chickens · Farming · Goats · horror · Humor · Musings · Neighbors

“Dear My Neighbor,…”

(Donald Trump having visitation with one of his offspring)

 

The text didn’t take him long to compose.

“Dear my neighbor JD. Your goat is being on my property again and mutilating our agreement to be keeping the animals separate due to I am very particular about their safety and breeding issues. We must resume serious discussion again at earliest convenience. Sincerely, me.”

Ranjit was sick and tired of his Mexican neighbor’s animals constantly being on his property.

JD on the other hand,  was flabbergasted. He had walked his entire perimeter ten times and saw neither hide nor hair of a clue as to how the large hairy goat, Fabio, got there. Not only was he mutilating the agreement, he was mutilating  Ranjit’s she-goats. Fabio was an impressive specimen: he had a massive brown head with white racing stripes across the eyes and just below his fearsome horns. He was always pawing at the ground, just like in the cartoons and had a particular affinity for butting the poplar tree that had never done anyone any harm, right in the navel.

We call it the navel because it looked like someone planted the tree upside down and when a stiff branch broke off right where a navel would have been, it left a perfect inny. The trunk then splayed shamelessly into two massive branches a foot above the navel, seducing neighborhood kids to climb it, then jump off, and break their necks.

JD is easy-going and is always ready to tell, or make, a great story, complete with theatrics. He has a million animals on his property because he can never say no to anyone that offers him animals they can’t keep. He has thousands of cows, horses,  yakalos, bears, and tigers. And goats. He has tens of thousands of chickens, ducks, turkeys, and mean geese. You must be careful walking around his property, for at any given time, you are liable to step on an egg or four, and there’s no telling if it’s a chicken- or a kimodo dragon-egg. With this uncertainty in mind, you must also be careful when he blesses you with a tray of delicious farm-fresh eggs, stegosaurus-like plates sticking out of some of them.

Neighbor Ranjit, on the other hand, likes things just so. He had 8 Rhode Island White chickens and 4 Toggenburg goats.

“Females only,” he says sticking an authoritative fore-finger in the air and greatly enlarging his already huge East-Indian eyes. “Males are notorious for the filth and mess that is incongruously unacceptable.” He blinked forcefully whereupon his eyes returned to their normal size. My head jerked back an inch at this transition. His raised finger remained at attention much longer than I deemed necessary. He finally lowered his hand, slowly, like a car window being retracted by a power button, his finger still sticking straight up.

I cocked my head, somewhat stupefied, and expected his finger to disappear into the joint like an antenna. His gaze followed mine to the finger, as though wondering why I was staring at it. I looked back at his face, a little abashed.

He HAD 8 Rhode Island Whites. He now has 13. This was no plan of his for that is “amounting to gross negligence,  over-breeding, and utmost irresponse-bility of cross-breeding. There are enough phasianids running around,” he noted passionately, said finger in the air, like a microphone.

See, JD has a hilarious looking orange naked-neck we call Donald Trump.  As he was leaving for work early one morning, he was utterly dismayed – and relieved – to see Trump flying over the fence from Ranjit’s property back to his own. His work crew was already running late for work so JD had to leave immediately but  upon his return,was sure to trim it’s wing feathers to prevent future incidents of flying the coop. He was glad Ranjit hadn’t noticed and promptly forgot the matter until 4 weeks later when he received a text  demanding his “prompt and immediate audience for a matter of urgent attention.”

JD, sure that Ranjit needed a favor, rushed over there ready to lend his neighborly assistance. He was met by a mortifying sight. Ranjit marched up to him at the gate – microphone in position, eyes at full beam, and fuming like a bull. He pointed east beyond the chicken coop, temporarily lacking for words.

“This is vhat I have been talking about!!” he finally spat out, fighting to control his rage.

There, in front of God and everybody, was the cutest clutch of orange baby naked-necks, following proud mama Rhode Island White around and pecking  at the ground. There was no denying who the proud papa was.

That was 4 months ago.

And here he was now, needing to answer the summons that Fabio had been nabbed red-handed “mutilating” the she-goats. His hands were sweating as he headed to Ranjit’s to retrieve Fabio and explain himself. One of his employees, laughing his head off, said, “JD, tell him, “you know those Mexicans, they know how to dig.””

Growing up in the Third World · Musings · Natural Resources · Water

Clear Gold

Water insecurity is 'a drag on the global economy'I felt physically ill and fought to keep my composure.

She went on and on not realizing that, in the torrent of words, she had lost me at, “My favorite is to just stand in the shower for like 30 minutes.” I felt dizzy.

That was A LOT of water.

Funny how that memory replayed in my  mind as I stood in the shower today, ten years later. I grabbed my soap-loaded brush and scrubbed the  wall and floor of the shower. I love the convenience of cleaning while I’m already in there and wet. Secretly, I also justify spending extra time after I’ve done what I went in there to do in the first place, which takes me all of 3 minutes at a languid pace.

As I rinsed the walls off, I thought to myself, “Bet you can’t get anyone that grew up in the third world to just stand in the shower for 30 minutes. At least not guilt-free.”

Interestingly, about 2 hours later I was visiting with my employee Jan and she said, “Did you have water shortages growing up?”

“I sure did. We had to be so mindful of every drop we had and used.” Later I asked her why she had asked me that.

“You are very conscious of water use.”

“The worst,” I quipped, “is when someone is doing a small stack of dishes, water on at full blast, loading the dishwasher one leisurely dish at a time, telling a story, pausing to make gestures, water gushing the whole time.” They think I’m listening but I’m watching clear liquid gold literally and figuratively go down the drain: my pulse is mounting, my heart is racing, my breath is waning, and I  barely gasp, “turn… off… the… water!” before the life trickles out of me.

I understand that it’s hard to relate when you’ve never had just a gallon of water to use as bath water – I understand you can’t even call it a bath at that level! May I invite you to pause and cherish the very lavish convenience of your faucet. Treasure the thought that you have one in several rooms of your house. Gush at the fact that you have one for hot and another for cold water. Your ancestors would have marveled at that! Let out a stream of praise that you that you’ve probably never turned it on and had it sputter and cough and produce nothing.

At any point in time, billions of people are languishing, praying for rain. May gratitude flow from you, in place of complaint, that it rains so hard and so much where you live that you get sick of it!

People around the world walk miles to collect a small jug of putrid water to be used by a whole family for personal and household use. For that reason alone, some can’t go to school and get an education because it takes so much time to fetch water. Water-borne diseases from unsanitary water causes untold deaths and suffering. Would you consider sponsoring an organization or cause that supports clean water access?

Chug that with your food for thought…

Water/key image used from https://phys.org/news/2015-04-insecurity-global-economy.html

Health · High Cholesterol · Musings · Pre-diabetes · Wake-up Call

A Kick in the Teeth

It has been reported that Walt Disney once said, “It may not feel like it at the time but a kick in the teeth might be the best thing that happens to you.”

Really, Walt? A dirty, well-aimed booted foot to the dentition?

“Ouch,” is what I say, spitting out a handful of teeth and gravel. “Brutal,” and “uncalled for,” also come to mind. Well, last week I got just that – in the form of medical lab results!

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Like a drug addict, I have mastered many whys and wherefores to justify moderately sloppy lifestyle habits: “I’m quite active,” (people in my life call me a hummingbird and say I should sit a minute.) “I’m of slight build,”  “I eat way better than most people,” “I cook from scratch,” and up till a few years ago, “I have excellent genetics.”

The sloppy habits were aided and abetted by a rabid love of cooking – especially carbohydrates. I adore them. Each one is AMAZING. And so beautiful. And gratifying. And coffee with creamer is of the gods. I know my relationship with sugar is not a good one. It’s like the bad boyfriend my friend keeps going back to. “Do not be misled: bad company corrupts good morals,” the good book warns in 1 Cor 15:33. I need to seriously limit our interactions. I need to unfriend it. Unfortunately bad company tends to be fun, but as my new favorite bumper sticker says, the trouble with trouble is it starts off as fun!

What about drinking water? One should drink 1/2 – 1 oz. of water for each pound of body weight, so my body weight divided by a million times some crazy number… Surely a max of 16 oz. a day should do me. When I was pregnant, my midwife, Dr. Brenda would shake her head in dismay and say, “You need to drink more water to sustain this pregnancy.”

“It makes me nauseous,” I explained.

“I don’t know how you don’t just pee a little puff or pellet of pee-powder…”

Powder-Puff-Prego proved her wrong and got away with it, again!

Till last week.

Today a 1 liter pitcher of water sits on my counter and I aim to drink 2 of those a day, so help me God. If I ‘must’ have my carbs then I’ll return half or two thirds of it. I have revisited my list of good cholesterol (HDL) foods to increase and bad cholesterol (LDL) to decrease.  I’m educating my boys even more on all this. I’ve downloaded a fitness app and I aim to make it beg me to stop!!

I bare my soul and my medical records here for all to see. AARP reports that the average 45 year old American takes at least 4 prescriptions. I’m 45 years old and I aim to take zero till I have to take an aspirin at 90. That won’t happen if things  in my life continue as they are. That’s at least 4 sets of side-effects to deal with. 4 sets of expenses. 4 sets of food/drug interactions. 4 sets of medical visits and tests. 4 sets of headaches. Fortunately for me, I ducked in time and didn’t receive the full force of the kick – this time. I wish you the same, at worst.

https://assets.aarp.org/rgcenter/health/rx_midlife_plus.pdf