GOD and Edward Jones

Between the tornado, my three new additions (Penelope, Gabby and Daisy) and the very limited capacity of my brain these days, I have been feeling VERY overwhelmed. When the riots in Greece started and the Dow dropped 1000 pts in two minutes, my brother called to remind me that gold/silver weren’t getting any cheaper is this environment and were both probably getting ready to skyrocket. And hang on cow lovers b/c this same theory would indicate a rise in all commodities. And, it’s about time milk and egg prices got a boost!

Anyway, my brother who has become quite the coin expert over the years, has tried his best to educate me about coins, currency, and the economy in general. Which puts us right back to the ‘limited brain capacity’ problem. Well, I really wanted to buy some gold/silver coins, but just didn’t feel comfortable buying from a dealer at a coin show (I didn’t want to order them from one of the brokers for several reasons). I don’t ‘speak the language’, plus, I can hardly add 2 and 2 these days. Well, my brother was trying to explain 2 plus 2, and I was insisting, “I don’t understand”. Lol, we were both getting frustrated and what limited brain capacity I had that afternoon, just shut down completely.

I have to work at letting God take control, which is nuts considering NO ONE in their right mind would want me leading their parade, including me. So I just prayed that whatever God wanted me to buy, that he would lead me to it, whether it was a tractor, coin or something else altogether. I also prayed that he would give my ‘limited capacity’ issue a blessing so that I would clearly understand what he wanted me to do.

The very next day an Edward Jones broker comes to the door. Well, I think, “finally, the insurance adjuster is here” and I swing open the door and nearly pounce on him. Now, I need to make an admission here that is very germane to this story and God’s part in it. I seldom get anyone door to door around here and the few times I have, I have usually shown my annoyance at being invaded. I have always felt that a stranger, coming to my door to sell me something is arrogantly rude. Let me say here that after my brother explained (yes, someone actually had to explain this to me) that there was a huge difference between coming to your door to sell you something vs. someone who sincerely wants to save your soul. So now, while I may politely explain that I am not interested right now in learning about someone else’s faith, I always thank them for caring enough about my soul to risk my rudeness.

Anyway, an Edward Jones broker certainly did not qualify as someone “sincerely wanting to save my soul” so when I discovered who he was, I was............very nice. Shocked my self! In the middle of this literal mess right now that is my life/property, I took the time to talk to him about my thoughts on investing in ANY part of ANY stock market right now and we started having a really enjoyable conversation.

At the end of our conversation, he told me to give him my name and number because he happened to know someone wanting to sell some gold/silver coins. I GAVE HIM MY INFORMATION. I always refuse to give so much as my shoe size anymore!

Well, sure enough I get a call the next day from this person. I called my brother who once again attempted (unsuccessfully I might add)) to explain how to buy coins. When I hung up the phone, frustrated and non-the-wiser, I prayed that if it was safe for me to meet this man and buy some coins, that God would just let me know in a way that could get through the ‘limited capacity’ problem. I think most people would be leery of meeting a stranger with cash in hand.

It was Mother’s Day and brother was playing golf (plus, I think brother was hiding from me at this point) so I was ‘on my own’. Which is a phrase I need to cut from my language as this story is the perfect example of how we are never alone. This stranger with the coins, referred to me by another stranger, told me he could meet me at 4:00 and he’d have the coins. I was to be at my mom’s house at four so I figured God was telling me, “not today”. The man immediately said, “would an hour work better?”

So, I grabbed some cash and headed out the door. I met this very nice man with his equally nice wife at a restaurant that was halfway for both of us, I discovered that they had JERSEY COWS before we ever even sat down. I knew immediately that God had just hooked me up with two new friends and these days, my ‘cow friends’ are my favorites!

I gave the man my money and started looking at my coins. My brother will be horrified at my ignorance here, but I actually had to print off a picture of these very common U.S. coins because I had NO CLUE what they even looked like. As I was admiring the coins, this man pointed out to me that I had paid him a significant amount of money over what I owed him for the coins and handed me back my cash. Keep in mind that I was insistent that the money had been carefully counted by me and that there was no mistake.

Now who would have thought that I would be nice to a ‘door to door’ salesman of sorts who was trying to get me into invest in a stock market that I feel could crash any day now along with our currency and entire economy. How ironic that this salesman who is in the business of selling stocks, would then lead me to a man who sells coins, AND that this couple have jersey cows!

My lesson seems to be to keep an open mind and heart because you never know what that person at the door might really be selling, even if they don’t know it themselves!

FEMA camps.....

I have an older brother who is a history/money buff. There is nothing he likes better then to study the history of money. Over twenty five years ago, he wrote his master's thesis on the very things that are occuring today in our economy. Basically, the thesis told of what was to come if the U.S. didn't go back to the 'Gold standard'.

He use to rage on about something called the "Federal Reserve" and endlessly rant about the federal government taking over our lives. Then he'd start on the thieves and hoodlums who would run rampant once our currency collapsed and our society fell apart. This would take him back to his original rant about the Federal Reserve.

More times that not, brother would go on to describe in great detail what happens when the government gets too powerful and a nation's economy falls. "They'll start throwing the citizenry into containment camps", he'd fume.

As a family, we would collectively roll our eyes and proclaim, "he's so smart, it's a shame he's so crazy".

Well, the government has pretty much taken over and it's obvious that they have just gotten started. The Federal Reserve is doing everything in their considerable power to make my meager savings worthless, and I did witness what all happens when the government tells folks to get to a central gathering place during a disaster (Katrina). Just the thought of that many over-flowing toilets, like there was at the Saint's Stadium, would make me choose to swim with the gators.

Anyway - I don't know if FEMA camps are in the near future for this country, but I do know one thing. I ain't goin. They can call it a 'Pig Parlor' and offer free spa treatments for me AND my pig, but I'm not going'.

I guess this is a prime example of "eating crow". I rant and rage all the day long about what's happening right now in this country and folks call me crazy. However I must say, those who think FEMA camps aren't possible in this country, are fewer and farther between.

Lord help, the pig's GONE...

I go into the barn this morning to take new piglet some scrambled eggs (I read raw eggs caused some sort of problem in pigs), look into her stall and she was GONE. I blinked real hard and she was STILL gone. I start looking for the hole she dug out of and there's NO hole. So I blink some more, b/c while I may not know much about pigs, I know they don't just disappear. Oh S***, I see nothing left but her tail which is only a very small stub really. She didn't come with a tail. Aren't pigs supposed to have a tail? Anyway, I start looking for the way a predator got in and ate my pig. As I get closer, I realize that she's whole, but is covered with hay - and I mean masterfully covered with hay. I just put enough hay in there to make her a small bed, but non-the-less she is almost completely covered. Well great, she's whole, but she's obviously dead b/c there's NO movement at ALL. My first thought is, "oh no, I killed her with the whole de-lousing fiasco". I took my foot and shook her butt. She JUMPED straight into the air a couple of feet. Scared me to death, so I screamed and then she screamed in return. I guess she was so sound asleep from the stress of yesterday that she just didn't hear all the noise. Penelope is fine, rested, bug-free and she very much enjoyed her scrambled eggs. I however, am traumatized again and am going back to bed.

The big pig adventure....

Well Cat and I went to an auction this morning, but there really wasn't much there so we decided to swing by a pig farm and look at some piglets on the way back home.

LOOK being the operative word. Cat LOOKED and is going back next week to get her piglet which will be weaned by then. I announced, "I'm not leaving here without a little pig today" and I chose from 4 that were ready to go.

I picked out my little pink pig and "Bubba" (yes, his name), grabbed said piglet by her leg and walked towards the trailer carrying her out to his side. WAYYYY out to his side. Cat and I looked at each other and shrugged. We assumed that was the proper way to carry a pig. We both know less about pigs than we do our jerseys.

Got Penelope home and immediately into the tub. As I'm scrubbing her nasty little behind, I see her spots MOVING. LICE - covered wit LICE. I mean COVERED with hundreds, maybe even thousands, of big hairy lice.

Well this sent me into a frenzy trying to call "Bubba" to see what I can use on this piglet to kill these bugs NOW. Bubba didn't answer. Lol - I figure he knew they were eaten up with lice which is why he carried it to the trailer the way he did in the first place.

I calmed down long enough to realize that I have the internet now and could just look lice treatment up myself. I thought briefly of getting on the KFC 911 but figured that would get me into trouble, especially after the whole, 'my castrated calf looks icky back there' bit.

Anyway, Penelope is resting comfortably in the tub right now wrapped in a big, fluffy, chemically sprayed towel. I'm waiting for the livestock spray to kill the lice and carefully watching her skin in case of any reaction to the spray.

I am also ITCHING all over. Bubba wasn't nice enough to give me a heads-up on the bug situation, so I carried Penelope into the house, hugged up close so I could calm her. Fortunately, I put her directly into the tub to bath her, so I discovered the lice right away. She is INFESTED times 10.

Now, I must admit that I am just a tad put out with Bubba. While I know this is a pig, HE knew I was going to take her into my house, bath her and dress her up cute for some 'first' pics. LOL - While Cat was asking, "at what age should I butcher the pig?", I'm asking, "what kind of shampoo should I use?".

Anyway - will be posting a pic soon. It's of her still in the tub, still wrapped in said nice, fluffy towel while I have a glass of wine (it was that or peanut butter) to calm my itchy nerves!!!

Lol, Rhonda....

My girlfriend is a real estate agent and a very good one at that. She always tries her best to build a good working relationship with all her clients.

Throughout her many emails over the years, Rhonda would talk to clients about their struggles, hardships, and various stresses. No matter what the subject or how serious it was, Rhonda always signed off, "lol, Rhonda". If she talked to someone about a death in the family, she still signed off, "lol, Rhonda".

Not long ago, I wrote "lol" in front of something I sent to Rhonda and I could tell that she was confused. She asked me why I added the "lol". "Because I thought it was funny" I said. She finally asked me what exactly 'lol' meant. I told her it meant 'laughing out loud". She quickly interjected, "and it can mean 'lots of love' too". "No", I said, "it doesn't mean anything of the sort".

Now I can smell denial a mile away. I told her again that it did not refer to 'lots of love' in any way. Again she argued with me.

She eventually admitted that she had been signing all her emails, 'lol, Rhonda', thinking it meant 'lots of love' and had been doing so for years.

How wonderfully appropriate that the funniest person I know had inadvertently signed all her emails, "lol, Rhonda"!

Poor Grey...

Let me say before I begin that Grey gets paid well to help me around here. The worse the job, the better the pay. This was one of those 'better paying' gigs.

This morning I needed help moving cattle panels, setting them up and getting my jersey bull, Rutherford, into the pen. Apparently pretty wooden horse fencing will not hold in a bull who is being teased by my neighbor's angus hos across the way, necessitating the need for a new bull pen of iron cattle panels. Also, I need to explain that jersey bulls are notoriously ill tempered and even though Rutherford is still very young, I treat him like a loaded weapon. Particularly since my neighbor was killed by his bull just a couple of years ago. I'm telling you, it's rough out here!

Anyway, I needed to do this project early this morning and it was very cold. I called my son, told him to get out of his warm bed, get dressed and come down to the barn to help. Although Grey isn't into animals, early mornings or cold whether, he was reasonably agreeable.

After we had set up the new pen, I started thinking about how to go about getting Rutherford from the barn into the pen. I decided I would shake a bucket of food and have him follow me sweetly into the pen. Now this is how I planned things, but you know how plans have a way of turning into fiascos, so I told Grey to get into the tack room and I handed him a hoe. In answer to the puzzled look on his face, I told him not to come out of the tack room unless the bull had me down, in which case he was to get busy. I could tell he was still rather confused and/or asleep. As intelligent as he is, animals are a complete mystery to him and he had no idea what he was supposed to do with the hoe. I explained that if I was down, he was to take that hoe and hit that bull across the nose as hard as he could and if he couldn't get to his nose, "just start trying to hack up his spine". To Grey's credit, he just nodded and got into the tack room with no commentary about why I was allowed to run around loose.

As I was explaining to Grey what he was going to have to do if I was down, I realized what an amazing kid he was to listen to this nonsense in the cold and not throw down the hoe and tell me, "no can do" as he headed back to the house. Also, in the back of my mind I could hear someone saying, "how'd she die" to which someone else would say, "well the fool was mud wrestling with her bull and got wacked with hoe".

If you're wondering, the bull did indeed follow me sweetly into the pen and the hoe was not needed after all.

Ivana Trump

Apparently Ivana had enough of being subjected to people's ill-behaved kids while trapped inside a airplane and lost her cool. I get it. I applauded the airline who turned the plane around after take-off to kick off a mother and her two year old. YES!!! If you can't control your children, maybe you should stay home with them.

Now I know that children are unpredictable and even the best behaved children can have a bad day, but come on, we know that's not usually the case. Usually these children are 'parented' (and I use this term loosely) by a mom or dad who seem to think everything their little darling does is cute. Or maybe it's just easier for mom and dad to let them run wild and get into everyone else's hair as long as they themselves are being left alone. If most parents were responsible and disciplined their kids for the kids' sake as well as that of the public at large, and the screaming kid was the exception and not the rule, I think folks would be a bit more patient.

If a smoker got onto an airplane and lit a cigarette and blew smoke in someone's face, they would be arrested. Am I saying parents of ill-behaved kids should be arrested? Maybe. Stress is a killer and NOTHING stresses many people out like someone's obnoxious kid invading their personal space and piercing their eardrums. Unfortunately, I don't see imprisonment in the future of these inconsiderate parents, but I do have an idea.

Bad kid sections. You remember the old smoking sections? Put all of those with ill-behaved kids and their parents in the bad kid section (BKS) and charge these parents for the privilege to cover the cost of the necessary soundproofing. If you're in Walmart and your kid starts screaming, you must leave the store or go straight to the BKS and stay until your child is under control. And remember the BKS is not free and it's just FULL of screaming, spoiled and obnoxious kids. How long do you think it would take for these parents to teach these kids to mind if they had to be cooped up with all the screaming kids in the plane/restaurant/store and it cost them money? I'm willing to bet, not very long. I'm also willing to bet tax payers would save a bundle on the reduced prisoner populations that would be a natural consequence of having a society where children are parented.

Why is it that some of the most obnoxious and stressful situations are excused because the perpetrators are children. These are the most obnoxious creatures in the world!

Now I was as appalled as everyone else when the guy at Walmart actually slapped a small child who was pitching a fit. I wondered why he didn't slap the mama instead. It would have been much more appropriate and the jury might have better understood his outburst.

Ask most people if they would rather be slapped once or have to listen to a screaming kid for an hour. Slap me please!