Small Town U.S.A.

It's been awhile since I posted. I really want to get back into the habit - hopefully with school winding down I will find more time for it. To be honest most days I become a zombie by 8:00, and blogging just doesn't make the list. There are always things I want to write about - like taking care of the farm so that Luke had a chance to go fishing, updating on the pigs, and discussing my new vendetta against the chicken coop (I may share that story at the end - it is sure to get some chuckles).

But first I'm going to start with this - I have been planning it for awhile. You see, I live 15 minutes away from where I grew up. I was never the adventurous child who moved across the country and started up a new, I mean honestly, what is so great about Seattle anyway? (Kidding, Becca and Greg.) The reality is that part of living on a farm means living in a rural region, which means I now live in a cozy little farm town. There isn't a stoplight in town - there used to be, but they took it down. Ironically, the stoplight use to double my commute to work if I caught the red light - now with the roundabout I can quickly buzz in within 4 minutes.

Living in a small town is a very unique thing, and while I used to feel a little claustrophobic, I now love it. And I mean love it. At a school district meeting, our superintendent was discussing a possible referendum and updating the school's pool. He made a joke, saying "Do you want to know what Pulaski is without a pool?....Bonduel." I laughed out loud, literally, and trust me, you have to be a part of the small town to find that one hysterical.

You can't escape the gossip around here - nor can you escape the old ladies talking gossip. From my dear neighbor and grandma-in-law, to the elderly stylists at the only hair shop in town, to my co-workers and students, you learn about everybody. I know some intimate details about people I don't even know, but hey - in this town I'm sure I will meet them eventually.

I also live one minute from the grocery store - so close that sometimes I think to myself, "Well, I don't have to put my seat belt on - its practically in my driveway." But then I remember the statistic that whatever percent of accidents happen within one mile of home, and my hypochondriac self makes me put it on anyway. The local grocery store is called Super Ron's. It has a nice little selection - though my students (several of which work there) tell me if you dig deep enough in the shelves then you will find canned goods from 2001. I go to Super Ron's frequently - there is always something I am missing for a meal - today it was mushrooms. I have gone 3 times this week already, and every time I run into 2-3 students, maybe a parent of a student, or someone I work with.

One morning I was up really early on Saturday, hair a mess and pajamas on. I was in the mood for some baked item for breakfast - probably cinnamon rolls, and needed flour. Without thinking twice, I ran to Super Ron's. But Super Ron's in Pulaski is like the paparazzi for celebrities - you can't go there without seeing someone that might judge your appearance. A former student gave me the weirdest look of my life, and one of my current students just chuckled and said "morning Mrs. W." I took that one to heart, and now always make sure to at least straighten my pony tail before bopping in there.

And the old ladies of Super Ron's - I love them! Luke always chuckles when he goes with me - because I act like they are my dear friends. Donna, who almost always opens the store, sometimes recognizes my car in the parking lot at 5:55 am and opens up for me early because she knows I need school supplies. Sandy - my favorite- she always perks up when she sees me. One time I complemented her on her haircut and then it was like we were best friends. She tells me I look nice, asks how I am doing, last time she politely told me that even though I look really young she knows me so well she doesn't have to card me anymore. Haha - too cute.

And then of course, I have to deal with other small town grocery store elements as well. Luke and I had a bonfire last week, so I bought two thirty packs of beer. Well, as I was paying and gave the cashier my ID, she said "Wojcik? Are you possibly my sister's teacher?" Well then first thing 5th hour on Monday, that student didn't hesitate to ask me how my weekend was and chuckle. All part of being a small town girl I suppose. It is all worth it  - there is comfort in the familiarity of it all.

So with that reminiscing over, I will end with a humorous story. On Monday, Luke was very busy getting ready for our CSA membership meeting, and he was feeling pretty stressed. Being the supportive wife, I offered to feed and water the pigs and chicks.  The pigs were easy - I knew enough to wear my rubber boots so that when they nip at my feet they couldn't get me. Those little piggies are entertaining.

But then it was time to feed and water the chickens. Luke designed a light-weight, user-friendly portable coop - for MALES. It is a little to tall for me, I have to stand on my tip toes on one half of a tiny little 2x4, straddle the fence, and try to hop over while on my tiptoes to avoid any..."damage." This isn't easy - it is a very technical, Olympic-worthy maneuver. While balancing on my tip toes of one foot and looking for a spot to set my other foot, I'm also shoeing away the chicks so I don't step on any. And that is how disaster struck.

There I was, on my tip toe, one leg over the wire fence, shooing away chickens and getting ready to plant my other foot, when it happened. A chicken ran under my foot and I had to change my trajectory last minute. And then...I lost my tippy-toe balance, and wound up both feet in the air, straddling a wire fence with no feet touching the ground. I may not be a man, but ouch!!!! Seriously, I'm semi-scared that there might be permanent damage. It was a painful few seconds, trying to shimmy back and forth on that wire fence, just trying to get a footing. It was...uncomfortable, to say the least. Needless to say, my temper slipped as well and the cuss-words were flying at the chickens. Good thing that swearwords don't affect the quality of the meat, or those birds would be pretty nutrition-less by now! Once I freed myself, I filled the water, filled the feed, and then quickly went to inform Luke that we may never be able to have children because of the emotional scarring and possibly long-term physical damage. Okay - I'm over-reacting, but it hurt!!! Guess I will work on my balancing skills for the future.

We have piggies!

Well, we have another first at Twin Elm Gardens! A week ago it seems we were talking about getting a few goats for the farm, and then within a day, the conversation shifted to pigs!

Now, Luke and I were vegan for a few years - but I'm gonna be honest - we both LOVE bacon. We deprived ourselves for so long, that now when a friend of ours who raises pasture-raised organic pigs barters bacon for veggies, we literally scarf the pound of bacon down in one to two meals. BLT's are like the best thing ever - and I make a mean "cholesterol sandwich." So when we first started talking pigs - all I thought was "That'd be a lot of bacon!"

Luke knows how much I love animals, that I would get attached and probably not want to butcher them. He told me that when the 3 little pigs arrived, we would be naming them breakfast, lunch, and dinner - to give me that constant reminder that however cute the pigs may be, their purpose is for food. I requested the name lunch be switched over to BACON - with how much I love bacon I figured it was an appropriate name!

So, Luke (and Austin) worked hard to build a pig pen and a little hut for them over the weekend, and while I was at school today, the pigs arrived. When Luke called me to tell me they were here, I could hear the excitement and energy in his voice. I arrived home, and I totally understand why:

Even though these are feeder pigs (already 50 pounds), they are ADORABLE! Only a foot tall and 1.5 feet long, they are the cutest little piggies I have ever seen! I was instantly attached - I am hooked! I took ridiculous amounts of pictures - most are on facebook - but how do you not love these little guys:

I literally had to start repeating to myself "Breakfast, dinner, bacon." It's hard to think of butchering them - when they are sooooo cute! I got a little sad about it actually, but Luke was really encouraging. He said to think of all the bacon I've ever eaten and how many of those pigs lived - locked in a barn and never seeing the light of day. These 3 little pigs are going to have a fantastic life. They have a HUGE pig pen - literally, the people who dropped off the pigs thought it was a pen for camels it is so big. So, these pigs will have a good life, cruising around their pen, munching on grass and leftovers, and rolling around in the mud. 

They are so cute - they are very happy - and the cruise around as a threesome. Literally, they are always within two feet of each other. When one runs away, the other follows.

Our cat, Banjo thought he would check things out a little bit. When he entered the cage, he crouched down low, as if stalking the pigs, ready to attack. When he got close enough, the pigs noticed him, and they were excited. They went running up to him, and sniffed him out a little bit. Banjo, originally all tough, got so scared and took off running. The pigs thought it was a game, so they chased after him! Totally the opposite of what you think it should be - pigs chasing a cat around the pen. 

I can already tell those cute little bundles are going to bring bundles of happiness to our summer. I am so happy to welcome "Breakfast, Dinner, and Bacon" into our farm lives. 

What the HELL is that smell?

Today was a long day at work, and I was looking forward to getting home and spending a little time in the warm weather - grilling out steaks to dip in some Indonesian Peanut Sauce and sip on some cider beer. I hoped out of my car and breathed in the fresh farm air, and thought to myself "I can't believe someone is spreading manure on the fields in March!" It was pretty potent. Then I saw Tobshu - hooked to his chain in the front yard, instead of running freely with Luke like usual. I thought this was very curious, so I started to walk towards him and greet him. That's when the smell got stronger! Then I noticed the peculiar shade of green that was coating Tobshu's back...and ears...and legs...and stomach...and neck. The smell was revolting - a combination or manure, vomit, and pure decomposition - yuck!
Luke hadn't told me of any mishaps - so I decided to call him! He answered the phone nonchalantly, and I immediately asked "What the hell happened to Tobshu?!" He said, "Oh yea, I forgot to tell you - Tobshu rolled in my compost pile today when I wasn't looking," as if it was the most casual thing in the world. Needless to say I wasn't happy - he isn't exactly an easy dog to give baths. I mean he is okay, but it typically means I get a bit of a bath as well, which wasn't really what I wanted to do today!
I headed in to grab the shampoo and his leash, and as I was walking back outside, I noticed Grandpa Butch hunched over our black male cat, Banjo. Luke had said Banjo was limping around today, but in the chaos of the day I had forgotten about it. I quickly walked over to the house, and checked out Banjo. His back leg is severely injured, and any time I tried to touch it, he meowed, hissed, or tried to bite me! It was quite apparent he is in intense pain, and I couldn't investigate too much because his fur is so long and thick. I didn't want to hurt him too much, so I am going to let him rest and see how he is doing tomorrow! I just don't need another replay of "Kat," If you are unfamiliar with Kat, please read back to my post "Goodbye, New Friend." I don't really want to relive it!
Anyway - off to bath Tobshu. Luke hosed him down, and I scrubbed...and scrubbed...and scrubbed. And I gagged, a little bit - the smell was AWFUL! It was definitely a two-man job! The stench was literally pouring off of him, as was the food matter, algae, and dirt. He looked like a wet rat - running around trying to shake out his fur. We thought he was good to go, and then we brought him inside. The smell started to reveal itself very quickly - I literally sprayed him head to toe with dog perfume, and the stench still rang through. I really want to cuddle up with him on a pillow, but I can't get anywhere near him without getting nauseous! I'm hoping it mellows out a little by tomorrow.
Luke knew exactly what I needed to feel better however! He started a campfire, grilled some steaks, and put on some music! We ate together by the fire, and then we topped it all off with S'mores! The perfect way to make me feel better (and I just won't tell anyone that yesterday I SWORE I wouldn't eat chocolate for a month - yea....failed that). Better luck next time?