The bigger they are the harder they fall

Apparently, at some point today dad remarked to mom that C and I were having too much fun over at our house using the folks' tractor for a bit of around the house cleanup.  It was kinda true, even though I think he said it in jest.

Today's task was driveway and yard cleanup.  Our driveway is gravel, just like God intended, but it had not been maintained in quite some time.  Right in front of our tiny garage leaves and dirt had built up over the past 30 years to the point where there was 4" of mud on top of the gravel when it was wet.  With the aforementioned borrowed tractor and loader I was able to scrap off the top 2-4" of gravel/dirt to reveal a mostly gravel driveway below.  I think that was a major improvement, but we'll really see the next time it rains... snows?

The real fun took place when C and I started attacking the volunteer trees growing in our yard, and in some cases, into our house's foundation.  For the most part, C ran the tractor and loader and I was on chain duty duly giving the universal signs for "loader bucket up" and "loader bucket down."

We progressively used more and more powerful means of pulling up the trees, starting with just using the loader's hydraulics, then also rocking the tractor back and forth and finally, using the 3-point-hitch's hyraulics and rocking back and forth on the tractor.  We left a few divots and some serious depressions in our yard, but it wasn't exactly a putting green before this work, and the house looks a lot less deserted now.

For a couple of non-sportspersons we still pull off a trophy shot pretty, don't ya think?

On how I appreciate rubber boots

Today my wrists hurt.  I think that has something to do with the fact that I spent a healthy amount of time holding on and pushing against things that shake and bounce, a.k.a. a jackhammer and a hammer drill.  It was pretty cool at the time, but today C can hear me say "oh man..." real low under my breath as I roll my wrists as I roam about the house.  It's painful.

Apparently a bit of temporary pain is the price of admission to learn about:

1. Septic tanks
2. Plumbing of drains
3. Sump holes
4. Trenching
5. Repair masonry
6. Jackhammering

That's what Dad, my uncle and I did for the bulk of yesterday.  The goal was to repair the plumbing in the house by changing the plumbing of the sewage system to be a "high-level" septic tank.  This means that our basement will no longer theoretically gravity drain, but rather will have to have all its water pumped via a sump hole up 8 feet where it will then drain into our new plumbing and out to the septic tank.  In reality, this always (for the past 75 years) backed up into the basement when it was wet outside.  So, hopefully we've now improved on the system a bit.

I've posted a few pictures to show the event, but I'll spare the running explanation. 

Oh, as to the title of the post, that comes from the fact that I was the lucky fella to climb down into the septic tank, plug the old lines and cement in the new lines we added at the top.  Tall rubber boots and the ability to ignore the obvious while in the tank were key assets while performing said duties.

He's a lumberjack and he's okay

Seriously, dad is okay.  His minions are as well, as is Maggie.  There were a few moments, like in most people's workday, where things could've gone either way, but in the end all livings beings were uninjured.

The exciting task for today was to cut down a 90+ year old yellow pine tree that was right next to the my parents house.  The real trick was that it was leaning over the house and was somewhat entangled with some other trees.  Dad decided to part the tree out starting at the top with a rope & pulley system to hold the heavy branches so they wouldn't fall through the skylight or roof.  He had never really done this before, but claimed he saw something like it "in the movies."  He clearly watches more educational, do-it-yourself lumberjack movies than we do.

Luckily dad's not nearly as scared of heights as your's truly and luckily there were a pair of eager beaver counter weight humans that were only outweighed by a branch one time.  Anyway, here is a picture of the process.

Partying like it's a tasting festival

Well, I never thought I'd be as happy for name-tags as I was tonight.  C and I worked along with mom as servers for tonight's feeding of the multitude at Schmeckfest.  It was a fair bit of work.  Mom was right, wearing good shoes is nearly a requirement.  The name tags were a Godsend numerous times for me as people said hello to me. I often totally blanked on their names but now I could just glance discretely obviously down to their name tag to catch their name.  At least this way I was able to remember a few names.

It was wonderful to be a part of such a community event.  The organization and scale was really something to watch and partake in.  A lot of potatoes, beef, pork, sauerkraut, kuchen, bread, salad and other goodies were consumed, both by the visitors and by us after we served the 700 or so ticket holders in about 4 hours.

This was our second day of Schmecking.  Last night the folks and C and I went in just for the meal and a little bit of looking around.  Luckily, we have another chance at of fun next weekend when we take in the musical "Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat" and hopefully some of the other cultural lectures and demonstrations.

Like herding cats, but they're cattle

These pictures really don't show a whole bunch, but the do represent the first real work we've done to put the proverbial bread on the table.

The basic gist of the day was that before all the cattle give birth to their calves this spring and then go out to pasture they need to be "processed."  This processing includes giving a number of shots, treating for flies and lice and also verifying the identity of each animal.  Each animal is usually identified by a) a brand in the hide, b) a metal tag in ear, c) a plastic tag in each ear of the cow.  Despite this level of redundancy, they often get lost and the brand is hard to read.  So, part of this processing is to make sure we know every cow and can identify the animal in the future by replacing the plastic ear tags with new ones.

C made the tags, recorded each animal as it was processed, and helped with sorting and generally managing the animals.  P mostly did animal sorting and tried to stay out of the expert's way while still learnin' himself sump'n useful.

The animals are handled in batches and each animal is run through a chute and "processed."  The conditions this March in SD are not ideal; we had to deal with frozen snow, melting snow, and lots of animal output.  Sometimes the concoction even flew through the air.  Not entirely pleasant, but at the end of the day, you could even prove to a blind person from 20 feet away that you worked, and that feels good.

There was one casualty for the day.  The farm dog "Maggie" got her paw stepped on by a cow as the cow exited the chute and, quite honestly, was being harassed by the dog.  Hopefully nothing too serious in the long term has happened to Maggie, but for now we have a much more docile dog who is by-in-large limited to three paws.

There were also a couple of "exciting" cows.  One refused to be intimidated by any fences and simply jumped/climbed over any barrier put in her way.  She managed to never get processed.  Another cow decided to try to exit the chute by climbing out over the top.  Even though C was standing there wide-eyed and ready to catch her, she eventually fell back down and sat on her rump like a dog for a while before exiting like every other cow.  This event led to P having to do a little repair work in the chute.  The funniest cow story was a very ticked off old cow that turned her head back to look at dad and then promptly blew her nose in his face.  Perhaps you needed to be there to fully appreciate the humor.

Fine Dining

The first room in our house to feel our wrath of the paintbrush has been the dining room.

Upon our arrival the dining room was a lovely three tone affair, dark pink, light pink and really dark pink. It was also really dirty, unfinished in painting and lacking a lot of love.

Love we had in spades, but the paint we had to buy. So, off to our local, helpful, lumber yard to pick up a few gallons of "loft living" white, "peony" off-white, and a gray-blue we brought with us from our last rental house. After a fair bit of washing, taping, painting and cleanup we have a much more comfortable and pleasing dining room. C's not entirely pleased with the color tone of the off-white walls, but for right now, we're going to live with it and see how it grows or grates on us.

Like I need a hole in my head

Not so awesome: having significant amounts of water seeping into your newly rented basement.

Totally awesome: having your father show up with a serious jackhammer, buckets, spade, wet/dry vacuum, and attitude and say, "You folks just keep on doing whatever you're doing, I'm going to put a sump hole in your basement."  And then, approximately 30min and a bit of noise later, you're the proud renter of a hole in the ground.  Awesome.  Totally awesome.

The most disappointing thing was that I didn't get an action shot of dad making mince meat of the basement floor with the jackhammer.  However, I was pleased to also hear from the lips of my father, "Yeah, I just picked up the jackhammer from your cousin on my way over."  Our extended family owns at least one jackhammer.

Giving 'em something to talk about

It's been a while since I've been in a community where the simple act of locating there is worthy of mention in the newspaper. Sometimes it's a little scary that this is news, but overall it's more endearing to know that people are interested and genuinely care about us moving to this area.

It's also a bit more exposure to the rural culture around here that the place we've moved into hasn't been lived in by Clinton or Evelyn Preheim in more than 25 years, but that's how they refer to our "place." The fact of the matter is, that's how people know where we are.

In some ways, it's kinda surprising that our phone number was not published so we could be contacted about helping serve at some banquet or join some community choir... Oh well, they'll just ask my relatives about how to get in contact with us.