Born For Corn

Meet the myth, the legend, the one and only Born for Corn.

I had only heard about Born for Corn, but had never seen her in person. I was starting to think she didn't exist. Like maybe it was just a joke someone made up here on the farm.

That's until my husband called the other day and said "look out the window."

For those of you unfamiliar with farming equipment, this old relic is made for harvesting corn. A laughable concept when you get an up-close look at the old bucket of rust.

For the past six years, I have heard jokes and cracks about this old combine that was tucked away somewhere on the farm. You know it's gotta be good when the thing has earned a name for herself.

I don't think Born for Corn  has seen any fall harvest action in a long, long time. She had to be pulled out of the pasture.

I always had visions of turning her into a jungle gym clubhouse type thing for our kids someday.

Something sort of like this:

Keep in mind I had never seen the thing.

But the minute I finally laid eyes on that hunk of junk, my dream was suddenly shattered.

I think that might be mold or moss or some type of furry green substance growing on top of rust.

Gross.

She's rough.

Like really rough.

When I tried to go up the steps to the cab, I start swinging through the air like Tarzan. Apparently, the steps are being held on by one last rusty bolt. They swing back and forth all over the place, practically just dangling there.

Forget the jungle gym idea, the kids would have to get a tetanus shot before they even climbed in.

So it sounds like this old beast is headed for the scrap yard.

Our future kids will have to settle for a plastic swing set from Home Depot.

My First Born

While most women my age have actual five year olds, I am quite content with a 5-year-old Chihuahua for now. Who needs a snot-nosed crumb-crunching human baby when you can have the canine version as cute as this?

My tiny furbaby turned half-a-decade old recently. Puppy birthdays at our house are celebrated with a trip to the pet shop.

Yes, I am the crazy dog lady who puts cloths on her pup.

And I can't even explain the great restraint I have to practice not to put my boy dog in any of the cute girl dog cloths.

They don't make all of this cute stuff for the boys.

Just ugly t-shirts, that say dumb stuff like "scratch my belly" and "fetch."

I'd like to think little Banjo is more sophisticated than that.

So, like any self-respecting dog-owner, I opted to get him a leopard-print snuggie instead.

That's right, we headed straight for the As Seen On TV section of the pet store. Who even knew they had one?

And with a clearance price of $4.98, I just couldn't pass it up.

I swore I would never do it.

But the little weirdo loves it. 

Look at him all stretched out like a crazy man.

((Note: Yes, he is sitting on my lap. No, I am not wearing a blue snuggie ... although my electric throw blanket's vibrant blue color does bear a striking resemblance to the original snuggie))

((Another side note: While I'm already making myself look like a dang fool by admitting that I bought my dog a snuggie ... then I may as well confess that I did at one time own the original blue snuggie myself. They were all the rage at my old TV station. All the cool kids had one.))

I think he really likes it.

Or maybe not.

I'm pretty sure he's giving me the stink-eye right now.

Don't Tell a Girl No

The wood is cut and the cows are fed. So what is a farmer to do when it's near white-out conditions outside?

((Logical answer: go home and relax by the fire))

But instead, I go outside and find this:

 

My husband spots with me with my camera.

You are not blogging about this.

Why not?

No, ma'am.

Why not?

Because it's redneck.

He's referring to the fact that he just pulled an old broken-down Scout from a cow pasture, down a fairly main road, and then up to the shop. He plans to fix it up and get it running again.

Apparently non-rednecks call tow trucks.

Or, don't even allow trucks to sit in pastures for 10+ years.

Our farm manager chimes in:

What's wrong with being redneck?

I think he might be a bit offended.

So my husband says,

Nothing. It's just that I can see her blog now. She will start it out with something sarcastic like ... "My brilliant husband ... blah blah blah."

Silly man. He should know better than to tell me not to do something.

So, without further ado....

My brilliant husband ... pulled the biggest redneck move today.

But the towing part isn't what I consider redneck. It's his future plans for the truck that are.

When he gets it fixed up, I am assuming it will look like a less-ridiculous version of this:

His plans: he said we can take the top off and take it to go get ice cream.

It's not my preference for an ice cream-getting convertible, but okay, I can play along.

But then he informs me that the main purpose for the old Scout is to become the new fuel truck on the farm. He is going to put a tank in the back so he can drive it around the fields and fill up tractors.

So what I think he is telling me is we'll be going to Dairy Queen in a convertible fuel truck. That's pretty damn redneck if you ask me, especially coming from a guy who would probably rather cut off his right arm than have someone classify him as redneck.

He gets it in the shop and surveys the damage.

Surprisingly after a little charge of the battery, all of the lights started working. And the best part is that "Jet Airliner" by the Steve Miller Band started blaring from the radio.

This might actually happen. I just might soon be the passenger in a convertible ice cream-getting fuel truck.

I really shouldn't poke fun. Apparently this Scout (oh, and the other TWO still sitting in the cow pasture) hold fond childhood memories for my husband.

I think he is quite proud.

So I vow to end this post without making any more snarky comments.

Just kidding.

You may now call me Mrs. REDNECK!

I think this means I need to go out and buy that annoying Gretchen Wilson CD so I can blare it from the speakers when we drive into town. Errrr.. make that 8-track.

Warm and Cozy

So I totally married a pyro. Well, he's not technically a pyromaniac, but sorta. And the one major benefit to marrying a sorta-pyro is that there is a fire in the fireplace just about every night from October to March.

It also means my husband sleeps on the couch from October to March because I can't pry him away from that damn fire. Forget that we have a fireplace in the master too. I am seriously considering moving the couch up to the bedroom. At this rate, our parents will never get the grandchildren that they so desperately want.

To keep with my theme of trying to be a good little farm wife, I went to "help" my husband cut firewood the other day.

I am a horrible wife, but I just love the expressions on his face when he struggles with something. Rather than offer to help, I offer to take a picture.

Nice job honey. Keep up the good work.

Again, rather than offer to help, I have pictures to take. Like the thousand pictures I took until I mastered the perfect angel that made my legs look long and skinny. Not to mention it shrinks my big ol' canoe feet.

Still trying to develop a hip shrinking technique.

Alright, I'm satisfied with this one. We can move on now.

I can't say I had ever seen a wood splitter in action before.

And good thing I didn't flinch. Because thanks to Poor Prior Planning (P to the third, my dorky husband calls it), he ran out of fuel after two logs.

Time to do it by hand.

Oh Lord, watch out, he looks a little crazy. Kinda like he's trying to get a running start at this one.

Okay, so I helped a little. In a very OCD manner, I stacked the wood on the truck. Big logs on the left, medium pieces in the middle and kindling on the right. When you have a pyro for a husband you learn about the importance of things like kindling.

And God forbid should I make the mistake of throwing away a newspaper. That stuff is like gold to him this time of year.

Just another night at home.

Aprons, Aprons, and More Aprons

To all of my friends who swear I just hang out all day and eat Bon Bons while watching soap operas: I have proof that I am doing something sorta productive.

((But I can't ignore the fact that there just may happen to be a TV in my sewing room that at any given time may have trashy reality show reruns on. And while there may not be Bon Bons, I am the guilty party who snuck and ate that entire box of Ding-Dongs that somebody made the mistake of setting down in the farm shop. Oops!))

But I digress.

Back to the business at hand.

I have been an apron making machine the past couple of months. And now that the holidays are over, I can slow down for a second and bore the complete heck out of you with pictures of a few of my projects.

Hands down, without a doubt, this was my favorite apron set. It was a gift ordered for the chief meteorologist at my old TV station and her tiny little niece.

You probably can't tell with my crappy photography skills, but their names are embroidered in hot pink.

                             

The most animated meteorologist ever.

Who incidentally happens to be one of the craziest, but coolest, girls I know.

This is a project I worked on for a friend in San Diego. His girlfriend has recently taken on the hobby of cooking.

And he has already declared her Pacific Beach's best chef. What a guy!

The jeweler's apron. I never thought I would make an apron out the denim. But it turns out that is the fabric of choice for jewelers when they are working with their soldering irons. 

Being a Kansas girl, I love the sunflower apron!

This apron was designed for a lady whose kitchen has stainless steel appliances and black granite counter tops. She'll blend right in :-)

I made about 20 more aprons for Christmas orders, but I didn't take pictures of them. Lucky you!

And right when I thought I couldn't look at another apron, a friend called and saved the day. She needed some baby gifts. A welcome diversion.

Remember my super cool grandma who sends me fabric all the time? Well, she's still at it! Which means, I get to make lots of fun new styles for spring and summer. Soooo.... I have put several of my fall/winter styles on sale to make room! Check them out here!