Things Fall Apart

Before the Cranky Girls reached the farm on this trip, they ate supper with US and AG at the Chinese buffet. Meta Cranky's fortune cookie read: "You will visit exotic lands." I can't make this stuff up.

Re-entry at CG's Farm always involves a shakedown, and this trip is no exception. The water system required tinkering, and happily the service person arrived this afternoon. Until then, the water pressure was iffy enough that Cranky #2 would make excited announcements when water was forthcoming: "The water's coming out in the bathtub AND the sink!" In urban lands, people see faucets and make wild assumptions about the availability of water. CGs know better. Check your filters, your bladder pressures, your resin beds (Yay UM for putting those new points in the well house!), but the gods will laugh if you start assuming you can fill the bathtub while you run the washing machine.

The washer, aging but functional, is another sore point. Judging when to pull the plug on this washer is a bit like diagnosing when to move a beloved aging parent to an Alzheimer's unit. Just when I've concluded that I'll have to bail the water from the tub and drag my sodden laundry out to the clothesline in 39 degree weather, Washer With Dementia remembers how to spin dry. You can hear it mutter, "I don't want to be a burden. I used to have a warranty from Sears." Yes, sweetie, but we think you may be ready for specialized care.

MC's full-blown visit to Appliance Hell was brought on by her misreading of the settings on her otherwise friendly refrigerator. The freezer settings read something like "Colder" and "Warmer." For absolute truth and accuracy, however, the settings should be labeled "your ice cubes will clump together" and "your freezer items will be covered in black mold." Upon arrival, MC discovered the latter. Luckily, she gave up being squeamish for Lent, so leaky chuck roast package affected her only slightly. She predicts that the coyotes will be waddling around holding their bellies after eating the repast of Freezer Thaw that she laid out for them by the creek.

Cranky #1 is the most ticklish part of the shakedown, since we can never predict when her allergies will kick in. The cool, damp weather means that farmers are beginning to burn off their dry winter grasses. Some smoke, somewhere, has Cranky #1's number, and she's been reaching for her inhaler. Not the terrific purple steroid inhaler she scored last spring break. Just the plain Jane inhaler that lets you breathe all you want if you don't get too greedy. One of the wonders of farm life, however, is that resources rarely go to waste, and that includes expensive pharmacuticals. Meta Cranky once got a viewing of a closet holding the meds of a family friend who recently died of cancer. A veritable pharmacy of anti-nausea prescriptions, neatly stored away in case someone might need them. Cranky #1 will get her very own meds tomorrow, but a purple inhaler has been located whose previous owner has joined the Choir Invisible.

MC is confident that her oldest, smartest brother will tell her the whole story on this crumpled Dempster windmill, which she suspects he photographed while trolling for parts. Crumpled windmills may look like they're begging to be be carted off and turned into a Chinese automobile, but do not be deceived. Collect enough rusty windmill parts and eventually you'll have enough to put your windmill back together. MC feels a metaphor coming on, but she suspects that Clever Readers saw it already. Let's just say that, appearances to the contrary, MC is getting in touch with her inner engineer. CG Farm only looks like mere anarchy. We've got it. Really.
--MCG