SneezingCow.com

Home of Michael Perry – Author, Humorist, Singer/Songwriter, Amateur Pig Farmer

Cart:

Loading...

Archive for September, 2010

Our Own Little Typhoid Mary

The youngest brought home strep.  Then the oldest had a sore throat.  Then Mom got a sore throat, cough, head and ear congestion.  Now Dad (who rarely catches stuff) is hacking and swallowing with grand pained drama.

And last night, while we grownups slumped around trying to get the kids off to bed, I looked at the one who started it all (now healthy and happy as you please and hippety-skipping around the house yodeling happy songs at the top of her lungs) and I thought, “You…you…you…

Pictures from France

I’ve done several posts about the 2009 Red Power Parade (perhaps because I got to be grand marshal of a parade consisting of nothing but International Harvesters…surely a Top Ten country boy moment) (as a result of this book), and here’s another one inspired by an email I just received from Jean Cointe, an International Harvester dealer and aficionado from France.  Seems Jean was clearing out his digital camera and found these two photos:

Fearless leader “Other Mike” reviews the parade route.

You may be the Grand Marshal, but when the Scout runs dry halfway through the parade, you will bail out and push just like everybody else!


Chickens into Chicken

Loaded up the “meats” and took them to the processor yesterday.  “Processor” as in a woman in rural Wisconsin with a team of local folks in a small shed.  48 chickens in one end and out the other in a matter of minutes, slick as a whistle.  If the Big Decline ever dictates that we do the butchering on our own, can do and have done, but for now I rather prefer the local micro-economy.  I was back home by 1:30 p.m. and we had everything chopped, bagged/sealed, and in the freezer in time to put the tots to bed.

The three-year-old was my copilot for the drive.  We had a fine time, yukking it up, holding hands, and snacking on the goodies Mom packed.  One false alarm potty-break, but Dad used the opportunity to check the tarps.  Every good trucker always checks the tarps.

Chickens smaller this year…dressed out between 3.5 and 5.5 pounds, but they were real nice, and we only lost two (one right out of the box and one at about three weeks).  Last year we had bigger chickens (some up to 8 pounds) but higher mortality, and frankly, although it’s nice to brag up your giant chickens, apart from one or two big family get-togethers per year, the more petite birds have their advantages.

Kinda depends when you get them and how much you want to put in them, I guess.  There are formulas.  We just fit them in as the calendar allows.  We fed them chick starter at first, then switched them to hog feed (cheaper than chicken feed).  They also ate a fair amount of expired bakery bread and every other day I moved them to a fresh patch of green oats and kale (it was supposed to be just kale, but I planted the kale after harvesting the oats and we got a lot of volunteers).  They love that kale, and they also will strip the green oats down pretty good, given two days to do it.

Anneliese threw a couple of backs in the roaster pan when we started, so we taste-tested around 7 p.m., and that’s good chicken.

Kale Chips

My wife’s been putting fresh kale on a cookie sheet, drizzling it with olive oil, sprinkling it with sea salt, and then putting in the oven for about ten minutes at 425, and man, what comes out actually tastes like a snack.  Takes some tweaking to get the timing/temperature just right, but worth it.

I mean, it ain’t potato chips, but it’s pretty dang good.

Plus that kale will grow right through those first few snowfalls…

When She Was a Baby

Unexpectedly heard “Brotherhood of Man” by Innocence Mission today and – as always – it broke me up with its beauty and its ties to the day I held our newborn daughter on my lap (Coop, page 181).

Leaving the Peloton

A long time ago I raced bicycles.  I was mildly mediocre.  I actually cut back on bike racing so I could devote more time to this new thing I was trying: writing.  Go figure.  Anyhoo, been years since I hammered off the front in a criterium or shaved my legs (that’s a whole ‘nother post).  Mostly I crashed.  Once while winning a race I ran straight into a bridge abutment.  If you’re ever in Spring Street Sports, be sure to ask if you can view the Pave’ Award that has my name on it.  Pave’ is French for asphalt.  Really all you need to know.

But I was in to biking when the sport was going through profound transformation, and nothing was more stunning than the victory of Greg Lemond over Laurent Fignon.  Lemond’s use of aerodynamic gear marked the dawn of a new era.

A shock, then, to see Fignon is gone.

Kidney Stone Story

Because a couple of folks have asked, the kidney stone story I often perform live is included in this book:

"Off Main Street" Paperback Cover

Also included: stories about truckers, truckin’, truckin’ music, Elvis, Steve Earle, manure, baldness, small-town funerals, tricky book tour moments, veterans, Aaron Tippin, giant musky statues, hot summer days, and existentialist cowboys.

P.S. The title my editor came up with for the kidney stone story was, “Rock Slide!”  I still get a little pale when I think about it.

Such Delight on My Daughter’s Face

When I handed her a signed copy of Ingrid Law’s Scumble the other morning.  Ingrid and I met a year or so ago at an event where she kindly signed a copy of her very popular Savvy for the same daughter.  I admit it’s good to be in a line of work where one can bring home the occasional personalized gift of this nature for one’s tots (the younger daughter received a children’s story and coloring book, both gifts received during a recent road session).

Still, it would be difficult to top my friend Al.  He once interviewed Mel Blanc and was able to bring home a tape on which Bugs Bunny, Daffy Duck, Porky the Pig and a passel of other members of the cartoon pantheon spoke to Al’s children by name.

Seriously, that’s Dad of the Year stuff.