Lest the previous entry be too offensive to some (I had a complaint from an old acquaintance) I deleted it. Nice to know you can do that; wouldn't it be nice if we delete an particularly bad day in our lives, now and then?
To replace that entry, I'll share a picture of Mandy running at almost the same spot on our place, last Wednesday morning in the snow, and then this afternoon. This is the first time I've tried patching two photos together into one, so bear with me.
I found this poem in my Word documents while looking for another Christmas poem, and changed the words around a bit for my journal readers. (Putting poems in this journal drives me nuts, because spacing and such is all messed up when you copy and paste. That's why the last three lines are spaced by themselves! Oh well, you get the meaning.)
A CHRISTMAS GREETING FOR MY J-LAND FRIENDS
© copyright December 17, 2003
Donna Wood
The normalcy of routine days
Helps all of us survive.
For otherwise, life's just a maze...
A fight to stay alive.
To read the items in the news
Would drive a soul insane:
Without some other, pleasant views,
We couldn't take the strain.
We seek out understanding folks
With humor bright and wry,
And make inane and useless jokes
While, somewhere, soldiers die.
We tend our gardens, cook our meals
And push the fear away
Full-knowing that the danger's real
And bombs might drop today.
I cling to everyday routine
And cherish it like gold
Ignoring threats that lie unseen
As I am growing old.
Life's a vapor,this is true,
A little puff of smoke.
I'm feeling just a little blue...
So please, tell me a joke!
The J-Land blogs we often read
Will help us all survive.
The laughs we share fulfill a need
And help the spirit thrive.
The friends I've found on AOL
Bring smiles, when skies are grey.
May all of you reap great rewards
On this next Christmas day!
Now, about brown sugar fudge: My mom used to go into a frenzy of baking and candy-making, starting before Thanksgiving and not stopping until Christmas was over. She made pink divinity, white divinity, several kinds of fudge, and my favorite: Brown sugar fudge! She'd set out pretty dishes with an assortment of these home-made goodies, all around the house. And I'd sneak around and dig out every piece of Brown sugar fudge in each container. She probably thought there were a lot of people who loved the stuff, the way it disappeared. But I think I was the only one eating it. Every year, I make at least one batch of Brown Sugar Fudge. If I make more, I'll eat it all. And my orthopedist would like me to keep my weight down as a favor to my mutilated knees. Cliff says it's so sweet, it'll set your teeth on edge. My daughter says it tastes too much like "pure brown sugar". People at work have asked me to bring some so they can try it. I oblige, knowing they won't like it. "Too sweet," they say. In recent years, some of my grandchildren have begun to share my fondness for the stuff... so what do I do? I hide it from them! Oh, I let them have a piece or two, but then I shove the regular chocolate Fantasy fudge in their faces to distract them. There's just something about Brown Sugar fudge that takes me back to childhood instantly. I'm a little girl again, Santa Clause is coming, and Mamma's lap is available any time I need comforting. It's just a shame the stuff is so fattening. Here's the recipe, but I warn you now, you won't like it. I copied this direct from my mom's recipe card, and I love the way it's worded. "... remove from fire". Is that old-fashioned, or what?
MY MAMA'S BROWN SUGAR FUDGE
1 pound box brown sugar
2 large tablespoons white syrup
3/4 cup cream (or evaporated milk, but I like cream)
1/4 cup butter Cook slowly to soft ball stage. Then remove from fire. Add 1 teaspoon vanilla. Beat till very thick. Add nuts and pour in buttered pan. Add a few marshmallows, if desired. (I don't add marshmallows, but that's how my mom gave me the recipe)
No, you can't adopt this one; that's my son when he was 18. He looks like he was frightened, doesn't he? He's been out of the Army for several years now.
This is a great idea; it's in Armandt's journal... rather than print it all out myself, I'll just tell you to click HERE.
In case you were wondering what to get your J-land friends for Christmas, I've found the perfect gift!
Lots of cool, geeky stuff HERE.
I try very hard to make this journal interesting for people who wander in. I've mostly stayed away from talking about my online life, preferring to share my real world. Today I depart from that norm.
It must have been five or six years ago, back in the old Christian Seniors chat room I was a part of, that I met Xibanitum. Xib introduced himself as Julian, a nineteen-year-old gay male. It was obvious he was in the room to stir things up, and he certainly did that. His outrageous profile alone was enough to get people started preaching: He was a "Goth", he insinuated that he had sexy feelings toward cats, and he talked about Marilyn Manson a lot.
One of our favorite chat friends in the senior room died of cancer, and for some reason that prompted Xib to confess that "he" was actually a female named P**** (she asked me to take her real name out of this entry; I complied). However, she wanted to be a gay male, and if finanaces hadn't prohibited her having a sex change, she would BE a male. Now, this still confuses me; if you are attracted to males, why wouldn't you just remain a female?
Probably half the folks in the chat room ignored Xib, thinking she'd go away. One old Texan insisted she was somebody else, using a new name. Of those who acknowledged her, many tried to convert her. I myself have tried to reason with her a few times, to no avail. I finally gave up on that. But I found her interesting to talk to, so we kept in touch after the old room closed down. Actually she's been a better friend to me than some of the senior Christians; we've had our ups and downs, she's forgiven, and we've moved on. I still wish she'd clean up that filthy profile, but it's hers to do what she wants with; I just don't read it now.
Now in case some of you reading this think I'm a victim of a hoax, let me reassure you: several of my friends have met Xib. She is 100% real. I have here on my desk a little keychain mechanical cat she sent me once, and I've sent her a post card or two at some point. Oh, and when she reads this entry, she will lambast me for referring to her as "she" and "her". But we remain friends.
If I've learned anything on this wonderful Internet, it's this: I don't have to approve of everything a person does or says, to be friends with them. I believe I owe Xib (now Nachtkommen, if you AOL folks would like to check the profile) a big thank you for teaching me this lesson. It's been a hard one for this old lady.
But I still think she's weird!
Mandy and I went for a walk in the woods this morning around 9 AM. The snow had already started melting then, and it's almost gone now.
Here's a poem from my book:
I LOVE COWS
I like cream and I like butter;
Cheese and ice cream, yogurt, too.
I like candles made of tallow ---
Leather things, and Elmer's glue!
More than these, I love the creature
From whence come these things so fine:
In my little barnyard kingdom,
I like anything bovine.
Baby calves, both beef and dairy;
Aged cows, with udders low.
Friendly Jersey 4-H heifers,
Pesky bulls that snort and blow.
From the quite exotic Brahma
To Brown Swiss and Simmental.
If they can be classed as cattle,
Rest assured, I love them all!
That's me in the 1980's with one of my Jersey heifer calves. I have on the T-shirt I bought at a Waylon Jennings concert, which I attended with my daughter; she was my chauffeur to any such crowded affairs back then, since I don't drive, she had a brand new driver's license, and Cliff hates crowds and cities.
I like cows a lot, always have. When I'd go spend time at Grandma's as a child, I loved following her on her rounds, doing chores. I'd stand back and watch her milk "Old Betsey" twice a day, chattering away.
When we moved to our first country place, Mother and Daddy sold us our first milk cow, "Suzy". I could write an entire entry about her antics, but that will keep for another time.
We went to the Missouri State Fair one summer and toured the dairy cow barn; when I saw those little Jersey cows, it was love at first sight. I had to have one!
Most commercial dairies have the black-and-white Holsteins, which are huge creatures. My Suzy was a mixed-breed animal, not big like a Holstein, but not tiny, either. I watched the ads and found "Old Jers". Somehow this love affair with Jersey cattle snowballed; we had the cows artificially insemnated to Jersey bulls, and I ended up milking (by hand) half-a-dozen registered Jersey cows, sometimes more.
Now, the problem with keeping a dairy cow is that you can't go anywhere. The "girls" have to be milked twice a day, and you can't find anyone who is willing, or even knows how, to milk a cow. So, eight or nine years back, I sold my last cow. We bought a camper and took some vacations. I love the freedom I have now. The problem is, there's this empty spot in my heart since I sold my cows. If I chance to see a picture of a Jersey, or notice one in a pasture as we travel, my heart literally flip-flops.
Cliff bought three huge (about 1,600 pounds each, or more, now) beef cows a couple years ago, and they've had calves. They're nice to have around, but they're not pets and they're not Jerseys.
I intend to retire at age 62, possibly sooner, if my knees give out (I walk constantly on my job). I want a Jersey cow for when I'm retired. But I don't want to have to stay home and milk all the time. A beef cow gives enough milk for her calf, no more. But dairy cows give enough milk for several calves! And if their udder isn't relieved, they not only are miserable, but will develop mastitis, which ruins their udder and their milk.
I know from past experience that even a tiny Jersey calf will eventually be able to take all the milk Mama produces... usually by the age of two months. So here's my plan:
I will buy a Jersey cow (bred already) and, when she calves, I will keep them seperate (that's what you do with dairy cows) but twice a day I will turn them in together and let the calf take all it can. During the first few weeks of lactation, I will take whatever milk the calf leaves for me. We'll drink what we can, and if we have pigs, they'll get the rest. When the calf is able to take all the milk (without having diarhhea.... I'll have to watch closely for that) I'll turn it out with Mom. If I want milk after that (not a big priority, since we only use about a gallon a week... but of course I'd make my own butter again) I'll seperate them overnight and take some milk the next morning, then re-unite mother and calf.
Christmas is coming... and I know where there's a two-year-old, 600-pound, registered Jersey cow that could be bought. Can you see the wheels turning in my head?
