Day Dream or Real

I am sure you know how a dream can seem so real, that when you wake up you wish it wasn’t a dream…

It is Saturday April 28^th; the weather is good but somewhat windy. I am focused on a ride into the Hill Country and the possibility of real Texas BBQ for lunch.

The same wind that has been drying the ground much faster than expected, will be pushing my motorcycle around if I ride to the Hill Country.

FYI, for those of you that are not familiar with the Hill Country it is south west of Waco, west of Austin and San Antonio. The area has many hills and lots of curvy roads which make it fun riding. Also wealthy people have a tendency to build homes in certain parts of the Hill Country. Fredericksburg, TX is a tourist trap town with lots of shopping (not my favorite). 

               A friend mentioned in an email that she was hungry for some BBQ. This got me to thinking about Texas BBQ and the possibility that I might want to participate during a noon meal.

               I had decided on Llano, TX. This is about 130 miles from home. That double “L” in the spelling (Llano) is odd. Coopers Old Time Pit Bar-B-Que is the name of the establishment I hoped to visit. I need to leave about 9:00am to arrive at the Lunch hour. As crowded as they usually are arriving after the lunch rush might be prudent.   There are several roads that will take me to Llano all I need to do is decide on either the fastest route or a fun ride route. Fun ride won, I prefer to stay off the interstates unless I am in a hurry.

               The Gold Wing had been washed yesterday and it did not have a bug on the windshield (unusual). It had a full tank of gas and there were a couple bottles of water in the trunk. All I needed to do was get my helmet, gloves and riding jacket and hit the road. No, it wasn’t cold. My jacket has armor in the arms and back just in case I was to go sliding down the road I would have some protection. No it isn’t real armor, it is plastic but it is strong and will help protect retired seniors when they fall. Maybe I need to wear the jacket all the time.

               On the road, I am heading southwest; the wind is strong when I ride through the open areas. The ride for the most part was uneventful, I noticed that the Bluebonnets were gone, my eyes were a little itchy from the tree pollens that the wind was stirring up. 

               After a couple hours of riding and one short break, I came into Llano on Hwy 29 which not so incidentally was the road that Cooper’s was on. Hwy 29 was also W. Young St.

Llano has a small lake in town with a small dam that can be seen from Hwy 71. I have sat outside the junk stores (while my lovely wife was inside shopping) and watched the locals swimming near the dam. 

               A few blocks away I could see some white smoke in the sky, I assume it was from the BBQ pits. It was about 12:15, there was a lot of traffic in the little town so I was riding very slow, watching for the drivers that are not watching for me. The head lights on my motorcycle have a pulsing mode; they rapidly go from bright to dim. These pulsating lights usually get the drivers attention. Occasionally they think I am a police officer and pull over.

               About a block away from Cooper’s I first started to faintly smell the fabulous aroma of smoked Brisket, Chicken, Sausage, Steaks and more. I had told my friend I would think about her when I was eating but I actually thought about her as soon as the aroma drifted under my face shield.  Evidently the wind was blowing at me, the closed I got the stronger the smoked flavors were.

               I arrived and as usual there were no visible parking spaces. I said visible because occasionally I can ride through a full parking lot and find a parking spot just right for my bike. I parked next to the dumpster.

               I removed the helmet and jacket; the fragrance was causing me to salivate. I was imaging the tender sliced brisket, cold slaw, potato salad and the beans. Cooper’s has a pot of beans on the counter where the silverware is kept and you can have all you want.

               I walked through the line getting all the above mentioned items and my unsweetened tea. $16.82 for my noon meal, but I did not let the cost distract me from my goal of enjoying 20 minutes of “heaven on earth”. Looking for a seat I was hoping to sit next to a pretty young lady but that wasn’t going to happen. There was an open seat next to an older lady. As I walked close I could smell someone’s perfume over the aroma of the brisket.  No way would I sit there.

Keep looking, I thought, there must be another open seat. Just then across the room 3 people got up from their seats, I had found my seat. I would sit next to a fellow that was as old and ugly as me. I climbed over the bench and sit down.

               I took my plastic fork and tried to cut through the brisket. I had to use the plastic knife, but if I would have had real silverware, the fork would have been all I would need. Lifting the fork with the brisket toward my mouth, I knew the brisket was going to taste so good; I again thought of my friend.

               Was it a “Day Dream” or “Real”?  

From the aroma filled salivating mind of        Don Ford

All rights reserved; any reproduction or distribution without written permission is strictly prohibited.                                        Fiction

                                                                                                                  

                  

Yard Work

I decided to take a photo in an effort to show my creativeness and artistic skills with a mower. Knowing that “you” have nothing better to do than to look at a photo of my yard I have posted it here, enjoy. 

May I suggest that you get a cup of coffee and take about 5 minutes to fully digest the loveliness of the “Ford’s Front Yard.

               Last year we went through a drought and everyone trusted that the spring rains would put an end to the dry weather. It seemed like it rained every other day for a couple months then about 3 weeks ago the rain stopped. The ground was dry enough that our neighbor was actually able to till a garden spot in his back yard.

               As I was preparing to take this photo when a neighbor stopped her car and asked if I could teach her husband to mow like that. Everyone knows how modest I am so my reply was, “shucks mam, aint nothen”.  I continued, “For $12.95 I could sell him a copy of my book (a best seller in Lee Roy, TX six days in a row), “Secretes to a Successful Yard, by             Don Ford”.

               Below I have another photo taken the same day as the photo above. If you have a week heart maybe you should divert your eyes. In all honesty, it is difficult for me to believe how dry the ground is after all the spring rains. This is a spot that is shaded most of the day with almost no grass.

               Hopefully this is not a sign of what this summer will be.

 

 

Brilliant People can do dumb things

Of course when I discuss brilliant people I will most often be speaking of myself. As I have previously stated (and if I didn’t I should have) my garden tiller would not start due to having left gas in it for a couple years (that is the dumb thing I did).

               I normally run the gas out of my equipment before storing for a period of time. If you leave gas in any motor it will breakdown and eventually turn into a varnish. This varnish will clog up the carburetor and gas lines.  I could not remember the last time I used the tiller so I assume 2 to 3 years of sitting.

               My neighbor offered to purchase my tiller so he could till his garden. I offered to loan it to him but he did not want to barrow it. That is what caused me to think about the tiller. I got the old tiller (it must be 20 years old) and I was surprised that it still had about a third of a tank of gas in it. I tried to start it hoping against hope that it might run. Nope, it was D O A.

Being an expert mechanic I decided to clean out the gas tank, carburetor and gas lines.
I took auto mechanics in my senior year and I was one of two students that were offered a job at the local Chevy dealer after graduation. Having that offer made me feel good so naturally I went to work at, “The South East Missourian News Paper”.              The only class I made “A” in was auto mechanics (actually it was “E”) and I go to work at a newspaper. I was lucky if I made a “D” in English or any other subject.

I removed the gas tank to which the carburetor was attached. This carburetor is different from what I expected. There is no external gas line and no gas bowl or float.  I am use to the gas flowing by gravity to a bowl on the carburetor with a float that operated a needle valve which controlled the flow of gas.  The gas line on this carb was a part metal part rigid plastic with a screen that went to the bottom of the tank. 

I drained the gas from the tank and began to dismantle the carburetor. If you haven’t smelled old stale gas that has turned to varnish you will not understand when I say it was difficult to wash the smell off my hands. My wife even asked what the small was when I came inside to wash.

Below is the carburetor that’s mostly dismantled.  A lot of carburetor cleaner, some shop towels, a tooth brush and compressed air along with an hours work and it was clean and ready to replace.

               Using my unlimited knowledge of mechanical process I was able to re assemble all the parts. I decided to check the V belts and they were both worn out. I replaced the belts and I was ready to attempt to start the motor.  Just a few pulls on the rope to get the fresh gas to the carburetor and the motor came to life.

               I am now able to start the tiller on the second pull and it tills like a new machine.

I did not expect this to be interesting, I wrote if for my own pleasure. 

From the Yard Working Mechanical mind of           Don Ford

All rights reserved, and reproduction or distribution without written permission is strictly prohibited.

                                                                                                                  

                  

Young'uns

Buddies from a young age. We were possibly 3 years old. The young man on the left is Dr. Paul Kitchen, the young man on the right is his handsome uncle, me. Have you noticed even as a child I was always “right”? In this photo I am three months older that Paul.  I have stayed three months older throughout the years.

I believe this photo to have been taken in 1950.

Let us review this photo. The swing appears to be too high above the ground for youngsters like us. It appears we are about to slip off the swing seat.  These shoes were probably all the rage in that day.  Paul’s pants seem to be kind of short; mine has one leg rolled up higher than the other.  Do you like those white socks?

It does not appear that there was much grass to mow.  You can see a building on the left of this photo which may have been an outhouse. We must have been wealthy as there is a wood fence in the back ground. You might notice the items against the building on the right.  I assume there were no safety concerns for kids our age.

I can remember mom buying pants for me (when I was a couple years older) that was as much as 4 inches too long.  Kids would wear them rolled up and they could grow in to them. 

               This photo was taken in Smelterville which was in south Cape Girardeau. Where did the name Smelterville came from?  I was told there use to be a Smelter in the area, ergo Smelterville. 

               Smelterville is no longer there.  The entire area was in a Flood Plane and anytime the Mississippi would flood Smelterville would be flooded.  Many of the houses were built about 4 feet above the ground.

There use to be many houses on both side of the tracks and even a few small grocery stores.  The First Pentecostal Church was located there. There was a gas station and a couple bars. The packing house (it was a slaughter house for cattle and hogs) was located there and at times when the wind was out of the south it provided a massive aroma.  When the smell was strong from the packing house people would say, “The doors of the packing house are open”. As a kid I believed that the smell came out when they opened the doors. There was a train track that went through community.  It was a nice community even though most of the residents were poor. 

               The cement plant was and is still located just south of Smelterville.

Young’uns; is Missourian speak meaning young one or young kids.                

From the young right mind of       Don Ford

All rights reserved, any reproduction or distribution without written permission is strictly prohibited.

                                                                                                                 

                  

Frog Gigging

Let’s be clear from the start, Frog Gigging is not an electronic game… 

Did you ever go gigging?  Gigging is defined in part as, “the practice of hunting fish or small game with a gig or similar multi-pronged spear”.  My experience at frog gigging was at about age 15.  I wasn’t old enough to drive but a friend was, so several of us decided to go gigging.  The gigs we had were three pronged and each prong had a barb on the end so the frog could not easily get off if you speared him. We had two gigs, each had a 6 or 8 foot handles on them and one had a heavy string in the handle so it could be thrown several feet and pulled back without wading in deep water.

Other necessary equipment was boots, (the taller the better) a flash light for walking and one for spotting. The walking light just had to be good enough to see where you were walking so you did not trip over anything as you walked through a field to get to a pond (tank in Texas). The spotting light needed to be bright and powerful so you could hopefully see the frogs.

Try to envision 4 teenage boys in an old 49 Chevy going down the road at night holding the two gigs out the window of the car. We knew where several ponds were but we had not asked permission of any of the owners.  We never got into trouble, possibly due to no one knowing we were there.

This is the process as I remember it. Drive down a country road to get as close as possible to the first pond. Since we had not gotten permission we attempted to climb the fences and walk through the fields to the pond without using the flash light. We knew where the ponds were because one or more of us had worked for these farmers hauling hay and that type work. When we arrived at the pond we would wade into the water staying several feet away from the bank. The theory behind this was, the frogs would be on the bank and we would have a better view of the bank (which had brush and tall weeds) from the water.

It should be understood that knee boots did not help much because we were often in waist deep water. The fact that there is always 6 to 8 inches of mud on the bottom of the pond and mud was an obstacle. 

Another part of my frog gigging experience was the fact that we waded into and walked through places that we would not have considered being in during daylight hours. The fact that you can’t see everything around you made it easy for us to “go where no man has gone before”. That statement sounds familiar…

For the entire evening of hunting we harvested (notice how I did not say killed, harvested is more politically correct and everyone knows I like to be politically correct) 4 frogs and none were that big. I don’t remember who took the frogs but I did not want to try and clean them and cook them.  I understand the frog legs will at times attempt to jump when placed in a hot pan.  I still have never had frog legs. 

 

As stated earlier “Frog Gigging” is not yet an electronic game although it could easily be made in to one.

ü  It could be advertised as a hand/eye coordination tool for the young hunter.

ü  Not actually harvesting a frog would allow the young hunter to be politically correct while enjoying the thrill of the hunt.

ü  Using gigs and not guns would allow the government to offer a grant to help develop the game.

ü  The young hunter would stay dry and germ free, no actual wading the ponds.

ü  No exercise will increase the kids desire to have the game.

ü  At the end of the game the player would need to count the frogs harvested, so it could be considered a learning experience.

I would be happy to consult with the developer of the “Frog Gigging Game” for a small percentage. 

 

From the always hopping mind of        Don Ford

 

All rights reserved; any reproduction or distribution without written permission is strictly prohibited.

 

 

Watch Out

Third time is charm?

               Just before Christmas my Wife of 43 years bought me a Pocket Watch from Kay’s Jewelers. It was a pretty watch, not battery power but a wind up watch.  I know, you are wondering where I get the energy to wind the watch daily. It is due to superior upper body strength that I, a retire person can manually wind the watch daily. I know someone wants to know where my wife got the money to purchase this watch and I will tell you. Early each morning she goes for a walk and she takes a bag with her.  She walks along the road picking up aluminum cans which she sells.  She saves this money to buy presents for me. People see her picking up cans and they think she is being civic minded. 

               About mid-January the pocket watch (let’s call it #1) broke; it would no longer wind.  I took it back expecting to hear comments like, “you must have over wound the watch”. I know how to wind the watch and I did not over wind the watch.  They gave me a new watch, no questions asked, because it was within 30 days of purchase. The second watch (#2) kept better time than the first, so I was happy for two months until #2 broke.  This time the winder would wind but when you let go it would unwind. I had been even more careful with number two watch when winding it. There was a warranty purchased so I took it back.  This time they had to send it in for repair.

               I had bought another pocket watch from Wal-Mart for $12.99. This watch was battery powered and kept excellent time. My intent was to use it when working around the house and the more expensive watch at other times.

               19 days passed and I had heard nothing from Kay’s. I initiated the call to them and the salesman said, he was thinking about my watch this morning; he would check and get back to me. 10 minutes later he returned my call and said the watch was there I could come and get it.

               I wondered how long my watch had been at the store. I went in and he gave me the watch saying, “it was a new watch (#3) and the 2 year warranty was now void”.  If I want a warranty on the new watch I would have to pay for it again. 

At this point I began to explain to Frank (the salesman) what I thought about a two year warranty that is void if they have to replace the watch. Not being happy I allowed my non-existent Ford temper to slightly come to the surface, I call Frank Fred, and I took the time to explain that I knew his name was Frank. I pointed my finger at him while I explained that I thought a good business, those that cared about their customers, would not sell a 2 year warranty that expired before the two years were up especially when they were selling watches that were obviously inferior in quality.  He attempted to explain to me that it was in the warranty document, but I interrupted him explaining that they should explain the warranty better when a customer purchases it.  

               I took the watch home and as of now it is still working. To make a short story longer, I contacted the home company of Kay’s and after a couple phone conversations they gave me a 2 year warranty on watch #3.  If there is a need to replace watch #3, that would void the new warranty.

               In the mean time I like the cheap watch from Wal-Mart so I decided to purchase another but this one would be a gold tone, still costing $12.99.  Gold tone #1 broke the first day so I returned it and they gave me #2. The Wal-Mart #2 watch broke three days later and I will take it back today. Hopefully third time is charm.

               The first watch I purchased from Wal-Mart is still working.

From the watchful and charmed mind of                Don Ford

All rights reserved; any reproduction or distribution without written permission is strictly prohibited.

                                                                                                                  

                  

Shed or not here I cut.

Chapter three

            Below is a tree that I have decided to cut down and you can see it is next to my shed.  As soon as the yard gets dry enough so I can back my trailer into the yard I plan to cut major limb groups off the tree without damage to the shed.

Monday Morning was a morning like many other mornings at the Ford estate, Mr. Ford (me) bounces out of bed several minutes prior to the alarm going off. After a quick trip to the little boy’s room I started my morning stretching routine. I feel it is wise to stretch before I begin working out.  Today instead of a routing of pushups and sit ups followed by a two mile run I decided to have a bowl of cereal and some coffee while checking to see if I had any email.  You do know that my comment about exercise each morning is a trivial exaggeration. 

               It had not rained this past weekend so my plan for the day was to attempt to cut a limb croup from the tree next to the shed. I call it a limb group because it is one big limb approx. 12 inched in diameter, coming off the stump of the tree that turns into to two other 8 inch limbs. Less experienced wood butchers may have cut one of the 8 inch limbs at a time and in hind sight possibly I should have followed that path.

               David and I had moved the swing set the night before so I had a clear area to drop the limb/s in. I got my chain saw and went over the safety precautions along with the starting instruction since I had not use the saw in the last 6 months.

               The last time I had started the chain saw I had it and my gas powered pole saw with some other tools in the yard ready to butcher a different tree.  The gas power pole saw will allow me to reach about 6 feet and still be able to cut limbs of about 6 inches or less.

As I was getting ready to use the pole saw when I noticed the bar and chain area needed to be cleaned. The saw dust was blocking the chain oiler and that would not be good for the chain. To thoroughly clean this area one had to remove the chain and bar which I did. After about 10 minutes of through professional type cleaning (yes I am also an expert at cleaning since my lovely wife forces me to clear the table and wash dishes) I was ready to reassemble the unit and adjust the chain tension. 

All the parts back together, chain adjusted I am ready to start cutting. I start the pole saw to get the motor warmed up. A warm motor is easier to start and when you are on top of an 8 foot step ladder. I shut the motor off and climbed the ladder. Once positioned on the ladder I started the motor on the first pull.  I picked the limb to be cut and applied the saw to the chosen limb.

The saw was running but not cutting. I thought, “Now what is going on”. I shut the saw off, climbed down the ladder and I took a close look at the chain. Yes you guessed it, the chain was on backwards. 

I had a short kind of laugh at myself and took the chain off the bar.  I put the chain back on and readjusted the tension.

Once I was safely at the top of the ladder (which wasn’t too safe because you are not supposed to work from a sitting position on the top of the ladder) I gave the motor one pull on the rope and the saw buzzed to life (it is a small saw so it did not roar to life). I move the saw into position at the same limb and begin the cut. The chain moved but it would not cut. 

I stopped the saw motor and sit there for a minute.  I could not have been that dumb. An expert such as me could not have put the chain on backwards twice. So, what was wrong?

               I carefully climbed down from the ladder I checked the chain. Yep it was on backwards again. At this point the “nonexistent Ford temper” was about to come in play.

I calmly removed the chain and put it back on the saw. I check it several times to be sure it was on correctly.  Having installed it properly this time, I took it to the shed and put it away. I then put the regular chain saw, other tools and ladder away. 

I have found it is better to have a cooling off period if I become upset. That was six months ago and I had not used the chain saw since, although I had use the pole saw.

               Back to present day, I decided on the exact angle of the first cut and where the second cut would be. If all goes well the tree limb will fall forward away from the shed and the stump portion of the limb will not kick back against the shed.

I made the first cut about 5 inches deep. I removed the wedge of wood leaving the open cut that will direct the tree to fall forward. I went to the back side of the tree and made the second cut, which should have been the final cut. The limb cracked, I shut the saw off and stepped away. 

The massive limb began to move forward slowly, but the smaller limbs in the top of the tree were against other small limbs eventually stopping the forward motion. I waited a couple minutes and nothing. 

I walked around the shed and on the opposite side of the tree I leaned against the fence.  It was at this point I realized the limb was taller than I had thought. It was actually tall enough that if it fell south, toward where I was standing instead of east it could hit the electrical lines going to my house. 

I felt a sinking feeling come over me.  What can I do?  The limb is not moving but if it does move and falls to the south I am in trouble.  I decided to get the pole saw and attempt to make another cut that I hope would cause the limb/s to start to fall again.

Moving back around to the north side of the limb I begin to cut the limb above the “Y” in hopes the cut would shift the weight of the limb and bring it down. I completed the cut and nothing. I had cut as deep as I could with the 6 inch pole saw blade. 

Suddenly there was a loud crack as the limb gave way.  It was like a slow motion movie as the limb fell. 

I am not sure whether it was “the luck of the Irish” or if I was “Bless by God”, possibly both. The limb fell exactly where I had planned and a couple hours later it was cut up and most loaded on a trailer. 

No more tree cutting stories for a while.

From the Blessed Irish mind of     Don Ford

All rights reserved, any reproduction or distribution without written permission is prohibited.

                                                                                                                 

                  

Wooded Lot

Chapter Two

Many years ago (33) in a land called Hewitt, Texas, Donna and I purchased a house on a wooded lot. This wooded lot consisted of two clumps of trees that resembled tall bushes more than trees.

In the year 1979 when we were looking for a house the realtor showed us this house and she kept referring to it as the house with the wooded lot. In fact the trees were in front of the porch and were probably Hack Berry trees.  I always assumed there may have been a fence there at one time and these “trees” were in the fence line.  The contractor left them there so we had the house with the wooded lot.  Truth was, if you looked up or down the street none of the houses had a tree in the front yard. There was a couple trees in some back yards but very few of those.

               A few years went by and the trees grew tall enough they made shade. They were not the best looking trees but there was some shade. One year we were on vacation (vacation in those years consisted of visiting relatives in Missouri) and when we returned home one of the trees was laying in the yard.  A neighbor came over and said there was a bad storm and the tree was blown over and it was in part, lying on the roof of our house. He said he and another neighbor knew we were gone so they pulled the tree off the roof.  The roof was undamaged.  I cut the tree up and loaded it on my trailer to be hauled to the city dump.

I decided that the other tree should be removed. This tree was about 8 feet from the house and it leaned slightly toward the house. It was about 12 inches at the base and I knew if it fell on the house it could cause damage.

On a Saturday morning I decided to show my proficiency with a chain saw.  I removed the lower limbs (those I could reach from the ground) and then studied the tree.  Recalling the teaching of Cap Miller I decided on one slanted cut that should cause the tree to move/fall downward parallel to the house missing the roof. I probably should have removed some of the upper limbs before starting the cut at the base which would have moved the weight away from the house.

With the first angled cut complete I was ready to make the last cut.  I noticed the neighbor, his wife and kid up the street from us was in the yard watching this idiot “me” try to fall a tree without hitting the house. I have noticed that when I do something that is not exactly right or risky others see or know about it. When I do something perfectly correct nobody knows.

I took a deep breath and pulled the rope on the chain saw. The saw roared to life.  I took one last look and decided I was doing the right thing. I cut into the back side of the tree about 4 inches deep, then I backed away to be sure the tree was not moving. I moved back to the tree placing the bar of the chain saw back into the cut I began to cut again all the time listening for that tell-tell sound of the tree cracking.  The wood of the tree breaks as it begins to move making  a cracking sound. I shut the saw off and stepped back from the tree. It made the cracking sound a few more times and then I could see it moving toward the house. As the first cut closed due to the tree moving, the angle of the cut turned the tree and it fell parallel to the house. The neighbors turned and went back into their house disappointed that I was successful.

I cut the tree limbs off the tree. Everything but the main body of the tree trunk was cut in 2 foot long pieces. As luck would have it a fellow in a pickup truck stopped and offered to haul the tree away for $30.00.  That meant, I would not have to load it on my trailer and haul it to the city then unload it there.  We agreed on $30.00 and he loaded all but the main trunk which had not been cut into pieces yet.  The fellow asked if I could pay him for the job and he would come back tomorrow to get the trunk (the most difficult part of the tree). I agreed and paid him. I know it was a stupid move on my part but everyone knows “I am generous to a fault”.  You are right, dumb or stupid is more appropriate that generous. To make a short story longer, he did not come back and I still had to cut the trunk in pieces and hall it off.

Unfortunately This story will continue…

From the no longer gullible mind of          Don Ford

All rights reserved, any reproduction or distribution without written permission is prohibited.

                                                                                                                  

                  

Wood Butcher

It is widely known that Mr. Ford (aka me) is a brilliant “Wood Butcher” (cutter downer of trees). In actuality I have been able to drop trees in the actual spot that I had planned. I learned on a 60 foot tall Cotton Wood back in Missouri. That tree was behind my house and I decided to cut it down. Our neighbor Casper Miller (must have been in his 80s) came over and advised me as to where to cut first, second and third. Without his supervision there is no telling where the tree would have fallen.

               In Missouri we lived a little ways outside the city limits.  Casper’s house was just down the road from ours.  Cap (most people call him Cap) had lived in that area all his life. Cap had farmed using mules and horses. He knew about anything that had to do with gardens, yards, trees or anything else that I needed to know.

               I had bought a new tiller and was going to put in a big garden next to our house. I tilled the garden twice so the dirt was soft and easy to work. I laid out some rows and I believe I was going to plant some sweet corn. Cap came over to see what I was doing then he offered some advice; “Don’t plant the corn”. He said it was the wrong sign of the moon and if I plant it the birds and chickens will eat the seed and very little will come up. I don’t know if he was right or not, I did not plant the corn that day. He told me of the things I could plant and I did.

               A year or so later I had decided to plant some popcorn instead of sweet corn. I like popcorn so I decided to grow my own. I remember I planted several rows of the popcorn, wanting to have enough to last me all winter. Being the “advanced gardener” that I then was I decided to also try to grow Indian corn. Do you know what Indian corn is? Well it is corn that can be any color and is often used in fall displays.  Donna had a couple ears so I took one ear and shelled the corn off the ear and planted a row of Indian corn.  Cap was not there to see what I was doing; I made my own decision since I was an “advanced gardener”.

Have you ever planted Bell peppers and Jalapeno peppers next to each other? If you haven’t I will explain, the peppers can cross pollenate and the bell peppers can be hot like the jalapeno. 

Back to my popcorn, don’t get ahead of me, I am telling this story. Popcorn has small ears and small kernels. Did you know that Indian corn will cross pollenate with any other corn including popcorn.  At harvest time most of my popcorn was colored, many different colors. Yep I had many ears of popcorn (enough to last through the winter) and they were for the most part multi colored. The colored popcorn popped just like the yellow popcorn, the cross pollination did not hurt anything.  Several people thought they might try it in their gardens.  I did not try it with sweet corn so I don’t know if it would change the taste or not.  I understand, you want to know if it popped in color. No it was white when it popped.

Cap wasn’t always correct in the things he said.  He commented that he has seen a woolly worm and it was a very dark color which meant there would be a cold bad winter. The next day I saw one that was a very light color, but I did not tell Cap.

Ok back to the original thought cutting down trees. The big cotton wood tree needed to come down and Cap told me where to make the first cut. The reason for the first cut was that was the direction the tree would fall.  Because of the way the tree leaned I needed to make a second cut. The second cut was the way the tree would start to fall and as it leaned into the second cut, which was on a slant, the tree would be directed toward the first cut and the final direction of the trees fall. I made both cut per Caps instructions then I went to the other side of the tree to make the final cut.  I should note that the final cut is just as important as the first cut, done incorrectly the first two cuts don’t count. As I made the final cut that big ole tree started to move and it did what Cap said it would it first moved to the slanted cut the fell in the direction of the first cut.

This is the end of chapter one. There will be additional chapters to this story.

From the vivid Wood Butcher mind of       Don Ford

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Complain, who me?

            As difficult as it is for you to believe, there may be at least one person in this world that believes I have a tendency to complain.  I am not a complainer but I do speak candidly

               Today is Sunday and we did not go to Dallas to see the grand kids.  We did however decide to go for breakfast.  We most often eat at the cracker barrow for a couple reasons. 1. The food is always the same (not bad but the same thing all the time gets old).  2. They have a large parking lot. Today I told Donna that we could go for breakfast but not to the Cracker Barrow. I noted that we could go to I Hop or Denny’s.  As usual and one of the main reason we don’t go to the I Hop more often, there was no parking spaces.  We ended up at Denny’s which in my opinion is probably the worst place to eat in Waco. My opinion is not a registered complaint, merely my candid opinion.

               When I traveled there was a Denny’s that I would eat at and they actually had good food in Woodburn Oregon. The unusual thing about this Denny’s other that the fact they had good food was, this Denny’s also had a Bar.  You could latterly order an alcoholic drink with your food.  

               Today’s episode began with coffee that was not only strong but also old and burnt. Adding cream to the day old coffee made it almost palatable. The hash brown potatoes were at the best warm, the cheese on my omelet was not melted even though the omelet was close to being hot. My milk was not cold although it was cool. I picked up the bottom piece of toast to put jelly on it and it felt mushy so I put it down and my hand looked as if I had dipped it in cooking oil. Two napkins later I had the butter, lard or lubricant off my hand. 

               It is my opinion, and I don’t think I am complaining at all when I say the Denny’s at the Flying J Sucks.  I fully intend to never go there again and hope to influence others to avoid that establishment.

            Some of us are Rude to others while saying we are being Candid. Being rude for any reason is not a good idea.

 

From the non-complaining but yet Candid brain of                             Don Ford

 

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Hair Cut?

Why is it called a haircut when all or most of your hair is being cut?

               As you may now know I am retired and scarcely existing on social security. When one retires they must cut back on many things including personal grooming. I understand it is hard to believe that someone as well groomed as I am has had to cut back but it is true.

               I recently received a letter and booklet from Medicare telling me they will send another book in a few weeks to help me decide how to precede. This particular letter stated that the United States Government, (this is the same government that had taken money out on my pay check for years to pay for Medicare) will be taking more money out of my SS check when I turn 65. Talk about double dipping your government is doing that.

               I digress, personal grooming should be more important to seniors because let’s face it, we need it more. It is bad enough when one has to eat cat food, dog food and road kill but when you can’t afford to go to a barber shop to get your hair cut, that is just not right. Maybe I should just cut it all off and have my head shaved. I probably could not afford the razors it would take to keep it shaved. If I did shave my head my wife may have something to say about it.  

A friend of mine who was a manager of a business told his employees he would shave his head it they raised a certain amount for a charity. This friend didn’t have a lot of hair and he had a comb over. To make a short story longer the employees donated enough money and the manager had his head shaved. This fellow also had a mustache and chin wickers that were not just gray but white. After his head was shaved he colored the mustache and whiskers. This fellow looked 10 years younger and his wife noticed. As I understand it, he was told to let his comb over grow back and he stopped coloring the facial hair.

               Now that I can’t go to the barber shop my wife has to cut my hair. Do you remember when a barber shop was for men, there were male barbers and man did not go to hair dressers?  Those were the good old days. As a kid I remember the barber was always talking and telling stories, some of which a young boy should not have heard and often did not understand.

               A couple days ago I asked my wife to cut my hair. She begrudgingly said she would so I grabbed the clippers and went to the garage. Yep, she made me sit on a stool in the garage while she cut my hair. She positioned me near the overhead door with it open so all the neighbors could see. I am surprised that the neighbors haven’t taken up a collection for us now that they know I can’t afford to get a haircut at the stylist.  

               After the haircut and a shower I went outside in the front yard. I was standing on the curb on my side of the street and Glen was on the curb on the other side of the street. His second comment was, “it looks like you got a haircut”?  When a neighbor can tell you got a hair cut from across the street it must have been a good haircut.  I should have asked if I looked younger.

 

From the well groomed mind of Don Ford

 

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F-18 Hung out to dry

Did you hear about the recent F-18 that crashed into an apartment building? This note has nothing to do with that story. In all honesty this note may not be interesting and is not funny. Retired people that don't have anything to do other than sit around and try to find ways to annoy others. I do this by writing these notes and posting them. 

Below is my "F 18" hanging out to dry after a second coat of varnish. I have begun to call this my F-18 since I identify each piece with my initial "F" and a roman numeral. "F XVIII" = "F 18".  

In the photo below I have started #18, it will become a cane. Retired people living on social security need canes and walking sticks in order to get around (they are hard to carry on the motorcycle).  I have already removed the bark from the stick. The head or handle is a left over piece of wood from another project.

Below we see a close up of the head with a hole drilled into it and the stick has the end filed down to fit into the hole.  You are correct; it is bent in the middle much like some of us retired people.

Below we see the head and stick connected. I have decided to reduce the size of the head by a couple inches. It has been suggested that instead of donating to a charity you could just donate to retired people you know.

Below shows the head or handle after I have removed about two inches.

If I had a job and wasn't on social security I could afford a cane that wasn't bent and maybe store bought.

Gotta go now, I am heading to Star Bucks for a Coffee and Cookie.

What, you want to know if Star Bucks have a senior discount. I don't know if they have a discount for senior citizens but I am going any way.  

               Have a good day!

From the retired but not tired mind of       Don Ford

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Easter at “The Fords of Hewitt”

We Hope you had a nice Easter Weekend with family and friends.

Yes I know, Easter has come and gone for all of us.  I guess there wasn’t anything that distinguished this Easter from any other. Donna was working at making a big Easter meal as usual, and I should say it was an enormous success.  I may have eaten just a little more than I should and that may have been the reason for the afternoon nap.

               There was a discussion between the men about a tree house in the back yard (not for the men it would be for the kids). This discussion went from a few corner posts, a ladder and a floor in the tree to a full blown deck between two trees that would allow the kids to have a deck to play on or under (maybe it was for the men).  These discussions went on to the possibility of a wood fence around the back yard and a riding mower for me (I through the mower in). It should be understood that retired people living on social security that may or may not be eating road kill can’t afford all the nice things. 

               The grand kids did not get enough stuff from the Easter Bunny (AKA grandma) but we were able to blow bubbles and kick the soccer ball around among other activities. The Easter Bunny left many eggs in the front yard where Gabi and Alex found them.  These eggs were plastic and had items in them.  Alex found the most eggs with money in side (they split the money later) Gabi got the most candy and trinkets.

               The weather was excellent which allowed Grandma to take a few photos (hundreds) until about 5:00 pm when the rain came. I don’t know how much rain we received but it was definitely a heavy rain. Dave, Gabi, Alex and me watched the rain from the garage.  The kids kept stepping out of the garage into the rain so that kind of put a halt to rain watching.

Below is a photo of Alex trying to ride a rather small tricycle. Even though it was a little small for him, he was making the best of the situation (Ford’s do that).  Do not look at the back wheels as they seem to be going into a different direction.

               On Monday just a little before noon Claire packed the car for her return trip to Dallas. It was a little foggy so I recommended that she drive with a lot of caution. As you may know women in general are not as good at packing for a trip as the men.  Packing for a short trip to Dallas is no different than packing for a long trip or even a vacation. The key is proper use of space and placing the less fragile items on the bottom with the lighter items on top. The photo of Claire’s car trunk shows some very good packing, for a female. I would have offered one suggested change but as with most females, they do not want any suggestions.  I would not have placed the potty seat on top the suit case I would have probably placed it on the floor further up in the trunk. Other than that I would say it was a good load.

               How much does a car seat cost?

               “Time out” at the grand parents’ house is not in a corner but I am sure it may serve the same purpose (he wasn’t really in time out).

From the Easter weekend mind of              Don Ford

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Watching TV

I may have learned something by watching one of the morning shows on TV.

               As usual I start my “hectic” day with a cup of coffee, a bowl of cereal and a little computer time. Next to my computer monitor is a TV which I turn on each morning to learn all the vital news stories.  The TV is also connected to 4 security cameras around the outside of my house. I often get tired of the “so called news” and wanting something more interesting than the “so called News” I turn on my cameras and watch the grass grow.  I have two views of the front yard which also looks up and down the street,  a view of the back yard and a view of the drive way.  There is a motion detector that alerts me of anyone or anything in my drive way.

               The news this morning provided some enlightenment for me which may explain many events in my life.  The story was about a woman that thinks she is pretty and she states that other women hate her because she is so beautiful. She believes that she has not received pay increases and or promotions from her female supervisors because she is so pretty.  She thinks friends talk about her behind her back because she is so pretty.  Her friends probably do talk about her because she is a nut.  (What I have seen of her on TV she’s possibly average in looks and she speaks with an accent.)

               Let’s, for a moment assume (we all know what happens when we ass/u/me) that she is correct in her assumptions. All the bad things that have happened to her, have occurred because she is, “pretty” and all other women just hate anyone who is prettier than them self.  If this assumption is correct how would it apply to me, an “older, handsome, gentleman” (ok one out of three isn’t bad)?  Well, it might explain a lot. Assuming all the things she alleges about women is correct, and assuming those same allegations apply to men, that could mean I may not be handsome (hard to believe). 

Do you know how difficult it is to have learned that I may not be handsome?  All my life I have told myself, I am handsome and I have also been willing to tell others that I am handsome. My mother even told me I was handsome and I am sure she would not lie.

I received pay increases and promotions from my male supervisors, which would indicate they did not hate me because I was more handsome than they were. Then, why is it that some men don’t seem to like me; possibly they don’t like me because “I am more intelligent” than they are.  I know for a fact that “I am more modest” than other men. When I worked “I always had better ideas” that other men did. It may be possible that some men just can’t enjoy being around positive, productive, conservative, modest, highly intelligent men like me. 

No response necessary, I am sure you agree with me.

From the modest, all knowing mind of       Don Ford

Thanks

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Anniversary # 43

Yep, 43 years married today.  Time does seem to fly.

April 5, 1969  through   April 5, 2012

                 The Fords of Hewitt, Texas                                       

Food Supply       

As you may know, retired people living on Social Security have a tough time meeting all their expenses.  A person retires and their weekly check from work stops but all the same bills continue. Think about it; no weekly checks but all the same bills.

            As you may remember, in the past I have explained that there are many good recipes using cat food and dog food as a less expensive way for retired people to eat. This year there is an additional expense that I had to pay and in truth, it is the reason I wrote this note to you.  (Later in this note I will try to remember to give you an address where you can send donations to help the “Fords of Hewitt” purchase food.)  I literally had to pay out of my pocket (which took food off our table) additional money to the Government for my income tax. For many years I have gotten an amount back from the Government but as soon as I retire they make me pay out of pocket.

            Without telling the exact amount of additional taxes I had to pay it should suffice to know that “The Fords of Hewitt” can’t even afford dog or cat food for the next 6 weeks. I am sorry for unloading all this on you but I need to get it out.

            In many of my past notes, I have talked about riding my motorcycle on Thursdays to go to lunch with friends.  Last week I had a different reason for riding on Thursday and I will continue to do this for the next few weeks.  Last Thursday I was very upset at not having enough food for the home table due to paying income tax, so I got on the motorcycle and rode out into the country. As I rode I began to notice all the “Road Kill”.  There was squirrel, dog, skunk, and deer carcass on the road or just off to the side of the road in the ditch. I was able to pick up enough meat for the next week.  I was glad that I had a sharp pocket knife because I would not have been able to get the deer meat without the knife. 

Some advice when looking for road kills;

1. It is usually better if the carcass is off the road. The carcass left on the road gets ran over repeatedly.  Although this will tenderize the animal most of the juices are smashed out.
2. If you see a group of Buzzards eating on road kill it is best to let them have it. I have found that the buzzards are attracted by smell and if the road kill smells bad enough to attract the buzzards you probably don’t want it.  
3. Consider how much traffic there is as you don’t want to get ran over while trying to pick up a road killed squirrel. 
4. People will report you to the Sherriff, so keep that in mind when stopping to examine a carcass.

As you know my wife is an excellent cook and she has been able to conjure up several excellent meals from my recent country ride.  I must say no matter how she prepares the Skunk it still has a wild taste.  Donna has learned how to make excellent Fajitas using road kill.  I am getting hungry thinking about it.  Her meat loaf is really good and the ribs she grilled were good although a little tough (you do not always get young road kill). 

I feel much better now that I have unloaded my problems, sorry that I unloaded on you. I believe I will go to the Star Bucks and get a coffee and oatmeal raisin cookie, which usually makes me feel good.

 

From the retired but not tired brain of     Don Ford

 

Thanks

 

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