Well Hey There and Howdy Friends.
Well, it had been months since ole Edna and I took a break from the smell of Wisconsin dairy air, so we turned over the weekend's milk production to our farm hand, Jim-Bob and headed back to our Michigan hunting cabin for a couple days of much needed rest. I think with Jim-Bob, the milkin' will be in good hands, in a manner of speaking. Nobody hooks up a mechanical sucker to a teat like Jimmy.
So, we took the trusty F-150 around the big water of Lake Michigan waving back at all the Chicago folk who passed us by on the 294. They seemed to have an odd way of waving by only holding up one finger on their hands, but we returned the wave in kind, just trying to be neighborly and all.
Eventually we got to Michigan and found the old "Ted Seman" Highway, which brought up fond memories of my old hunting buddy Ted and his strange fondness for oysters and pineapple. Ted's wife Ivanna seemed to be a big supporter of Ted's dietary proclivities and Edna and I never asked further.
We needed some breakfast supplies for the next morning, so we stopped at KC's for some eggs, bacon, milk and a box of 223 Winchester cartridges. You just gotta love a place that sells beer, booze, bait and bullets, along with basic food market essentials. Evart was our last stop. We were tired and just wanted to make a fire, and relax a bit before bed.
The relaxing would have to wait, thanks to a few uninvited guests that had apparently stopped by since our last visit. Mouse droppings were everywhere. I knew I forgot to do something when we wrapped up the cabin last time. Sure enough, the peanut putter jar was still open on the counter and the box of Biscuit mix was there too, chewed right through the bottom. It looked a bit peanut butter with bits of chocolate mixed in smeared all over the counter, except it weren't flakes of chocolate. We spent the night cleaning up and setting up a few special spring loaded welcome mats for our new friends. It was clear from the next morning's hunt, that they didn't care much for our hospitality.
The next day we found the hole in the floor boards and the carpet where our furry friends had chewed through to get into the cabin, so we headed into town to look for new flooring. My old high school buddy still runs Assmann's flooring there in the Mount Pleasant, and we found some new carpet we liked, but the price was a bit north of my current mortgage on the farm. Instead, we made a stop at the dollar store and Edna found a large plaster Duck statue that would cover the hole nicely. We kind of liked our burnt orange shag carpeting anyway. That's right Edna, duck those mice.
We stopped at our favorite fancy restaurant for lunch while in town. Nothin' says good cookin' like some ground up pork on a bun, covered in chili, onions and cheese at the Pixie drive in. Now that's good eatin'. Hard to miss the place too, because that pink Cadillac that drove through the restaurant back in '69 is still sticking out through the wall.
Before leaving the big city, we stopped into our old club to say "Hey there and Howdy" to the gang. It had been about a year since our last visit to the, International Order of Odd Fellows, but the place was filled with new members we didn't know.
Though my IOOF membership card was still active, Edna and I weren't made to fell welcome at all. It felt a bit odd, so we had one quick beer and made our way out. "Maybe we're just too normal for them", Edna wisely commented. She's a smart woman, that Edna.
Though we weren't necessarily in the market for a new truck, the old 150 still runs strong, we passed through the Krapohl Ford parking lot just to check out a few of the prices. Thanks to the economy, the prices were pretty good, but we still weren't ready to give up on the ole' Henry. But I tell ya, when I am ready to buy a new Ford, I'm gonna go back and buy a Krapohl Ford.
It was a pretty full day. Edna and I finally headed back, relaxed by the fire, made a nice dinner and then wrapped up the cabin for an early departure back to Wisconsin on Sunday morning. When we got back we saw that the milking machines were tended well, and Jim-Bob looked a bit tired from running the show all on his own. His boots were clean and his knees were dirty, and we wondered if Jim-Bob might have been helping himself to the product, but we thought better of asking. We might need him to watch the farm on another weekend.
Yours quite modestly,
Efrem P. Farnswaggle