Category Archives: Mysteries

TIRED

This week’s farm report from XDFBen

Going to work early one morning and there was the football team, under the stadium lights, all in uniform, having practice. Whew, I think early morning practices would be tough. Like getting up to exercise.

We saw a “V” of geese flying over one day. 

Later I listened to about 2 dozen barn swallows gathered on an electric line chittering and chattering and having quite the discussion about when and where to go. Although the ‘where’ is pretty well defined, at least in general. South. Everybody. Just head south. 

Kelly got one of those hotel sales calls that would take us someplace south if we just listened to a sales pitch. We don’t like to make hasty decisions, and I didn’t realize the salesperson was on hold while Kelly and I talked a few times. Then the salesperson’s manager came on and tried to shame Kelly for keeping the person on the phone for so long and not immediately just saying ‘Yes’. Snort. Give her attitude, will you? Click.

We will not be going south.  

I had my first day of class. Forensic Chemistry. It’s a hybrid class, meaning a lot of it is done online, then we meet Wednesdays for lab. My friend Paul is taking a writing class. Here’s our first day of class photo.

I got the front end off the wagon where the wheels went wonky.

It’s not supposed to look like this. I have a nephew, Matt, who is a welder. He’ll be coming to look at it and see if it’s salvageable. A lot of cracks and old welds where the axle attaches to the frame. Old welds must be mine, but I don’t remember fixing this. 

Mid-September there will be another online auction in Plainview. Last week when I dragged all the old machinery out of the trees, I pulled out a pretty nice disc. I had used it for several years until I got something bigger and better. I cleaned the disc up, greased it, and towed it to the auction. 

It is 20’ wide so I took up most of the road and part of the shoulder. I try to take the back roads when I do this sort of thing, but I have to get to the back roads first. Most traffic was pretty respectful. I had the SMV sign on the back, and I bought two magnetic flashing lights, one for the front corner, and one for the back corner. I travelled about 25 MPH. When able, I’d pull over and let traffic pass me. 

Then I got to the road where they were painting new lines on the road. And putting cones down. I knocked over the first two cones before I figured out how far I needed to move over. And I scared a couple garbage cans. But I got it there in one piece. 

The next day I took in a 24’ bale elevator, but that was on a trailer and wasn’t any big deal. 

Several times, Kelly and I would go outside planning to do “this” and we’d go off and do “that” instead. And we’d laugh, “This isn’t what I came out to do…” Yep, but it needed doing anyway. 

I picked an ear of corn.

It’s filled to the tip, which means it had ideal growing conditions. Any stress and the plant aborts the kernels at the top. This one was 40 kernels long, and 16 around. (It’s always an even number around). So 40 x16 = 640 kernels x 30,000 (plants / acre) = 19,200,00 kernels in an acre / 90,000 (kernels in a bushel) = 213 bushel / acre. Never in my life have I had a crop that good. This won’t be either. Factor in the deer, the raccoons, the clay or rocky spots, the trees on the edges… and I might actually make 180 bu / acre. We shall remain cautiously optimistic. 

The soybeans are looking great.

Notice these extra leaves and pods on the top? Again, terrific growing season. The deer just haven’t found this plant yet… that’s what they’re eating off is all the tender bonus growth on the top. 

One evening I burned a brush pile. Later, Kelly and I sat in the gator and enjoyed the fire.

I removed the tires from the rims on the old junk wagons. I watched some YouTube videos how to do this quick and easy. They were using car tires that didn’t have innertubes, and they hadn’t been sitting in the trees for 30 years. But I figured it out. Cut it open with a Sawzall, then use a grinder to cut the bead cable. Removed 16 tires.

One didn’t have a tube! Just about every farm tire has an innertube in it. And most of the tubes had patches on them. It made me smile, and feel a little nostalgic. Dad or I had these tires apart before and patched a hole. If you don’t know, getting a tire off the rim is difficult if you don’t have the fancy tire machines. The bead, that inner ring of the tire, has a steel cable in it, and that’s what holds the tire on the rim. And it seals tight and it’s a pain to get off with hand tools. Dad took off a lot of tires, patched the tube, and put the tire back on. You have to get the bead to seal. I have done a lot of tires, too. But now days, with the tire goop stuff you can just pour inside, I don’t take so many apart; I’m not subjecting the wagons and tires to the wear I did when milking cows and making hay. And, like I mentioned last week, I’ll often just go get a new tire before replacing the tube. Working smarter, not harder. 

Some of the junk was two old flare boxes. Wagons we used for hauling ear corn or oats. I haven’t used them in a lot of years. The floors are rotted out and frames are too small and lightweight to be reused. It’s just scrap. 

WHAT IS THE FURTHEST SOUTH YOU’VE BEEN? 

STORIES ON CHANGING TIRES?

Weed Whacking

Mothers’ warnings and bits of advice run through my head.  I’m assuming (hoping?) I’m not the only one.

Don’t run with scissors.  You sound like a cow chewing her cud (usually with gum).  You two girls quit fighting – you sound like fishwives.  Close the door – were you raised in a barn?  Money doesn’t grow on trees.  If your friends jumped off a bridge, would you?  Your face with freeze that way.  All of these were heard during my childhood.

You’d think that with all these tropes running through my head, that I would be more careful. 

Between YA being out of the country and me having blown my knee out, the grass got out of control.  YA was eager to get to it last Friday and I was happy she wanted to work on it.  Since my knee was tender from going to State Fair the day before, I did the knee-friendly stuff.  Moved the aidirondack chairs and little table, wound up the hose and then the exciting poop patrol.  I headed out in my shorts and zorries.  Easy peasy.

Since it had been so long between mowings, the grass has overgrown the sidewalk so I decided that I would do some trimming.  No knee bending for this.  You’d think that getting an electric edger out of the garage would set off some of my mom’s advice in my head, but…. Nope.  While YA was still mowing, I started on a few edges along the flower gardens.  Almost immediately a piece of cedar mulch whipped up and took a chunk out of my ankle.  I decided to move to the sidewalk at that point.  After I did the sidewalk, I tackled the little patio.  It was then that I twisted a bit and in reacting to the knee objecting to this move, I ran the edger over my toe.  Ouch was an understatement.  Luckily no nearby little children were out in their yards to hear me swearing.  The cut wasn’t deep but was about two inches long, going from the tip of my big toe, diagonally down the length of the whole toe. 

I have two pairs of gardening shoes that live on the back porch.  If a smart person were living at my house, they would have grabbed a pair of those shoes before plugging in the weed whacker.  And if my mother had been around she also would have admonished me to put on a pair of those shoes.  But once again, no Nonny and no smart person either!  I liberally applied antibiotic cream and bandages for the first day or so and both injuries are healing up nicely.  But I feel a little sheepish admitting this. 

Done anything silly/stupid lately that you should have know better about? 

Random Robot?

Imagine my surprise as I was heading out to run some errands and discovered the little robot vacuum at the back porch door.

As I carried it back into the house and hit the “dock” button so it would return home, I felt a little bad.  Was I keeping it from its freedom?  Had it been trying to escape from the onerous duty of trying to keep the fur and dust at bay in our house?  Did it hear the clarion call of others of its kind?  Was it a quashed robot uprising? 

What do you think?  Should I have given it its freedom?

Donut Joy

I had a fun surprise yesterday morning.  As I stood in my kitchen, thinking about breakfast, I got a text from one of my donut haunts, telling me that I had a reward coming – a free donut or a free coffee.  So much more exciting than eggs and toast.  Since I was going out for a couple of errands anyway, I decided to go the donut route for breakfast.

In order access this reward, I had to use my phone but since I didn’t have a younger person with me, I sat in my car until I got onto the right screen, or so I thought.  The young man waiting on me was very patient when holding the phone to the “register” didn’t seem to work.  He said he’s do it the “long way” and put my phone number in.  He then said I had a $5 off, free donut or 5% discount.  Which did I want?  And then he said “or all three?”  You all know what I said.  He started punching in stuff; on my side, the screen was showing 3₵.  I kept waiting for it to get to a higher number and it never did.  When he confirmed the 3₵, I told him I’d have to go to the car to get a quarter since I didn’t have any cash on me.  He smiled and said “let’s take it out of the penny jar” which was on the counter.

So I had my donuts and diet pop for free.  And it was a gorgeous morning to boot.  What could be better?

Any unexpected joys over the weekend?

A Bell Curve

Cantus refers to itself as a low-voice vocal ensemble.  Sounds a little sterile; it is anything but.  They do a wide variety of mostly a cappella offerings: a lot of internation, classical, commissioned pieces.  Yesterday it was an entire program of Frank Sinatra covers – amazing. 

My BFF and I have been attending Cantus concerts for 30 years; we do six to seven concerts a years, depending on the season’s program.   We attended their concerts all over the place – St. Thomas, a church in Excelsior, the McPhail Center, the Ordway.  Yesterdays was at Westminster Presbyterian downtown.  Over the years we’ve been to the Westminster dozens of times; it’s a great space with wonderful acoustics. 

Two thirds of the way through the program, Chris Foss, a bass, stepped up and began a beautifully rendition of I’ll Be Around by Alec Wilder. 

About a minute into his performance, which had a piano accompaniment, the bells of Westminster began to rang.  It was just loud enough that you could certainly here it but not loud enough to completely drown Chris out.  The bells ended very shortly before the song ended.  In all the times I’ve been in Westminster for concerts, this has never happened before.  Not sure why the bells were ringing at noon on a Thursday.  I’m guessing that many performers would have stopped and waited for the bells to stop, but Chris kept his composure and kept going.  He got wild applause after his number; I guess because it was a great song but also as acknowledgement of a rotten situation. 

I didn’t see Chris in the lobby after the show but I hope that anyone speaking to him praised the other song he did during the concert – not just for his calmness during the bells.

Do you live near a church that still rings their bells? Would you have stopped singing?

Bureacracy!

Well, things didn’t out like I expected.  I was completely figuring that today’s post would be a full-on rant about bureaucracy.  Didn’t turn out that way.

I got the dreaded yellow card in the mail about a month ago reminding me that my Class D driver’s license needed to be renewed.  It also went on, at length, about the Real I.D. 

Pretty sure I chronicled the last time I had to renew; it was during Covid and I ended up arriving at the AAA location at 6 a.m. for their 8 a.m. opening since I had waited too late to get a coveted actual appointment (who knew you needed an appointment).  Being one of the first 25 in line meant you could get service that day.  I had heard several stories about the trouble in getting the Real I.D. so I had a file folder, papers, copies of papers.  Turned out to be fine.

That’s why I was a bit surprised to see all the verbiage dedicated to Real I.D.  You’d think in this day and age, it would be easy enough to sort a mailing list by whether or not somebody has already jumped through those hoops. 

Checking on line I found that you can’t to appointments any longer, which seemed weird so I picked up the phone and called.  (Now I do have to say, even if I were ranting, that one of the reasons I like the AAA is because they do answer the phones.)  The gal on the phone confirmed that they don’t do appointment anymore but that weekdays are relatively slow.  She also confirmed that I had to re-present all my Real I.D. paperwork again.  Sigh.

I gathered the same stuff as four years ago and headed out yesterday morning.  I was expecting this process to take at least an hour and I was fully prepared to whine about the insanity of having to basically re-apply for Real I.D. when I was clearly Real already.  Full transparency – I was crabby.

Well, I got there at 9:05.  I was called 5 minutes later.  The little gal behind the counter laughed when I told her that I had been instructed to bring all my Real I.D. stuff; she said “not needed” and didn’t even look at it.  I didn’t have to fill anything out except to sign and date the application that she printed off.  Picture and eye exam was fast although I’m sure in the history of bad DMV photos, I’m now in the top ten.  Final paper and current license snipped and I was out the door at 9:19. 

So what do I complain about now?

A Little Hard to Swallow

In weird news this week, it’s been reported in the South China Morning Post that a 64-year old man has undergone surgery to remove a toothbrush from his stomach.  The kicker is that he swallowed the toothbrush when he was 12.  Apparently he was afraid to tell his parents and figured that it would just dissolve.  Turns out even stomach acid is no match for hard plastic – his stomach started to bother him last year.

It took the surgery team 80 minutes to remove the 7-inch toothbrush – it was stuck in “a crook of the intestine” where it had been living happily for decades.  Yikes.

I’m not sure how you can swallow a toothbrush but as Hamlet said “more things in heaven and earth”.  Maybe he is one of those folks who brushes their tongue with their toothbrush and got a little carried away?  Maybe the dog surprised him in the bathroom while he was brushing?  Maybe he was practicing to become a sword swallower?

What kind of toothbrush do you use?  Toothpaste?  Floss?

Turn the Lights On!

Dreams mean different things to different people.  For me, my dreams (the ones that I remember) tend to be my subconscious sorting through all my conscious flotsam and jetsam.  Over the years I’ve come to recognize that intense dark stuff – television shows, movies, books — can give me some whoopers to sort out.

This week there has been a perfect storm of dark stuff.  I’m reading Emperor of Maladies by Siddhartha Mukherjee.  The author calls it a “biography of cancer”.  It is EXCELLENT, however it is a bit gruesome in places and, of course, not very uplifting.  I’m also watching a series on Netflix named Dark Winds, loosely based (very loosely) on the work of Tony Hillerman. It’s much darker than the Leaphorn/Chee Skinwalkers tv show of twenty years ago.  Yesterday I fast forwarded through a bunch of the third episode because it was giving me the creeps.

As usual (I think I’ve talked about this before), I’ve been careful to only watch a couple of episodes a day and not after 7 p.m.  But the combination of the book, the tv show and my underlying low level of anxiety about our current political hellhole was a doozy.  I don’t even remember my dreams last night but I remember waking up three times pretty tense and anxious. 

Guess I might have to cut back to one Dark Winds episode a day and come up with some kind of soothing ritual before I go to bed. 

Any suggestions?  Thoughts?

Surprise!

Not long after we moved to our current house 37 years ago, Husband and I planted some roses. At that time, hybrid tea roses were advertised as only hardy as far north as Zone 4. We knew we were pushing it a little given how close we were to Zone 3, but we put in about four hybrid tea roses on the south side of the house.

We did all the things that you are supposed to do regarding tea roses, putting cones on them in the fall to protect them from the cold, pruning appropriately, etc. They flourished. One in particular was our favorite, named Taboo.

We loved its intense color. About 20 years ago we even stopped putting cones on in the fall, and yet those roses on the south side of the house returned year after year. Within the last 5 years, though, most of them seemed to age out and die, but Taboo kept going until last summer, when all there were in its spot were dead branches.

Imagine my delight this weekend when I encountered some new rose shoots just a few inches away from the dead Taboo stems while I was weeding the south flowerbed. They look healthy. I hope we can have one last Taboo blossom before we move. Hybrid tea roses are now advertised as only hardy through Zone 5, and I don’t know how we did it, but what a lovely surprise!

Any pleasant surprises for you this last month, gardening or otherwise? What have you succeeded doing even when the odds were againt you?

Too Many Boxes

My guess is that I’m more aware of post offices and postal boxes than the average person.  As you know, cards are my thing and I figure I send out over 400 cards a year: I spend a lot of time stopping by post offices during my regular errands.

About a month ago, I noticed that one of the two postal boxes outside my Nicollet post office was gone.  I didn’t give it much thought.  Then two weeks ago, I swung by the Edina post office.  For years they’ve had a “go around” that had four postal boxes – now there is just one.  I still didn’t think too much about it.  Then as I was going to the drive-through at the Richfield branch last week, there was a massive truck in the parking lot and it looked like one of the six boxes was being hoisted onto the truck by two big burly guys.  Shy isn’t a word that applies to me so I walked over to ask them what they were doing.  They were really nice and told me that they were removing postal boxes as part of the “reduce redundancy” strategy that the USPS is going through.  They said they were taking five of the six boxes; luckily it’s the drive-by box that remains.  Phew!

I couldn’t stop thinking about it though and had to do some math (and a bit of research).  I’m being pretty conservative with these numbers, also rounding down.  31,000 post offices in the U.S.  Wild speculation that the average number of boxes per post office is two.  Then I’m figuring 3 minutes per box to unlock it, get the mail out and re-lock it.  Times 2 boxes per post office, times 4 for how many times a day they clean out the box.  Times 6 days a week brings us to 4,464,000 minutes or 74,400 hours per week, 3,868,800 hours per year. The average postal workers wage is $25,000  which means  we’re talking $96,720,000 to keep these postal boxes cleaned out.  So by removing all the extras, USPS is saving $48,360,000 – $1,560 per box.   Sounds like impressive savings except for one thing.  It was a massive truck taking away the boxes.  And if I had to guess, those two big burley guys make more money than the average postal worker.  I can’t imagine how much money is really being saved in the end, but my guess is that it’s significantly less than $48 million.  I suppose if you add up future years it will eventually be worthwhile.   Here’s the actual math if you want to scrutinize my work:

post offices 31,000
average # of boxes 2
total boxes 62,000
# of minutes per box 3
total minutes 186,000
4 times a day 744,000
6 days a week 4,464,000
hours per week 74,400
hours per year 3,868,800
average wage $                             25.00
total wages 2 boxes $            96,720,000.00
wages for one box $            48,360,000.00
total wages savings $            48,360,000.00
per box savings  $                       1,560.00

Any other “redundancies” you’d like to address?