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Bacon, lettuce, and tomato on Grandmother Bread. Perfection.
I’ve been asked to be one of the honorary grand marshals in this October’s Black Walnut Festival parade. I’ll have to ride on a float. And, like, wave. At people. A lot of people. I said, “Okay, that sounds like fun.” What was I thinking? Was I possessed by a demon? Temporarily insane? I can’t do that! I’ll feel like an idiot. I’ll miss the chance to sit in the upstairs window of my cousin’s office and eat funnel cake while I watch the parade with my family. I’ll have to wear pants. The list of reasons I can’t do this goes on and on.
Clover said she’d take my place if I buy her a tiara.

Think anyone will notice the difference?

It’s tough being a mom. You gotta watch those kids all the time. Sleep with one eye open. You never know what they’ll get into. Scampering about, all sweetness and sunshine, one minute….

….and running into the street–or, escaping the fence–the next.

When we first got the babies, they were so little they could squeeze through the openings in the woven wire farm fence. They didn’t go anywhere–they always cried to get back in with mama. (For some reason, they could manage to get out, but they could never quite figure out how to get back in.) Then they got too big to get out.
Or so I thought.

But there they were, out again.

C’mon, babies. Get back in here.

Whew.

Everybody’s back where they belong. I feel better, don’t you, Clover?

Clover: “Did you bring any cookies?”
Clover! You gotta focus. Give them a lecture. I know they’re cute, but– Oh, look!

There’s that little Nutmeg, playing house on the milkstand, pretending to be a big grown mama with milk! She is cute.

Nutmeg: “Did you bring any cookies?”
Yes, you are just like your mother!
Okay, Coco? Pay attention. You’re in charge. Get your crazy tongue back in your mouth! This is serious!

That’s better. You have a job, you know.

COCO!

Coco: “But they just want to play.”

No, they don’t! They just want cookies! And here I go, bribing them back to the gate with cookies…..
And, hunh. Further investigation proved that yes, in fact, they are too small to squeeze out through the fence. What they did was find a gap at the bottom of the fence back in this corner of the yard.

Gap corrected.
Clover? You’ve got to watch these babies, you hear me?
Clover: “I need fortification. A lot of fortification.”

I know, I know, I know. You don’t have to tell me. This mom thing is so hard. You gotta sleep with one eye open. Blah, blah, blah. I’ll get the cookies………
"It was a cold wintry day when I brought my children to live in rural West Virginia. The farmhouse was one hundred years old, there was already snow on the ground, and the heat was sparse-—as was the insulation. The floors weren’t even, either. My then-twelve-year-old son walked in the door and said, “You’ve brought us to this slanted little house to die." Keep reading our story....
Make friends, ask questions, have fun!
Take Clover with you in 2010!
Pin the map!
Your recipes! (Contributed by forum members.)
I'm a paperback writer.
by Leahld22 on November 20, 2009
by quietstorm on November 20, 2009
by Leahld22 on November 20, 2009
by johnzegirl on November 20, 2009
by Helen on November 20, 2009
November 2009
"First it's glowing, then it's snowing! A pause, then screaming squalls and williwaws. Bright but bitter, then a thaw. Yet again it's cold and storming: What ever happened to global warming?"
Friday, Nov 20
Fair
Currently: 44˚F
Feels Like: 44˚ F
Hi: N/A˚, Lo: 34˚
weather feed courtesy of weather.com - thanks!
- Amy on How (Not) to Start a Fire in a Wood Stove
"Cookies are good." Read my barnyard stories....
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