Bringing Home the Bacon

It's April and that can only mean one thing on our farm. CLAUDE' IS BACK, BABY! Yes, it is pig sale season and that means haircuts for everyone --except Husband who seems to be working on a Luke Duke. To help promote our upcoming pig sale (details here if you're in the market) Ryan and Justin and their cousins photographed some of the cute little pigs that will be in the sale, oh, I mean long-bodied, muscular, sound-footed  future champions. Take a look: At the sale later this month it will be all hands on deck. Everyone has a job. Early in our relationship my job at the pig sale was to help brush each pig before it went in the sale ring. Well, I learned the hard way that standing right behind the girl pigs is a good way to get wet . I have since been promoted to sale clerk and all of our kids are now old enough to help too. Here are Morgan, Justin and their cousin busy prepping for last year's sale. Just so we're clear, a pig sale is not a d

2011 marks my 15th anniversary of farm wifehood (wifery?). Anyway, 15 years ago this month I was a college senior, running home on weekends to plan my September wedding, which included hiring my brother's barber to be the DJ and a future criminal to be the photographer, among other disasters . I thought it would be fun to take a cue from Disney and extend this celebration of our marriage, which should really just take one dinner at Olive Garden, into a six-month-long extravaganza. I kicked off the celebration last month when I went to the jeweler and had my wedding ring forcibly removed by saw. Apparently, after three kids and several Dairy Queen Blizzards, my finger wasn't as small as it was in March 1995 when I got engaged. On Friday I picked up my new wedding bands, beautifully featuring the marquis diamond Husband nervously purchased so long ago. Long-time blog readers (both of you!) will remember that I have already blogged about how Husband and I met , the questions I