A few years ago I never would have thought my No. 1 request on my birthday/Christmas list would be a bread maker. But here I am. 25 years old. Four kids and a husband. Farm with the likely characters. And a sort of amnesia to the path my life took […]
When you print something for thousands of people to read, I guess you can say “the cat’s out of the bag.” And much to Matt’s dismay, I’m sure. See, I’ve wondered for a while now how Matt really views my “ways.” And then last night he told me. “You’re the […]
Aparently we haven’t cleaned enough poop with four kids, because we decided it was time for more chickens. Fifteen to be exact.
Charlie said I should title this column, “Riki and the Rooster,” but then all you readers of this column would understand right away how my cousin’s visit to the farm went a few weeks back and I wanted it to be a surprise.
White socks. Or at least what used to be white socks have become my Achilles’ heel. No matter the strength of my will power or the potency of my bleach, I can’t seem to get my boys’ socks to look like they’ve ever met water!