My Calendar

Turns out that my deep subconscious freaks out when a blank spot appears on my calendar. For some unexplained reason, a mystery of the universe, I am compelled to fill each box with some type of scheduled activity.

Recognizing this flaw, I went out and got myself yet another job. Yep.

Just call me a Paleo Activity Guide. There is a new shopping center called Village West. It's about 18 miles from my house and near the speedway racetrack. It is an outdoor mall complete with fountains and bronze sculpture. Lots of benches upon which visitors can rest and watch the people. There is a movie theater, Dave & Buster's, Home Decorator, Nike, Tommy Hilfiger, Hot Topic, American Eagle, Outback Steakhouse and many, many other eating establishments and shops.

T-Rex is a prehistoric family adventure where visitors can eat, shop, explore and discover. It is similar to the Rainforest Cafe. Being owned by the same parent company, it makes sense. So, it is now my job to host tours of small children to a place where Dinosaurs come to life among caves, waterfalls and geysers. Children can practice archeology and dig for bones and/or pan through the water runoff for bits of bone fragments. Additionally, children can mine for geodes and even "build a dinosaur" in a similar fashion to the "Build a Teddy Bear" store. It all sounds exciting.

During my interview, I was certain to mention that I currently give barnyard tours to children in an educational setting. Same job, different topic. Instead of cows and chickens at Red Barn Farm, I'll be doing Brontosaurus and Tyrannosaurus Rex. On the farm, visitors don't have to worry about being eaten by the attractions.

My calendar no longer has vacant boxes. T-Rex starts July 10th. There are several managers at T-Rex, one for each area (restaurant, retail, paleo, etc). I informed the big-wig manager that I would give full-time, but they would have to work with me so that I can still do Red Barn Farm, Dinner Theater, Oakmont Farm and eventually substituting in the fall. Additionally, if filming of the "movie" begins, I'll need time to go off and do that. THEN, if something pans out with Exposure, Inc. , to which I submitted my packet this morning, I'll have to have some time off for that.


All of this frenzied activity does have a purpose.
There is a reason for the maddness.

A day at the Red Barn Farm

The other day at the Red Barn Farm, I was giving my normal tour to elementary school children. Just as I was escorting them to the restroom to have them wash their hands, I noticed they were not behind me. Several were distracted by something near the mule barn. That caused others to investigate. Pretty soon, I was standing by wondering what my children were examining.

Then I heard the word snake.

Well, being Farmer Kelly and wanting to present a good impression to the children, I made a conscious decision to pick up the snake. See, we teach the children that Black Snakes are the farmer's friend because they eat the mice and rats that eat the animals feed and grain. They also are territorial and keep away other "bad" snakes.

I figured that if we teach that Black Snakes are good, then why shouldn't I accept this snake as any other barnyard animal and pick it up. I pick up the chickens, the pigs, the lambs, the calves (okay, push them around), the ducks and the geese (when they aren't attacking me). All of those animals are friends of the farmer. So, I picked it up.

Outside, I told the children all the wonderful things that Black Snakes do for the farmer. Inside, I kept thinking "WHAT AM I DOING? I SHOULD NEVER HAVE PICKED THIS THING UP!!" Another farmer tour guide, Judy, asked me to hang on while she got her camera. In my best I-am-not-worried voice, I said okay. Inside, I was screaming, "HURRY UP!"

While telling the children all the wonderful things about the snake, I noticed it kept sliding its head out of my grasp. I had to make adjustments to keep its head in control. Its body touched me bare arm and I was surprised at how cold it was. That's probably why it was so easy to catch: it was cold. Still waiting on Judy, I stood there and let the children touch it. I was careful to keep its head securely in my hand. Oh yeah, I was wearing gloves. No way would I have picked it up without gloves. Anyway, the children were fascinated.

Then it maneuvered its body around my leg and really grabbed hold. Even though I knew in my mind that this was a friendly snake and not a poisonous snake nor a constrictor, I was distressed having it securely affixed around my thigh.

"Oh, Judy. You really need to hurry up. Farmer Kelly really wants to put this guy down."

"Oh Kelly, I'm sorry. I forgot my camera today. Go ahead and put it down."

"Thanks, Judy." Hmmm, thanks a whole hell of a lot. "Okay, children. Farmer Kelly is now going to let this big guy go on about his business. I'll just put him right back where I found him. Okay."

After that, just as smooth as you please, I lead the children off to the restrooms to wash hands before lunch. They all thought I was absolutely amazing. Inside, my stomach was flippy-floppy and my heart was pounding.

Seriously, though....WHAT WAS I THINKING?!

Hurry up, Judy! I want to put this thing down!!!

What was I thinking? Just another day at Red Barn Farm.

Happiness Is...

I rode Blue this morning. As always, she is a delight and can do no wrong. Even when being recalcitrant, Blue is perfect. Folks may talk about that big horse who chooses to defy by being lazy, and I have to respond, "Not Blue. She would never do such a thing."

I progressed to a trot. Then, accidentally, to a canter. Oops.

No harm done. Actually, I learned why Blue had transitioned to a canter. It wasn't her fault at all. It was all my fault. By loosing balance and focus, I unintentionally asked her for a canter. Turns out Blue is one smart horse.

Oakmont Farm finally has their website up. I invite you to check it out and learn more about where I spend several hours a week.

My time is divided between Oakmont and Red Barn Farm. Both are equally fabulous and are synonymous with happiness.

Yep. I took this picture. I also planted the bulbs. I think this could be a postcard or maybe blown up to an 8X10 print.

Aren't they pretty?

This is my desktop picture.

The bulbs were planted last November.

Flower in my garden.

Another thing that geese are good for---Christmas Dinner!

Nice bite behind my knee.

Straight out of a Hitchcock movie.

When Animals Attack

I filled out a questionnaire earlier this morning. One of the questions caused me pause and I tried to define my occupation into one word. I failed miserably. I ended up answering that particular question with "eclectic, entertaining substitute teacher, actor, writer, barn hand, and farmer."

The actual description of farmer isn't exactly what I do. My title is Farmer Kelly and I give barnyard tours to elementary school children. The Weston Red Barn Farm is one of my most favorite places in the entire world. Even when it's cold, wet and muddy or hot, dusty and sweaty, Red Barn Farm is the happiest place on earth. Way better than Disney Land. Okay, I would agree that not everyone would agree with my opinion, but since this is MY blog, I adamantly declare Red Barn Farm FABULOUS.

As a tourguide Farmer, I educate the visiting children about barnyard animals and how farmers and pioneers used the animals and land to live.

There are pigs. Pigs are important to farmers because pigs are good for bacon, sausage, pork chops and ham. Not only that, but also bubble gum, make up and paint brushes. Pigs eat everything, except for glass, metal and plastic.

There are chickens. They are good for eating; fried chicken, chicken pot pie, chicken nuggets, chicken tenders, Bar-B-Q chicken, lemon chicken, baked chicken, chicken burritos, chicken enchiladas. I could go on and on. The girl chickens (hens) lay eggs and the boy chickens (roosters) wake up the farm. They also help make more chickens, but that is a bit too much detail for elementary tours.

There are cows and bulls: a Jersey milking cow (Myrtle), a , Hereford beef steer (Bob), two baby bull Holstiens (Cutter and Cornelius). We get milk and all those wonderful dairy products from milking cows like Myrtle. We get hamburger and steak from cows like Bob and those baby bulls...well they'll end up making more Holstien cows for milk and will eventually end up as hamburger meat. Again...too much information for the children. I tell them how cows eat and inevitably one will poop and then I have to explain that what goes in also comes out.

I tell them about horses, both gigantic ones like the Belgian draft horse that is on the farm and miniature ones like the four mares and one gelding. There is also a donkey and I explain the differences between the three types of equines.

The farm also has turkeys, sheep, a goat, ducks and geese.

Several years ago, there was a mean grey goose. Being a boy, he was a gander, but mean nonetheless. He was not-so-affectionately named Gooszilla. The farmer tourguides stayed outside of the goose pen because Gooszilla liked to bite. If you have ever been bitten by a goose, you will know that it really hurts.

Alas, Gooszilla went to heaven (or more likely became some bobcat's dinner) and the goose pen was once more safe to enter.

This past fall, the farm had one brown goose, a white goose and a white gander. As there are several breeds of geese and the children don't really care what kind of goose they are looking at, I really haven't research what breed these three geese are. All I know is that they are all a different breed and one is a Peking goose. Last fall they were fairly docile and it was relatively easy to catch one, hold it out for the children to see and point out all the differences between a water bird and a land bird.

Then spring came.

The brown goose or maybe the white goose laid an egg. It's difficult to determine which goose laid it as they both sit on it. What is not difficult to determine is exactly which one is the gander. He is the biggest bird in the pen and turns out, the meanest. Seems he has become very aggressive over his girls and the egg.

I learned that about three minutes too late.

When I entered the pen, he came straight for me; hissing and honking with wings spread. I thought, "Cool. This will be easy to catch him." Wrong. He probably thought the same exact thing about me.

As I bent down to catch him, he bit me. Lucky for me, he only grasped my pants with his beak. Then he got a better grip. With each bite, he twisted and shook my leg. I tried to get him off of me, but he just wasn't letting go. That's when the beating started. He spread his wings and began whacking me. The front bones in the wings are much stronger than I ever would have guessed and he pounded me with venom. I managed to escape the onslaught, but not for long. He regrouped and attacked again. This time, he grabbed my other leg. More biting. Once he got a good solid grip, he stared beating me again. By now, I strongly voiced my concern and screamed like a little school girl. Keep in mind, I have a class of kindergarteners and three adult chaperones watching. That's right...WATCHING.

I managed to escape the clutches of the demon gander's beak only to be trapped by him. He had military manueverability skills to rival Rommel and herded me into the corner of the pen where the onslaught continued. So much for the tour and looking remotely adept in the eyes of young children. I leaped over the small fence and stayed several feet away from a craning neck.

Mustering up some pride on confidence, I continued with the tour and completed it with no further difficulties. Once I had the children off to the restroom to scrub their hands with soap, soap is your friend, soap, soap, soap, I told the story of the formidable fowl to another farmer. I then learned that the behavior I had experienced is called "flogging." Real farmers will tell you it's not the biting you have to worry about; it's the flogging.

Oh, yeah...turns out several farmers had witnessed the pummeling. Funny how nobody came to my aid. They stood there and watched, apparently "in" on the joke. Seems they had already been warned of the gander's aggressive behavior earlier in the week and didn't tell me.

So, now, I am ashamed to admit that I had my butt kicked by a bird.

Close Encounter with Destiny

Horses are big, powerful creatures. Even the miniature horses are strong. Humans are physically inferior to equines. It makes sense. Horse are a prey animal. Zebras have to fight and/or escape from lions or else they are lunch. Lions are very big and very powerful with very big teeth and very big claws, both of which are good for killing and ripping apart flesh. It just seems appropriate that horses would be nervous and capable of fighting back.

Horses are also social animals. As expected, social animals have a hierarchy and communication skills. Unfortunately, humans don't speak horse and horses don't speak human. Horses speak horse. After being around horses, it becomes apparent that horses enforce the hierarchy with gentle nudges, which when the animal weighs 1100 pounds is quite significant. They also use aggressive nudges, kicks and bites.

So, imagine my surprise...

The other day, I was out in the pasture with the three mares that I see every Tuesday and Thursday. Blue is the dominate mare. She is 1/4 Clydesdale, 1/4 thoroughbred and 1/2 Dutch Warmblood and a BIG girl. Next in the herd is Brittany. She is a beautiful chestnut mare and stands just as tall as Blue, but not as thick. Then there is the lowest ranking mare, Destiny. She is an Andalusian and compared to the other girls, she is on the small side.

When all three are in the small paddock area near the barn, all is well. They know their places. Sometimes Destiny gets a tad too close to the action and Brittany quickly reminds her that she must wait her turn. Destiny submits and patiently waits.

Once the three have moved into the larger pasture area, things change. Destiny gets to be too big for her breeches. I tried to encourage her to move into the paddock area. Well, she was having none of that and trotted away from me. So, I waited and eventually she came back. I got too close and she walked away. That's when the bribes started. First some treats. She was too smart for that and knew I wanted her to come in and require her to work. So, hay was added. That didn't work much better.

When both bribes were combined, she finally came close to the paddock. A few encouraging pats and she scampered away. The bribes were too good to ignore for long and she inched her way back. Another friendly pat and Destiny took off. For good measure...KATOW!

She let me have it. Full force with perfect extension with uncanny accuracy, she planted her hoof smack on my bum. Let's just say I have a beautiful impression of her foot on my butt. No need to have her present to measure her hoof for a shoe. I know EXACTLY how big her foot is.

I suppose it's just one more right of passage. So far, I've been stepped on, fallen and now kicked. As of yet, no broken bones. I'm certain those will come in time.

Here Kitty Kitty

For quite some time now, my daughter has wanted a cat. My husband, the personification of patience, and I have refused to allow this to happen.

We have three terriers who would just love to "play" with the kitty. Kitty box crunchies are just too tempting for the pups. We are a military family and move frequently. My daughter who would be 100% responsible for the cat makes little effort to tend to the dogs thus conveying the possibility of cat neglect. Plus, she will be off to college in two years. College dormitories do not permit animals. My husband and I just don't want to end up taking care of a cat.

The other day, I had to take our Westie, Jake, to the vet. He has managed to destroy his ACL in one of his legs. Yep, our buddy needs some surgery, but that's a whole different story. More on that later.

Anyway, as I waited in line to pay for the office visit, the man in front of me was paying to the spaying of a cat. He asked the receptionist if she wanted to keep the cat. Well, my ears purked up and I listened to the conversation. Seems this man's wife kind of collects cats. Together, they have 12 outside cats and four inside cats. This particular cat was destined to be an outside cat. That seems like a bleak existence to me, especially since I believe all pets should be a member of the family. You wouldn't leave your kid outside. I hate to see dogs chained in the back yard and left alone. That's cruel. Dogs are social animals and need love and attention. Ah, but that is yet another soap box. Back to the cat.

I inquired if the man was serious about giving away his cat. He certainly was. So, I went back to the recovery room and took a look at her. She is a 7 month old spayed female. And...she was very affectionate.

So, the cat came home.

I told my daughter that she had to purchase all the necessary accessories for the cat that evening and bring them home when she got off from work. She asked,"What about Dad?" I told her we would just keep it secret. Hide the cat. Let him discover her on his own and then we would play silly and say that the cat had been living in the house for a while.

All went well. The dogs were very, very curious and Sydney want to play so badly. Unfortunately, the cat had ZERO interest in playing. To magnify her displeasure with the idea, she hissed and took a swing. Sydney got the message loud and clear. Annabelle didn't readily get the hint and need a bit more forceful display of intolerance. Jake just sat and barked.

After a while, Jordan went off to work and the dogs quieted down. At the end of the work day, I drove to my husband's work to give him a ride home. I was in his office about 90 seconds before I innocently advised him that I had done something.

By my demeanor, he knew it was something big. At first, he asked if I wrecked the car. I admitted I brought home a kitty for Jordan. He wasn't pleased, but tolerated what I had done. I also told him that he was not to know about the cat and play surprised when Jordan came home.

Well, that idea didn't last long either. Jordan called me from Wal-Mart and asked about what kind of litterbox to get. She was excited and nervous all at the same time. She was delighted about having the kitty, but terrified at what her dad would say. So, I let her off the hook and told her that I had already let the cat out of the bag.

When she did come home that evening, she brought in a shopping bag filled with kitty things. My sweet sweet man of a husband played stupid and began to carry on like a crazy man. Jordan shrugged it off and said she already knew that he knew.

So, my husband, although irritated, pet the kitty. I've caught him petting the kitty, kitty several times since the cat came home She's still not 100% comfortable with the dogs, but she's getting braver by the day. I hope that they will all be able to get along and maybe even play. Keeping my fingers crossed.

Oh, my daughter named the cat Nona.

Crafty

I love to make beautiful things.

My first adventure in crafts was making bows. It took lots and lots and lots of practice, but I have conquered to task. I can make beautiful bows. Thank you very much.

Then I started making wreaths. Well, my mother is far better at making wreaths than I am. I just had to find my niche. So, when Halloween rolled around, I make the coolest, creepiest Halloween wreath. It had spiders, spiderwebs, black and orange gunks of glitter, black tulle ribbon, and a big raven. Too, too cool.

Then I discovered scrapbooking. It wasn't too far a leap to stamping. We, okay...my husband, call it crap and stamping. I have accumulated an entire closet and a dresser full of crap and stamp stuff. I am such a sucker for colorful paper.

Just when I became comfortable with that crafty medium, I decided that I could make gift baskets. In a shop where I worked last year, there were small wicker baskets for sale. They were nothing special and were selling for $10. I thought that was outrageous, especially since yard sales are the best place to buy baskets. BING. A light went off inside my head and I said to myself, "Self, you can make cuter baskets than that and for a lot less money." So, out on adventure to find good baskets, cheap. Those yard sales were a goldmine. Nearly all of the baskets I bought that weekend were 25 cents. The most expensive one, which was also the biggest cost 75 cents.

Fall theme, for me, is easy. So, I picked up thousands and thousands of acorns off my lawn. I also picked up about a million of these prickly, seed pod, ball things from one of the trees on my property. Then, I invested a couple of bucks on spray varnish and glue. Wouldn't you know, my baskets are beautiful.

Soooooo, I mentioned all of this to my beautician. She requested I make her a spring wreath and a gift basket. She said she wanted to get an assortment of greeting cards to put in the gift basket. I chimed right up and told her that I make greeting cards, too. She was thrilled and told me to make a stationery gift basket. No problem. Cake and pie.

I'm hoping that she'll be thrilled and tell all of her friends about it. Then, I just might be able to make a few bucks to support my crap and stamp habit.

Many fingers in many pies

And another adventures....

Last week, my amazingly wonderful husband and I were interviewed to become sponsor parents for a foreign exchange student. As we have a lovely daughter (age 16), my husband, the very protective father that he is, laid down the ground rules, namely NO BOYS. I readily agreed. The last thing we need is a budding romance.

We were given a choice between three girls. The first one was from Czech Republic. Her initial profile was interesting. She sounded like she would fit into our family quite nicely. The second young lady was from Belgium. She had some emotional baggage that we just weren't keen on inviting into our lives. The third girl was from Germany. Her profile sounded like she would be perfect for us. She seems to be outgoing, but then again, anyone who would sign up to be a foreign exchange student would have to be outgoing. She indicated she enjoys sports, horses, and watching TV, especially Friends. She is also excited about cooking a typical German meal for her sponsor family. Cool deal. Since we lived there, we know what she's talking about. I'm excited for her to come, which won't be until the beginning of next school year. We'll have her for 9 months. Yep, my husband and I are actually inviting another teenage girl into our home. Just a couple of gluttons for punishment.

As of today...my 16 year old daughter got her driver's license. That's a whole different set of worries. Yikes. I sent her on her very first solo drive today. Granted it wasn't too difficult a task, but she was sure excited. I'm happy for her. Nervous, but happy.

Wait, there's more.
This past Saturday, I went to a horse show. In one arena, folks were competing in dressage (that's the fancy pants and horse dancing) and in the arena across the street, cowboys were doing rodeo. Two totally different worlds of horses, but I loved every second of it.

I visited the stock pen and checked out the horses, steers, calves, and bulls. Two bicycle policemen came over to get a closer look at the bulls. Turns out they had never seen bulls and had some questions. As I have been to several rodeos in my time, I explained to them about the different animals and what each would be used to do. Just so happens that I know more about rodeo than I do about dressage, but it's the dressage I'm learning to do. Yep, I'm expanding my horizons. Just one more finger in one more pie.

Because I think that all animals need to enjoy a treat, I asked the stockmen if it would be okay to feed the stock horses a carrot.

They chuckled to themselves and said, "If you think you can get them to come close enough, sure."

With a bit of encouragement and the natural curiosity of horses, several came over to investigate. I suspect none of them had ever eaten a carrot. My friend who was with me asked the stockmen if the horse ever came inside. I knew those horses had spent their whole lives outside. The stockmen looked at my friend like she was from another planet.

I explained, "We take care of the barn babies across the street. Those guys are spoiled on a daily basis."

They nodded.

Then I asked if it would be okay if I were to give them apples. My friend asked them if the horses had ever eaten an apple.

"No. Apples don't grow in North Dakota," one cowboy said.

I replied, "The only thing that grows in North Dakota is snow." I went back over to the dressage arena and obtained two Red Delicious apples.

Once the rodeo stock horses tasted the apples, there was no hesitancy anymore. Turns out, they LOVE apples. I suspect I turned them into sissies.

Wait, there's more.

So, today after scooping lots of poop, I mounted my big girl, Blue and began my lesson. I walked her around cones in a circle and then in figure eights. Eventually, I got the hang of what I was supposed to be doing. When the instructor would give me some direction, I stopped concentrating on the horse and focused on the instructor. As soon as I did that, my horse stopped working. Blue needs a constant, consistent rider else she just stops. Basically, she's on the lazy side.

As if I don't have enough going on in my daily routines, on April 1st, I'm sticking my finger into another pie. Auditions for the spring dinner theater productions are that afternoon. I'm hopeful that I'll be cast.

The fellow who runs the theater troop mentioned an October job. He said he would refer my name and give me kudos to conduct haunted home tours. He said the money is good and thinks I would be good at it. That's encouraging.

There's always something on my plate.

Break a leg

My actor bio went something like...recently discovered for her effervescent enthusiasm as a murder mystery theater audience member and makes her theatrical debut with the Leavenworth Players Group in Murder at Paddy Kelly's Irish tavern or a St. Patrick's Day to Die For. The well-traveled, published author thanks her husband for his undying support in her eclectic endeavors.

Opening night went extremely well. I made two mistakes. The first one was in the end of the third section. I stepped on a laugh line. The second mistake was at the very end. I totally dropped a line, but I don't think anyone even noticed....except for other cast members.

I was supposed to serve for Table 10. I had expected 8 people. When I showed up for the call time, I discovered that my 8-top was down to a 7-top. When guests began to arrive, the number 7 guy wanted to sit with his friends at another table. So, my 7-top was now down to 6. By the opening act, two of my patrons had not arrived. So, I ended up with a 4-top. That was very disappointing. It also meant that my tip potential was, in a word.......pitiful. Lucky for me, one couple seated in my section was my personal guest and they tipped me well. Had it not been for them, I would have ended up being able to afford only two chicken soft tacos and a medium drink from Taco Bell. Even then, I wouldn't end up with any change.

There are two more shows. One is on March 16th and the last one on March 19th. Hopefully, I'll have more folks to serve. More folks = more alcoholic beverages = higher tab = more tips.

Today, I am a professional

This past Friday evening, my husband and I enjoyed a murder mystery dinner theater. Being that this is the month of hearts and flowers and love, The Saint Valentines Day Murder Mystery or Rubout at Uncle Vinny's seemed appropriate. We had a delightful time.

My husband fell in love with me years ago when I took him to see the stage performance of The Phantom of the Opera. Turns out, live entertainment has become something of a specialty for us. We have enjoyed plays, musicals, comedy clubs and now we've added dinner theater to our adventures. Each time we attend a performance, I say to myself that acting looks fun. It certainly doesn't appear to be difficult, at least not the acting part. The singing and dancing...well, that's an entirely different matter. Heaven knows, I certainly don't have the pipes for opera.

Anyway...I digress. During the performance, I made a personal decision. After the show, I would contact the troop and ask how one becomes involved in a production such as this. Turns out, I didn't have to do that. In fact, I had already been "discovered." The director/producer of the show noticed me during dinner and took note of how well I interacted with the characters. He invited me to sit with him after all the guests left and discuss the technical aspects of dinner theater.

Not only was I immediately cast in the next production without a formalized audition, but I was also cast as the lead. Yeppers. I'm the "Go To". The "It" girl for the March performance. The first show is scheduled for March 11th at the The Highnoon Saloon in downtown Leavenworth, Kansas. Feel free to come and enjoy a meal with a side of murder. Oh yeah...I'm the one getting murdered.

It's all good though. I play two parts: the victim and the investigator. Yeppers, I get to solve my own murder. How cool is that?!

The best part about all of this is that I am now considered a PROFESSIONAL actor. It's true. I'm getting paid.

I am so excited about all of this. Acting in a play has always been one of those things that I've wanted to do. Life is a wonderful thing. The older I get, the more I enjoy it.