It’s the middle of April and we are 4 inches shy of the record for most snowfall in a season in NH since data collection began (can that sentence get any longer?). So this weekend I did the only thing that I could think of…I put the sno-blower away. Since snow in April is not unheard of, I believe that this move would be called ‘taunting’ Mother Nature. My fellow New Hampshirites might want to kill me - or at the very least, maim me - for tempting fate, but I am beyond caring.
I want that record.
In reality, I don’t really think it’s going to happen. In fact, a big part of me doesn’t want it to. Actually, I’m very confused about the whole thing. It’s been a long week where things keep going wrong or coming up or bad news hits. Maybe I just want one thing to go right. Even if it does come in the form of a freak snowstorm.
On a happier note, our tractor, Bobo, which has been hibernating all winter, actually started. Not that it does us any good - we have yet to find our farm to use it on (we probably own the most expensive and large lawn ornament out there). It’s been a long search to find our dream house. In our desperation, we even looked at a house where a murder took place not all that long ago. Fortunately, I didn’t feel good about the house. Even if I had liked it, there is no way I could have lived there. If the murder had happened a 100 years ago - maybe. But not 3 years ago. That’s just icky, spooky and very disturbing. I didn’t even live there and I had bad feelings about the place for weeks afterward.
The funny thing is that I don’t mind the idea of ghosts or spirits, or whatever it is you want to call them. I even have my own story about possible contact with the other side. Several years ago, my husband and I were living in an apartment that was part of an old house. The best part, in my opinion, was the attic, which was the size of a barn loft. To get to it you had to climb up a dark flight of stairs, hidden behind a door in the kitchen. When my older sister came to visit from out of state, I gave her the grand tour, which included the attic, of course. While up there, I kept experiencing what felt like a drop of cold water hitting my elbow. At the time, I was busy chatting so I merely swiped at my elbow, without thinking much of it. Only afterward did I stop to wonder what could be causing that cold, wet sensation. It’s dry as a bone up there and I was wearing long sleeves. Had I just had an encounter? Maybe. My husband avoided the attic like the plague and liked to keep all the lights on in the apartment. He said he never felt right living there. He is particularly sensitive to the possibilities of other-worldly creatures. Maybe I am, too…
We are now starting to think we have a haunted piano. It’s a baby grand, circa the 1940s, and rescued from a house fire. When my husband is working downstairs, he keeps hearing strange noises coming from its direction. He has heard what sounded to him like a shoe dropping onto the floor, but finds nothing there. There have been other strange noises, as well, and growing more and more common. While working at the computer - with his back to the piano - he also gets this sensation that someone is watching him. Hmmm… We were hoping to fix it up and use it once we move, but maybe we shouldn’t wait. Maybe it’s getting restless.
Whatever it is.
On that note, I shall say good day, leaving you with just a bit of chatter to fill the empty void…
Showing posts with label Tractor. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Tractor. Show all posts
Monday, April 14, 2008
Thursday, December 6, 2007
I'm Dreaming of a White Christmas
Well, I was. That was before our first storm hit and we had to clear the snow with our new tractor, Bobo. We got about 8 inches this time around. Not too much - perfect for giving our new tractor its first run at plowing. We were optimistic about it, thinking how quick and easy this was going to be compared to using our snoblower. That was before the tractor got stuck several times, one time almost for good. That time my husband finally conceded that maybe I wasn’t exaggerating when I said the tractor felt like it was going to tip. Empathy always blossoms within us when we experience what someone else went through. It’s the one true way that people can understand what others feel. I felt panic; so did he. I felt like jumping; so did he.
Anyway, the problem is that we have a long, narrow driveway with not much room to manuever because there’s a bit of a ditch on one side and more of one on the other. Plus, the tires kept spinning on us. "We need chains," my husband kept telling me. "No, doy," I kept replying as I grabbed the piece of wood I had pried off one of the kid’s forts and stuck it under a tire. We were out there for 3 1/2 hours and still didn’t get the whole driveway plowed. The funny thing was, it started to snow when we were out there, giving us another inch. It was supposed to be done by the time we headed out. Someone, somewhere, was having a lot of fun at our expense.
So we ended up shoveling the rest. My husband did most of the work because he broke one of the shovels, leaving only one snow shovel and a spade, which was just about useless. This is the same husband with the injured wrist that he’s supposed to be wearing a splint-like thingie (yes, I’m a writer) on to protect it. He took the splint off before going outside and forgot to put it back on. He was supposed to wear it so that in 2 weeks, the doctor could see if it’s healed (or have to do an MRI). Well, there goes that theory. Of course it’s not going to feel any better. He was manhandling a tractor and shoveling for 3 1/2 hours. You do the math. Anyway, not knowing he didn’t have his splint on, I attempted to help with half a shovel when I should’ve taken over with the regular one. Needless to say, I’m going shopping for new shovels soon. My 3-year-old will love the half-shovel, though. It’s just his size.
What does all this mean? I really do try to relate this stuff back to my writing, though it isn’t always easy. I hadn’t expected to spend so much time on clearing the dang driveway, which means I’m not much farther along on my editing. It also means that we’re going to get tons of snow this year in New England because we don’t know how to plow without getting stuck, and I’m sure there’s something else that this is all supposed to mean, but I can’t remember what.
On a nice note, yesterday my son brought home a card signed by all the 3rd graders thanking me for coming to their class. That’s what makes this job worth it. The adulation of my fans.
Modestly yours,
Kristina
author of The Chronicles of a Writer: Descending Into Madness
Anyway, the problem is that we have a long, narrow driveway with not much room to manuever because there’s a bit of a ditch on one side and more of one on the other. Plus, the tires kept spinning on us. "We need chains," my husband kept telling me. "No, doy," I kept replying as I grabbed the piece of wood I had pried off one of the kid’s forts and stuck it under a tire. We were out there for 3 1/2 hours and still didn’t get the whole driveway plowed. The funny thing was, it started to snow when we were out there, giving us another inch. It was supposed to be done by the time we headed out. Someone, somewhere, was having a lot of fun at our expense.
So we ended up shoveling the rest. My husband did most of the work because he broke one of the shovels, leaving only one snow shovel and a spade, which was just about useless. This is the same husband with the injured wrist that he’s supposed to be wearing a splint-like thingie (yes, I’m a writer) on to protect it. He took the splint off before going outside and forgot to put it back on. He was supposed to wear it so that in 2 weeks, the doctor could see if it’s healed (or have to do an MRI). Well, there goes that theory. Of course it’s not going to feel any better. He was manhandling a tractor and shoveling for 3 1/2 hours. You do the math. Anyway, not knowing he didn’t have his splint on, I attempted to help with half a shovel when I should’ve taken over with the regular one. Needless to say, I’m going shopping for new shovels soon. My 3-year-old will love the half-shovel, though. It’s just his size.
What does all this mean? I really do try to relate this stuff back to my writing, though it isn’t always easy. I hadn’t expected to spend so much time on clearing the dang driveway, which means I’m not much farther along on my editing. It also means that we’re going to get tons of snow this year in New England because we don’t know how to plow without getting stuck, and I’m sure there’s something else that this is all supposed to mean, but I can’t remember what.
On a nice note, yesterday my son brought home a card signed by all the 3rd graders thanking me for coming to their class. That’s what makes this job worth it. The adulation of my fans.
Modestly yours,
Kristina
author of The Chronicles of a Writer: Descending Into Madness
Wednesday, November 21, 2007
Happy Turkey Day!
I have been a busy little beaver these last several days. Thanksgiving is looking very attractive right about now. I can’t wait to eat and eat and eat, then sink into a food-induced coma. My wonderful mom is making the pies. Her specialty is French Chocolate Pie. It’s got eggs, whip cream, chocolate and butter, and you put it into a graham cracker crust. Ahhh, yes. The good life. My poor son, however, got a stomach virus last year, on the day of Thanksgiving, and now cannot stand the sight of turkey or French chocolate pie. The mother in me says, poor kid! The glutton in my says, "Yes! More for me!"
Okay, so first this weekend. I nearly died. I was driving our new tractor for the second time - I have never driven a tractor before this - and I wanted to scoop up some leaves that were in a ditch along our driveway - get in some practice before the big snows came. Well, needless to say, the whole thing got a little wobbly trying to navigate the incline and almost tipped over. Ever the survivalist, I nearly abandoned ship, readying myself to jump. Well, the tractor somehow managed to hang on and keep going, so I nonchalantly put my hands back on the steering wheel and my feet on the clutch and brake, hoping nobody noticed. My husband told me afterward that I couldn’t have picked a more difficult place to learn how to drive a tractor. I told him he could have told me that before I started to drive into the ditch. He’s also threatened to delete this blog, stating that I didn’t almost die and was being melodramatic. I told him: I am not being melodramatic; I’m being interesting.
I told him that if he deletes this blog, I will delete him.
On Monday night, I attended a Selectman’s meeting. They are actually rather interesting. I got to see all the people who are hoping to build a house. I got to hear about how the town workers are getting stiffed in their pay (the committee is looking to rectify that situation) and then I got to hear people talk and talk and talk about things I knew nothing about. I really only went to support the library and ask that their purchasing budget not be decreased by $3000. I was there from 6:30 until 11:00, and I never did get to say anything. As it turned out, nobody on the board wanted to second the motion to cut the money. Hurray! I felt power; I felt joy; I felt pain. My butt was sore. So maybe my being there made a difference. Who knows? I’d like to believe it did because the library is very important to me. Go Democracy!
Today I went into my son’s school and did a book reading and workshop for his class and then, later, for another 3rd grade class. Those kids rock. They are so bright and ready to learn. It makes me sad to see kids as teenagers lose all interest in learning. I think if more people in the community went into the schools and talked about real life stuff, I think we’d save more kids. Anyway, I had a lot of fun and hope to do more (possibly the other 3rd grades classes. Maybe the 4th graders will have me, too. Then the middle school. And after that, maybe the world!).
What did I learn from all these experiences? Don’t drive tractors in ditches on only your second attempt at driving one. My husband has no respect for my near-death experience. Getting involved may actually make a difference. And the women and men who teach are incredibly brave and should be awarded accordingly. Of course, they typically get next to nothing and are blamed when our kids don’t behave. But to somehow manage 25 kids for an entire day for 5 days a week is amazing.
Have a Happy Turkey Day, my friends!
Okay, so first this weekend. I nearly died. I was driving our new tractor for the second time - I have never driven a tractor before this - and I wanted to scoop up some leaves that were in a ditch along our driveway - get in some practice before the big snows came. Well, needless to say, the whole thing got a little wobbly trying to navigate the incline and almost tipped over. Ever the survivalist, I nearly abandoned ship, readying myself to jump. Well, the tractor somehow managed to hang on and keep going, so I nonchalantly put my hands back on the steering wheel and my feet on the clutch and brake, hoping nobody noticed. My husband told me afterward that I couldn’t have picked a more difficult place to learn how to drive a tractor. I told him he could have told me that before I started to drive into the ditch. He’s also threatened to delete this blog, stating that I didn’t almost die and was being melodramatic. I told him: I am not being melodramatic; I’m being interesting.
I told him that if he deletes this blog, I will delete him.
On Monday night, I attended a Selectman’s meeting. They are actually rather interesting. I got to see all the people who are hoping to build a house. I got to hear about how the town workers are getting stiffed in their pay (the committee is looking to rectify that situation) and then I got to hear people talk and talk and talk about things I knew nothing about. I really only went to support the library and ask that their purchasing budget not be decreased by $3000. I was there from 6:30 until 11:00, and I never did get to say anything. As it turned out, nobody on the board wanted to second the motion to cut the money. Hurray! I felt power; I felt joy; I felt pain. My butt was sore. So maybe my being there made a difference. Who knows? I’d like to believe it did because the library is very important to me. Go Democracy!
Today I went into my son’s school and did a book reading and workshop for his class and then, later, for another 3rd grade class. Those kids rock. They are so bright and ready to learn. It makes me sad to see kids as teenagers lose all interest in learning. I think if more people in the community went into the schools and talked about real life stuff, I think we’d save more kids. Anyway, I had a lot of fun and hope to do more (possibly the other 3rd grades classes. Maybe the 4th graders will have me, too. Then the middle school. And after that, maybe the world!).
What did I learn from all these experiences? Don’t drive tractors in ditches on only your second attempt at driving one. My husband has no respect for my near-death experience. Getting involved may actually make a difference. And the women and men who teach are incredibly brave and should be awarded accordingly. Of course, they typically get next to nothing and are blamed when our kids don’t behave. But to somehow manage 25 kids for an entire day for 5 days a week is amazing.
Have a Happy Turkey Day, my friends!
Wednesday, November 14, 2007
The Tractor Makes a Comeback
We are now ready for snow. The tractor has started! As my 3-year-old tells us when we are not being enthusiastic enough about his accomplishments, "Say, Hurray!" Okay, I say hurray! Our neighbor helped us with his handy-dandy battery charger that probably could jump start the space shuttle, it’s that big. He had to bring it over in his truck. We got the tractor going, but according to him, it started ‘hard’ so we might need to tighten the belt. I notched mine one tighter, but that didn’t seem to help. Ha, ha. Anyway, when we tried it again the next morning, our lovely orange beast started right up, belching smoke and everything. So all it needed was a nice, juiced-up battery. A little coffee might help, too, when the time comes. For the moment, however, it’s resting in our yard covered in a brown tarp.
It looks strangely like Snuffleupagus.
On a side note, I have to say that I feel sorry for anyone searching the internet for information on tractors. They’re going to find my site, and it will be useless to them. But maybe they’ll see my book and think, well, I guess there are reasons for everything in life because this exactly what I was looking for to make my life complete. Of course, I still can’t get my tractor running, but who cares? I’m getting my own copy of The Chronicles of Anaedor: The Prophecies by Kristina Schram (I have to put that in my blogs once in a while to help out those internet spiders - I don’t like spiders, but these are the good kind, like daddy long legs).
Can you tell that it’s getting late in the day?
Tomorrow I am presenting my first writer’s workshop at the local library. It’s on how to make your writing flow. I am looking forward to doing it, but I’m worried that I might not be very awake at the time. During the day, I have a doctor’s appointment and shopping to do with my youngest (I can’t stand the idea of wasting gas so every trip I make has to involve more than one errand). I think I can pull it off, though. I used to teach classes from 6-8 when I was in graduate school and not once did I get egged. My main goal is not to end up sounding like the adults in the Charlie Brown shows. You know how they talk… "Wah, wah, wah, wah, wah…" Egad. Maybe I should do the entire workshop in mime. That could be fun. Of course, then I might finally end up getting egged.
I have also scored a book signing at a local store on Thanksgiving Saturday. I imagine I will be overrun with excited patrons, hoping to buy a signed copy. It won’t be easy, I’m sure, but I will try to keep my strength and courage up throughout the onslaught. Ha. If I’m smart, I will bring something to do, like macrame or origami (more confusion for web searchers looking up macrame and origami).
So wish me luck, or not. I’ll let you know how the workshop goes. Or you could come, maybe fly in from California or wherever, for the hour and a half. It could be worth your time. Especially if I get egged. So be sure to bring some paper, a writing utensil and a dozen or so eggs!
Talk at ya later!
Added later… Um, strike that part about my workshop coming up since I’m publishing this the day after the workshop (I like to publish on Mondays and Thursdays, you see). Anywho, I just got back from it. Sorry, but I kinda lost track of the time/space continuum for a while there. Please find it in your heart to forgive me.
It looks strangely like Snuffleupagus.
On a side note, I have to say that I feel sorry for anyone searching the internet for information on tractors. They’re going to find my site, and it will be useless to them. But maybe they’ll see my book and think, well, I guess there are reasons for everything in life because this exactly what I was looking for to make my life complete. Of course, I still can’t get my tractor running, but who cares? I’m getting my own copy of The Chronicles of Anaedor: The Prophecies by Kristina Schram (I have to put that in my blogs once in a while to help out those internet spiders - I don’t like spiders, but these are the good kind, like daddy long legs).
Can you tell that it’s getting late in the day?
Tomorrow I am presenting my first writer’s workshop at the local library. It’s on how to make your writing flow. I am looking forward to doing it, but I’m worried that I might not be very awake at the time. During the day, I have a doctor’s appointment and shopping to do with my youngest (I can’t stand the idea of wasting gas so every trip I make has to involve more than one errand). I think I can pull it off, though. I used to teach classes from 6-8 when I was in graduate school and not once did I get egged. My main goal is not to end up sounding like the adults in the Charlie Brown shows. You know how they talk… "Wah, wah, wah, wah, wah…" Egad. Maybe I should do the entire workshop in mime. That could be fun. Of course, then I might finally end up getting egged.
I have also scored a book signing at a local store on Thanksgiving Saturday. I imagine I will be overrun with excited patrons, hoping to buy a signed copy. It won’t be easy, I’m sure, but I will try to keep my strength and courage up throughout the onslaught. Ha. If I’m smart, I will bring something to do, like macrame or origami (more confusion for web searchers looking up macrame and origami).
So wish me luck, or not. I’ll let you know how the workshop goes. Or you could come, maybe fly in from California or wherever, for the hour and a half. It could be worth your time. Especially if I get egged. So be sure to bring some paper, a writing utensil and a dozen or so eggs!
Talk at ya later!
Added later… Um, strike that part about my workshop coming up since I’m publishing this the day after the workshop (I like to publish on Mondays and Thursdays, you see). Anywho, I just got back from it. Sorry, but I kinda lost track of the time/space continuum for a while there. Please find it in your heart to forgive me.
Sunday, November 11, 2007
Moving to the Country
Well, we’ve gone and done it… We have bought a tractor! I’m so excited! Our sno-blower gave out at the end of last winter and we needed something other than shovels to clear our long driveway. I’m too cheap to hire someone to do it so we started looking at Craig’s list for possible sno-blowers. Then we decided, why not just go for it? We’ve wanted a tractor for a while, why not get one now? Sure we don’t have anywhere to store it, but that’s just a detail, right?
You see, eventually we want to move to a farm-one with a big barn. Our goal is to be self-sufficient, growing our own fruits and vegetables, raising chickens, and canning our food. I want to have a windmill and solar panels and get as green as I can get. And part of having that kind of farm is owning your own tractor. Its going to be great…
Unfortunately, we can’t get the dang thing started.
Apparently, diesel tractors need to have a fully charged battery to start well. Unfortunately, we went about starting the thing up like you would a car that doesn’t want to start–we pumped the gas. Bad idea. That runs down the battery. Then, we did a big no-no and accidentally left the battery connected. Not only does it drain the battery, but if the kids were to climb on the tractor and push the start button, off they’d go!
And of course, it’s freezing out. It’s dark and we can’t see because the cheap flashlight we bought (one that you shake to charge) produces very little light. If you know anything about charging a battery, you know that you have to put the red on the positive and the black on the negative. We had it backwards…because we couldn’t see. Good thing we didn’t electrocute ourselves.
At this very moment, we are charging the beast up and hoping for the best. The guy who sold it to us is being very helpful and told us where we went wrong (I’m sure he was chuckling at us farmer wannabes the whole time he wrote his email). The sad thing is that my husband grew up on a farm. But it’s been almost twenty years since he’s had anything to do with that kind of stuff, so he’s a little rusty. He keeps asking me if I think what he’s suggesting is right. Why would I know? My dad never even let us near his machines, much less taught us about how to work them.
Anyway, so far, so good. The little indicator is actually going up. I was worried I didn’t get it on right. As long as I don’t manage to blow things up, we should be okay.
Old MacDonald, look out!
You see, eventually we want to move to a farm-one with a big barn. Our goal is to be self-sufficient, growing our own fruits and vegetables, raising chickens, and canning our food. I want to have a windmill and solar panels and get as green as I can get. And part of having that kind of farm is owning your own tractor. Its going to be great…
Unfortunately, we can’t get the dang thing started.
Apparently, diesel tractors need to have a fully charged battery to start well. Unfortunately, we went about starting the thing up like you would a car that doesn’t want to start–we pumped the gas. Bad idea. That runs down the battery. Then, we did a big no-no and accidentally left the battery connected. Not only does it drain the battery, but if the kids were to climb on the tractor and push the start button, off they’d go!
And of course, it’s freezing out. It’s dark and we can’t see because the cheap flashlight we bought (one that you shake to charge) produces very little light. If you know anything about charging a battery, you know that you have to put the red on the positive and the black on the negative. We had it backwards…because we couldn’t see. Good thing we didn’t electrocute ourselves.
At this very moment, we are charging the beast up and hoping for the best. The guy who sold it to us is being very helpful and told us where we went wrong (I’m sure he was chuckling at us farmer wannabes the whole time he wrote his email). The sad thing is that my husband grew up on a farm. But it’s been almost twenty years since he’s had anything to do with that kind of stuff, so he’s a little rusty. He keeps asking me if I think what he’s suggesting is right. Why would I know? My dad never even let us near his machines, much less taught us about how to work them.
Anyway, so far, so good. The little indicator is actually going up. I was worried I didn’t get it on right. As long as I don’t manage to blow things up, we should be okay.
Old MacDonald, look out!
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