Sometimes Farm Work makes me Feel Strong. . . Sometimes.

Sometimes working on the farm makes me feel strong but mostly it makes me feel weak. 

I feel strong when. . .

• I carry 50 lb bags of calf milk replacer, calf feed, corn seed, etc
• I open and close stubborn gates.
• That's about it.

I feel weak when. . .

The jacks we use are similar to this one

• I try to turn a jack holding up a feed wagon or other piece of machinery and get NOWHERE.  I'll try pushing.  I'll try pulling.  It does not seem to matter what I do because the crank is not going to budge.  In the end, FarmerBoy or FarmerDad take over and in the amount of time it took me to get exhausted, they have lowered the jack and are ready to go. 
• I help with a water turn (for those few of you who do not know, we use flood irrigation to water fields in this area).  I am not quite sure why FarmerBoy brings me along because help is a very liberal term for what I do.  I can only do one-sixth of what he can.  Every now and then, I will think that I am doing good as I shovel away to open or close an outlet (from the ditch to the field) only to look down the field and see that FarmerBoy has opened all the rest and is on his way back.
• I try to close the driver-side door on the red truck from inside the cab.  The door is off-kilter and it requires a special technique and strength to get it closed.  From time to time I think that I finally have it mastered.  I will start the silent victory in my head, only to hit a bump in the road and have the door pop/fly open.  I spend the rest of the drive with my right hand on the wheel, my left hand holding the door closed, and hope that there is no need for me to shift into a different gear.  FarmerBoy or FarmerDad are usually nice enough to close it for me though.
• I try to open the passenger-side door on the red truck from inside the cab.  The inside handle has come off the door so the only way to exit from this side is to reach outside the window and use the outside handle.  For some reason the only way this works for me is if I turn around to face the back of the cab, lean out the window, use both thumbs to depress the handle, while my right foot is pushing on the door from the inside.  Oh, and what I mean by this works for me is it works for me one out of every three times I try.

Epiphany and Cattle Round Up

Hello there.  It's me, Marissa. . . you know, the one that occasionally posts things to this blog.  I have this bad habit of writing entries and never posting them.  I keep telling myself that when I get caught up-to-date on them, then I can post them all and just work on keeping things current.  Well, I had this epiphany.  Except for the year before I went on a mission, I have always played catch-up in my journal and, as this is basically a journal, why would it be any different?  Self, I thought, you don't want to disappoint your two followers.  It is time to make a change!  That's a lie.  It went more like this:  Self, if you spend all your time catching up on the past you might forget the moments that you are experiencing right now.  It was after that thought I concluded I needed to go about this blog stuff in a new way.  The new plan is to pick up where I am now in life and between posts of my awesome experiences (living at home, working on the farm & ranch - I know the excitement may be too much to read any single posting at once, but I cannot apologize for the incredibleness that surrounds me) I'll throw in some blasts from the past.

As far as the current happenings. . . today we worked to round up cattle from the pasture so we can move them out to the desert for the summer tomorrow.  When I say 'worked to round up' I mean FarmerBoy fed them in a fenced up area and then closed the gates. There were only 4 cows and, maybe, 20 calves that did not join the herd so FarmerBoy, FarmerDad, HiredHandR, and I jumped in the truck and headed to the east to encourage them.  Once we got them moving to the west, FarmerBoy and I walked behind them to keep them focused on our their goal.  FarmerDad and HiredHandR used the truck to cut off any independent thinking bovine in the group and send them back our way - although that really only happened right at the end.

When there was no longer a question that we were going to pen this group up too, one cow, that we were surprised stuck with the rest that long, decided that she and her baby were done being followers.  We tried to stop her but in the end I let her and her calf past me.  I don't like to get in the way of mothers on a mission (esp when there is a crazed look in their eyes).  The way I see it, if human mothers can get surges of adrenaline that enable them to throw cars off their children then I do not want to get in the way of 1000+ pound animal that has decided her newborn is endangered.  Hopefully, we will catch her when she comes to get water in the morning.

All in all, it went quite well and did not take us long (sans the time FarmerBoy put into feeding the herd and closing the gates).  Here's to hoping tomorrow goes even better!

Trip to Oregon

The resort is in the midst of slack season - the time(s) of the year between winter mountain sports and summer mountain sports. There are less people - guests and employees - at the resort. Things are slow. Fewer restaurants are open and the shops have reduced hours.

Slow. S l o w. S l o w.

It was driving me crazy so I thought it was a good excuse to visit my brother Coo's family in Oregon (and drive them crazy). The budget at the resort tightens up during slack so my manager was more than willing to give me time off to do it.

I don't get to see the Coo's often but always enjoy spending time with them. Here's the few pictures I took (because, let's be honest, most of you would rather see the nieces/nephews/grandchildren then read my normal posts).

Coo2's bubble wand didn't last long

NuCoo liked to spread out the bubbles then stomp on them

.

I also spent sometime in downtown Portland,

went to the Portland Temple,

and checked out Multnomah Falls.

Thanks Coo Family for letting me spend time with you all.

Delirious Texting

This morning I woke up to Squirrel sending me a picture on my phone. It was this photo and it made me happy.


I thought, “How did he know that last night I wanted Oscar to sit by me like he used to when I was really sick?” Then I thought, “Oh, no. I didn’t. I didn’t, did I?” Followed by, “I better check my texts.” Sure enough I’d sent him this little gem:

If it was Christmas I’d ask Santa for a catheter and for Oscar to be alive again. I wouldn’t even ask for Oscar to be smarter so he could be the one to use the catheter on me. (That’s just weird. Plus, that might mean he’d be a nurse, and whoever has heard of a dog graduating from nursing school? And don’t get me started on his hair and all the possibilities that opens for UTI’s.) No, I’d make him one of those service dog vests (or steal one; I’m thinking the best option would be from someone who is blind. It’s pretty obvious why they have dogs). Then I could take him everywhere. I’d tell him he was a good dog and he wouldn’t judge me for wanting a catheter right now.

I also sent a text to a friend telling him how creative I was right then which completely supported my theory that artistic geniuses are mentally unwell. I went on to say that while I may not become a master in art, literature, or music I definitely could have a successful career in greeting cards. Go me! Way to aim high.

A Surface 500 Times More Slippery than Any Cooking Oil

So back in January, a friend and I decided that we would hike B Mountain and sled down it before the season ended. April arrived and we still hadn't accomplished our goal. In most parts of the world this would create some problems but since we live in the middle of Snowland, USA this was not an issue (in fact, as I write this snow is gently falling outside - charming in December, annoying in April). We decided we needed to act quick (greatly inspired by the fact that said friend leaves tomorrow) so we gathered our stuff together, layered up and started on our quest. And what a quest it was!
We quickly learned that this would have been a much easier task if undertaken a month or two prior. At the base of the mountain where the temperatures were warmer the snow was like walking in sand, only we were not at a beach and we were walking uphill. Not to worry, we soon found ourselves traversing up icy slopes. Three steps spent moving forward followed by two steps sliding backward. It took a lot of determination to keep going. The rest of the journey to the top included steep inclines intermixed with avoiding the path of the snow CATS (one of the groomers was kind enough to stop and give us a head's up on their plan of action so we could stay out of each other's way). That said, we also got to see gorgeous vistas and, once the sun set, star-filled skies (oh, yeah we had to undertake this adventure after the slopes had closed for the day). We spent a couple of minutes at the top then had to head back. . . on our sleds. Let me amend that: our glorified sheets of plastic.
You know that scene in National Lampoon's Christmas Vacation where Clark, the dad, greases up his snow saucer with the 'new non-caloric, silicon-based kitchen lubricant" that "creates a surface 500 times more slippery than any cooking oil" then goes flying down the sledding hill (click here for a reminder)? Remember those icy slopes I mentioned in the last paragraph? Well, instead of plowing into a donation bin I ended up plowing through my friend halfway down. I tried to warn him but the next thing either of us knew he was flying through the air and it was another 100 feet before I could stop. I wasn't even using the sled at that point either. It was just me, in my ski gear (helmet included - safety first!) trying to dig my feet and hands into the ground to slow myself down. It is hard to dig one's hands and feet very far into a thick layer of ice. Luckily, the battle wounds were kept to a minimum (and to me): a massive bruise and a hole in the seat of my ski pants. We quickly got on our way again and found ourselves at the bottom in about a tenth of the time it took us to make it to the top.

early on in the trek

about a third of the way up

scenery

And, of course, the battle wounds:

Nothing Says America Like Turning Tragedy into Profit. . .

I stumbled across this gem at the local thrift store today:

Wait. . . it gets better:

I'm guessing the original owners donated it after purchasing Pearl Harbor: The Board Game.

Have You Seen Him?

While it is sad the little guy has gone missing, I can't help but wonder what two languages he speaks.