Falco

It feels like a very long time since I've had a sit down heart-to-heart with myself for the entire world to see. Let's take a ride.

June was...well it was crazy. There really isn't another way to put it. We got back from Sarah's wedding - which was very cool - in the wee hours of the morning. Kate was already out like a light, Mother had dozed for a good 120 miles. Hence why I vollunteered to drive. The ladies kept harping on me that it was because I had to be in control of the vehicle, or that I would probably get car sick, among all sorts of reasons why it is funny that "men always drive". For my part, yes, I would rather be in control of the vehicle, although I trust my mother and my sister with my life. No, I don't really get car sick. Usually when I'm riding it's because it was the best solution to get home safely. My reasoning and it still stands is that, I know I can function perfectly well on very little sleep if any. I also know my mother and my sister. I've known them all my life, Ma is usually out cold around 9 or 10 pm. Kate can stay up late, but she was working on a few hours deficit. I figured I was the best one suited for the job.

Anyway. June at work was wet. We have had the wettest June since 1873 when they started keeping track of that kind of stuff. That being said however, first cutting of hay was done on time and in time. Corn is up cultivated, and looking superb. The wheat is ready to harvest. The only real big problem is firewood. We don't have enough and what we have is all wet. Yet my bosses still won't let me go nuts on building my wood shed for the 50 farm. Because "nobody south of the 45 parallel would have a wood shed."

Despite my supervisors declining permission to begin construction on this "inappropriate shed from hell that will make life easier" I have in fact begun construction on it. Mullberry trees are my posts. The floor from the old barn will serve as roofing material. I'm working on collecting green elms for the crosses and supports. For the most part I have gathered all of these materials while on the clock, and while not neglecting my other duties as an interpreter. So there.

Jessie came down from So. Dakota for a party we had on the 3rd of July. She got here early enough that she toured through the farms and chat-chitted with people. She came to the conclusion very early into the tour that most of us are burnt out. We hit the "PLAY" button when people show up but for the most part we're doing our own thing until someone either stops us or asks a quesiton. Now that's kind of my my MO for...three years now. Yes, when there's a school tour, or a day camp, or a group of kids, I bust my butt to make sure that those kids remember something. Even if it's the line, "I would run away from a crazy guy with a beard hitting me with a stick". But the old time farmers, who I love to swap stories with over coffee, hate me when I'm at work. Just because I realize that I have no hope of educating them in how gloriously ignorant they are in regards to farming techniques in central Iowa in the 1850's. They just relate it back to "we used a sickle just like that (pointint at the grain cradle) to cut weeds around fence lines." My reply started three years ago as, "how'd that work seeing that the fence lines would have torn apart the dowels?" and is now, "No you didn't. You might have used a sickle, but you didn't use anything like that". To be honest, I don't say that outloud, but it is deafening when I think it that loud.

I just don't know anymore. 'S a topsy turvy world we're living in. Thank God for gravity and taxes.

Went back home recently on a vacation of sorts. I hadn't planned on staying for more than a wedding reception because the plan was to go camp. But some stuff happened, then some other stuff...and I was in Illinois for longer than planned. Camping was great. Other than I got skunked out on the water with six lines in the drink and four days of fishing. To make it worse, not 10 feet from me an eagle snagged a fish one morning. I started yelling at the eagle shouting, "Teach me your ways! Why did God give me arms instead of wings and feet instead of talons? Teach this young grasshopper!" The eagle just kept on flying. Jerk.

Met some real nice folk up north got a bumber sticker that says, "Don't eat yellow snow, don't drink yellow beer" I thought it was catchy. I promptly gave it to 15 or so year old kid sitting next to me at a free lumber jack show cause he was eye balling it.

Got in touch with Monica this past week. She will be my co-coach with the nationals team this winter. She has all these plans that she wants to accomplish with the girls. I had to reign her back into the real world where we haven't even had tryouts yet. But on the plus side, she knows what she's doing. Which leaves me in the administration and setter and hitters coaching role. Curt, the big boss man of the coaches, took me aside earlier this summer to let me in on a secret: I'm there to keep the parents in check. Monica is too nice a girl to say no, whereas as I am apparently not a nice girl. News to me.

Anyway. Big sister got a pretty sa-weet job and I'm excited for her. I finally got my orientation stuff for school, and the more I think about it, the more that I realize I might have to put it off for another year, or at least semester. I'm scheduled to go up there on Thursday and talk some things over with a counselor. I haven't had much luck with them in my higher education carreer. Hopefully this changes.

If you need me you know how to get in touch with me.


Buck