Monday, June 4, 2007

Are we having fun?

My weekend attire.
No my feet really aren't that big, we buy rubbers a
few sizes bigger so they are easier to slip on and off.

I think I did more this weekend than I have all week, and it's carrying right into Monday! It all started when, yet again, our regular pipe changer didn't show up. My MIL (I call her Grandma) who is past the age of 60 (if I told you her real age she'd kill me) calls and asks me if I'd like to come and do pipes. Well no one likes to do pipes but one (me) really doesn't have a choice, so one (me) says "sure" in that 'no I really don't want to, but I'd like to if I want to stay in her good books' way. The first lesson in doing pipes is to get out early, the earlier the better. You see, it gets soooo hot here the pipes will burn your hands if you wait too long. Unfortunately my MIL didn't call until 11:30 and the sun had been out for hours, and the weather was 35+ degrees Celsius. (That's about 95+ Fahrenheit my US friends). So off we go, the first line is the barn field. Done, wrong, but done nonetheless. Then it's off to pick up a line over in the graveyard, she tells me she's just going to run to the house she'll meet me over there...wait, wait,.... wait. Finally I jump in (truck) "Red" and go grab the pipe wagon and pick up the line myself. Burn hands on first pipe. Grumble, walk back to Red and grab gloves, make mental note "don't leave gloves in truck again." I drop the pipe wagon, drenched in sweat I head over to her house. I tell her I've picked up the line and we just have to set it out now. I grab my brother (green horn city kid) and the three of us go lay out the line. Done. I take Grandma back to her house and run into Pops (FIL), who informs me the barn field is wrong but it will only take me five minutes to fix it. His "five minutes" is usually a good half hour, sometimes longer, well most times longer. I head down with my brother and we change the line. (Insert break here, although I did whip up some baking and a load of laundry, and then there's all that "meaningless" stuff we do that doesn't even count). Then there was a quick trip (45 minutes return) down the road to 18 Mile to deliver some hydraulic oil to hubby who's haying for some neighbours. As soon as I get back from there Grandma calls and says would I like (there's that word again) to feed out some hay for some heifers up across the road? "Sure" I can't even be sarcastic here, she'll pick up on that tone. Okay jump in Red, run into Pops (I should really hide when I see the man coming), he decides we are going to herd them across the road back into our own field, "have I got five minutes?" Two hours later, 10:30 PM, I make it back home. During all this we've talked about what time "we" are going to do pipes tomorrow, Grandma figures 6:30 AM is early enough... 6:30! That's fine and dandy if one (me) gets to bed early but just as I came in the door Hubby radios me and says he's on his way home, he'll see me shortly. I'm all wound up from herding cows, I chat with him for 1/2 an hour, sit down on the couch, flick on my favourite 1/2 hour wind down show, Judge Judy, and I'm still looking at the clock at 12:30 AM wide awake. The next thing Sydney is shaking me, "Mama, it's almost 6:30." I fell asleep on the couch.
Bleary-eyed I grab a coffee and not more than a few minutes later Grandma calls, she'll meet me at the bottom of the "14 Field." I don my rubbers, and I'm off to change pipes again. A couple of fields later and just in time to see Sydney head out the door to the school bus our pipe changer shows up. In all the haste this morning I forget to wish my daughter, my precious Sydney, my first non natural birth and a painful 27 and a 1/2 (can't forget that half) hours of labour child, a Happy 9th Birthday! (Oh I feel like such a horrible Mama!) It wouldn't have been so bad but on Friday when she brought home the school calendar she pointed out that they forgot to put her birthday on it! The poor kid. So I'm sitting here blogging, I've just got back from 18 Mile after delivering baler twine, and Sydney is due home any minute... I've got to get a cake in the oven!


Anonymous said...

WOW! And I thought MY day was busy...=) When I was very young, I so wanted to be a farmer's wife! =) I don't think I had a CLUE...

I hope Sydney had a wonderful birthday! I remember being 9 years doesn't even seem that long ago (but it was).

Tell her HAPPY BIRTHDAY from her mom's friend in the US!!

DaviMack said...

Okay, see, I can read that and say to myself, "man, what an awfully long day, aren't I glad I'm not a farmer" or something of the sort ... but then my brain picks up on something, and I have to re-read the whole thing.

And again.

Until I spot it.

That pesky little fragment of a sentence which sticks out in my subconscious, begging for an explanation. A cosmic, "Huh?"

"Then it's off to pick up a line over in the graveyard...."

Umm... why would you be watering the graveyard? Or storing lines in the graveyard? Is the graveyard actually for people, or is it (please) just someplace that you store things, and not corpses as well as watering lines?