Sometimes, Monday’s are Monday’s. I’ve had Monday’s on the weekend, the middle of the week, you name it. It just seems to be a good way to say ‘you know, today is kicking my butt, it feels like a Monday.’
Well, yesterday I had a Monday Monday. I woke up late, missed breakfast, and got to work with hay in my hair and mud smeared on my legs. Oh well! 8 hours, and bottomless cups of coffee later, I made it back home.
I checked the stock and took the chickies some extra water, then made my way to the garden and started weeding. The tomatoes have completely taken over – we tied and staked them but you can hardly see the stakes now. The stalks are so long, they laid on the ground, took root, and continued growing to the sky. Each plants has several pale green tomatoes, about the size of my fist, hiding between their leaves.
I brought some squash and zucchini inside, decided to have dinner and call it a day. If you live on a farm, you have to get up early. It’s part of the job description. Over the weekend, we took my cousins to Gatlinburg, and didn’t get home until after midnight. I’m not exactly a morning person, I’m kind of a forced morning person now, and even that can be rough after 8 hours of sleep. Anyway, it had been a late night and an early morning and I was ready to get back on a normal sleep schedule.
When I heard the dogs barking, I knew Sadie was home. I shuffled outside to meet her, and saw she had a big grin on her face. Then I realized she had something up her sleeve. I was warm and dry in my clean pajamas, it was almost 10:00pm, and it was about to go down. We walked out to the van and she opened the door to 3 big five-gallon buckets full of cafeteria leftovers. Piggy slop!
I hopped in the van and we took the lantern up to the barn. Sadie took one of the smaller buckets and we brought the piggies their first taste of macaroni and cheese, baked potato, garden salad, and hamburger buns. Oh man did they enjoy it, I don’t think they even came up for air. We left them to it and drove to the shop to put the rest of the buckets in the fridge. I was yawning so big it made my jaw sore.
When I opened the van door to unload the buckets, the one closest to the door tipped off the seat, the lid rolled onto the ground, and the contents fell on the floor of the van and all over my feet. Wonderful. I took a step back and felt warm creamed potatoes squish between my toes. I righted the bucket and started scraping soggy white bread, potatoes, and who knows what else back into the bucket.
Oh the smells, the textures! I was up to my elbows. Warm, cold, slimy, gooey, I experienced all of it. Have you ever tried to scrape creamed potatoes off the dirt with your bare hands? Well, now I can say that I have.
Once I got most of it back in the bucket, Sadie came around and put the lantern on the scene. It wasn’t pretty. When I opened the van door, it smeared slop in the door track. The bucket lid landed gooey side down, you know, and made quite the mark on the carpet.
I called Casey over and she got to work. I put Sadie’s head in my hands – just so she could experience the magic. I wanted her to wear some creamed potatoes too. She grinned, she’s a good sport, and then we officially called it a night.
That’s enough Monday’s for one week! We don’t have too many exasperating days on the farm, but when we do, they seem to all squeeze into one. Just like potatoes between your toes.
CarolineDuvall 