It has been quite some time since either of us have posted. It has been crazy around here, to say the least. Besides the added responsibility of our new flock, Farmer Mac building his veg gardens, we have another home to maintain the landscaping with 7 additional garden spaces. Since we have a small fortune in plants there, we have been making the trek there and digging out plants there to transplant at our new home. Needless to say, we are both exhausted and could use a week of solid rain just so we don't have to go outside and work. Anyway, that is my story for the lack of blogging and I am sticking to it. Let's get on with the show.
On a daily basis, my friends Itchy, Scratchy and I will banter back and forth by email about any given topic. It may start with something silly one of us have done (none of us have ever been accused of being highly coordinated....well, Scratchy is much more stable on her feet than Itchy and myself) that day and the other two will run with it. It may be an article one of us stumbles upon and the barbs start. Or, as in this case, it all started with one of this viral email jokes.
A few days back, I opened my inbox to find this joke entitled:
"MARITAL LOVE".
"A group of women were at a seminar the subject discussed was 'How to live in a loving relationship with your husband'.
The women were asked, "How many of you love your husband?"
ALL the women raised their hands.
Then they were asked, "When was the last time you told your husband
you loved him?"
Some women answered today, some yesterday, some couldn't remember.
The women were then told to take out their mobile phones and text their husband: "I love you, sweetheart."
The women were then told to exchange phones and to read aloud the text message responses.
Here are some of the replies:
1. Who is this?
2. Eh, mother of my children, are you sick?
3. I love you too.
4. What now? Did you crash the car again?
5. I don't understand what you mean?
6. What did you do now?
7. ?!?
8. Don't beat around the bush, just tell me how much you need?
9. Am I dreaming?
10. If you don't tell me who this message is actually for, someone will die.
11. I thought we agreed we would not drink during the day.
12. Your mother is coming to stay, isn't she??
After a few giggles, definitely out loud, I advised my Twisted Sisters, "
I'm gonna try this on Farmer Mac. Not now though, because he is sitting next to
me."
"Do it!" was the only encouragement that I needed from Scratchy.
Itchy noted that her other half, Deli-J said 'if he got a message like that from me he'd know I was bringing home another un-loved cat or dog. And, he'd be fine with that."
I needed to wait until the ideal opportunity presented itself before I put our love to the test. The next day I was having some quality time with all of my technology while Farmer Mac was hard at it, doing the people's work so I figured what better time.
I typed in "I love you, Babe", hit send and sat back and waited. Without hesitation, farmer Mac replied, "I luv you too!" I immediately sent Itchy and Scratchy the update.
I typed in "I love you, Babe", hit send and sat back and waited. Without hesitation, farmer Mac replied, "I luv you too!" I immediately sent Itchy and Scratchy the update.
"Well ladies, I did it. His reply, sorry to disappoint on the humor side, "I luv
u too". At least we know he's a romantic sucker!"
Scratchy commented, "Perhaps it's a good thing Neon Dave and I don't text."
So while there was no comic relief provided at the expense of one of our significant others that day, it definitely warmed my heart to know that my Farmer Mac is still hopeless romantic. Or is he?
As I mentioned earlier the Soul Patch Farm has been a bustle of activity. The day following the Marital Love debacle was no different. I decided to tackle a flower bed in the front yard. I had at least a half dozen shrubs to plant and another half dozen perennials. For those of you who love to garden you know it's never simple as digging 12 holes and planting 12 plants. For every plants you add, you have five others that need to be dug out and relocated. In this case, I needed to dig out a very well established patch of generic orange day lilies. I'm estimating the patch to be about 5 feet by 3 feet. At the same time, Farmer Mac decided to tidy the garage a wee bit. He moved the lawn mower and his motorcycle out into the driveway. Between being in the shade of the garage, breathing in the fresh cool air caused by the cross breeze with all of the doors and windows open, drinking limonatas, eating popsicles and taking copious smoke breaks - I think he swept the floor. He was but a few steps from me and I KNOW he was just standing back and watching the show.
So while there was no comic relief provided at the expense of one of our significant others that day, it definitely warmed my heart to know that my Farmer Mac is still hopeless romantic. Or is he?
As I mentioned earlier the Soul Patch Farm has been a bustle of activity. The day following the Marital Love debacle was no different. I decided to tackle a flower bed in the front yard. I had at least a half dozen shrubs to plant and another half dozen perennials. For those of you who love to garden you know it's never simple as digging 12 holes and planting 12 plants. For every plants you add, you have five others that need to be dug out and relocated. In this case, I needed to dig out a very well established patch of generic orange day lilies. I'm estimating the patch to be about 5 feet by 3 feet. At the same time, Farmer Mac decided to tidy the garage a wee bit. He moved the lawn mower and his motorcycle out into the driveway. Between being in the shade of the garage, breathing in the fresh cool air caused by the cross breeze with all of the doors and windows open, drinking limonatas, eating popsicles and taking copious smoke breaks - I think he swept the floor. He was but a few steps from me and I KNOW he was just standing back and watching the show.
With the temperature hovering in the high 20s and the humidity making it feel like the high 30s , at the peak of the day the sun was beating down on my back and I was a dripping mess, covered in bug bites and red dirt. You see, it's a losing battle around here. The ground is bone dry and dusty. The mosquitoes are plentiful and overly thirsty. Every blood sucker that bit me, I hit myself with a red dusty garden glove. The dirt in turn stuck to my clothes and sweat-soaked body. My glasses were fogged from my own sweat so I would constantly lift my shirt, flashing the neighbours I'm sure, to wipe the sweat from my eyes and face only to transfer the dirt from my shirt to my face and my glasses.
I was about ready to give up, but I thought to myself, surely he is going to offer to give me a hand. So, the more I dug, the louder I grunted. With the start of each new plant, I would let out a heartbreaking sigh. I made a spectacle of myself stretching my aching back. Nothing! All of these tactics usually work. Not this time. As the sun got hotter, I could feel my skin begin to burn. The shoveling seemed to be getting more difficult and each plant I pulled seemed to be heavier than the last. I glanced at my husband with disgust as the sweat rolled down my forehead into my eyes - blinding me, yet again and stinging from the salt. What the hell! Where was my chivalrous knight in shining armour when I truly needed him.
A moment later, just as I was about to break, I looked up and saw him walking toward me with a plush towel and his most gorgeous smile. He had that twinkle in his eye. You know the one....a little devious, "I've had enough laughs for the day, time to come to your rescue" or better yet, "I really love you. I'm so proud of how hard you work to make our house a home." I had that fluttery feeling in my chest. What a man I have. He's coming to wipe away my sweat-filled face and take over the shovelling. Except he didn't. He walked right past me with that big goofy grin and headed straight toward his motorcycle, wiped her down and announced, "I'll be back in a few minutes. I'm just going for a ride around the block", and he was gone.
I stood there for a few minutes, aghast. For real? Once I picked my chin up off the ground, I made my way into the garage, and pulled a used and abused dirty old rag out of the car washing bucket and mopped my own brow. He was none the wiser.
Romantic? I did say hopeless, right?
Romantic? I did say hopeless, right?