Day Three

The third day was the charm.  An infinitesimal speck of something in the carburetor was keeping the gas from flowing in the weedeater; once cleaned, the eater chomped up weeds as if it were starving.  I heard it running while I was down in the barn and almost did a jig with a whoop and holler, but refrained in case I'd jinx the whole thing.  Besides, I had my own problem down there.  Just for cheap insurance, I use two buckets for the milk.  Yesterday I'd finished with Cindy and Ruth in the first bucket.  Cleaned the stalls while Esther was having breakfast.  Milked Inga, a heavy contributor, into the second bucket, and was halfway through milking Sheila.  She stamped a hind foot faster than I could react, caught just the lip of the bucket, and a veritable tsunami of milk flooded over the stand.  Sure glad I had that first bucket set aside and safe.

I may have mentioned, probably in connection with poker games, that my Kids are somewhat competitive (yes, that's an understatement).   Larry said he wasn't about to let the machine win.  Larry cut down the chest-high weeds in and around the garden, around the feed barn and the chicken pens, around the oak tree, under the deck, and cut a path to the bird feeder.  That weedeater got a workout like it's never had before.  Weedeating is a one-man job, so I took advantage of the time to catch up on housework.

Undermined by ground squirrels, the feed barn had settled and the double doors no longer closed properly.  Irritated, Larry rebuilt the support structure (I got to hold and hand things) and fixed that situation.  Later, I was doing prep work for dinner and that darned Kid was up on the roof, cleaning the gutters on the front of the house.  There's just no stopping him!  Putting the entree in the oven, I went out to the back yard to help him load the defunct above-ground pool that had been lying in an eyesore pile for years into my pickup.  So big and heavy that it would have taken more than the two of us to lift, he got the Sawzall (man's best friend) and cut it into manageable chunks and we loaded it up.  I can't say what a relief it is to have that out of the yard.  A run to the dump is in our future today.

Meatloaf is comfort food.  I threw in some wasabi mashed potatoes and fresh green beans, and my boy was a happy camper last night.  Heaven knows he earned a Hungry Man dinner.

It was a very good day.