I heard about an elderly farmer who wuz constantly harassed by family members to complete his will before he died. Finally, just to keep peace in the family, he went to his lawyer and they sat down to work out the particulars of his last will and testament.
They worked out how to divide his land, dispose of his livestock and machinery, who in the family wuz to receive special family heirlooms, etc.
Finally the lawyer said, “Well, sir, we haven’t discussed yet how you want your body to be handled and burial instructions after you are deceased.”
The farmer brightened up, put a smile on his face, and said, “I’ve given my burial a lot of thought. I want a huge hole dug for my grave and I want to buried sitting up in my old, trusty pickup truck.”
The attorney wuz taken aback a bit, but gathered his wits and asked his client, “why such a strange burial request?”
The farmer jauntily replied, “Becuz I’ve never gotten in a hole so deep that my ol’ pickup couldn’t get me out of!”
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A little farm kid wuz attending children’s bible study in his rural church. The subject that Sunday morning wuz the study of the biblical character Lot and his family.
His Sunday school teacher said, “I’ll tell you what happened to Lot’s wife. She looked back when she shouldn’t have done so and turned into a pillar of salt.”
The farm kid raised his hand and volunteered, “My mother is a lot like Lot’s wife. Last week during wheat harvest she wuz driving the grain truck to the co-op to unload, but she looked back when she shouldn’t have and turned into the ditch and hit an electric pole.”
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Here’s a little story I should have used during June — the Dairy Month. But, as they say, better late than never. A city kid came to visit his cousin who lived on a dairy farm. He spent a week. When he got home, his mother asked him if he enjoyed drinking milk fresh from the cows.
Her son replied, “But, mom, I drank a lot of fresh milk, but it all wuz ‘pasturized.’ They grazed the cows in the pasture every day all day long before they milked them in the evening.”
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It’s luscious corn-on-the-cob season. Ol’ Nevah and I have been eating juicy corn-on-the-cob about every day. We even had corn-on-the-cob for a family meal one evening.
That’s when I noticed that about everyone had a preferred way to eat corn-on-the-cob. My preference is what I call the “manual typewriter method.” I start on the left side and gnaw off four row of corn horizontally to the right across the cob. Then I return to the left for the next four rows of corn.
Other members of the family prefer to eat their corn-on-the-cob with what I call the “round and round” method. They start on the left end of the ear and gnaw in the same place as they slowly turn the cob around clockwise. When they finish a rotation, they move their mouth to the right and start another circle.
Corn-on-the-cob eating techniques, while interesting, are really unimportant. Any way is fine as long as you get the luscious sweet corn down your gullet.
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Continuing the topic of sweet corn, Nevah and I know there’ll be no fresh sweet corn next winter. And, the next best thing is frozen sweet corn from our freezer. So, to that end, we’ve frozen about 50 pints of sweet corn for next winter. And, we bought the ears locally, because I didn’t plant enuf sweet corn in my garden for preservation, only daily eating.
However, the green beans have excelled. We’ve canned more than 60 pints for ourselves and family. There’s also six pints of peas frozen in the deep freeze. We ain’t started canning tomatoes, but will get started soon. But, we’ve been munching on our garden ‘maters for three weeks.
Our garden potatoes are excellent this year. We’ve plenty for all family members and for sharing with neighbors. Other veggies producing now are okra, zucchini, carrots, leaf lettuce, bell peppers and jalapeno peppers. So, we’ve also enjoying fresh salsa, too. Ain’t nuthin’ better than garden fresh veggies that you grow yourself.
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Yesterday, one of my new Riley friends, ol’ “Dub” L. Dee, and I went back to my old haunts in Chase County to the Old Boar’s Breakfast Club in Saffordville. Dub picked me up before 6 a.m. and we made it in plenty of time for breakfast. We surprised the group by showing up unannounced. We enjoyed a great breakfast garnished with plenty of gossip and BS-ing. It wuz good to see old friends again and, better yet, one old friend pickup up our tab for breakfast.
After breakfast, Dub and I fished in two of my all-time favorite watershed lakes. The fishing wuz rather poor, but we landed enuf for a couple of fish fillet suppers sometime.
Coming home, we crossed what I call “The Bermuda Triangle of Kansas.” It’s so desolate you might well disappear there forever. But, we made it through on dusty gravel roads and even crossed the ancient ruts of the Santa Fe Trail. We had so much fun, we might do it again this fall when the fishing probably will be better.
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America averted a tragedy last week in Pennsylvania when a deranged idiot tried, but narrowly failed, to kill Donald Trump at a campaign rally. We should all be thankful.
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My personal words of meaning for the week. To the best of my recollection, not a single perpetrator of a senseless mass shooting in the U.S. has been identified as an avid hunter or a member of the National Rifle Association or the Gun Owners of America.
Have a good ‘un.