Infidel Farmer (in pigtails)
Only two thirds of the way through my first coffee this morning, I was sent on an urgent door-to-door egg delivery mission. Oh well, I needed the walk. My muscles are sore and tight from yesterday, throwing and stacking nearly 100 bales of hay in the main barn near the house. The hay is done! Oh bliss!
I got up yesterday from a much needed afternoon siesta to find John in his John-sized chair, under a heap of kitties, playing with new guns that were delivered in the past few days. Usually, when a man comes home from work and sprawls in a chair with the cats, it’s to read the paper or maybe watch a little TV before dinner. Not John. Playing with the pistols is way cooler. So I sat and watched, getting the skinny on the differences and similarities between three pistols that to my untrained eye looked exactly the same. Methinks I will be well educated by the time I return to the People’s Republic of Torontistan.
Now, for all you blithering anti-gun types, let me put your tiny minds at ease. There are no children in this house. Just responsible adults. Guns are always locked away before people come to call, especially if they are bringing minors with them. Ok? Is that enough fine print for you?
Today is market day. Have I mentioned the fudge I discovered? This does not bode well for the 30-odd pounds I’ve lost in the past few months… There is a lady here in the area who makes goat milk fudge, which is softer and creamier than the regular stuff you are used to. For Kathy, Arnie, Meredith et al, I will be bringing some home with me at the end of August. For the rest of you, place your orders now! Anyway, I’m off to pick more blackberries (would those be African-American berries now? Or even Marion Barries?) for this afternoon’s market. We sold out last week!
Now, for all you blithering anti-gun types, let me put your tiny minds at ease. There are no children in this house. Just responsible adults. Guns are always locked away before people come to call, especially if they are bringing minors with them. Ok? Is that enough fine print for you?
Yes, but did they remember to at least set up a basketball net in the driveway?
Comment by BillyHW — July 23, 2008 @ 9:54 am
“I’m off to pick more blackberries (would those be African-American berries now?”
My experience is, it is always best to ask RightGirl. Blackberries have feeling too, and they prick you if you are not kind and gentle with them.
Comment by Jim R — July 23, 2008 @ 4:09 pm
I should get fudge. I’m lovable. I’m adorable. I’m a geek.
Ok. Maybe the geek thing is a stretch.
I should still get fudge. OMG, for a second I zoned out. I thought I was a liberal and was entitled to the fudge. Wow!
Ok. I’ll pay for it like a good citizen.
Comment by Mike Williams — July 23, 2008 @ 5:12 pm
[...] BEHOLD: Infidel Farmer (in pigtails) …. [...]
Pingback by Steynian 207 « Free Mark Steyn! — July 23, 2008 @ 5:50 pm
..and with pearls!
Comment by Brett_McS — July 24, 2008 @ 6:34 am
She neglected to mention there was no ammo present, either.
And, for anyone with an interest… a Remington Rand M1911A1, made in 1943, a Sistema Colt Modelo 1927, made in 1951, and a Ballester-Molina, made in 1961. The last two were gifts for assistance in identifying ordnance for a book.
It’s what I do, sorta.
Comment by John of Argghhh! — July 24, 2008 @ 7:48 pm
where does one get this goatmilk fudge.
Comment by MissouriRodger — August 3, 2008 @ 9:50 am