Hot Time Fair in the City

Our family spent the first week of August making multiple trips to the Ohio State Fair. Along the way we picked up a number of ribbons and sweated out the armpits of a dozen shirts.

Like last year, Morgan and I snuck away to see some of the sites of the fair that weren't within the four walls of the hog barn. I used a "cartoon" feature on my camera phone to take this photo. Artsy.

As usual, Ryan was the star of the Michael family pig showing crew. He racked up quite a few ribbons over the week, including champion Landrace barrow (Landrace barrow = white castrated pig with floppy ears). Here he shows his Yorkshire gilt (white female with upright ears).

There are probably readers of this blog who would pay good money to see how I used to get in the ring and show our hogs. Fortunately, I have pumped out enough junior showmen to retire and become chief photographer and water bottle holder, however, it's all hands on deck when we have three pigs in the same class. Husband, GrandDad and my Grandpa all are helping the kids get ready in the holding pens (the pens where you go before your class enters the show ring).

Husband and I very much disagree about fair food. I, like most normal people, look forward to the opportunity to buy something on a stick for every meal. Husband fondly remembers the days when the Ohio State Fair had a Wendy's booth, which he visited at every opportunity. Blasphemy!

Our good friends at the Ohio Farm Bureau always put on a great display at the Ag and Hort Building. A few years ago we met a very self-aware cow, who I believe has since retired to a pasture of astroturf. Anyway, we always have fun there and the kids love to ride the pedal tractors.

The Ohio State Fair is over now but we are still looking forward to visiting the Indiana State Fair and our county fair. Stay tuned for more fair fun photos and possibly a look back at my time in 4-H (it was the 80s!).

Secretly Liking the Pigs

I have a confession to make. I like pigs.

I know this doesn't seem like much of a confession from a woman who has breastfed a baby in a (empty) pig pen at the Indiana State Fair, but actually it is. Early on in my marriage to a pig farmer, I knew that if I let on about liking pigs they would be everywhere. Pig towels, pig knick knacks, pigs in the kitchen, pigs in the bathroom, pigs everywhere. So I let on like I wasn't wild about pigs, which kept the pig gifts to a manageable minimum. Yes, some people gave me pigs whether they thought I liked them or not. Either they were on to me--or they just didn't care.

Today, I got a pig birthday card from my aunt in-law in New York. It shows hog heaven. Get it, hog heaven, which apparently consists of pig angels, hogs riding hogs, and a pig-like deity overseeing it all. It's a cute card and now that I've confessed to liking pigs--it won't be the last.

My in-laws are proud pig farmers and collectors of all things pig. They were very pleased to have found these cute chocolates from a British chocolatier featuring cheeky piggies to place in Husband's Christmas stocking. As a guy, it's always been safe for him to admit to liking pigs, although he did get a good luck three-legged pig from my mother this year. Apparently, in the world of knick knacks, three legs is much cuter than it would be in real life--where missing a leg would certainly NOT make you a lucky pig.

With this confession made,  now I can safely snack on the Yorkshire-looking pink chocolate pig and display my birthday card. But don't even think about getting me a calendar featuring 365 days of whiskers and his ball of yarn; my feeling about cats is not subject to change.

Oh, The Feral Pig of Texas is the Only One for Me

Nothin' brings me out of a blogging slump like a good ole feral pig story.  Today's Wall Street Journal has a front-page update on how wild pigs are tearing up the manicured lawns of Southlake, Texas, making the stunning observation that shooting them from helicopters is frowned upon in well-populated areas.

The writers of these stories are always so surprised to learn that A) pigs are interested in rooting in soft ground and B) pigs are very smart. The fact that pigs are capable of reproducing in litters is also a surprise, somehow.

The pigs on our farm are very different than these lawn-eating pigs but not in many ways. Every once in a while Husband has a pig that just won't stay in a pen. Sometimes he gives up and just lets the pig run around on the farm for a day. First thing on its agenda--rooting in the yard. Second, getting into the stash of feed. And just like those feral pigs, our wild-for-a-day pig is very leery of humans and their fences and gates.

The WSJ article claims that two million feral pigs are currently pooping in the wilds and suburbs of Texas (The Wall Street Journal does not use terms like pooping, that was my little addition.). I hope they stay there.

We already get the calls if anyone spots a stray pig in this half of the county. I could only imagine what life would be like if feral pigs were showing up to ruin area suburban sprinkler systems.

Farm Wife Tips: Packing for the Pig Barn

My friend and fellow blogger, SoyBoyMama, is running a weekly series of Tuesday tidbits where she shares great ideas, like a simple way to keep kids puzzles from getting mixed together. Since I'm forever stealing her memes, I have a few tips to share too. Farm wife style.

Tomorrow we are heading out to the Ohio State Fair for three days of pig showing. As a veteran fairgoer and mother, I have a few tricks up my sleeve to ensure a fun and safe trip.

First, you never know what you'll encounter at the fair. Actually, you do: dust, messy food, sweat and manure. I carefully choose the bag I bring to the fair. It needs to be able to withstand spilled water (or pig pee if you're really unlucky) and wipe down easily if it gets dirty.

I use this large bag I was fortunate enough to get for free a few years ago. It has survived several fairs and even a few nibbles from the pigs.

Inside I pack a head-to-toe replacement set of clothes for each member of the family. Trust me. When your four-year-old gets so exhausted that he pees himself in the barn, you'll be glad to have not only the underwear, but the socks. I bring a complete change of clothing for myself. Every Mom knows from experience that kids rarely get messy without sharing a little of the filth with Mom.

I pack each person's clothing in a Ziploc bag. First, it helps keep the clean clothes safe from the many perils of the pig barn. Second, in-barn clothes changes are usually happening in an emergency situation. It's great to be able to find the whole outfit quickly and easily. Third, the plastic bag can be a safe storage place for the icky dirty clothes.

Last year we ordered at set of tattoos with Husband's cell phone number on them from SafetyTat. These are a GREAT way to keep kids safe, especially at a place as big as the State Fair. We always keep an eye on the kids, but feel better knowing that if the little ones wander off, there is an easy way for the authorities to contact us. [I am not affiliated with SafetyTat. I just like their product.]

One last tip for all visitors to the fair. Unless you like the feeling of excrement between your toes--leave the flip flops at home!

Sign of the Farmpocalypse

Every issue of Sports Illustrated has a brief quote titled Sign of the Apocolypse, a humorous but true sports news item that makes you wonder--have we gone too far? In that spirit, I present the another installment of Sign of the Farmpocalypse, because I just can't make this stuff up.

She needed to know if it was new or used.
 
- Husband describing his efforts to depreciate a pig with the help of a tax preparer.

Winter Wonder Farm

Yesterday we got eight inches of snow. My driveway is not scraped; my back porch remains icy. Here on the farm, all the shoveling and snow removal is focused on the livestock. Snowed-in farm wives, minivans and sidewalks are not a priority.

A self-proclaimed fair weather farmer, I ventured out today with Morgan, sacrificing my cozy sweatpanted existance to bring you a winter weather farm report. I even caught the farmer out hamming it up (get it!).

By the time I got out there, the shoveling was done and feeding time had begun. These hungry sows (mama pigs) were glad to have a cleaned off spot in their pen to eat dinner.

Right now we are in baby pig season at the farm. I know it seems like a better idea to have babies in the spring, but since we will be selling the majority of the pigs to 4-H'ers for the county fair and to other farmers as breeding stock, we want them mature (250-280 pounds) by August/September for fair season.

Can you believe this sweet little guy will be a big hog in six months?

Or these? I love the little Herefords. Thanks to Husband's hard work, they can come out of the little house they share with their mother and not get buried in snow.

Fortunately, this little one and her brothers love to shovel snow. If I can just get them strong enough to put the snow blade on the John Deere, we'll be all set.

Mending Fences

When you live on a farm that last made a fencing purchase in 1972, sometimes the animals are able to escape. Most times, Husband deals with the escapees on his own, my only evidence of wandering cows the "pies" they leave at the back door.

Sometimes the little escape artists are so cute you just have to watch them explore the big world outside their pen. This is cuter to me than my in-laws who have to shoo little pigs out of their garden and flower beds.


One time we came home from being gone all day and saw suspicious manure/mud wiped on our back door. Apparently, the pigs had escaped from their pen, leaped into the nearest puddle, and then decided to pay their respects to the farmer and his family.


This past summer Justin and Morgan ran in the house to breathlessly report that there were cows in the barnyard. Only half believing them I walked outside in time to see a herd of mature Ayshires dashing down our gravel driveway toward the road. Husband raced past them and turned then back toward the house, and they stampeded right past us again. After detouring through my father-in-law's garden, they eventually returned to their barn.

Sometimes the animals are loose by design. These ewes (mother sheep) are grazing near Husband's old basketball court by the pig pens. Ah, the old basketball court by the pigs pens--isn't that where most kids learn the sport? Anyway, the sheep are there because Husband's father let them out. Now that I think of it, I'm not sure why. I guess he figured the ewes wouldn't wander far without their lambs.

Yes, most women have a lot to worry about when the phone rings in the night or the police knock on the door. But farm women have one more thing on their mind--broken fences.

Congratulations from the Barnyard Animals

Sometimes when you are straddling the worlds of corporate communications and agriculture, you have conversations like this.

Me from work via cell phone: Guess what? We WON! We won a national PR award!

Noises coming from Husband's cell phone: OINK. oink, oink, snort. OINNNK.

Husband: That's good isn't it?

Yes, I'm very proud to say that our team won a PR News Platinum PR Award for a community relations program geared to introduce area high school students to careers in health care. The event included a cadaver lab and mock trauma in the ER.

I'd say it's a safe bet that the national PR agencies (Coyne, Ogilvy) and major brand names (Hard Rock, GE, Lego, Coca-Cola) that also won awards in this program did NOT spend 2/3 of their program budget on dead bodies.

But then it's also a safe bet that their PR team wasn't congratulated by barnyard animals.

Guy Reads: Akron Edition

Gotta love my Aunt CS from Akron. She is the Queen of holiday family group photos, a humble health care worker like me, and she even takes time to clip and mail articles for her nephew-in-law (Husband) from the Akron Beacon Journal.

So, thanks to Aunt CS, it's time for another installment of Guy Reads, the exciting segment where I share with you the news items I (and Aunt CS) clip out of the paper for my husband.

Small town side note: when she lived around here, Aunt CS used to share rides to college with my father-in-law. Not knowing that many, many, many years later her niece would marry his son.

Anyway, she surprised us this week with a fascinating story out of Akron about the very rare Red Wattle pigs. They are known for their extremely unattractive under-chin wattles and dark meat.

Photo: Ohio.com

A little additional research on my part shows that the Red Wattle is "critical" according to standards set by the American Livestock Breeds Conservancy This means that the breed has fewer than 200 annual registrations in the U.S. and estimated global population less than 2,000.

We know a little about rare breeds here on our farm, so we wish the young lady from Akron all the best.

We also know a little about fake cows here on our farm. That's why I was concerned to hear that the police in Akron have been hassling a kind man about his restaurant mascot, Cattlelena. Is that not the best name ever given to a fake cow?

Speaking of great names, the PR person in me just HAS to give it up to the forward-thinking geek at the Akron Beacon Journal who thought to register Ohio.com as their domain name. Some Akronite (Akronian?) back in 1995 really had their sh!t together, besides Aunt CS, that is.

And That's When the Fight Started...

Today, local radio DJs were inviting people to call in and share their stories of domestic bliss that end with the phrase, and that's when the fight started... One poor woman called in to say she was very pregnant with her daughter and she borrowed a red dress from a friend. When her husband saw her in it he yelled, Hey Kool-Aid! And that's when the fight started...

I was very tempted to call in but like so many of the stories I want to tell about my home life, my most recent and that's how the fight started story requires agricultural definitions, explanation of rural culture and possibly a quick refresher on the birds and the bees.

Let's go back to the beginning... (harp music, harp music, harp music, waaaaves)

Husband showed up to a farmer meeting a few years ago and was put in charge of procuring awards for the Champion and Reserve Champion Yorkshire gilts at the Ohio State Fair. A position, I am finding out, that has the same term of office as U.S. Supreme Court Justice--forever.

So now husband is in charge of ordering the annual awards. The first year I stayed out of it. The kids who won with their prize Yorkshire pigs got a check in the mail after the show was over.

The subsequent years I got involved and we ordered embroidered lawn chairs (they still got a check), which are a very popular way for kids to brag about their accomplishment when they bring the chair to the barn at the next show.

This year, after scoping out the award chairs kids were bringing to the shows, I got crazy and decided to order a chair with a pig embroidered on it.


Yorkshire pigs are all-white (pink) pigs that have ears that stand up. Note that other breeds of all-white pigs have floppy ears that hang down--this will be important in a second. Gilts are female pigs that have not been bred--or at least that's what is implied by their purity rings.

Let's play a game now. Pretend you are a serious pig farmer. What's wrong with this picture. (Jeopardy music, Jeopardy music)

The pig is actually white. This photo doesn't do it justice. That part I got right. One big problem is that this pig has a wee-wee underneath. He's a boy.

Also, look at those ears. THEY ARE POINTING DOWN. THE CHAIR IS RUINED. HOW COULD WE GIVE OUT THIS ATROCITY?

And that's when the fight started.

In my defense, I ordered the pig sight unseen from Friendly Suburban-Dwelling stitchery ladies who only knew that I specifically asked for a white pig that was NOT a cartoon. I figured discussions with them over the phone of Yorkshire breed characteristics and gender indicators would really be too much. It's a representation, not a photo.

I had also forgotten to have them sew Yorkshire gilt on there so what we had was a chair that said: Jr. Show Champion
[image of male pig not of the Yorkshire persuasion]
Ohio State Fair

I fell on my sword and offered my resignation as Special Assistant to the Farmer Who has to Acquire Awards for the Ohio State Fair Yorkshire Show. Fearing that he may lose a valuable contributor to many of his agricultural endeavors, he got in the car and drove the chairs back to the stitchery ladies to add the missing words.

And that's when the fight ended.

Experiencing the Fair

I set the bar pretty high with my last Multi-Media Pig Show Report, so I decided to switch things up at bit at the Ohio State Fair. Posing as non-farm civilians, the kids and I left the barn and infiltrated many fair attractions. Husband stayed behind so as not to arouse suspicion among the other farmers that we were out actually enjoying the sights.


Nothing says Oh my God, my tits are rubber and I only produce water like the look on this fake cow's face. Ryan, Justin and Morgan couldn't get enough of this. I had to drag them away from the water-producing cow so we could move on to other attractions. It only seems fair that kids who have never seen a cow in their life should take precedent over kids who have 40 cows milking outside their back door twice a day, 365 days a year.


Thanks to a very friendly Division of Wildlife officer, Justin was able to catch this fish at the Ohio Dept of Natural Resources park inside the fairgrounds. We passed on taking the fish home with us. I'm not sure what a plastic bag filled with dead fish would be like on our third day at the fair.

We passed through the sheep barn and feeling very touristy I snapped this photo of some very interesting sheep. They all assured me that they had nothing against goats and in fact had some goat friends.

All three kids enjoyed playing putt-putt in the cattle barn surrounded by educational displays of the protein content of beef and interesting kabob recipes.

We arrived home in time to do laundry and turn around and send the boys back to the fair with their grandparents a day later to show another trailer load of pigs. I'm sure their grandfather, last-man-in-the-barn-Don, will keep them focused on the business at hand. Fortunately, there will be other relatives around who can take them to ride pedal tractors or see baby chicks or get tractor tattoos from the USDA. I just hope that poor cow and her rubber udders are ready.

Is There a Pig Farmer in the House?

pigs
Originally uploaded by Flamestitch

How often are any of us called out in public to perform our special occupational skills? Do people stop at the mall and scream out, IS THERE ANYONE HERE WHO CAN COMBINE SYNERGIES OR OPTIMIZE INDUSTRY-LEADING SOLUTIONS?

No, unless you are a physician, your day-to-day work abilities are very unlikely to be tapped in a public crisis.

So imagine my surprise this past weekend at the Ohio State Fair when the ability to rouse a lactating sow would come into play in a crowd situation.

Inside the hog barn at the State Fair is a nice air-conditioned store called the Pork Schop. Staffed by a team of dedicated volunteers, the shop sells anything and everything with pigs on it. The area features a play place for kids, and, in a separate pen, a real live sow and a litter of pigs.

Morgan and I were enjoying some down time at the kids area next to the growing crowd of non-farmers and children checking out the cute little pigs. When one piglet started squealing I didn't pay attention. There are always pigs squealing somewhere in a hog barn.

The squealing stopped and people started turning away. I heard one woman say I can't watch this. Figuring the sow was doing something gross, like peeing on unsuspecting urbanites, I kept shopping and Morgan kept playing.

Finally, someone said to one of the volunteers that a little pig was getting squashed. In moments, these women, who fortunately were retired farm wives, sprang from behind their table of figurines, opened the gate and began fearlessly smacking the 400 lb sow to make her get up.

One retired farm wife pushed and one kept smacking until they were able to pull the piglet out from under its mother. His little ears were purple from lack of blood flow but he was breathing.

The heroics of the volunteers was the talk of the Pork Schop for days. Husband said I should have jumped in to get involved but I am holding out for a crisis that meets my unique skill set.

So if anyone ever has a crisis that involves breastfeeding a baby in the hog barn while prepping the COO by phone for a media interview--then I'm your woman.

Image from Flickr.

Multi-Media Pig Show Report

Welcome to the only place on the internet where mad communications skilz, almost unbearable maternal pride and swine come together. It's the first ever Multi-Media Pig Show Report®.

Welcome to our report from the National Swine Registry Summer Type Conference. Where else would a Multi-Media Pig Show Report begin but the pig barn at the Expo Center in Louisville, Kentucky, where the pigs were very happy. Aren't they cute when they're sleeping.

Oh, and this little one is cute too. Shhh don't tell Grandma S. that she's in your computer--she won't like it!

Back to the report... Todd showed pigs, Ryan showed pigs and Justin won first place with his poster all about pigs. The end.

But wait! I promised you a Multi-Media Pig Show Report and I don't disappoint. We have next our first-ever Bringing Home the Bacon video production, starring Ryan and featuring jerky photography and jumpy editing by yours truly.




Wait! There's more! If you act now, I'll throw in the complete photo montage on Flickr, a $24.99 value--yours FREE!

If for any reason you haven't enjoyed your Multi-Media Pig Show Report, just return it for a full refund. Minus shipping and handling.

Master of My Domain

Recently, all the professional farmers in the family were either on vacation or off at a pig show (I count my seven year-old son as one of the professionals). By a crazy twist of fate, I was the only person left to be officially in charge of the farm for the day.

So I did what any hardcore farm wife would do when left in charge of the farm--I went shopping. Luckily for me, Husband had retained the services of a real farmer to help with the feeding. My only real job was to make sure that everything was still here when the real farmer came to feed.

After my shopping trip I took the inventory:

Cows. Check.

Road-kill munching farm dog with adorable patch on her eye. Check.

Tractor. Check. Hay bales. Check.

This thing. Check.

Pigs. Check. Observational cat. Check.

Fortunately, Husband found the farm in pretty good shape when he got home. I hope I get to be in charge again soon. I could use another trip to the mall.

Pork and PR

We get a lot of publications at our house that feature many, many pictures of pig balls. Get your mind out of the gutter! These are serious publications that include ads from boar studs (a boar stud is exactly what you think it is) that are showing the males they have for sale.

We also get a number of earnest publications put together by the Pork Producers Council and the Farm Bureau featuring swine manure management strategies or perhaps stories about farmers and how they plant the exact grasses in their pasture to maximize the digestive process of their goats (an actual story that I read).

The point I'm getting to is that in looking over the farm literature that comes into the house daily I'm starting to see a trend. Farmers, at least when talking to each other, are tired of lying back and letting others shape their image.

I participated in my first #agchat on Twitter tonight. For two hours, I watched over 130 tweets roll in from people all over the world who are concerned about the image of agriculture and the way certain groups have gotten ahead of us in framing a conversation based on emotion rather than the science most farmers are more comfortable with.

I helped Husband tweet about the Ohio Pork Tour, a print, Web, YouTube campaign to show that Ohio's pig farmers are real people who care about the environment, taking good care of their hogs, and supporting their families. As a PR person and a hog farmer, I find this to be an interesting campaign at an opportune time. I encourage you to check it out.

I ama pig farmr.

There is no better moment as a parent than when you look over the little head of your offspring to make eye contact with your spouse, both bursting with pride and stifled laughter. We do this often with Ryan like when he visits every pig pen in the entire State Fair to pick out a gilt to buy, or when he notices that the Hampshire sow we bought in Iowa is now in a different barn on the farm, or when he takes little scraps of paper outside to grade this winter's litters.

Today, Ryan came home with a paper he did at school. Heaven only knows what his Friendly Suburban-Dwelling Teacher thought when she saw this:

In case you can't read 1st grade-ese, I'll translate:
What is special about me: I am a pig farmer.
What makes me happy: pigs.
Animals I like: pigs
What I like to do: Go to pig shows.

This fall he had to do a poster about himself where he cut out various things to represent what he liked to eat and play, etc. I had to LIMIT him to two pigs per box. He just couldn't understand why he couldn't put a Duroc sow and a Hampshire boar as two separate things that he liked.

How do you tell a seven-year-old future pig farmr that to most people, a pig is just a pig.

The Pig Ate My Homework

I'm sure that many schools in this country would be hesitant to condone absenteeism due to swine exhibition obligations but fortunately we live in Small Town America, so our son's absence from school to take his pigs to Georgia last month was OK.

Ryan participated in the National Junior Swine Association Southeast Regional show held at the Georgia State Fairgrounds.

He exhibited two Yorkshire gilts with the help of his GrandDad who accompanied him on the trip. He discovered he really likes Waffle House. Ryan made the discovery--GrandDad, who in the great tradition of our forefathers regularly worked until all the normal restaurants are closed, already knew about Waffle House.

This was the first (of many, I'm sure) hog road trip Ryan made without his Dad. He did a great job.

Once again, Ryan brought home multiple awards, including first place with his gilt and sixth place overall among his age group.

And lest anyone accuse us of taking him out of school for some sort of pig vacation, Ryan was tested on his swine farming knowledge. He performed the best he's ever done in this test, called the skillathon.

The last thing we want to do is raise one of those weird kids who have no social skills and wear blue jeans and flannel shirts year round, but we're proud to have a son who wants to learn as much as he can about agriculture.

Someone's got to help the next generation of Friendly Suburban-Dwelling Co-Workers.

Thanks for Reading in 2008

Happy New Year! Thanks for reading this blog.

Thanks to those of you who openly read the blog and bring it up in conversation with my husband who then says I didn't know that. And thanks to those who are closet readers and try to pretend they don't even know I have this blog--I know who you are (can you say Google Analytics) and I am very tempted to out you by posting embarrassing photos of your spouse [just kidding, I think].

And a special thanks to my friend M who started last year at this time urging me to start a blog, so she alone didn't have to hear about how I thought my son felt like an octopus when he was being born.

What a year it has been. We had a a presidential election, a hurricane, an earthquake, and a blizzard and this blog was there to cover it all.

I tried to offer content you couldn't get on other blogs, so I enrolled all of you in remedial agricultural education, including pigs 101 and field trips to the World Pork Expo and the county fair. In covering agriculture I tried to give you special access to exclusive information like the secret code of pig farmers. I worked to broaden your horizons and teach important terminology. I toggled between grossing you out and sharing cute photos of pigs.

I put a lot of myself out there for you, including sharing my compassionate side and my best motherhood wisdom in addition to my thoughts on married life. And sometimes I very gently joked about my husband. Like the time he fought crime.

Oh, and just to keep this blog really from finding a niche, I made "interesting commentary" on PR and marketing issues.

The best compliment I ever had on the blog was from my friend MP who said after reading on her lunch hour I almost shot Diet Coke out my nose. Here's to more ruined nasal passages in 2009!

A Real Farm Wife

Farm wives are a special breed of women. And while I'm much closer to being one than the VAST majority of females in this nation, I'm not really sure I'm a genuine farm wife.

I have known a few REAL farm wives in my time. I'll compare myself to what I think of when I say "farm wife."

Household Vet
Farm Wife: Has conducted bloody operations on pigs/calves/lambs/chickens with needle and thread in her own kitchen.
Me: Are you kidding me? It's all I can do to allow husband to store his pig medication in the refrigerator in bottles--I make him use the veggie drawer.

Heavy Equipment
Farm Wife: Drives the tractor with hay baler, cause that's the girl job. Jumps off at noon to prepare fried chicken and potatoes for all the farm hands.
Me: I mowed the lawn once and reduced a six foot pine tree to toothpicks. Afterward, I decided to Shake and Bake some boneless breasts. Does that count?

Pooper Scooper
Farm Wife: Covers her hair with a kerchief, grabs a pitchfork and gets to work.
Me: I did fill MANY a manure spreader during my 4-H years, including the morning after my Prom (no, this wasn't even punishment, just the way my Dad did things) I have since retired my pitchfork.

Living off the Land
Farm Wife: Tends an enormous garden full of vegetables, which she cans and freezes to enjoy year-round. Raises chickens for eggs and has a freezer full of hamburger from the last steer she had processed.
Me: I like to eat a few tomatoes from the in-laws' garden but I hate chickens. I know most farm wives would shudder, but I buy all of my meat at the grocery.

In fairness, I am comparing myself to farm wives from a different generation who made wife and mother their career. I guess in this day and age of two-income families, a farmer is happy to be married to a woman with a 401K and occasional business trips to satisfy her need to travel further than than the end of the lane.

I think my husband appreciates all my attempts to help out on the farm. Like all the times I have looked out the window and said, "The cows are out. Who should I call?" Or the time I drove the truck and trailer during a long trip so he could nap--luckily he woke up just in time to help me cross four lanes of traffic and make our exit. I know husband will always remember fondly the time I filled out the paperwork for a litter of pigs and used his pet name for one of the boars--that we sold and had announced at multiple shows and sales afterward.

Maybe those weren't the best examples after all, but I know that I do try to be a good farm wife. What other kind of woman would still be around months after uttering this real, actual sentence to her spouse: Why does our lettuce smell like pig s&men?

Maternity Ward

Well, we're finally seeing the results of all the hard work husband has been doing since September to inseminate the pigs... Oh, maybe that didn't come out right.

What I mean is that all of the planning and breeding that took place earlier on the farm is starting to pay off with the birth of several litters of pigs.

This litter of 13 piglets is two weeks old. The little gilts (females) and boars (males) keep warm on cold Ohio nights under a heat lamp. You can see on the left that they can exit their little warm spot to nurse with the sow but are protected by the fence from accidental squishing by their mother. Hey, if you weighed 500 pounds and had 13 babies underfoot, you might accidentally step on one or two.

Remember Miss? Well, her golden days as a State Fair beauty may be behind her, but she is getting ready to have her first litter of pigs any day now (early December). We'll keep you updated with pictures when the piglets arrive. (Unless it's too cold. I'm very much a fair weather farmer.)
Like Miss, we have several sows who are ready to farrow (give birth) in the next few weeks. Husband claims this sow is 11 years old. He credits her with raising several of the pigs Ryan showed this summer and says she is the grandmother of many of our other good pigs.

This younger sow is also due in early December.

You wouldn't believe the big spider in the corner of this guy's pen, spinning a web that looked like it had letters in it...

This little guy is actually from the first litter from our new piggy Daddy, Big Splash. He and his siblings were outside enjoying the sunshine, looking forward to this summer at the State Fair.

I've just got to say again, while LOTS of blogs can comment on brand disasters and family life, WHAT other blog can provide such fresh-from-the-farm cuteness?