First of all, I have to admit something. When I am working in the barn, I often talk to myself. And I’m not talking little muttered comments, I’m talking full-blown, ranting lectures, long-winded stories, and suchlike. And I talk back. Sometimes the dialog turns into an all-out argument. Which is all very, very, very weird, I know.

Yesterday I was cleaning stalls, and to pass the time I decided to ruminate on what period of history I like best. It turned into a rant on how much “I hate the Civil War!”

Actually, this is what I decided. I don’t so much hate the Civil War as I simply could not care less about it. The Civil War bores me to tears. And that includes Reconstruction and any history that feels compelled to use the word “antebellum” to describe itself. Yawn.

I don’t do the Civil War…I have people to do that. I know a good number of people who are simply fascinated by it, and that is just in my own family. I leave them to “do” the Civil War so I can blithely go on ignoring the entire second half of the 19th century.

If I had my choice, I would stick mostly with the years between 1750 and 1843. I choose those years because I am interested in the French & Indian War and a major turning point for me would be the year the Wyandots left Ohio, 1843. That’s almost a century of really interesting history.

When it comes to American theological thought, it seems that most churches just want something they can fit on a t-shirt.

For that matter, no one goes to a “church service” anymore…they all attend an Experience. I’ve been trying to decide if I should go to the Christmas eve “experience” with a LIGHT SHOW! or the one that promises a CHOCOLATE FOUNTAIN! and a GRACE MAGICIAN! for the kiddies.

1) Have you seen the commercial for Leapfrog, where the frog asks the kid which one he likes better: the nicely illustrated but old-fashioned book, or the plastic Leapfrog thingie that “talks” to you?

2) What do you call the people who walk into your library? We used to call them patrons, but now the director has decided that is too old-fashioned (do you see a trend developing here?) so we now have to call them “members.” She thinks they will feel more of a sense of belonging and responsibility if we call them a member. Ha!

3) I keep seeing these commercials (maybe I’m watching too much TV) in which they say “do you owe the IRS money? If so, we can help you get off with paying way less than you owe.” As someone who paid my share, this makes my blood boil.

My plan for the new year to improve Mind, Body, and Soul.

1) To sharpen the mind: read_____________. And write_______________.

2) To strengthen the body: a regular walk with Duke. Care for Buddy’s feet and ride him more. Also Utah.

3) To aid the serenity of my soul: clean & organize my house and workshop and barn. And get out a blank sheet of paper and draw.

I was supposed to do jury duty today on the grand jury, so last night I spent some time picking out a good book to take with me (I’ve always heard you should take something to read.)

I discovered it was hard to pick a good book! I didn’t want to read trash (no Danielle Steel), but I didn’t want to look like a complete weirdo (no Boccaccio’s Decameron, and yes, I looked at it!) I wanted something that looked intelligent and truth-seeking. I liked the idea of Telling the Truth About History, but I didn’t want to read it! I also wanted something that would be light enough to be readable in less than ideal reading conditions. I wasn’t sure about Documents of American Indian Policy or Andrew Jackson vs. Henry Clay. How about Lies My Teacher Told Me? Something anti-establishment would go over really well, right?

On the other side of the bookshelf, I didn’t want anything too hippie. I want to read How to Survive Without a Salary but I’m not sure how the average legal sort would take that. I almost chose Gene Logsdon’s Homesteading. But another criteria was that if it somehow accidentally got lost in the courthouse, I wouldn’t cry too much over it, and I really don’t want to lose that book!

I very nearly chose Mark Twain’s Life on the Mississippi, but I finally decided on the book about Man o’ War that I got for Christmas a year or two ago. I think it was a very neutral, smart but not in a weirdo way, interesting choice. And I do want to read it. I started last night, and so far it’s pretty interesting.

Oh, and I arrived at the courthouse, sat for 20 minutes and read a few pages, got sworn in and then told to go home. Thank you very much.

So now I have to go to work. What a drag!

The librarian listserv is doing “mind-changing books” right now. Since I’m not technically subscribed to it, so can’t add my thoughts there, I thought I’d muse a little bit on it here.

First of all, doesn’t a mind changing book have to actually change your mind? In other words, if you already agreed with the book’s premise before you read it, is it still mind-changing?

I have to say, the book that had the greatest impact on my thinking was probably The Contrary Farmer by Gene Logsdon. I’ve always been a country girl, and I’ve always been contrary too. But reading that book was like a nearsighted person finally getting a pair of glasses. It was that book that got me thinking about homesteading and farming and gardening in the first place–and this was before we got our land.

So obviously, yes, it changed my mind. Not in the sense of doing a 180 in my thinking. But it was like flipping a switch in an unused room and suddenly there’s light there.

Here’s the way the phone works at my library:

A) If you are at the desk alone and no one has had a question all day, as soon as someone steps up to the desk with a question, the phone will ring.

B) If the phone hasn’t rung in hours, as soon as you walk to the other side of the library, it will ring.

C) If you are away from the desk and hear a phone ring that you think might be your phone and you run across the library to answer it, it will not be your phone after all.

D) If you are on one line, the circulation staff will repeatedly transfer calls to you.

A month ago, when I was deciding what to enter in this year’s fair, I impulsively entered a quilt that was not even started. It wasn’t even a glimmer in my mind’s eye. I just thought “gee, I think I can whip together a wallhanging by fair time.” Two weeks ago I started cutting it out, and last night I finished the binding a little after 9:00 p.m. 

That was cutting it a little close, since today is the deadline. Honestly, I can’t believe I made it. I’m thrilled that I did, and I am very pleased with how it turned out. We were joking that I was “The Iron Quilter” (like TV’s “Iron Chef.”) It looks like she’s cutting out a red triangle and sewing it into that orange quilt; I wonder what kind of quilting pattern will go with that?

I’m normally not a procrastinator, honest! (Except for building fences.) I dislike last-minute stress and prefer to get unpleasant tasks out of the way, so in school I was pretty good at getting papers written and homework done in plenty of time. If there is something that I know I have to do, I see no reason to put it off. It feels so much better to get something done, especially if I’m not looking forward to it. The husband is completely different–he fiddles around all day until he finally has to go to the office at 2 in the morning to finish up something that is due at 8 a.m. the next day.

Remember that hay I said I got on Friday? Well, it was raining that day and some of the hay got wet. (How hard would it be to throw a tarp over the load when you take it to the hay auction, huh?)

Anyhow, I had to stack all this hay on the ground floor because the old man couldn’t throw it into the loft. I can’t complain too much, because I couldn’t either, but it sure is easier to throw straight from the truck into the loft instead of having to throw it all the way up from the floor. But oh well.

So I stacked a ton and a half of hay on the floor, trying to keep all the wet ones together so I could identify them later. The other day I unstacked that section and laid all the damp bales out so they could dry (I hope.) Then I stacked up bales in a stair-steps fashion and crawled into the loft. From there, I winched the topmost bale off my pile into the loft. Climb back down, carry another bale up the the top of the “stairs,” climb back up to the loft, repeat. So far I’ve gotten 12 bales into the loft.

I have to laugh at myself, stacking & unstacking this ton of hay. Sort of like WPA hole-digging work.