While I try my best to be honest on my blog, my readers don't know everything that goes on around here. I keep many things hidden, as much for the benefit of others as for myself. If I think some activity would be upsetting to my readers, I keep it to myself, within reason, of course. I realize the fact that we butcher and eat animals that we have raised from birth bothers some people, but I am not going to hide the fact that we do it. I grew up watching my mother butcher a couple of chickens almost every Saturday so we'd have a good Sunday dinner. It's the most natural thing in the world to me.
Animals are more dispensable around here than they are to city folks. This is sometimes a necessity in the country. I alluded to one of the darker aspects of this fact of life when David was visiting, and he said, "Don't blog about it!"
Trust me, I wouldn't. I've spent years following Pioneer Woman's blog, and I've seen city folks criticize her for pictures of her husband and the hired hands roping calves and castrating them. When people criticize Ree Drummond, they do it in a BIG way. I have seen whole blogs dedicated to bashing her.
My husband butchered for over twenty years. It may seem like a cruel way of making a living, but until the whole world becomes vegetarian, somebody has to do it, . One thing Cliff always made sure of, though, was that the animal died instantly and without pain. He is the one who put Blue down for me, and when he was finished with the task, said, "He never knew what hit him."
My family could tell you about various things I don't include in my blog, and not all of them have anything to do with animals. Sometimes I'm just avoiding the judgement of others.
When I take pictures in the house, I sometimes crop them so you don't see certain things: clutter on the end table, for instance. Or I'll pick things up hastily so people don't see what a lousy housekeeper I am. If that's dishonest, so be it.
If you have thought of me as totally honest, loving, and hard-working, I'm just letting you know that this tarnished angel flies pretty darned close to the ground.
Moving on: I had another wonderful day yesterday. Great-granddaughter Kami spent several hours with me while my daughter and her girls went to the beauty shop. This is the first time she's been here alone with me, and it was great fun. I held the camera at arms length and took this picture.
Isn't she beautiful?
We read all the "Spot" books, ate bananas and PBJ sandwiches, and watched some kid TV shows.
Good times. Things I can blog about.
(How about the fact that I am wearing the same sweatshirt two days in a row and it's on my blog for all the world to see?)
It was almost shirtsleeve weather today; what a welcome break from the bone-chilling cold.
Yesterday I went for my first walk in days; there was a crust on the snow, which was still about four inches deep, even after a couple days melting. My calves are letting me know about it today; that business of breaking through the crust atop the snow is very tiring. I walked again today, but not nearly as far as usual. I'm trying to build up to it again.
My daughter and her family came to visit, bringing along my great-granddaughter Kami. I can't believe how grown-up she acts.
Rachel saw I was preparing to take some pictures, so she fixed Kami's hair a little bit.
Here you have a dog-whisperer in the making. Actually, there's peanut butter in the ball Iris is working on. Kami found this very interesting.
When it comes to farm equipment, you have to start kids young these days. Last summer you couldn't get Kami on a tractor, so she's coming along nicely.
As usual, Cliff's working on a project. Kevin, the son-in-law, is supervising. Or maybe he's just visiting with Cliff.
On the other side of the shop, grandson Arick is working on his truck.
Laying on the cold concrete just seems to be the thing to do today, but not for me.
I've enjoyed my Nook; it's been a good day for it.
The kind neighbor across the road blessed us not long ago with a gallon freezer bag full of filleted catfish. He suggested I semi-thaw it and package it in smaller portions, but I hesitate to re-freeze any meat, especially fish. I decided to invite my daughter's family over; there were six of them coming, and two of us. That bag of catfish looked like a lot more than eight people would be able to eat. My daughter likes to take pictures of her food and post them to Facebook.
Frying all that catfish kept two skillets occupied for a half-hour.
This is my daughter's plate: slaw made from our last head of garden cabbage, scalloped potatoes, green beans (store-bought and doctored up, I didn't have enough from the garden), corn bread, and catfish. Folks, if you've never tried Louisiana Fish Fry, you simply must! We like the New Orleans style; it's spicy, the way we like our fish. If you want it really spicy, dip the fish in buttermilk first; this gives a thicker, crispy coating that almost makes you want to slap your grandma. Oh, and we did manage to eat most of the catfish.
Pardon that expression, I think I picked it up from Cliff.
Grandson Brett had to put brakes on his car; Kevin helped.
The great-granddaughter finally got past her fear of tractors and got the feel of this one.
And she looked good doing it.
Here she is pointing out something to her dad, who is celebrating his birthday today.
So, all in all it was a good family day. I can sure tell I'm getting older, though; cooking a big meal absolutely wears me out for the rest of the day!
By the way, my Canadian secret admirer is back, reading every entry I've ever done on this blog. Hello, Canadian reader: If you ever make it to current entries, let me know what led you here and why you find my every word so interesting. As I write this, you're still back in 2007.
