The boys are keeping secrets from us girly-girls.

I had already discovered one of those secrets a few years ago when I realized how much fun POWER TOOLS are. Since then, I have bought more power tools and done WAY more home improvement projects than my husband has. I don't think he's upset about it though, since he has never had a "honey, do" list. To further prove his lack of resistance and actual encouragement of his wife discovering the joy of home improvement, he bought me a pink suede tool belt for Christmas. I already know what I'm getting for my birthday, and I'm thrilled....a cotton candy pink-colored 25-piece tool set.

I have to admit I was pretty impressed with myself for breaking through cultural stereotypes, taking the reigns, and being more self-sufficient by "just doing it myself" instead of nagging and waiting for MY projects to get done. To all women reading this, my message to you is...try it! (AND, if you're a MAN reading this who has never tried it, my message to you is the same.) Between the Internet, Home Improvement store "how-to" workshops, and very helpful people all around you (you just have to ask), be confident in knowing YOU CAN DO IT! There is something really fun with improving the HOME you are making for yourself and/or your family and being able to take a step back and say, "I did that...I DID that!"

Plus, it always makes us laugh when one of Ben's "guy friends" needs to use a tool, and his reply is, "Baby, where's the pipe wrench?"

So, I can now say that I have discovered yet ANOTHER secret the boys are claiming for their own. That secret is....HEAVY CONSTRUCTION EQUIPMENT. Yes. That's right. Heavy Construction Equipment. Now I need a bumper sticker exclaiming, "I BREAK FOR HYDRAULICS!"

Last week, Ben was in charge of digging a few holes in order to "ground" some of the Pivots. Originally, he was going to drive the back-hoe out to the field while I followed him in the truck. I joked around about driving it and before I knew what was happening, I was sitting in the bouncy leather seat and getting a crash course on "what you need to know about driving a back hoe". After that, we were on our way. It was SO much easier than I thought it would be.

The sun was just about to dip down behind the Dragoon mountains, so the sky was filled with shades of pink, blue, purple, and orange. As I bounced along on the dirt farm road, passing the cattle feed lots, and enjoying a cool summer breeze, I looked over at a cluster of grain silos next to the farm. Everything seemed to glow. The air was SO clean and crisp. Above the silos was a bright white moon and glistening stars just starting to pop out. I love that time of the day...when the sun is down, but the sky is still bright and all the stars start to glow. It's been a long time since I've seen that in such clean air.

I guess sometimes you need to try new things in order to get out of your rutt...get out of your comfort zone. Besides, sometimes it reminds you how much fun, and beautiful, life is all around you.

"Opposition in All Things"

There are unspoken battles raging all around us. Two days ago we witnessed one of these struggles...a struggle between Country Life and Modern Society...and one of them tasted victory.

Ben was driving a backhoe...clearing up some over-grown trees and grass from around our house. I'm not sure if ANYONE had ever cleaned it up, at least it didn't LOOK like it! It's nice to be on a farm because you can say to your husband, "Honey, while you're working the tractor, can you drive it over here and clear out this garbage?" Or, "Hey, can you bring that tractor over here and till up a garden for me?" (Now, THAT's a great feeling when you watch your 30' x 30' garden get tilled up in about 20 seconds.) Aaaahhh! That's nice!

Ben was driving the tractor while enjoying the sunshine and a refreshing breeze. He carried his cell phone, tenderly, in his T-shirt pocket so he could feel it ring (since he couldn't hear anything). This actually WAS the safest way to carry it, unless he hit a big bump. Just then, Ben hit a big bump. As he bounced up into the air, so did the phone, slipping out of his pocket and then ricochetting off his knee. Onto the floor of the tractor it fell. The vibration of the tractor (almost with a seemingly vengeful anger) pushed it out. The phone was helpless as it plummetted onto the ground and out of sight. The only thought Ben could recall was, "Well, as long as I didn't run over it with the tire, it will be fine."

He quickly stopped the tractor and jumped out. He walked up to the phone which was now laying face-down in the dirt. As he picked it up his hopes we dashed by the smashed-up screen, still partially glowing. I thought it sort of looked like a cartoon spiderweb. So much for missing it with the tire.

How many people can say that they actually ran over their cell phone with a tractor! Does it sound like a weak "the-dog-ate-my-homework" excuse for not wanting to talk to anyone? I can assure you, if you have tried to call him lately, that he did infact want to talk to you AND that he did, in fact, run over his cell phone with a tractor. I watched him do it.

We knew then that, at least for today, Country life reigned victorious.

"Faith, Family, Friends"

Friday night I felt like I was living in a music video from the Country Music Station...and I loved it!!

I'm not sure how it happened or who started it, but by 2 o'clock in the afternoon I was driving an hour to the store to pick up hamburger buns and "soda pop" (as well as an entire list of goodies) at the grocery store. (I can't believe I just used "soda pop" in a sentance.) Anyway, we were having an outdoor BBQ.

Everyone was in charge of bringing their own list of contributions and it worked beautifully. There were 15 feasters all together. Cheeseburgers, grilled corn, southern-style beans, and HOMEMADE vanilla ice cream. Next time we're going to add grilled squash and watermelon. As we cooked, and talked, and feasted, we looked out over the farm and at the John Deer tractors parked under the hay barns. (I could almost hear a country music song being written on our porch steps.)

There was a beautiful storm over the Chiricahua Mountains to the east, which filled the deep bluish-black sky with fluffy billowing gray and white thunderheads. At one point, winds kicked up that reminded me of something off of the "Wizard of Oz", which sent all the kids and women inside and left the guys outside to hold everything down. I looked out the window and saw bond fire-like flames soaring out of the grills. It didn't last long. Within minutes it was calm and still again. Relieved, I thought to myself, "I'm glad we didn't burn our house down!"

After dinner we sat around until midnight talking, telling stories, laughing, joking, and playing tricks on each other. I realized then that I didn't even miss the TV that's been sitting in the corner, waiting to be hooked up for three months now.

There is a fireplace in our dining room/kitchen area, surrounded by red brick which reaches all the way up to the ceiling. Above the mantle rests a HUGE black sign with big vinyl letters. It was the very FIRST thing I move into the house and the very first piece of decor I hung up. During our friendly chatting and card-playing at the diningroom table, I looked up at the sign and felt blessed as I read the words:

"FAITH, FAMILY, FRIENDS"

"Close-Knit" Family

In our church, there is an old man I will refer to as "Brother T". Brother T is a soft-spoken man with piercing blue eyes that seem to smile at you when he talks. He's over six feet tall and about 200 years old (just guessing). He always comes to church and although I don't know much about him now, I'm sure that won't last long.

A couple of weeks ago Brother T came up to me after church. He had to chase me down as I was walking out the door, since I was oblivious of what was going on around me (or the fact that I had a 200 year-old man following me). He asked me one question with a mischeivious smirk: "What's your favorite color?"

"Uh...I like....uh....green. Ya, green. Earthy green and other earthy colors like....brown." ("Who ever says their favorite color is Brown?" I thought.)

"Okay. Green and Brown." he repeated and walked away.

"That was wierd." I thought to myself as I walked out into the sunshine.

The next Sunday I figured out why a six-foot tall, 200 year-old man asked me what my favorite color was at church. I didn't even see him walk up behind me until he was there. ("What is it with this old man sneaking up on people?") He was holding a plastic Wal-Mart bag nervously in his hands. He reached in and I caught a glimpse of what it was: A beautiful earthy-toned, hand-made, knitted blanket. My mouth dropped open and my eyes got big.

He pulled it out of the bag and asked, "Is THIS the color you like? Is it okay?"

I wouldn't even put it back in the bag that he tried to hand me. I wanted to hold it. Brother T makes a blanket for every "lady" (of any age) that moves into the ward (congregation). Since this ward is tiny and people don't move in or out very often, they really DO take the term "Ward Family" very seriously. Maybe now I can say that I have a very tall, 200 year-old, knitting grandpa.

Little Super Hero

Sometimes my son drives me crazy and I want to run down the driveway, screaming and pulling my hair out.

Most of the time, though, Ben and I agree that we may just have the cutest, funniest, sweetest kid in the world. (I know, I know, if you have kids, then you probably think that about yours too.) But really....

Right now, he is developing an interest in Spiderman and Wolverine (from X-men). Now we know for sure he's my child because those were MY two favorite super heros when I was growing up, too. I expecially loved Spiderman. Was it the tight clothes? Was it his grace and poise while flying through the air on his webs or climbing up the sides of buildings on his sticky fingers? It's difficult to say. As far a Wolverine goes....I'm pretty positive it was the hair and sassy comments.

Hayden decided he needed Spiderman undies, so of course I bought them. One problem: I can't get him to keep them on. There is a BIG picture of Spidy on the back of every pair. Since Hayden can't turn around that far for very long, he keeps taking them off and turning them around. (The boys at HANES should have thought about this.) At this very moment, I am watching him out the window jumping around the yard, wearing nothing but his Spidy-tighty-whities and spraying his invisible "webs". Classy.

At the moment, we are living in a 40 year-old brick farmhouse. (More blogs and photos about this house will find their way to this computer in the future.) I am totally rennovating this house myself and I will admit that when I first started to work on it, I cried (like every morning when I came to work!) If you had seen it before, you wouldn't recognize it today. It's CUTE! We still find quirky things once in a while, but it's sweet. Our attitude is, "It's temporary until we build, so why not enjoy the adventure?" It's one of those things that we will look back on and have a good laugh about, right?

One of those "quirky things" popped up the other day when we had a visit by the "bug man" and he informed us that we have an infestation of cockroaches. I tried to be brave. I tried to pretend that I was "rolling with it", but as the bug man left, tears filled up in my eyes. I sat down. My sweet Hayden came up to me and said with the most tender sympathetic voice, "Oooooh. What's wrong, momma?" Then he wiped his hands from my eyes and down my cheeks (which kind of hurt, actually), and said, "Don't cry, momma...it'll be okay."

My little super hero swooped in and saved my day.

"These Hooves Are Made For Walkin'...."

I was told we were coming here to FARM.....you know, to GROW things. More specifically, corn. Therefore, you can understand my confusion as many times I find myself wondering, "So, where the heck did all these ANIMALS come from?"

We have a very good friend named Jamie. Jamie is a super cool young guy with a cute family, and is also the town T-Ball coach. SWEET! Jamie is also a real-life "cowboy". I've never seen him wear a cowboy hat, though. When I've seen him driving cattle he has worn a baseball hat, which reminds me of the movie "City Slickers" and gives me a good laugh.

By the way, watching those guys drive cattle is quite a sight. Above the clouds of dust and sea of heads and horns rolling up and down, you see the drivers on horseback. The constant sound of moo-ing and thundering hooves is interrupted by an almost song. "H-ya, cow, h-ya....(whistle)...H-ya!" Beauty....I love it. It's hard to explain in words...It's like poetry all by itself.

I think Ben was a little excited to be involved in "the poetry". We have what's called "Feed Lots" on the farm which were built a few years ago. A feed lot is a place to bring the cattle after they've been grazing on the fields. They're very nice lots and since WE don't have cattle in them at the moment, we share the facilities with other ranchers. One of the purposes of the feed lot is for branding. A few days ago, Jamie and his brothers drove a bunch of calves into the feed lot and asked Ben to help them brand. ("Lovely.")

Jamie explained his great plan to Ben. "Okay, Ben we'll open the gate and let 'em out one at a time. You stand down there, by the stall and as they come towards you, you grab their head and THROW 'EM DOWN." (You need to realize that eventhough I said "calves", these BABY cows weight in at over 350 pounds!)

Okay, here's the deal (this information may have been useful to Jamie)....It's true that Ben played football in high school, BUT he was the QUARTERBACK (the guy trying to AVOID getting hit). His LITTLE BROTHER was the champion wrestler!

"Are You Just Gonna Let Him WALK ALL OVER You...?"

The first calf came running toward the stall and right at Ben, who was standing all wide and ready, like he was going to get tackled by one of the American Gladiators. As the calf started to run by, Ben grabbed its head, and turned it up and around, knocking them BOTH onto the ground. The other boys jumped on top of it and held it down while Jamie branded it. Everone got up, except Ben....he was the LAST to stand up. Even the calf stood up before he did. The calf jumped up and walked over Ben to get away. No, he did not step AROUND Ben, I meant it literally when I said he "walked over Ben to get away". Oh ya, but FIRST it kicked him.

Ben told me the story. As I look back now, I realize that maybe my Studly, Manly, Cow-wrestling husband was looking for sympathy from his sweetheart. I didn't realize this at that moment. Instead, when he told me, I started rolling around laughing and exclaiming, "Well, I'd probably do that too if you held me down and stuck a fire-hot branding iron on MY butt!"

A little insensitive? Yes. And I'm sorry. (I WOULD like to mention that we were BOTH laughing.) I was NOT, however, laughing this morning when he got into the shower and I saw the bruises. "Oh, sweetie!!" (Then I realized the error of my ways and knew for sure that I DO, in fact, have a Studly, Manly, Cow-Wrestling husband.) Just another opportunity to swoon and say, "My Hero!"

"She Thinks My Tractor's Sexy..."

"My Boys" like to drive the tractors together and share a moment. They do this every few days or so.

Ode to Mom

As most of you know, my mom passed away 7 years ago after complications with heart surgery. I feel sorry for those of you who didn't know her because you would have loved her just like everyone else. For those of you who DID know her, I'm sure you will agree with me when I announce that this 100%-Irish-blooded, Brooklyn-born lady was a "totally RAD, rockin' momma". Ya, that's right....I said RAD!

I decided this picture was fitting for our farm website because she is, in fact, pruning a grape vineyard in Central California. (We used to volunteer at this vineyard two times a year: pruning and harvesting). It was dirty, but lots of fun. We kids used to get in trouble for throwing the grapes at each other.

Mother's Day is always a toughy because even as a mother myself, I don't think of myself on that day....I think of MY mom. For many years after her death, I used to DITCH church and either go to the ice rink, or a theme park with big rollercoasters. ("Father...forgive me...") She and I share an obsession for Thrill Rides. This year, I would like to share a couple of my favorite personal stories of my mom.

"Make 'em Laugh"
Mom volunteered every week in my classroom at school for as long as I can remember. The other kids thought she was very cool, especially when she climbed the monkey bars. Speaking of monkey....
One day in Mrs. Cadd's first grade class, she sat at a table in the back of the room. Kids kept turning around to look at her so she started acting like a monkey: making funny faces and scratching her sides. Mrs. Cadd had to ask her to settle down since she was disrupting the rest of the class.


"Feed the Birds"

One winter's day, with a foot of snow laying on the ground outside, my mom, my dad, and I were sitting in the living room. After a long moment of silence, my mom looked out the window and said, "I hope the little birds have something to eat." I looked at my mom and thought, "WHAT did she just say? Who (besides MY mom) THINKS of stuff like that?"

"Let them eat cake ('er PIE)!"
Mom was famous in our little town for her "from scratch" cooking. More specifically: Devilled Eggs and Chocolate Cream Pies. Every time there was a fund raiser, she received a call and was asked to bake pies to be auctioned off. This was in the 80's. It was not uncommon for one of her pies to go for over $200. She would usually go around, afterwards, to all the "bidding losers" and take pie orders because she felt bad that they lost. THAT'S MOM!



"Build A Bridge"

For a couple of weeks before she passed, she had many visits by a Jewish Rabbi in the hospital. He was there frequently to visit other patients (the JEWISH patients). Since mom made friends with everyone, he started visiting her too. After a few friendly discussions about the Old Testament and the "Tribes of..." something er other (Mom was really great with gospel lineage stuff), they became very good friends. I liked the prayers he sang for her in Hebrew...they were peaceful. The day before she passed, the Rabbi took my dad out into the hall.

"I have a confession to make," his voice lowered. "I am in love with your wife!"

They both had a good laugh. Before he walked down the hall and out of our lives forever he said, "She is the most beautiful spirit I have ever met in my life."

Happy Mom's Day.
*Call your mom!! And if you still have the ability to (call her), Cherish it!

Flour Power!

"...Where Everybody Knows Your Name."

I'm here to tell you that Mayberry still exists!



Okay, so there is another structure besides the gas station, the Post Office, and a bar....it's called "The Baker's Haus". It's a building that can't be more than 500 square feet-TOPS! Every morning before 3am, a 75-year-old man opens The Baker's Haus and starts to cook the donuts. They're the BEST! I gained some poundage when we first came down here because we were making donut runs every morning. We knew it was getting bad when Hayden would wake up in the morning and say, "Mommy....go get donuts?"

Okay, so before we abruptly ended the daily donut runs Ben made one last trip. When he went in, the lady practically had our order ready for us. "Now, Hayden likes the sprinkle ones, right? Hayden....that's an Irish name. I made him one with green sprinkles today." (Huh?)

There's also the town bar, that serves food. It's managed my Juan. He's the only one who ever serves your food. (THE absolute BEST tacos I have ever had.) Ben ordered french fries the very first time we went in. Ben always asks for a side of Ranch dressing. Everytime Juan sees us in there now, he brings Ben a side of Ranch dressing.

Sandy runs the Post Office and knows everyone by their first name. Shirley knows everyone's address in town by heart. She's the mail carrier. Bob and Mary run a teeny hardware store. And there was this one time that I pumped gas at the gas station...

It only has those really old gas pumps. The ones from the 50's and 60's. The ones that were around before the digital monsters that read your debit card and print you a receipt, while screeming at you with the most annoying "BEEEEEEP". No, these ones have spinny dials on them that tell you how much gas you're getting and make a sound like, "click, click, click". You pump first and THEN pay. No "waitng for authorization"...You pump your gas and then go in to the gas station and tell them HOW MUCH you owe them. They don't have any way to check if you're being honest unless they go out to the pump and look...but they never do. You're just expected to be honest.

There are three churches within an hour drive of town: the Catholics, the Mormons, and the Baptists. Three. Almost everyone goes to one of the three. Everyone you pass on the street waves. It doesn't matter if it's your first time there. I guess everyone expects to either know you or to meet you in church on Sunday.

I can tell you that in the short time we've been here I know that Bob from the hardware store is a cancer survivor, I know who is having infertillity issues, who's cheating on their wife, who just had new babies, and that the little old man who makes the donuts needs to sell his shop because it's stressing him out. I know that John will build your house, Manny will hook up your electric, and Fern will be at the Fire Committe meetings...EVERY TIME...eventhough she knows NOTHING about the Fire Department.

In a place like this, where everyone is in the same situation: Isolated, it is a way of life to work together. If the rain is coming and the hay isn't bailed, you can lose your entire crop. A farmer who is a little behind will be out in the field trying to bail as much as he can. That's when the tractors start showing up. Other farmers in town (who are finished with their bailing) will go to other farms and help. They don't just go home and say, "Glad MINE is done before the rain". They will help another with his load.

People have invited us over for dinner (and followed it up with "be there at 6".), shown up to help us move, loaned us shot guns to shoot the coyotes, and offered to help us with "the bees". (There's a Bee Man who has a bunch of hives on the farm and told us to let him know when we want some FRESH clover honey.) Maybe everyone knows everyone's business, but I'm not so sure it's a bad thing all the time. So far, the feeling I get from people is that of love. I guess you get what you give. If you love the people in this town, they will show their love back a thousand times over. Perfect strangers come up to me in town and ask, "So, are you getting all settled in?" Sometimes I just look at them and want to say, "Who ARE you?" The funny thing is that if I did, nobody would be offended.

Would YOU drive 35 minutes for a Big Mac?

"How do you say BIG MAC en espanol?"

We live 30 minutes from the border to Mexico. The border town is called Douglas. It's so close that when you're going to Wal-Mart, if you forget to turn right, VOILA! You're in ME-HE-CO! "No hablo espanol." When you walk into Wal-Mart, there is a "peso exchange rate" on the door. I am proud to say I know the exchange rate. 11.40:1. Might I be TRI-lingual soon? "Bien Sur!"

Anyway, Douglas is the nearest town (and by "town" I mean an area with more structures than one gas station, a post office, and a bar.) Douglas is in NO way a city or booming Metropolis. Now, that said....in Douglas there is a Super Wal-Mart and TWO Micki-D's. TWO! The entire town is, like, two blocks! Does anyone feel like Wal-Mart and McDonald's are trying to take over the world together?

Puppy Love

I guess if you're going to live on a farm, then you need to have

"Farm Dogs". In an effort to more fully embrace the Farm Life and culture, we are happy to announce the addition of two puppies to our farm. The male is named Jack (right) and is the Alpha Male of the litter. He's huge...and smart.

His little sister is named Daisy (above-left). She was the Runt of the litter and I have to admit, being the softy that I am, I have a special place in my heart for the Runt. She's a snuggler, and snuggles right up to the neck of anyone who will hold her. They are 10 weeks old. Friends are asking us what breed they are....they are 100% pure Mutt. The mother was an Austrailian Cattle Dog and the father looked like a pit-bull, which would explain the muscles.

One of the reasons to have Farm Dogs is to warn you when creepy creatures are around....like snakes. We had our first test a couple of nights ago. Jack passed. Daisy didn't, but we're hoping she learned a thing or two from Jack. We heard Jack barking and making a lot of noise. Then, we heard Daisy cry. When we ran outside there was a....well....we're not sure....a HUGE rodent-looking thing. Ben called it a shrew, but I don't know what that is. Jack barked at it (GOOD) while Daisy sniffed at it....or tried to lick it...or SOMETHING (BAD). It bit her on her ear. Ben went out and killed it with a broom ("my hero!"), because I most certainly was NOT going to wack it! (I wanted to shoot it...okay, forget about what I said earlier about being a "softy"; at least not with stinky rodents!) Hopefully Daisy will leave big creepy things alone from now on!

Simplify.

When we talked about potentially moving to The Farm, I wondered how Hayden would react. He loved so many things about his city life that we were leaving behind forever: the school bus, his friends, his room, play groups, storytime at the mall, the zoo....his routine. We knew it would be a difficult culture shock for all of us, but at least we adults understood why and what was most important, right? The values...the experiences...having our family together.

Recently, Ben and I were talking about having a goal for the New Year....a goal to "Simplify". To stop getting distracted by society and all the "noise" we were living in. We had been considering the opportunity to leave the city, and the comforts we were used to, as an adventure....an adventure that scared us to death. But would Hayden miss his friends? His school? Would he be happy? Or, would he be repeatedly asking us for the things we were leaving behind.

Our first trip back up to the old neighborhood worried me as I wondered how it would affect his little mind. "What is he going to think? Is he going to cry when he sees our old house empty? Is he going to ask if the school bus is going to come and take him to school?" (He LOVED preschool!) I worried about a hundred things and how I would help him deal with it.

When we got there it seemed I was the one who needed help dealing with it. "Look, there's the Mall! Oh, I loved this kitchen! I picked out this tile. Remember, Ben? That's where we put the Christmas tree! (Boo Hoo)." I was pathetic.

After a day in the city, he said something and I knew everything was going to be okay. I realized he was even stronger than I was. After a day in crowded stores and backed-up freeways....waiting at every stop light and being caught up (once again) in the "Hustle and Bustle" we heard a little voice in the back seat. A little man sitting in his booster, holding a sippy cup and looking out the window. "Daddy," he said seemingly thoughtful, "let's go back to the Farm."

Maybe he understands, better than I do, what really IS most important.