TERRY
Terry continues on her independent ways, kinda! Yesterday as I sat in the den by the computer there she went right past me going from the bedroom to the living room. On her own she has decided that she needs to walk more (with the walker at this point). Yesterday at 7:30 PM she walked into the living room just to walk. She sat watching TV for about a half hour and then headed back to the bedroom. She now keeps the walker near the bed and feels safe in using it any time with no regard if I am close by or not. Well there is one exception. She has promised that she will not use the walker if I am gone. I suspect that will change soon but we will see. She has decided that she will not use the last 3 sessions of therapy now. That means we, or she, need to be always thinking of ways she should get exercise. This morning, as I write, she is reading the paper with the TV on while she stays in bed.
I need to get on the bike and get some exercise in this morning. No tennis on the weekend so I need to do something. It looks like 100% change of rain this afternoon.
from the book
"Ivan describes his parents: They didn't throw no money away. My mother would churn butter, as high as 30 pounds a week. She had butter customers in town. I would sell the buttermilk to the butter customers at 10 cents for half a gallon. When I didn't get to town in the wintertime my dad didn't take my buttermilk money. When I did get to town, I probably had $1.50 worth of buttermilk money. And I had kids following me, a block long, because we were going to have candy. But I was only allowed to spend five cents and take the rest home. You can believe this or not, sir, but I still got some of the money."
Our way of doing things!
It is the middle of June in 1957 and the weather had not been kind to us. Dad mowed our first crop of alfalfa on Monday with the mindset that we would be stacking hay by the end of the week. Dad said the hay needed to dry out before we put it in rows so there was nothing to do except pick rocks on the land that we were summer fallowing. Neither Dave nor I were crazy about haying time but it sure beat picking rocks. Well there was a way of making rock picking OK. I mean you could use the rocks for baseballs, or shot puts or see how far you could be away from the rock wagon and still get them to stay on the wagon bed. I mean we could think of many ways to make the work not so much like work. BUT here we get back to the hay. Dad said we should rake the hay into rows on Wednesday and then on Thursday we were to drive over the rows and make them into bunches of hay that Dad would pick up with the Jayhawk stacker when we stacked the hay. Well I say, "our way of doing things" because it was not like most farmers. Other farmers actually had gone modern and had side delivery rakes. Our way of doing things was actually with a rake that had actually been drawn by horses at one time. The modern way was just to go around the field with the side delivery and rows appeared but with our machinery we needed someone to drive the tractor and someone to sit on the rake as well. I should say that we were the only ones still stacking hay. By the time Dave and I got to be in the middle grades everyone was baling their hay. Rollof, Obert, Bert and everyone else had bales. Some had round bales and some had square bales. Us, no way were we into bales in our farm. Anyway this time around we got caught in a week were mid week we had rain. Now you can not stack hay that is wet so after we had some sunny days Dave and I had to go around the field again and each time we would drive across the windrow of hay we would just catch the edge of the row and then trip the rake just at the right time so the hay would be turned over. Dad did mention that once the hay was rained on it still was good but not as good as if it had never been rained on. I should add a funny story. Dave never forgot the summer, maybe 1959 or so, when he had to stack hay on his birthday. He always thought he should have had his birthday off!!
Here it is 9:30 and time to sign off. My FP is almost finished so a bike ride it is.
No comments:
Post a Comment