Punxsutawney Farmer

This week we will celebrate a major holiday in which a local legend predicts the arrival of spring based on an arbitrary standard. Yes, if Husband sees his shadow on February 2, we'll have six more weeks of winter.

Wait. That honor belongs to a rodent in Pennsylvania, but February 2 does happen to be Husband's birthday. Check out this slide show. Isn't he the cutest thing? Also, note the pig right out the kitchen window in one photo.

I revel in the fact that I married an older man. Husband sometimes jokes that on his fifth birthday, his parents took him to the hospital to pick out his future bride.

Sometimes, I pick on Husband in this blog. But I do occasionally let slip how long we've been together and how much he means to me.

He comes from a long line of wholesome, clean-living men who are wonderful fathers (and pretty good farmers too). I'm happy every year to grow older with him--although never as old as he is!

Happy Birthday, Husband.

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Happily Ever After

Last weekend, in a brief moment of remote control ownership, I tuned into basic cable and saw a very disturbing show called "Rich Bride, Poor Bride." I watched two episodes and didn't see what I would call a "poor" bride--although actually, after they blew their budgets, both brides probably did end up poor. One couple spent about $75,000. They talked her out of having live peacocks at the reception.

That makes me think about my own much simpler but very nice-for-Farmersville wedding over a decade ago. In many ways it was a disaster.

We were engaged for a year and a half; we had plenty of time to plan but fates conspired against us.

By the time we got to the week of the wedding, we had buried two people on the guest list and paid our respects to a distant uncle. One of the people we lost was my husband's grandfather who died Monday, we had visitation Wednesday, funeral Thursday, rehearsal dinner Friday, wedding Saturday. How his grandmother handled it is beyo…

Snapshots on the Farm

Starting off summer with Ayrshire dairy females grazing in the lot by our driveway. Our family used to milk Ayrshires but we now just keep a few on hand for 4-H projects.

Rejected by Nancy Cartwright

Every two years the nationally renowned Erma Bombeck Writers' Workshop is held here in Dayton. The event typically sells out in hours, but one way to gain entry is to enter the Erma Bombeck Writing Competition--there is even a category for local writers.

Several of my local friends who are great bloggers and hilarious Facebook commenters have been talking smack about winning this thing since we were all shut out two years ago by booger stories.

Nancy Cartwright, Dayton native and the the voice of Bart Simpson, judged the finalists this year. Apparently, she did not like my entry.

Recently, famous blogger and author Jenny Lawson shared an article she had written that was rejected by Oprah's magazine. So, inspired by her, I will share my article that I'm sure made it all the way to Nancy [it did not] and then was rejected for not being about boogers or port-a-johns.

Check out "All the Dreeds of Pigs" in a future post on this blog.

Bringing Home the Bacon

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