Racing, Ruthless, and Rodeos

My husband had his usual every other Friday off this past one, so he had a long weekend. We heard that there would be another huge children's consignment sale on Saturday, so we decided to get up early and go. They have this twice a year. It is held in a huge warehouse and moms from all over the community can come and sell their baby through teenager's clothing, shoes, toys, strollers, cribs, etc. etc. The key is to get their early, bring your own tote or clothes basket to hold your items, and don't be afraid to push your way through the crowds.

It started at nine and we got there at eight. It would have been nice to have thought of bringing folding chairs for the long wait, but we didn't, or to have been lucky enough to have the slow snaking line of people in the sun, but it wasn't. Anyway, we were number five in line. We discussed our strategy before we went in. I told him I want a glider rocker and ottoman. It must not squeak, be ripped or stained, or cost over $50. Also our granddaughter needs sleepers, size 12 months.

They opened the door and off we went. I spotted a glider rocker with beige cushions for 40 bucks. I grabbed it, my husband plopped it down for me to sit in it and after it passed inspection from both of us, he ran to the front with it to tell them we want it, while I made my way through the clothing aisles. They had this organized into sizes, but they neglected to include any aisles wider than two feet, so the people were squirming all over each other trying to look and grab. I scrunched down the low row to find the 12 month sizes in the very middle. They had tons of dressy outfits, but I finally spotted a bunch of pajamas. I grabbed about ten pairs and bumped and stumbled back out of the mass.

My husband met me and helped me sort through the usual, "Yeah, we want this one. Nope this looks little. Here's a spot, so not this one." I found three, and a cutie dress I had to get for good measure. While I went to put back the ones I didn't want, squishing my way down the maze of moms again, my husband noticed that the staff at the front had taken the tag off the rocker since we wanted it, but had PUT IT BACK on the table where it had been displayed. He ran down to find five moms swarming around it like bees to honey saying, "Where's the tag? Why doesn't it have a tag? How much is it? I saw it first. No you didn't!" He fearfully reached in between them and yelled as he grabbed it and ran away, "It's mine. It doesn't have a tag because they took it off for me. It's SOLD." He said he ran fast, afraid to look back and find five moms throwing their purses at him.

We managed to get our things out of there and still live through it. Shopping. Ahhhh.. How fun!

Then we went out to visit my dad. Daddy is a farmer, and all his adult life wanted to get a farm like he grew up on. Of course, he also worked for the space program testing rocket motors, but if you asked him right now what he had done for a living, he'd put farmer first. My mom, on the other hand, was a city girl. Thus, their marriage didn't last very long, and as soon as they divorced, he married a good country woman and bought that farm. He's lived there over forty years, with cows, chickens, guineas, peacocks, goats, horses, pigs (at times), doves, and a windmill.
You can drop by anytime and find him sitting out on the porch with friends or neighbors or out "piddling," which doesn't mean peeing, but what you might also know as "puttering around." He loves that farm.

Well, he had two daughters, and his wife has two daughters, so no boys. No future farmers. You won't find me out chasing pigs or gathering eggs when there is a perfectly good Publix grocery down the street. But I do have a first cousin who is married to a guy who loves the country. They moved up north and raised their children and told Daddy they really wanted to retire in the South on a farm. His farm. They made him an offer of about a third of what fifty something acres is worth, but it sounded like a good deal to a man who still thinks his wife is filling up the car at 50 cents a gallon and it's highway robbery.

So they struck the bargain. Daddy and my step-mom can stay in the house until they pass away, and then cousin and her hubby take over. They pay him the money now. Well, I figured, it's his farm. It's his life. It's his money. If he wants to do that, it's none of my business. My sister and step-sisters fussed about it, but they were quickly told it was none of their business what he did with his farm or his money. (I know him pretty well.)

Well, all was well for awhile. Cousin and his wife retired, moved South into a house down the road, and they spent many days wandering around what was going to be their future farm, farm buildings, and farmhouse.

Then the anvil hit the fan. You see, all people have things in their life that might not be worth a lot to anyone else but to them are worth more than gold. To Daddy, that was his anvil. It belonged to his daddy, my grandpa, so that puts it at well over a hundred years old. Plus all the memories Daddy has of his father teaching him things with that anvil, blacksmithing, woodworking, metalworking, etc. Well, cousin's husband came down and had heard the anvil stories. He announced this week that he was going to go ahead and take the anvil to HIS workshop.

Huh? Daddy was puzzled. When he protested, cousin's husband said no only did he buy the farm, he bought all contents. After as mad a dash as an eighty year old man can make, Daddy discovered the papers they had signed had a handwritten addition at the bottom saying "And all contents." Long story less long- Daddy pitched a good fit. Got a lawyer that said for 200 bucks,he can straighten this all out pretty easily. Cousin's husband agreed to sell the farm back for 30K more than he paid, and everyone is mad. Daddy told cousin's husband to come get his cows off his land, where they'd been grazing, even if he had to put them in his living room!

So my husband and I went out there to visit yesterday. I told hubby not to mention all this mess, but maybe by visiting we could get Daddy's mind off this for awhile, which I think we did. Good thing is, Daddy wasn't forgetful yesterday, or repeating himself. Seems having a good fight going has gotten him very mentally focused. I wanted to go down and kick my cousin's and her husband's butts but I refrained.

As if yesterday wasn't full enough, my hubby and I also went to the rodeo with my son. I found out three things. I love the rodeo, my son hates country music, and I am very allergic to the livestock. We sat thirty minutes before I started wheezing. By an hour, my eyes were blood red and itching. By two hours, I had a sneezing fit and went through a whole pack of Kleenex. And I had such a blast. They even had women bull riders! My husband was shocked. I told him women can be good bull riders and even President! Go Hillary!