Month: April 2010

Imagine a preschool room full of toys. A train table sits in the corner as the kids are running in from recess. Every boy runs to the train table. One shiny new train sits among the 20 scuffed up trains on the tracks.  Chaos ensues. Ten pairs of hands reach, grab, shove and scratch for the one shiny new train while the rest are left untouched.
Watching Andy and Grant fight over who gets to mow (yes, you read correctly, I said mow) is exactly like watching the preschoolers fight over the new train. And in both situations I find myself screaming at the top of my lungs, “Share!”
A shiny red garden tractor sits in our newly built shed. We bought it used and the previous owners even waxed it for us. I must admit, it is fun to drive, the thing is faster than any mower I’ve ever seen. I suspect that Andy built the shed as a shrine for his new tractor. There were no prior plans to build a shed until she arrived.
Let’s call her “Roxanne” shall we?
Two of the men in my life are smitten with Roxanne. In fact they can be seen racing each other across the field to drive her first. Lucky for Andy, he is the only one who can skillfully ease her out of the shed.
Grant is a quick learner though and he watches intently, studying every maneuver as Andy clears the shed doors. I give it three weeks until Andy is toast.
Frankly, Grant is a better driver.
The neighbors must have had a good giggle last night watching Andy and Grant follow each other on the tractor yelling, “It’s my turn!” I know I did when Grant at last got his chance and sped Roxanne into the back pasture laughing like a mad scientist.
I was in the back pasture with Sam and Ian who were fighting over who was going to hold the hose while we filled the stock tank. Yes, they were fighting over a hose.
Maybe it’s not Roxanne, maybe it’s just boys….

We are constantly being asked how the home building is progressing. A natural, even expected question, but the answer is not so…simple. We always put on a smile and say something like, “It’s great, the excavation is complete, and more is coming next week.”
Roughly translated, this means, “We are now the proud owners of a big ‘ole hole in the ground!”
How do we know that our dream is not just vaporware?  
For those of you non-geeks, vaporware is the announcement by a developer that a new product is coming, but there is no real evidence that it will ever exist in reality. 
After an especially difficult week, a distraught Andy turns to me and says, “it’s just like Crazy Horse!.” Hmm, pretty sure that was not what I thought he was going to say. I give him my most perplexed eyebrow raise and ask the obvious question, “Do I want to know what that means?”
He proceeds to describe a monument in South Dakota that was begun in 1948. When Andy went to visit the monument, they charged more money than Mount Rushmore. And when he finally set eyes upon the wonder…it was a chalk drawing on the face of a mountain.
Now in all fairness, I looked it up and there is now a head available for viewing. Actually it’s really only a face.
After 60 some odd years there is only a head?!
Dear builder, we only have a one-year construction loan…..

Wow. It’s like watching peacocks. As I have mentioned before, every week there is some major crisis with the building process. Looking back over each one of them, I have realized that they all begin with the fact that I, a woman, am trying to navigate the world of manly men. There is a very delicate balance of letting the peacocks strut, whilst still getting what you want. Admittedly, I have not mastered the balance.
Andy works a lot. A LOT. So I am entrusted to handle the everyday details and conundrums that present themselves. It’s like trying to find your way in a foreign country and you can’t speak the language. I could swear that I have made myself completely clear… and they nod like they understand. But it’s always wrong, so so wrong. So I strap on my muck boots and start wading. This must be why God blessed me with a strong willed husband and three strong willed boys. I have learned when to bite my tongue and when to refuse to be moved over the years. Dealing with male Contractors is testing my limits. Wondering what brought on this newest rant? Cows. Longhorns with very long horns to be exact.
Last week we were working on building a shed. As we were silently screaming at the shed manufacturers, three longhorns sauntered onto our property. One of them is not so friendly. We later conveyed the story to our builder and he proceeded to freak out. His fear was completely sound, the cows are gonna ruin materials. It might be hoof prints in the concrete floor, or walking through a newly framed first floor. Hmm. I can honestly say that never occurred to me. But he’s right, they walked around like they owned the place. They have the law on their side and their bovine brains seem to know it. We can’t do anything but keep them out with a fence. So the second installment of fencing begins. Except that the brush is so thick that we can’t build a fence. So we hire a manly man to clear a swath with a bobcat.
I meet the Contractor and I literally walk him around the perimeter, describing the project. He nods, and even asks to borrow our new chainsaw. I oblige him, even running into town to get chainsaw oil. I double check that he has everything he needs, discuss one more time what needs to be done..I’ve learned to double check, then I head back home. Twenty-four hours later, the result is that only one side has been cleared. After nicely confronting him with this information, he says “I thought you only wanted the side cleared.”
Seriously?
So I nicely remind him, ” Well it doesn’t do much good to only fence the side if they can just walk through the front…”
That stumped him.
“Yeah, I guess I see your point.” he says. He agrees to come back Saturday morning to finish the work.
I relay the information to Andy and he becomes unglued. He has to start the fencing Thursday, not Saturday.
So I start calling other manly men to find someone to finish what should have already been done. I find a nice gentleman with a bobcat. And he can stop by later the same day on his way home. Great! Ian and I drop everything, again, and head over to the farm to meet the lifesaver. He walks with me as I talk to him like a kindergartner. It’s not his fault, but fool me once you know? He unloads his bobcat and I head home. I have not been back to check his work. I am afraid to look. Andy will be going by tonight to mark posts and he can look. And maybe I won’t answer my cell phone when he calls…

Have you even seen anything so bizarre? I asked myself this morning as I walked among the cacti on our land. And having been a stay-at-home mom for 9 years, I actually answered myself, nope. Ian and I were watching an amazing transformation of our beloved pets. We have two dogs, Jessie and Missy. Jessie is a 9-year-old nervous, slightly psychotic Aussie, and Missy is a hilarious, infinitely sweet 1-year-old Catahoula. Jessie hates other dogs. I believe this to be a result of her honest assumption that she is human, not canine. In stark contrast, Missy loves every living creature. Everyone is a friend…except for whatever was in the back pasture a couple of nights ago, but I’ll get to that later. Anyway, we began taking Missy to the land a week ago. She grew up, on her own, on acreage so she is a natural. I have been terrified to take Jessie, assuming that she would be a nervous disaster and attack our neighbors’ two dogs that have adopted us as family. I couldn’t have been more wrong. Jessie is a completely different dog out there. She loves her new job. I have always had dogs in the suburbs. In the ‘burbs dogs are pets, creatures that must be taken care of. You have to fence them in, tie them up, reign them in, and adorn them with permits. I love the dogs, but they have always offered little to me except more work. Maybe the reason Jessie was so crazy was because we have always forced her into a role that she was never meant to fulfill. Our roles have almost reversed at the farm. We rely on the dogs to protect us, warn us, defend us. They rise magnificently to the task. You can actually see them stand taller. Our two dogs, combined with the neighbors’ two dogs, almost immediately formed some sort of pack. They all follow us everywhere, if we split-up, they do too. Every once in a while one will break away and you would swear the chosen one is running a perimeter check. Last Friday, we had our first nightly visit to the farm. We made a fire in the back pasture, cooked dinner and s’mores over the fire, and gazed at the stars. We took Missy with us, thinking it would be a good time for her to acclimate. I must preface this story by saying that in the 6 months that we have had Missy, we have never heard her bark. No joke, the dog does not bark. Well, on Friday night, as the fire waned, Missy stood in front of us and so did the hair all over her body. A menacing growl starting rolling through her as she stared at something of mentionable size in the dark that we could not see. After positioning herself between us and the invisible danger, she continued to bark and inch slightly forward for two minutes. She then trotted back to us and layed down to nap. I have complete confidence that if she had not been there, we would have had the misfortune to meet whatever it was she scared away. My respect for my dogs has grown substantially over the last few days. They follow us unquestioning into the brush as we stake fence lines, and we trust every mannerism that warns us that some danger we can’t see is indeed ahead. They are the first to warn, and the last to run. Amazing.
The Builder and the concrete Contractor are marking the foundation piers as I write this story. The Plumber comes tomorrow to begin running lines. Concrete comes later this week, and another fencing expedition begins this weekend. All in all a productive week!