Corn On The Cob, Creamed Corn…

Corn casserole, corn bread, corny jokes, corn pone, corn crib, well, you get the corny idea.  Another day, another corn report.

My huge corn field. Since I crapped my knee up the grass and weeds are trying to sneak in but if it’s not raining tomorrow the mower is going in to help with weed control.

Five good day corn stalks and three bad day corn stalks.

Bad day corn.

Another bad day corn.

Good day corn. They are kind of lording it over the bad day corn.  I tried to tell them that could have been them but I don’t think they listened.

The tallest bad day corn.  That is about 6 inches above my knee. I don’t know if you can see that mark on my index finger… that’s a broken blister from pulling weeds and grass.  It’s almost healed.  It was so sore that I remembered to start wearing my gloves.

The tallest good day corn.  About even with the bend in my elbow.  About 3’9’. Next week I will take a tape measure with me and measure so you can see for yourself.   I figure that it will be about as tall as Dar.  I’m excited to see, but then we all know it takes so little to entertain me.

And look at these!!! Corn is trying to make on the good day corn.  I looked real close at the bad day corn, but didn’t see any sign on them yet. I do need to clarify that this is only on three of the good day corn.  I don’t want you to think that all of the good day corn is at this point. This is, after all, a very scientific study.

Tomorrow, if you are all lucky, I’ll take a picture of my knee in it’s glorious color.  I just wanted to give you something to look forward to seeing.

Have a great Sunday.

I’m As Corny As Kansas In August…

My corn may not be as high as an elephant’s eye, but the good day corn is up to my waist and I’m not a short gal.

You notice that the corn bed remains relatively free of grass.

This is the good day corn.

Bad day corn.  Of the 10 seeds I planted in each row,  I have 3 in the bad day row.

I have 6 that came up on the good corn day.  Although I could manage to get by without saying it if you look at the other good corn day you will see a little short runt corn stalk trying to hang in there, so I’m not pulling it up. I’ll just consider it a part of the test, too.

The black eyed peas are loaded.

Now, I’ll show you what I’ve been doing the last couple of days besides spelling Carol on the mower…

Yes, ma’am.  I’ve been weeding or maybe I should call it grassin’.

I had a lot of tough thinking to do and when that happens I dig.  And I weed. This area is next.  This is where I’ve got daylilies and iris planted.  It’s been neglected because of trying to tend the garden.

There’s my stool and my gloves… waiting on me.  I figure it will take me two days because the temperature is heading back towards the triple digits, 99 F.  tomorrow and 101 F. is predicted for Tuesday.

So what do you all have going on to start your week off?

I Love My Gloves...

You know, somehow one of the things I never thought I'd be professing love for would be a pair of gloves.

But these gloves, these gloves I love. I keep track of them and don't just take them off and put down anywhere. I usually put them right by the front door on the floor or on the floor right by my chair.

When I go out to do anything outside, I usually tuck them in the back of my Levi's until I'm ready to do the weed-eating, digging in the in the garden or the flower bed.

Are you getting my drift? I love my gloves. They helped me to catch a snake, pull out an incredible amount of weeds and brush, they've protected my hands pulling dead wood out of the trees, running the chainsaw, the cultivator in the garden, mowers and weed-eaters.

When I recently went with my Bro to Ft. Worth to move his stuff out of storage my gloves went with me on both trips.

On the second trip, coming home, my little pickup started coughing and sputtering and choking and I told Bro to pull over and stop.

I'm also very attached to my little Ranger pick-up. I was worn out, it was after dark, I don't deal well with stress and I was getting stressed not knowing if my p.u. was breathing it's last breath or what.

Of all the stupid things I've done in my life, the one, for sure, smart thing I've done is my AAA
membership. I've been a member since 1969 and for the last 10 or 12 years I've gotten the more expensive, 100 mile tow package. If you, like me, drive older, well used vehicles you need to
work that expense into your budget.

If not AAA, some type of auto assistance club. I called my 800 number and before long, the operator had the wrecker service in my area call me. He assured me that they could load my truck and pull the loaded trailer, too, so I wouldn't have to set out in the cold and wait for my niece to come hook up her pick-up and pull the trailer to the house. So what does that have to do with my gloves?

My gloves were the only thing, besides my Diet Pepsi, that I took out of my truck. I tucked them in the back of my Levi's, as usual. The tow driver was wonderful. He took Bro and I home, unhooked the trailer where we asked and then took my pick-up to the repair shop in Norman.

Since we had been on the side of the road for a while and I'd been out in the cold for a while and I wouldn't go pee behind the trailer like Bro, when I got to the house I told Carol I would tell her all about the pickup in a minute. I headed for my bathroom, dropped trou and, sweet relief... then I got up and turned to flush.

You're right. My gloves hit the pot. I gingerly fished them out and laid them in the tub to dry.
Did you know that you can wash heavy leather gloves? Yep, you can. But with the dogs, I'm now afraid to leave my gloves on the floor. You see, their sense of smell is so great and I've seen them pee where each other has peed, trying to show that they are the top dog, so I figure, even after washing, they will be peeing on my favorite gloves...

Their one chance to tell mom that they're are boss.