My brain hurts

I have a splitting headache...
If my daughter was here she would say, "no one cares about your personal problems, the world is full of suffering."
She would be so happy to get to use that line on her father that she would most likely then get me more coffee and give me a back-rub.
My wife would make me take medicine and tell me to eat breakfast.
But they are gone.
I first got the headache yesterday when I arrived at the field I was to stack. The field is owned by the widow of a farmer I always admired. He was a farmer who was a farmer because he loved the ground and the act of farming, not because he wanted to farm 10,000 acres.
And then he died.
I looked at his tractor a year or so ago.
The last time he was driving his White 2-135 he was eating an apple. He got an apple for me also. I was no-tilling wheat for him and he was pulling a drill behind his Roterra (large rototiller that works the ground with horizontally rotating tines instead of vertical tines). We were going to compare yields.
Next thing I knew he was in the hospital and by the time I figured out how to go visit him it was too late.
So I got to his field and got to thinking about the times I had been in this field before it was rented to better farmers than I, and I got to thinking about the funeral I have to attend today and my brian started to hurt.
I'd say it was just stress but my skin also hurt and I had stomach cramps.
I picked up a couple loads and was a little distressed that my stacks were not straight. So I pulled down into the lower corner of the field where no one could see me and took a nap.
I saw movement out of the corner of my eye.
I was parked next to a yellow-jacket's nest.
But, true to my "side-ways" style luck, I did not get stung.
I stacked 26 stacks or three-truckloads by 5 p.m. I should have been able to do it in four hours instead of 8 hrs.
I made more than one trip down to the shade tree.
In the mean time I watched traffic on Hwy 18.
It never stopped.
People on their way to gamble at the casino I suppose.
The only reason I would not rather be a farmer in the 1950's is lack of air conditioned tractors.
Here is a photo of another oak tree.
It is not perfect. It has two trunks.
Some day I will find the perfect oak tree. But-of-course, I will not have a camera...

AND here is a photo of corn. This is taken from the same spot as all the other corn photos. The no-till corn is too short. It has good color but the stalks are skinny and the plant is short. I did not look at the ears yet. I suspect there was more compaction than I thought. My brother dug up roots and they were not going sideways. There was a decent root ball. The pH is not the best.

The perfect oak tree

I just realized I have not posted in several days.
I'll just do a quick generic post which includes my favorite topics...
Farming, blah, blah, blah, out of date audio equipment, blah, blah, blah, obscure country-western artists, blah, blah, blah, farming, blah, blah, I'm annoyed, blah, blah, blah, something is not right, something is quite wrong, blah, blah, blah. My daughter, blah, blah, blah, more farming, corn, stacking, straw, blah, blah, blah, gubment conspiracy, blah, blah, blah...
Banjo music, blah, blah, blah...
So now you are up to day with my life...
Here is a photo of a cool old barn with the prefect oak tree.

Note, I picked up the bag of soymeal by wedging chains under it and picking it up quickly so it turned up right. I ruined the bag but spilled very little soy meal. Alls well that ends well.

Justifiable reasons for swearing

This bag is half full of $900 a ton organic soymeal.
Do you see any problem with the bag that would make someone exclaim, "oh fiddle!" followed by !@#$% and $%^&* not to mention )(*&^!
Just asking...
-Note- I'm really an optimist. I didn't say half empty... I also didn't pay $900 for the bag, but that is a whole other story...

What ever happened to the real America? Beauty Queen accused of being a mad bomber when really she is just what once was a normal 18 year old

The people who run this country are idiots.
Click Here to read about a Utah pageant winner who made water bottle bombs and has now had her life ruined.

Note what the dumb ass fire department spokesman had to say, "a person could lose a hand," really... The fire department spokes man certainly could never loose his head, it is so far up his arse...

"But fire officials said the devices — which can spew caustic chemicals and shrapnel when they burst — can be very dangerous.

"Yes those small pieces of aluminum foil really do smart! I suppose wouldn't really feel it over the pain from the acid in your eyes though," says Budd E. Shepherd who may or may not have experimented with such devices hypothetically many years ago.

"They can do a great deal of damage to property," Mecham told KSL-TV. "They can sever limbs. They can even kill people."

The problem is when people in authority just out and out lie to you about the little things then kids tend to disbelieve them on the big things.

There is no way you would sever an arm with a plastic water bottle filled with swimming pool cleaner and aluminum foil. It is a very slow reaction. It blows up because it over pressurizes the plastic water bottle. It does this slowly and you pretty much have time to get out of the way.  I will say (hypothetically) that you should never roll one up behind your small employee when he is changing a tire. You may (hypothetically) injure yourself laughing when he hypothetically poops himself.

Of course any idiots knows you should not throw them at people because you could get acid in their eyes and because it might make them poop their pants. They will not start a fire. I'm not sure how you could possibly sever a limb. If you held one in your hand really tightly and stared at the cap it could put your eye out when the cap blew off and cover you in dilute acid. That would be bad.

The only way it would kill anyone is if you shoved it up your ---. Of course that could have happened on the West Coast...

And of course the kids have to get in trouble. It is an incredibly bad idea to drive around and throw acid bombs at people. That is of course why kids are tempted to do such things. This calls for a slap on the wrist an community service or an essay or a spanking from dad-(oops that's not allowed anymore!) Or even kicked out of the pageant. However, the kid becomes another victim of the government when she gets an arrest record for doing something silly at age 18.

The adults in the country are so pathetic. How did they get this way? Good gracious, these are people my age. I did all sorts of crazy things and I'm still alive. I reckon my kid and nephews will as well. I will certainly act upset but will spend my last cent on a lawyer if they are subjected to the hysterics of law enforcement. 

Now filling a chunk of pipe with black powder, lighting the fuse, and throwing it through a window is a whole different story...That is incredibly dangerous and you should be in trouble.

 AND I am not telling any kids about when my friend and I nearly blew up the neighbor's cows... (We were wearing hard hats, should have been wearing ear protection)

The cat turned off my alarm and I overslept

Perhaps it was angry that I made his extra bowl of catfood into an omelette.
I have no other ideas, other than aliens or sprites. Although it could have been those pesky elves who left me a bowl of strawberries and a check for $24 on the kitchen table Saturday.
I don't know.
I was going to get up at 5 a.m. and make some pig feed. Now it is 7 a.m. and the guy was going to be here around 8 a.m.
I suppose I've probably left the key on in the forklift and it won't start. I have to use the grain auger and I'm pretty sure the old 656 won't start. The 670 will if it is here.
Life is full of heart-break and disappointments.
I have spent the last half hour trying to find the lyrics to the song my grandfather used to sing. Something about the Polecat on the pole who did not know where he was at.

Nothing like a good waste of time to start out your Monday...
I need a manager. Someone to sell my feed and hay and answer the phone and keep track of the checks and deal with the public. Someone who doesn't hide or refuse to answer their phone and who does not periodically tell customers things like, "if you don't like my work, go somewhere else," or "yes, you are right, my feed is not up to quality but what did you think when you were buying half-price feed. Better go somewhere else..." and "if you want your hay/straw picked up in a hurry, here is a list of other people who will pick it up...."

Drinking beer and listening to Tom T. Hall and I think I made a catfood omlette

My wife and daughter are gone. I think they went camping. It could be that they have a completely different life. Perhaps they have a whole other family with a father that doesn't work all the time and has lots of money and they only hang out here so that they can appreciate their real life of luxury.
Be that as it may, I was left with many helpful instructions on what to eat and what to feed the cats.
Which I promptly forgot...
A snapshot of what goes through my brain... Straw, stacking, straw, baling, crisis, where is Bill?, straw, pretty bird!, straw, BOOBIES!, straw, wife, mmmm pie!, Oh I like pie! and cookies and ice cream, I would like some pie, and cookies, mmm chocolate chips, oh crap what did she say?, daughter, daughter, straw, baling, stacking, straw, I hate straw, I hate baling, I hate stacking, oh my daughters kitten is soooo cute, straw, old country western music, straw... Where's my coffee cup?
Anyway...
My daughter bought me a six pack of beer. That was very nice of her. It was my favorite brand of Henry's.
I usually get my wife to write down the instructions as I like the little smiley faces and sometimes she draws pictures.
I also was determine to either eat all the food or feed it to the dog so that she doesn't worry about me forgetting to eat.
I swear she said the dish in the refrigerator was salmon. I'm a little nervous about eating radioactive fish but since I'm already eating radioactive ice cream I guess it doesn't really matter.
I kind of slept in this morning.
I have not really been feeling in top form this summer. I'm not really sure why. I suppose it is the general depression that seems to infected every person who has to work for a living and figures those who are in charge of world affairs are either idiots or evil or both. Which pretty much accounts for the opinions of every one I know.
I wandered into the "den" to find a suitable album. I found a whole collection of Tom T. Hall which I had forgot I had purchased in a moment of poor judgement. Four albums for one song? Of course that was not as bad as when I bought the three worst albums by the Kinks when I only wanted "Schoolboys in Disgrace."
But I digress...
After four cups of coffee I decided I should have breakfast.
I put on another Tom T. Hall album and cracked a beer.

My friend D. texted me about going to Antique Powerland but I don't really know what to do if I don't have my daughter and so I tend not to leave my house.
I rummaged for food. I really wished for that list and the smiley faces.
I spied a dish which looked like salmon. I know my wife said something about making an omelette. She has learned to capitalize on my focus on certain things which interest me. (See the book, "On the Tip of My Tongue," by Iles Brody)
So I got out a carton of eggs and a few green onions. I couldn't find any mushrooms and forgot there was bacon in the freezer.
I put a generous helping of butter in the teflon pan and threw in the onions and the salmon looking fish.

 Then I realized I had forgotten to feed the cats. Actually, I realized I had locked the annoying cat out for two days and he was yowling at the door. I usually solve that problem by putting on the Legendary Stardust cowboy, but my wife and daughter had entrusted me with care for the kitties and I could not let them down.
And then I realized, the catfood and the salmon looked amazingly the same. Had my wife put half a can of catfood in the refrigerator because she knew I would forget to feed the cat, or was it salmon?
I ate it anyway...
It was not all that great... Now I have added queasiness to my chronic headache, backache, and anxiety about visiting old people that could die at anytime and I don't visit them, and the hundred and eighty acres of straw I have not started to bale yet or the fact that I have no vanilla ice cream to make a root beer float.
I've switched the music... I thought it was a Beach Boys tape but for some reason I has random Joan Jett songs and some very offensive modern alternative country music on it. (SomaFM)

Didn't seem to help...

What is important news and what is not...

This is good news!

My wife sent me a photo of a package of Hostess Ho-Ho's on the shelf at a store in Waldport, OR. Now if they only came wrapped in aluminum foil again. Those tasted the best. Plus you could make interesting designs with the aluminum foil.
Now that is the best news I've heard in months.

And then there is the stupid news.
US embassies are closing this weekend because of a "possible threat."
So, the clever folks that "keep us safe," are betting that the there is such a tight time schedule for crazy people to blow themselves up in front of great public buildings- that being closed one day will derail the whole shebang?
Perhaps the fellow will loose his nerve?
Or the 70 virgins have sewing classes on Mondays and just can't be bothered with rewards until the end of the week...
Or when potential exploder reads the "closed" sign in the window he will just wander off and go boom somewhere else, cause you know that is like a three week fuse and once it is lit you can't put it out.
Or perhaps the crazies just don't read MSNBC or watch TV or listen to the radio and haven't heard the ENDLESS self-congratulating warnings?
Well I feel pretty secure knowing that every single electronic communication is stored somewhere and can be searched after the event happens.
Never in my life did I think I would be laughing when the Rooskis gave us the finger!