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.
