Finally have a few minutes to catch my breath and catch up my blog. Here's what's been going on in my world...
Our little Lola (Chihuahua and our Percy (Yorkie) are now the proud parents of Uno.
The one thing I hate most about bringing in a crop, is the questionable nature of some of the help that seems to pop up out of the woodwork. A few of the workers are our neighbors and return to work, year after year.The rest? Well, usually they are folks that we have never seen before and probably won't see again. Some years, we get a crop in with a problem. Others, like this one, things start disappearing. The guy in our tenant house has had his lawnmower and seven fishing poles stolen, just last week. He and I almost have the thief narrowed down...
Their are these two men that just showed up this year. They never call about work, but have some female member of their family call us. Every time the wife of one calls, she sounds so high that she can't even string two words together, without a struggle. The girlfriend of the other one sounds the same way. Well, Wednesday afternoon, I get a call from the wife and she tells me that she won't be coming to pick up her husband , as she has twisted her knee. She wanted me to go down to the field and tell the guys this, plus try to find them a ride. I explained that, though I would like to help, I have an injured leg of my own and no way was I loading up both of the little kids and heading off to the fields to try and locate these guys and tell them. She called back four times! Each time, she acted as though it was the first time she call. Stoned out of her gourd, I am sure.
As it turned out, Hubs got sick in the field and came home. He had a neighbor stay with the two workers and give them a ride up to the house to get paid. He also said he would give them a ride home. Fast forward to the next day... Around 11:00 A.M. a car comes creeping down my drive with two females inside, rubber necking the whole way. I was watching from the bedroom window, where they couldn't see me. Well, of course, my wonderful guard dog, Chrissy, charges the car and acts as though she will eat them alive. They don't make a move to get out of the car, once they see the dog. I stepped outside, so they could see me, assuming that it might be someone asking for work.. Well, instead of being glad to see someone there to save them from the dog, they take off like a bat out of hell! Confused, I went back inside. When Hubs came in later, I described the car and the females and he told me that it was the wife and girlfriend from the paragraph above.Turns out that this was around the time that they had dropped off those guys, late for work. The screwy thing about that is that those women have never been here and have always picked up their men down at the field, well out of sight of the house. The only way they would have known how to get here is if the guys told them, after finding the way, the evening the picked up their pay.
I told the whole story to our tenant and he said that this was the exact same car that he caught backed up into his drive, the day his fishing poles went missing. We've pretty much decided that the men see stuff that they want and send the women to steal it, while they have Hubs busy in the field. That makes sense, as they were in my drive within minutes of dropping off the men, the other day. they knew for sure that Hubs was down in the field and assumed they were home free to come take what they wanted. the didn't count on someone else being home, or that I have an attack dog. I really hope I catch them in the act of stealing from us. I'm in just the right mood to hand their asses to them. I'll share what I have with almost anyone but I won't tolerate a thief.
Tallen the Great
This boy amazes me even more, every day! The progress that he has made is nothing short of a miracle.
His latest obsession is special effects make-up. He watches video after video about it on YouTube. Last night, He called to me from the kitchen, "Mom, can you come here for a minute?" His sing song tone was definitely out of character for him. I step into the kitchen and find him sprawled out on the floor, eyes closed, his shirt covered with ketchup. I gasped. He didn't move a muscle.
"Tallen, what are you doing?", I finally asked.
"I'm pretending to be dead Mama."
To see him change from that toddler, who treated us like furniture, to a silly kid, playing tricks on me, brings tears to my eyes.