Holy Cow: Part Two

And finally what you've all been waiting for.

All four of you who read this (thanks, Mom).

We are buying a cow! Yep. As in meat on the table, not Pet Bessie in the backyard (though if Chris would let me I would do it in a heartbeat). That means ground beef, steak, burgers... you name it, we will have it in our freezer by the end of the summer. And by "we" I mean our family and three others are going in on the heifer because frankly we can't afford the whole thing by ourselves, not in one fail swoop anyway. Can you taste the freshness in your mouth... ohhhhh yes.

We were originally thinking of going with River Ridge Farms down the road from us to help support local economy...the huge and bustling economy of Ten Mile. We will likely purchase other things such as chickens or eggs from them, but after casual conversation with one of our summer staffers we learned that his family has a farm outside of Knoxville. It's a small family-run farm that has about fifty head of cattle right now. Forrest, whose father owns the farm, told me that those cattle would likely pay for his college. I was sold. Hands down, these were the folks that we would get our slab o'beef from. I was elated and began to ask several questions of the poor boy who graciously humored me with answers and repeatedly told me he would give me his dad's number and I could talk to him... I guess I just couldn't contain my excitement and got a little bit of tunnel vision - eyes on the prize, if you will.

Our beef is free-range, grass-fed up until the last two weeks before it's sent to slaughter, in which those two weeks it is given corn in addition to her regular diet to fatten her up. I can live with that. And even better, Mr. Stroud has a relationship with the folks who process the meat, his family has used them for years, so theoretically we will "know" the hands that have prepared our food. God bless them.

In other food news, I am reading this book:

 I've also read this book of hers:

This woman is my hero. Seriously. She kept me entertained through the first book and now has my complete and intense focus on the story of her family's life-altering decision to move across the country so that they can eat (mostly) locally and tend a garden themselves. Hero.

Chris and I have been tossing around the thought of doing this ourselves, even before picking up her book, and now I just feel affirmed in the decision. Now, I know this isn't something that can change overnight or without a ridiculous amount of planning and calculating, but I wish I could start tomorrow. I think we will start after a rest from our busy summer season. Here are some things I am considering and loopholes we may create:

1. Noah won't be totally included in our "local only" harvest, at least not at first. There are certain things he needs and enjoys that I don't feel is right to cut out for him right now (e.g. Yo'Baby from Stonyfield, whole grain cheerios, etc.). But I am considering figuring out how to make my own yogurt...could be interesting.

2. We live in the country. We have a local farm right down the road that sells produce six months out of the year which could potentially cut out our once a week grocery runs... which the closest store is seventeen miles from our house. That's a big deal.

3. Local equals in-season produce and Barbara's website provides seasonal menus and recipes. Score.

Now, I will likely have to alter her meat selection because of the whole cow we will own in a few weeks.

4. We are considering joining a local co-op, Three Rivers Market. This will help us in the local and in-season part.

5. Chickens. I really really really want chickens. You all should message Chris, phone or facebook, and push for chickens for me. 'Preciate it.

6a. I've already canned (halfway) my first mess of beans. I've learned that one bushel is equal to twenty quarts... I opted for half a bushel. I don't like green beans, but my boys love them. I am giving two away, but the other eight should last us a good while. Next up on the canning menu: tomato sauce. Six to eight quarts of it. This will be my trick: stock up now, can, enjoy in the winter when there isn't much "fresh" to choose from.

6b. If anyone has a pressure cooker they would like to donate I would gladly take you up on it. Or a deep freezer.

Whew. I am wearing myself out and the work is just beginning. We will be busy in the upcoming weeks sorting out the details, making a plan, and hopefully we can hit the ground running after the summer heat. Lots to do. Maybe there will have to be a Part Three to this saga.

So I will leave you with a thought from my dear friend, Barb:

"It is not my intention here to lionize country wisdom over city ambition. I only submit that the children of farmers are likely to know where food comes from, and that the rest of us might do well to pay attention. For our family, something turned over that evening in the diner: a gas-pump cashier's curse of drought was lifted by a waitress's simple, agricultural craving for rain. I thought to myself: There is hope for us."

Taken from "Animal, Vegetable, Miracle", page 8

Scenes of Summer: Part 1

This photo series will help paint a picture of our life out here on the farm...err...camp in the summertime.
(Farm and camp, maybe? I am working on it...more on that later.)
As it is a summer camp, this is our busy season, which much to my chagrin translates to our family being strangers passing in the night on many days. Not just for me, but Noah now, too. (Except as I sit here Chris is at the dining hall or en route to somewhere with a freshly soiled diaper and a cute boy that I strategically dropped off with him after lunch. Mama has tricks, too.) We are getting better at this summer thing, but it still brings it's fair share of challenges. We seem to be figuring out more tricks to spend more time together on those busy days and it just makes our day much better when we get to play with Chris around camp.
Here is the first glimpse, from our Capture the Flag evening last night:

More to come next week...
Oh, and I have a cow update...check back soon.

Hanging By a Thread

Almost a year ago, eleven months to be precise, Chris and I celebrated the upcoming birth of our sweet baby boy at our first shindig hosted by my best friend, Krystal and her wonderful mom, Diana.  It was here that we all tied a small piece of twine onto our wrists that would serve to remind us to pray for Noah, his birth, his mama, and the world around him as his arrival date was quickly approaching. It reminded me on the "I am so pregnant I can hardly move more than a waddle" days that the Creator was doing something amazing inside of me, knowing my son intimately as he was nestled in my womb - continuing to shape his face, his hands, his feet, his heart, his love, his laugh, his personality - for he is fearfully and wonderfully made. This little bracelet meant a lot to me, not just mine but our friends and family who joyfully kept theirs until Noah made his debut. I became a little more sentimental with mine, continuing to wear it long past October 2nd.

Kristi and Krystal tying on their strings at the Corner Kitchen.
(Noah in womb,thirty weeks)

Well, it was a sad day yesterday here at the Ford Casa.

Worn and tattered, loved and ragged, it was barely holding on... and yesterday when Chris picked it up off the kitchen floor and put it in my hands, asking me if it was mine, I felt a rush of sadness. That little piece of string has been through a lot with me, with us, and has taken on a much larger meaning than just a piece of string. I could have tied it back on, but I didn't. I tucked it safely away with Chris' that had fallen off a few months back (I think around early May according to photos) into my jewelry box where it will likely stay forever. I could put it in his baby book or give it to him when he's eighteen or on his wedding day, but to him it would probably be two pieces of frayed cotton that would get lost or tossed aside.

I know the meaning that it holds and the many times it has reminded me that I am not in charge of my life or Noah's, he is simply mine on loan, and I will keep him and take care of him until he's worn and tattered, loved and ragged. Even on the tough days, which let's face it, are a cake walk to some of the stories I hear, that little string has brought me peace and serenity. It's my hope that even though the string no longer sits on my right wrist, that the peace and prayer and reflection continues. 

Here's to you, little string, for your strength and consistency for the last eleven months:

Noah found the string within hours of his arrival.
(Noah at ten hours old)

 

Chris' string surviving explosive spit-up. 

(Noah at six weeks)

My string and I enjoyed snuggle time with the boy. 

(Noah at three months)

The string during Noah's first tastes of solid foods. 
(Noah at four months)

Chris' string journeying on our afternoon walks in the crisp spring air. 

(Noah at five months)

The strings traveled to Kentucky for Wilson's play.

(Noah at five months)

 

At the time when my sister had us all tie this string around our wrists I could have never imagined the sentiment it would have all this time later. I am convinced even more that it's the simple things in life that bring the most joy - the non-complicated, no strings attached, generous, timeless, better with age and experience, photographic, burned into your memory moments that can never be broken or replaced. 

It's just that simple.

Moo Moo Mr. Cow

Welcome to Moe's!
Oh wait. Wrong place.
Welcome to Mayfield Dairy, where our milk is vacuumed and you must wear a hairnet! And if you are one of the lucky few, a beard net. Yes, there's such a thing. Luckily, Allison, Noah, and I narrowly escaped the amount of facial hair one must possess to score one of those bad boys. Whew...

I like to learn new things about food, agriculture, why fresh milk is amazing, the area I live in, etc. It makes me feel smart and well-informed...

• Ever wonder why their milk is bottled in yellow bottles? Let me tell you: Mayfield packages in the yellow plastic because it helps protect the milk from UV rays that decrease the nutritional value and the taste. Within the first two hours of sitting on the store shelf, milk packaged in the regular carton loses 25% of nutrients and flavor. Who knew? (Apparently Mr. Mayfield...)
• Here's a fun cow fact: Cows spend six hours a day eating and eight hours a day chewing cud. That's fourteen hours of food consumption. Holy cow...

The free tour (checked off Al's bucket list of things to do before she leaves the great state of Tennessee) was "entertaining" as usual, though Al and I both agreed that we could never work in a place like that - showing up for the same job in the same room using/cleaning the same machines with very little human interaction and extremely loud noises every single day. Thanks, but no thanks. I am grateful for the folks who do, but that ain't for me.And of course we grubbed on some Ice Creamier and did a little front porch sitting (thanks for treating us, Allison) where littleford got his first taste of rainbow sherbet (I think this word should end in -bert, not -bet, right?). Like everything else he puts in his mouth, I think he approved judging by the fact that he downed half of our scoop. The boy is an eating machine.

I found a little joy and humor in watching him figure this out.

No babies were harmed in the taking of these pictures.He did eventually figure it out.Allison & Noah... I am pretty sure Al is his first attempt at a girlfriend.Can you see his dirty little feet? Love it.
Love the boy, love the dirt.

I will say that even with knowing the ins and outs of the Mayfield's Dairy, their milk is so dang expensive it's hard to justify buying. I wrestle with this because I know it's better, more controlled, fresher (hello, it's basically coming from my backyard), but I am still a cheap, self-indulging, look-for-the-best-bargain-and-don't-ask-questions, processed-product-filled, American.

Curses.

Maybe they should start charging for the hairnets to drive down the milk price.
I can't think of anything better than a cherry red hairnet to spend my money on.
Blast.

Working Nine to Five

What a way to make a living...
According to Dolly anyway.

There's no clocking in or out at my job, but I sure wouldn't trade it for one where you do. Last week my workload tripled with the addition of the Giusti guys. I am not sure that I was totally prepared for how tired I would be at the end of the week (I am still recovering) with two extra fellas running around. The boys had a blast (I think) all except for the dehydration, exhaustion, and "loss of lunch" on Day Four with Mason... not so fun for anyone involved. He handled it like a champ, me - not so much. If there is anything in the world that I abhor with great passion it is throw-up...mine, yours, the dog's - doesn't matter.
Anyway. Three was fun for the week, though I don't think that we will plan on adding anymore little ones for a while...long, long while. Mamas of multiple children are my new heroes, for real. Especially boys...whew.
Here's a look at the rest of the week, capped off by a visit to Dollywood:

Catching fireflies, or lightning bugs as I was corrected several times.

Mason with his catch, that we later released.

To say Noah loves Aunt J's cornbread is an understatement.Think he's tired?

Introducing Little Chief Streaking Wild Horse.Noah likes to give his paci away...to just about anyone. Mason and mama braving the heat at Dolly's place.

Noah loved spending the week with his cousins and can't wait to do it again...
Let's all get some sleep first.

Fashion Police

We all know (and love) that I am not the person to consult when it comes to anything fashion related...for myself, my child, my husband, my dog, my home. The Good Lord just did not bless me with that sixth sense.
And to be honest I am quite alright with that, and so are Chris and his wallet.
To prove it, this is what you can find me in most days, in some color variation:On some days you may find me with a little more pizazz:Oh wait, not that. Here it is:
And on really extra special, eat-your-heart-out boys, occasions:With all the being said and shown, lack of fashion sense and all, I do know when something is bad.
Bad and tacky.
Bad, tacky, and overpriced.
I give you the latest in the Gucci line of handbags:

The Granny Panty Extraordinaire

#1. Grandma called, she says she wants her bloomers back.

#2. Mr. Gucci and designers, you are all fired.
#3. If I wanted to sport my undies as an accessory, I've got plenty to choose from in my maternity stash.
And lastly, I think I'll save my bajillion dollars and buy something a little less "fashionable".

Bathing Beauty

It's been a whirlwind around here for our pseudo family o'five this week... worth every less minute of sleep, speck (read: chunk) of dirt on the floor (which may or may not have been there before this week started), a potentially broken shusher, extra dirty underwear strewn about the house (extra as in "in addition to" not "extremely"), puddles of spilled milk on the table, and anything else that comes our way. I might not be able to stand up, sit down, or toot at the end of it, but I am so thankful that Chris and I live and work at a place where our nephews and nieces can come and experience things they never have before, learn something cool and fun that blows their little brains, and hopefully fall more in love with this wonderful thing called summer camp. It's in our blood, they might as well go on and love it...or at least pretend.

Day two and three: Cheese, fuzzy "daddy" caterpillars, nature center, naps, lightning bugs, blue jello, water galore.

.Dos Giusti Boys at Camp John Knox, waiting for the dinner bell.

Have you ever seen anything cuter?Now you have...Hmm... looks like he could be up to something down at the waterfront... Well-balanced meals: three food groups: cheese, cheese crackers, & jello.

He had water to drink?

At the end of the day, full of sugar and out of energy.

Or full of energy and out of sugar?
Oh well.
Success.