them the direction you want the horse to go...voila! you're out of the corner! With a 4-wheeler, you have to get the blamed thing all the way back to neutral, push down a red "R" button while holding the hand brake, push the foot gearshift down and THEN manuver the wheeler around. Slightly more complicated. The men laughed, the cow laughed, I was bewildered...  I was also taken on a fence-building date, with all the guys. I had a little more of a clue, there.

And there you go, the story of how we noticed each other!

Monday Sundries...

Readers of the Jordan Tribune follow the riveting weekly reports of each community and their goings-on. There are such items of interest as, "Joe and Bev were weekend callers of Bill and Phyllis. After a sumptuous meal, complete with Phyllis' famous pound cake, Grandma Jean Smith entertained the couples with stories of her days in the Army during World War II."  I'm not making fun of this, because I think it's charming and funny, and when I get ahold of a Jordan paper, I always look to see what the Brusett Home Demonstration Club has been up to, and who recently made a trip to Miles City.  When I was a kid, I remember reading about the Sand Springs community (of which our family was a part) and being just fascinated with seeing my neighbors' names in print. Clarence and Stella Rogge, it seemed to me, were infinitely more interesting in print than they were at church or the post office.

The Cohagen Chronicles is proud to bring you the exclusive report on the events of the week, and news-worthy tidbits you'll relish...

Many community members were attendees of the Milam wedding in Miles City on Saturday. Most notably, Karen G. made a surprise appearance after her weeklong sojourn to Disneyland with her daughter Vonnie. We all wish Russ and Susie many happy years of wedded bliss.

Saturday also found the Junior High basketball team in Melstone for a round-robin tournament. Thelma G. reported that all had a good time, although there wasn't a lot of entertainment between games. The Jr. High basketball season is in full swing, and many community families are spending more time in Jordan because of practices. 

Mary, Maggie and Angus Pluhar were seen attending Grace Bible Church this Sunday. Mary confirmed that the Pluhar family had shipped their steer calves on Saturday, with the help of quite a few neighbors. Wayland did not join the family at Sunday worship because he had to haul two loads of old cows to town for the sale this upcoming Tuesday. 

The Underground Bookclub moved their monthly discussion and meal to an as-of-yet undisclosed time and place. Murmurings were heard about scheduling conflicts, but it is the general consesus of this press that they are trying to regain the mystery by which they were founded some 10 years ago. Of course, the time and place may remain a mystery, even to members....perhaps we will catch up to the elusive readers next week.

Word about the Miller family (our dear County Extension Agent and his wife, the infamous Montana Pig Lady) is that they are still awaiting the arrival of their second child. Mrs. Miller's mother is also due to arrive any day now. There is much suspense as to whether the grandmother will arrive before the new Miller makes her appearance.

Birthdays this week: Miss Allison G. turns three years old, on Tuesday. We congratulate the young lady on attaining the most obstinate age of childhood, and best wishes and prayers to her family to endure it.

The weather in Cohagen has been balmy for November; in the mid-50's, no precipitation, and the wind is intermittantly strong and incessant.

That's all the news that is news!

Crazy Mary's Q& A

Here we are again, dear readers.  Last week, I got a question on Sunday, which meant that I had all week to think about it. It was a simple question, but since I had 6 days, I was able to complicate it sufficiently for the column. Here it is:

I have a question for the Crazy Mary column.




If you could create and publish your own monthly magazine, what kinds of subjects would it cover and what would you name it?
 
What an exciting and creative question! You can imagine in the space of a week how many different magazines I created and published. Some were rejected immediately, some were chewed on until I tired of them, some were completely nonsensical and had potential. 
 
First, I had to assume the magazine, being completely imaginary, wouldn't have to turn a profit. That little detail changes everything, because if one is marketing to make money, there has to be a target audience, a list of fancy shmancy advertisers and maximum circulation.  So keep in mind the idea that if I were to be able to do this, I would have to be a gazillionaire and just do this as a diversion.
 
Secondly, I don't like monthly magazines, so mine would come every two months. Monthly magazines can become so...predictable and staid, like an old auntie that shows up every Sunday afternoon for dinner with the same corn and bean casserole in a different dish. She tries to make it look different, but when you lift the lid, there's no doubt it's the same stuff again.
 
I start backwards, in the magazine question. First I name it, then I figure out what's in it.  My first name was "Melange" (my computer doesn't do the fancy French accent mark over the "e"...sorry!) which means something like "a bunch of wonderful, unrelated things thrown together".  It's still my favorite choice, but I did some research and there's already a college magazine by that name. 
 
The second name, and this is probably what we'd end up with, was "Front Porch Society".  I like the inclusive, comfy sound of the name and whoever subscribes can be a member of the Society. Do you like interactive things? I do, and a magazine that I can feel part of is one that I'll continue to buy and read.(Relationship, relationship...)
 
The content is the tricky part.  I've found that I like a magazine that keeps me a little surprised. And I hate to feel like I'm being advertised to, in every article. I like interaction...things that let me write in my magazine. I like projects, even though I don't do them, I feel as though I could. What I'm aiming for is like being on the front porch with my friends, with chocolate cake and lemonade, one thing leading to another in conversation. 
 
I'd like a serial story, that goes from issue to issue...a real nail-biter.  I like vintage graphics...perhaps you've noticed? Some travel, but mostly out of the way places that people didn't realize exsist and that don't have any sort of star rating on their accomodations. Recipes, here and there, that inspire.  Whatcha reading column...not necessarily book reviews, but more along the lines of "What's on your nightstand?".  I love quotes, so those would be scattered liberally.  I'd like to include a cd with each issue that has patterns for the projects, cool fonts, a couple songs, the recipes.  (Mostly because I like saving certain elements of magazines, but I get really tired of the torn out pages in file folders...)
 
My trusted advisors and input would be my bookclub girls, with guests as we find them.  If you show up at our farmhouse cum office with a great idea and culinary bribe, we'll find a place to tuck you in the magazine. Depending on the quality of the culinary bribe...
 
I could go on and on, but that's the general idea.  After spending hours on the wheelers, moving cows this week, the idea got rather out of hand.  I'm guessing if it continued in this fashion that every two months the publication would rival the Sears Christmas Wish Catalog in size, and it would take readers approximately 128 days to plough through the entire thing....
 
That was a fun question! Any ideas on what else should be part of the Front Porch Society? Would you read it? What do you like in a magazine? (And I know already that my husband likes guns...most men do. We can have a couple gun things, once a year.)

Let the games begin...

This morning we will start the Cow-Cow Boogie. (Go down to my playlist and choose the first song, to set the mood) According the information I've been given, it's going to be a full day of easing cows and calves to pastures closer to the house and the corral at the Jacobson place.  Unlike this photo, we'll be on 4-wheelers all day and roaring around checking coullees and hills.  It's supposed to be a glorious day, for November, in Montana! The little weather box says in the mid-60's....not quite swimsuit weather, although Maggie would challenge that idea.

The cinnamon and caramel rolls are baked and tucked in the freezer for tomorrow. (If I didn't freeze them, I'd eat them, little piece by little piece, until nothing would be left but a pile of cinnamon smelling crumbs in the tinfoil.) Maggie wants to come out to the shop, where we serve the coffee and pastries and preside over the party.  This would be her first Bovine Court, and I'm not sure PopPops is ready for that particular occasion.  It's really difficult to bring royalty and all the frou-frou that goes with it, to the common man, but she keeps trying. (Angus is more like me, and will be sampling the wares.)

I'm preparing myself for two days of being wrong.

I stand in the wrong place.  I open the wrong gates. I move the cows wrong.  I ask the wrong questions. I wear the wrong color. I show up at the wrong time, and I leave at the wrong time.

I'm the only XX chromosome combination in the corral, and apparently that Y chromosome helps the men communicate wordlessly. I am at a distinct disadvantage.  Women LIVE on verbal communication! Men are sight people, and there are subtle signals they give one another...apparently by the twitch of one eyebrow hair...that all the other guys understand and act upon.  I totally miss those signals.  Except, of course, the throwing down of the sorting paddle. I get that. It indicates that I'm wrong.

The prayers of this house have been that everyone is safe, the calves weigh more than anticipated, the old corrals hold together, all the crew shows up, the sort is easy, the weather holds and that the heifers we're weaning are placid and healthy.  Quite a lot of things have to mesh to make it a success!

The Chronicles will be publishing Crazy Mary's Q & A tomorrow, but I'm going to try the auto-publish.  It's anyone's guess when it will actually appear on the blog!

Intelligence Test...

I made an appointment with Lilly, my stylist, for a cut and color next week. (Did you know they no longer call themselves "beauticians"? I'm guessing that was a big promise that wasn't always possible to attain, much less keep, and they had to go with "stylist" because no one can argue with that...)

It's beyond time.

I had a blonde highlight-y do for summer, but apparently when Lilly bleached the color from my strands, the process must've sucked some intelligence from my head. (Precious little, my friends. There wasn't a lot to draw from. Remember, I'm well read, not smart.) 

Most of you know that I'm technologically challenged.  I've learned some computer skills and I can run the microwave, but that's about the extent of it.  We have a cell phone that I can turn on (provided I remembered to charge it) and I can take calls and make calls.  One inspired day, I spent two hours entering numbers in the little phonebook/memory feature, but I don't always remember how to access them. 

I can't text.

And I don't want to.

So what possessed me to try, I don't know....this is where the bleached-out intelligence comes in....

On our way back from an ag finance workshop in Billings, I decided it was time I tried this texting thing.  While Wayland was fueling the car, and then getting supper from the QuickStop (big spender), I looked through all the functions until I found the texting set-up.  And wonder of wonders, I managed to type a text! I was so proud!

This is what it said: "Hi traci  i figured out how to do it"

Wayland got in the car just as I was hitting SEND. 
"Whatcha doin?"
"Texting Traci" (rather smugly)
"Wow!" (You've NO idea...)

The phone rings with a different tone. Traci got my text and probably texted back something lame and quick like "LOL" ...

I flip the phone open to look at my text response and this is what it said:
"Hi traci  i figured out how to do it"

That's right.
I sent it to myself.

"What did she say?" (He knew. I KNOW he knew. He just wanted me to crack.)
"Not much..." (Not technically lying, since she didn't say a thing.)

I'm going to tell Lilly to hit me with a good brunette, and hope some intelligence seeps back in...

Casting purls...

Some of my long suffering readers know that last year, I started the World's Ugliest Hat for my son. Now that the weather is starting to get chilly and I have many other things that are more pressing, I feel compelled to pull it out and toil, once again, on this 10-13 year project. 

In rummaging around in my knitting bin for the WUH, I found a book of beginning knitting instruction and decided in a moment of madness that I needed to learn how to purl.(The knitting bin should actually be classified as the "yarn bin", because I've produced very few knit products. And here's a little tip for all the moms out there: kids and husbands don't look in the yarn bin for chocolate. Who would think?)

You've heard the saying, "Knit one, purl two"; that's for ribbing stitch, and it would be extremely handy to know the purl part, because I could then move beyond endless scarves and long-term hats. Not that I've even finished a hat.  And the hat that I'm currently working on may fit Paul Bunyan, so it can double as a sleeping bag when the boy goes to 4-H camp...

Anyway, I thought I'd just sit down and figure this purling business.  The book gave very clear pictures and instructions for the knitting impaired. (One of the side notes said that young children have been knitting in factories for years. Encouraging!)  I grabbed a set of shiny blue needles, a ball of red yarn and cast on about 90 stitches. (This was excessive, I later realized.)

You can see from the illustration I've provided here that purling actually requires about 3 hands. It is like knitting backwards, and there are about 5 different yarn tricks you must do BEFORE YOU EVEN SLIP THE STITCH OFF THE NEEDLE!!! I got the "put your needle through from back to front to make a little x" part, but beyond there, it was ugly.  At one point, I thought I was going to have to use my teeth. AND I was trying to hold the book open with my feet, on the floor, and I'd forgotten to put on my glasses before starting, so I had to bend over to really look at the illustrations! I'll give you a minute to form that mental picture.  It turns out, purling requires about 2 weeks of preparatory yoga.

So there I was, bent over at the waist in my chair, peering at the instructions that a child could learn in 10 minutes, with my little x'ed needles and 89 stitches waiting to spring off into the magic purls.  I could barely breathe. It was about this time that Maggie came wobbling in from her nap, blinked a couple times (I'm sure she thought she was still dreaming.) and asked, "Mommy! What are you DOING?" 

I'm knitting.

I still don't know how to purl. 
I think I pulled a muscle.


Anyone need a scarf?

Crazy Mary's Q & A

And so, the weekly column begins...

Crazy Mary will take random questions throughout the week, via email, and answer them to the best of her ability and humor every Saturday morning.  (We reserve the right to eliminate any questions that aren't appropriate for a family-style blog. We reserve the right to protect the reputation of certain people by using pseudonyms.  Other people, like Mike Green, will just have to live up to the reputation or steal someone else's identity.)

Someone actually took the initiative this week to email Crazy Mary some questions! Here's how it goes:

"I do have a couple of questions for you to address on your blog:"
· Who is your favorite dead rock star?  Tricky question! Particularly since most of the rock stars that are my favorites are still classified as living. So then, to find a dead one, I went to the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame. (If they are listed there, they count, right?)  Elvis is too obvious. I don't know if all the Shirelles are still alive. So I went with Jim Morrison...yes, "Brown Eyed Girl" still rocks today! (Not a particular fan of his lifestyle, but I liked his music...)


· What is the single most important lesson you’ve learned by making a mistake? First of all, A mistake? Just one? Try 297,863,941,000 mistakes to the 5th power.  And that would be a conservative guess.  Ask my family.
So to choose one lesson, from A mistake, was challenging. Here goes...

I learned that just because someone says they love you or that they are your friend, it may not necessarily be true. I guess I tend to be a pretty naive person who believes other people are basically honest, kind and authentic. Everyone makes relationship mistakes, of course, in friendship and romance. I make brilliant, earth-shattering, billboard busting, relationship mistakes. Why mess up half-way?  So now I know that pretty words don't always carry the weight I lend them, and that life just turns out that way. Lesson learned.

· What are your thoughts on predestination? This one is more like a final thesis question for a divinity student to pass the test to be a minister, and I heisitate to answer it here on the blog. 
First, the idea of predestination is a religious one, and is discussed, researched, chewed on and ultimately shrugged over in most churches.  Simply put, it is the question of whether God created us with ends that He planned...some go to heaven, some go to hell, and we are just part of His plan with little or no influence on our ultimate outcome.  The Bible uses the word "predestined" several times in the New Testament, and these verses are the ones that are debated. (I'll list them at the end of the post.)

I want you to know, without any confusion or misunderstanding, that I'm still reading about this, in my Bible and in other sources that are reputable.  I believe that God is omnipresent (always has been, always will be, not bound by time), that He is omniscient (knows all, basically) and that He created us to be in communion with Him by our free choice. I think free will is demonstrated first in the Garden of Eden, where Eve chose to eat the apple.  If we had been created as God's puppets, so to speak, that whole incident never would have happened, and there would have been no sin, no need for Jesus to be sacrificed for our sins, no Satan and no Hell, in my humble opinion. 

So, in the simplest of explanations, my belief is that although God knows what we are going to choose, He allows us that free choice. You know, as a parent, sometimes I know what my kids are going to choose, (broccoli vs. chocolate pudding) but if I granted them the decision, it's up to them to make the right choice. (Oddly enough, Maggie will choose the vegetable everytime. If I didn't know better, I'd think she didn't come from my gene pool...)

Were some people chosen when God was making plans for all eternity, specially, and if so, why were some NOT chosen?  Honestly, no matter how much I study this, it remains a theoretical question to me.  Each train of belief on predestination or not, has Biblical points and good logic to back up those points. Is one right and the other wrong? To me, it's about like trying to decide if Presbyterians or Lutherans are more right. 

I think, truthfully, it's not something most people think about as they go through their walk of faith. It's tough. It's kind of scary. And some of what one will believe will have been influenced by what their parents believed, so a lot of times it's not thrashed out for oneself.  I'm grateful for the question, because it has kicked me into gear about backing up what I believe, and that's going to take time, prayer and study. 

These are just what the question asked...my thoughts on predestination...and are not meant to persuade or influence anyone. The verses I'm working through are: Ephesians 1:4-5,  I Peter 1:2, Acts 13:48, Romans 8:29-30.  In most study Bibles, there are cross references with each verse, thankfully, and I'm digging away at those. 

(I will, of course, be contacting the question-er, to get their thoughts on this, but I won't publish those.)

Whew! That was a gigantic first column and I apologise for the length, but it was interesting to get the questions and I wanted to respond so perhaps Crazy Mary would get other questions for next week. 

Pumpkin Pie Playdough

This is the BEST playdough recipe I've ever encountered, and I've tried many.  I got it when I was teaching preschool in Jordan, and I keep it at the front of my recipe box.  It makes a HUGE batch of playdough that will not dry out. Ever. If you make a batch, you can easily entertain 6-8 kids with nice quantities, or 2 kids with monstrous quantities.  The other thing about this playdough is that it smells divine! I mean it.  You'll want to eat it.

If you have a lot of morals about not handing out candy on Halloween, you can portion this out into sandwich bags instead. (I don't personally know anyone like that, thankfully. I know they exist, but we haven't encountered them here in Cohagen.)  If you're a grandmother, teacher, mother, mother-to-be, auntie, god mother, desperate babysitter, etc., print it out and laminate it.  You'll be glad you did.

In a large, large stew pot, combine:
5 1/2 cups flour
2 cups salt
8 teaspoons cream of tartar
3/4 cup vegetable oil
1 1/2 oz pumpkin pie spice (You know those small plastic containers in the spice aisle? One of those.)
Copious amounts of orange food coloring
4 cups water

On medium heat, stir mixture until it starts to pull away from the sides of your pan and look shiny.  It will go from being a thick, gloppy mess of orange yuck to a smooth, slick looking lump in the middle of the pan. It's hard stirring, but you can't let it burn. 
Once it gets to the smooth, slick stage, put it in a big Ziplock freezer bag, close the top and knead until you know there are no more lumps.  Open the Ziplock and let the playdough cool until the little monsters can handle it safely.  I store mine in either a Rubbermaid container or Ziplock freezer bags.

You can vary the smell and color; I just add whatever color or flavor I want in each batch.  We are at the end of the blue citrus batch, and I'll get back to the pumpkin pie this next batch.

I'm sorry I don't have pictures! I know recipes are more fun with them.  But I wanted to get this out so you could use it if you want, tomorrow. 

Aaaaarrrgh! Halloween school party!

Maggie the Mermaid and Angus/Blackbeard, scourge of the high seas...

On the way from the haunted house, to the games in the gym!

Hobgoblins, on the run....

Playing games; note the chubby little giraffe at the bottom right! Cutest giraffe I've ever had the pleasure to encounter!

Benjamin (I know, I'm sorry he's a Cowboys fan, too.  He's SUCH a nice boy...too bad about the team.) and Maggie.  They decided early last year that they would marry when they grow up, and they're sticking with the plan.  They informed everyone at school about it, this fall.

I can't seem to get them all lined up.  It's like herding chickens.  Aren't they just cute?! The Statue of Liberty was a brilliant costume! Her crown, however, slipped lower and lower on her head as the party went on. At one point, she was peering under it as it sat on her brow...I laughed everytime I looked at her that way!

Fishing pond, where you toss a string over the little wall, a really nifty prize is attached, your line is tugged and there you have it! Maggie was just thrilled with this, and fished about 5 times. 

I should've taken a picture of the community members and the table, groaning with food. (Yes, I believe both the table AND the community members were groaning with food!)  I just had so much fun looking at the kids!  (See the Statue of Liberty? Isn't that just funny?)  

The kids didn't eat but a couple pieces of candy, so they aren't grounchy at all.  Angus' beard didn't wash off so well; it was Crayola marker.  So now, he's Bluebeard.

Let's go for a little drive...

We might see some calves, ready to wean.

We could play in the old loading chute...

...play with Twilla in the grass...

....and eat little bitty crabapples, sweet from the frosty night.

"Please can we play some more?"

I hope Shelly is having fun, exploring Eastern Montana.

Let's go in the old pink house...

and pretend we used to live there, once upon a time.

An old curled up cow tag, hung on a nail by hunters.

Ooooo! Let's look at the old rock building!

All the nails are pulling up from the roof, looking up toward the blue sky like rows of rusty little soldiers.

We wonder how long it took the settler to gather and meticulously set the sandstone in place for this little house....

....and look at the skylights created by time and weather.

Remnants of another life, another family, another ranch.

We drive home, telling Montana stories, with pink cheeks from the wind and sun, grateful for the afternoon of exploration and friendship.