Hair-Brained Scheme No. 487

What yer lookin' at here folks is the contents of a combine's stomach. Yep, combine vomit. Harvested corn that never made it all the way through the cleaning process. Seems combines can get clogged up and farmers have to do the equivalent of sticking their finger down it's throat. This leaves a big ol' pile of combine vomit just laying around. This does not make the farmer happy. If you happen to mention that it would be a shame to leave it there because your sheep could eat it, the farmer will gladly tell you where he thinks you should put it. (To say that my parents are having issues bringing in this year's harvest would be an understatement. Something about it being the worst farming year ever.)

The Golden Girls don't eat a lot of corn, but they do get about a handful every day as a treat. I'm not entirely sure it would be good for them to eat it whole. I don't know if their digestive system can break it down easily or not? And if I could crack it I could feed it to the chickens, too. So hair-brained scheme No. 487 was developed to crack my own corn. It seemed simple enough.

First we needed to finish the job the combine started and figure out a way to separate the corn from the chaff. We've tried everything we can think of including a sieve and even the kitchen colander. There simply is no easy way to do this by hand. It's like that static cling mini packing peanut stuff. It will Not. Go. Away. Our only option left is to wait for a really windy day and hope it floats off in the breeze as we pour it from bucket to bucket.

That didn't stop us though. Nope we forged ahead, searched high and low and finally picked up an old universal grinder for a couple of bucks at a flea market. After sorting some of the corn by hand we cranked up the grinder. It works, but it's turning out to be more of a cracked corn/cornmeal mix.


"Mmm, cornbread!"


No, Dorothy. I'm not baking for you, too. No. I gotta draw the line somewhere. I'm sorry.

Splat!

Willa: "Why ya layin' on the ground, Mum? Huh? Why ya layin' on the ground?"

Me: " Because giant puppies apparently have faulty breaks, Willa."

Worlds Sexiest Chicken Alive 2009

Blackbeard is a shoo-in for Sexiest Chicken Alive in 2009 don't you think?



"I shall pose for you like dis" (said in his best Antonio Banderas accent.)

Little Lost Lamb

"Yes, I know we're the same color but that doesn't mean I'm your Mommy."

Extreme Makeover

There comes a point in every chicks life where she has to reinvent herself. Where she needs to shed her old self and start all over again. It's not a pretty process. Things have to get a lot worse before they'll get better.


But with a little determination and a lot of hard work she may come out in the end even better than before.


I start taking classes in January as a full time college student. What? You thought I was talking about the chicken didn't you? Nope. I was talking about me. My son, the youngest, will graduate in couple of years and I'll need to go out and get a real job again. You know, one that pays actual money instead of eggs. I gave up my career as a telecommunications manager at one of the top three auto makers six years ago. Needless to say, I won't be going back to work there.

I've kept an eye on the job market over the past year or so. I've not spotted a single position that I am qualified for. Not one. And even if I had, I'd rather stick a fork in my eye on a daily basis than go back into telecommunications. (Think about all the joyful experiences you've had with the phone company over the years. Dealing with that was my job every day.)

So it's time for this chick to start reinventing herself. I've signed up for classes at the local community college with option to transfer to Purdue or IU after two years. I'm planning to major in Visual Communications with a concentration in either web design, graphic design or photography. I'll decide that as I go along. It's going to be a long journey, but I have faith that I'll come out better than before in the end.

So, if you were going to reinvent yourself, what would you do? Astronaut? Milk Maid? Hula Dancer?

To Serve and Protect

Hi, my name is Willamina. That means the diligent guardian in German. I'm here to defend all the poor, defenseless sheep. I take my job very seriously. Each morning before the sheep are let out into the pasture I scan it for potential predators and other dangerous objects.

Then, if I spot something, I grab it by the tail and wrestle it like this.

And drag it around like this. Yeah, yeah.

And bite it and wrestle it some more like this.

And, and sometimes I even shake it like this.

And then once I know it's dead I tell the poor, defenseless sheep it's safe to come out.

Dorothy: "Oh yeah right, we're safe now. We won't trip over your chew toy. Puleeease! "

Good Morning, Rose

"Feed me."


It's such a complicated relationship we have.