Gus was watching to U.S. Farm Report and he heard that there’s a possibility of a blue moon on New Year’s Eve. He’s been up in the hay mow all day setting up a telescope.
I said, “Gus, you realize that a blue moon is pretty rare. It might not show up. Plus you have the big New Year’s Eve party. . .”
“Don’t worry, I can multitask,” he said.
Sheesh,
Black
We were recycling all the wrapping paper from the Christmas festivities (ok, the goats do serve a purpose). Gus overheard Farmer talking about his big New Year’s Eve party. Farmer said, “We’re going to roll in a new year with friends and family and watching the ball drop.”
Gus asked later, “How many rolls is he going to need? More than a dozen?”
2010 is shaping up nicely,
Black
Gus wanted to make cookies for Santa. So, we broke out the baking stuff and whipped up some cookies. We actually used about 5 pounds of flour more than the recipe called for . . . but that’s the Gus factor.
Ingredients
3 cups all-purpose flour
3/4 teaspoon baking powder
1/4 teaspoon salt
1 cup unsalted butter, softened
1 cup sugar
1 egg, beaten
1 tablespoon milk
Powdered sugar, for rolling out dough
Directions
Sift together flour, baking powder, and salt. Set aside. Place butter and sugar in large bowl and use your electric stand mixer to beat until light in color. Add the egg and milk and beat to combine. Put mixer on low and gradually add the dry ingredients. Beat until mixture pulls away from the side of the bowl. Divide the dough in half. Wrap it in waxed paper and stick it in the refrigerator for a couple hours.
Preheat your oven to 375 degrees F.
Dust the surface where you’re going to roll out the dough with some powdered sugar. Use 1 wrapped pack of dough from refrigerator at a time. Dust your rolling pin with powdered sugar and roll out dough to 1/4-inch thick. Move the dough around and check underneath to make sure it is not sticking. If the dough has warmed up while you’re rolling, stick a cold cookie sheet on top for 10 minutes to chill. Now get out your cookie cutters and cut the dough into desired shapes. Stick your Christmas trees, rain deer or dinosaurs at least 1-inch apart on greased baking sheet, parchment, or silicone baking mat, and bake for 7 to 9 minutes or until they’re just starting to turn brown around the edges, rotating cookie sheet halfway through baking time. Let them sit on a baking sheet for 2 minutes after you take them out of the oven and then move to complete cooling on wire rack. Serve as is or ice as desired. Store in an airtight container for up to 1 week.
We used a little orange juice mixed with confectioner’s sugar for a nice icing.
Enjoy,
Black.
The goats invited us to a Christmas concert. I’ve never mentioned the goats before because, quite frankly, they’re a pain in the you know what. Gus and I went down to hear them sing. Talk about disappointing. It was a dozen goats lip syncing to an old Michael Bolton Christmas album and bobbing their dumb goat heads. Typical.
Gus found a recipe for sugar cookies. Tomorrow should be interesting.
Black
The mail man delivered a tin of Christmas cookies today. Now Gus wants to make cookies for Santa. We don’t even have a recipe. And Christmas is only a few days away.
Help!
Black
Obviously Gus had bigger eyes than his stomach. I decided to explain what tamales are. I told Gus that tamales are corn meal dough, sometimes stuffed with savory or sweet fillings, and cooked in a leaf wrapper. Usually corn husks are used for wrappers and the tamales are traditionally cooked by steaming them. In Mexico, tamales were once as ubiquitous as sandwiches. That means that they were everywhere.
Gus said, “Oh, you mean you’re not supposed to eat the husk?”
Maybe that’s why he had a belly ache.
Black
The wind is really starting to get cold and I'm left with heartburn from too many tamales. What the heck is a tamale anyway?
It’s not every day you get a big box in the mail. And it’s also not every day that you get a big Styrofoam cooler in the previously mentioned box. I was a little hesitant about opening it. I may be a bull, but I saw the Godfather. . .
After awhile I opened it. It was corn tamales and a Christmas card from Roger “el Toro Loco”, our friend the professional rodeo bucking bull.
It’s great to hear from your friends during the holidays. Even better when they send good food.
Thanks Roger!
Black
A funny by product of the holiday season is when the bah humbuggers interact with those filled cheer and good will towards others. Gus tried to hitch up a set of sleigh bells on Roy. Hilarity ensued. You ever see a big ol’ work horse chasing a big ol’ Angus bull? In the snow? Funny.
Black
It’s been nonstop jingle bells here on the farm. It snowed for the first time and that really seems to have charged Gus up. He started singing jingle bells at the crack of dawn.
All I want for Christmas is laryngitis.
Black
I heard Gus holler, “Hey Black! I’m writing your letter to Santa. How do you spell rhinoceros?”
I don’t even like rhinoceroses. Only 20 more days left in this holiday season. Will I survive?
Black
Well, we had a technological melt down today. Gus was worried that Santa wouldn’t be able to read his handwriting. Make that, hoofwriting. So, he started typing the whole thing out on the computer. The trouble started when he clicked print. Paper started spitting out of the printer at a rapid pace and the pages rained down like snowflakes.
It took hours to get it to stop and even longer to pick up the mess.
Technology . . . sheesh.
Black
I decided today I’d be nice to Gus and actually help him with his letter. I mean, it is a Christmas letter to the guy in the big red suit.
“Gus,” I said, “You know the Roy and the other horses can’t actually deliver that letter, right?”
“Why not?” Gus asked.
“Well, the Pony Express was the name they used for the first fast mail service to cross the continent west of Missouri. They took the mail on horseback.”
“Um . . .” Gus stuttered.
“What?” I asked.
“Do you think Roy will give me back the $19.95 he charged me for express delivery?”
I don’t know how Gus did it and some things shouldn’t be questioned . . . but he managed to get the big LCD television into the barn. We watched college football all weekend. We like the University of Buffalo Bulls and the Boise State Broncos.
This morning Gus asked how many stamps he would need to mail his letter to Santa Claus.
“Using the ol’ Pony Express, huh?” I said.
Gus said, “Nope. The post office has that blue eagle on the side of their trucks . . ."
This could be dangerous.
Black
Well, I’m exhausted. The alarm clock went off way too early. I hit the snooze button and tried to go back to sleep. No luck. Gus never showed up for breakfast. And he wasn’t at lunch. I started to get a little worried.
He was a little upset when Mother Nature and Father Time didn’t make it to Thanksgiving dinner (not even dessert). But, I thought he got over it with copious amounts of pie.
I was seriously considering calling 911 when the barn phone rang. (Yeah, we have a phone in the barn. A fax too. )
Gus said, “Hey Black. Can you get Farmer to come pick me up? The 54 inch LCD television won’t fit into the taxi.”
I have a feeling it’s going to be a long holiday season.
Black
I asked Gus to ratchet down the questions and overall goofball antics today. Today is reserved for reflection and giving thanks.
“Like oats?” Gus asked.
No. Not oats. Sure, you can be thankful for oats and food and even other material things. But giving thanks for your 54 inch LCD is not what Thanksgiving is for. Give thanks for your friends and family. Even the goofy ones like Gus.
Have a great Thanksgiving!
Black.
Gus asked about his letter of recommendation about three hundred times today. I told him I have writer’s block. After lunch he popped into the barn and I thought it was going to be number three hundred and one. Nope. He asked, “Is it too late to invite Mother Nature and Father Time to Thanksgiving dinner?”
I shoulda went to Mexico for the holidays . . .
Black
At lunch Gus produced some paper work. “Is this more egg stuff?” I asked.
“Nope.” He replied. “I think I have that under control. I need you to write me a letter of recommendation. For the professor job.”
Gus left the papers, a pen and confusion for me.
What am I going to do? They wouldn't really hire him, would they?
Black
Gus has been driving me nuts about the chickens. Increasing yield and stuff like that. All day he’s been asking chicken questions. He even asked, “Is it still Chicken Kiev if it’s served in Boston?”
At dinner I threw him a curve ball. “Hey Gus,” I said. “Suppose there’s a rooster on the top of the chicken coop. It lays an egg. Which side of the roof does the egg roll off?”
He got out a slide rule and a map. I haven’t heard from him since.
Black
Gus has been asking me a lot of questions today. Mostly about eggs. Do I like them scrambled? Over easy? At lunch he asked if I liked them hardboiled. I heard him asking Roy and the other horses too. Omelets, quiche and Benedict?
After dinner I found a news paper by the oats bin. It was folded up but one of the classified ads was circled in red. It was a “help wanted” ad from the local community college. They’re looking for an Economics Professor.
Egg-o-nomics . . .
Sheesh!
Black
Need a little help. What’s up with all these words that sound alike? Ya know,like, fore, for and four? I need some help ‘cause I’m trying to update my resume. I don’t wanna use the wrong one in there form because then there going to think I’m dumb.
Help?
Gus
Spent all weekend with Gus nagging me about Mother Nature and Father Time and the Valentine's Day cherubs. The whole conversation degraded and I was just about to have to explain "the birds and bees" . . . but the cider mill down the road was having a sale and we wend down there. You'd be amazed at how many powdered doughnuts Gus can get from people by just looking silly. 
If I had a nickel for every time Gus said, "Father Time" or "Mother Nature" I would have approximately 22 million dollars.
I have a headache. I thought I had explained Mother Nature enough to satisfy Gus. He was quiet as we watched the Country Music Association awards. Hey, we live on a farm . . . in the country . . . anyway, no mention of Mother Nature. Until this morning.
Gus asked, “Is Mother Nature married to Father Time?”
Spent the day explaining Mother Nature to Gus and it didn’t go so well. I started out over a nice breakfast of oats. I tried to explain Mother Nature is just a representation of the forces of nature. That went downhill from there.
By lunch time I explained Mother Nature goes back to Greek myth. Old school. Just about every culture had version of Mother Nature.
“There’s more than one Mother Nature?” he asked.
I finally gave up and told him that she just controls the symbols the weather man uses on his map. He bought it. For now . . .
Wow. What a beautiful day. Sunshine and fall leaves. We had our first frost a couple weeks ago so you know what that means. Indian summer. For those of you not in the know, Indian summer is a weird little gift from ol’ Mother Nature. After the first frost of the autumn season if the temperature rises up somewhere about sixty degrees, then it’s an Indian summer. Some people look at it as a respite before the snow starts falling. Some think it’s a reminder of the summer past. I just like the chance at some more nice weather . . .
Enjoy it while you can . . . snow’ll be here soon.
Black
Mwa ha ha haaaa! Black went down to the pond and I got on the computer. I just tried to order 25lbs of Chuckles jelly candies. I only like the green ones. Anyway, they won’t ship to a rural route box . . . could somebody give me their address and then send them to me?
Oh, here comes Black . . . gotta go . . .
Gus
Well, we finally finagled some wireless down here in the barn. If I can keep Gus offline (he keeps trying to order oats and comic books) we'll hopefully have frequent updates about what's going on down here on the farm. There's lots of work and stuff to do. All the hay's been stacked away . . . stop back soon.
