Tom is not nice . . . not a “kindred spirit,” if you will. He is a terrifying and ferocious beast with an odd, blue head. And I like him not.
On Friday, the girls came into the house and happily announced that Tom (the turkey of course . . . please, try to keep up) had turned a new leaf.
Sweet Pea: Mom! He didn’t even yell at us! He just sat there and let us get the eggs!
Me: Huh? Maybe he just needed time to get used to us?
So, we were full of warm fuzzies for our new-found friend, Tom. Although, to be fair, if someone were to call from The Craigslist, I would have made them quite the deal right then and there.
Over our camping trip, the girls shared this exciting news with my parents.
Me: David! Did I tell you? The turkey was nice today!
David: Yeah. I think his legs are broken.
Me and the girls: *gasp!* Oh, no!
Because, remember? He was our new friend. For five minutes.
Well, folks. Tom was fat. He was a certain type of turkey that was bred for his large-ness. Turns out they are so heavy, they can no longer reproduce naturally and the only way to get babies is to take them to a vet for a little “artificial insemination.”
And who has time for that nonsense?
But, anyways. Tom’s girth ended up being his demise and his legs could no longer handle it.
Ok, even though I loathed Tom, isn’t that kind of sad? Poor Tom. So, my husband left the camp site and, allow me to put this delicately, “took care of Tom.”
I’m still getting used to the idea that I’m married to someone who “takes care of things.” Oh, to live in the city.
Tom is in our freezer, now adding turkey to the list of foods I cannot stomach to eat any longer.
Folks, country life is killing me. I can’t hardly eat meat anymore. I was a fan of chicken, but now I have chickens. And they are so . . . winged.
I was ok with eggs. But, oh the poo-poo on the eggs.
David was making a joke about getting a cow.
Me: A beef cow or a dairy cow?
David: Beef.
Me: Oh, good. I’m not ready to give up milk yet. It’s my only source of protein these days.
Oh! And my main man is taking all the rabbit poop and dumping it in the garden site because, apparently, rabbit poop makes your vegetables sing.
So, now I can’t eat stuff out of my garden.
I’m just going to live off of Cheetos or something.
***
Camping.
Camping was fun and lovely. We totally don’t “rough it,” so please don’t feel too badly for me. We went to a site where we could just plug our trailers in. Plus, while David went home to “take care of Tom” (shudder), the rest of us went to a nearby town to do a little shopping!
Camping shopping! Try it! It’s all the rage!
We even popped some corn and watched a DVD in my parents’ trailer. So, yeah. Not so rough.
Here are some pictures of our trip. You know. To delight you.
Sweet Pea and my mother.
David, Daisy Mae, and Little Dude.
Me: David. Could you please try and attempt to look like you somewhat enjoy your life?
Is anyone else surprised that I actually got him to look somewhat pleasant?
Daisy Mae and I
My parents.
One of our many attempts to get a decent family photo.
As you can see, it was a gorgeous weekend.
***
And, finally, I would like to leave you with the following convo between my mother and I. My purpose in sharing this with you is to show you my roots and to give you a better understanding as to why I sometimes have a hard time with the country life and all the glory it entails.
Me: I want to get rid of our rooster.
Mom: Why?
Me: I’m a bit weirded out by the whole fertilized eggs thing.
Mom: That makes no sense to me.
Me: Well, since there is a rooster, the eggs are fertilized.
Mom: Don’t get it.
So, now I get to try and explain the birds and bees to mother. Which is an odd turn of events, don’t you think? Plus, I have four children running around, so I need to put things “delicately.”
Me: Well, mom . . . the rooster . . . he’s the boy . . . ?
Mom: Ok?
Me: So, if we let a hen sit on that egg for awhile it will turn into a baby.
Mom: And wouldn’t that always happen?
Me: No. You need the rooster . . .
Mom: Are you telling me that hens lay eggs no matter what?!
Me: Yes! They will lay an egg with or without a rooster.
Mom: I did not know that!
Me: So, if you don’t have a rooster, you won’t get a baby chicken.
Mom: Huh!?
And there you have it. A little glimpse into why I am that way that I am.
Happy Monday!
What a great way to start the week! Thank you for the laughs! Just think of the nice life your food lives up to the end, way better than the lives of the animals who supply grocery store food, hopefully you will be able to get some protien and veggies! You should let the chickens scratch around in the garden before you have plants, they will till the compost in for you. I also heard that rabbit compost is also very good, the smaller the animal the better the compost, plus the just eat veggies, so just think of it as organic matter rather than poo poo.
i swear they should make a sitcom of your life…
I agree!
Yes, yes, a sitcom! What would it be called?
I think that the freezer is the perfect place for Tom. Just pretend you bought him at the grocery story and never, ever thing about his blue head.
Or that dangle thingy.
Poor poor Tom. I guess you have thanksgiving in the bag…do turkeys keep that long in the freezer?
You’re getting all Little House on the Prairie on me. Soon I’ll be reading a post about how you let the kids play with the pig’s bladder as a balloon.
HAHAHAH! (I’m laughing because it’s you, not me)
I think the freezer makes a fine new home for Tom. Think of it like this-his life had purpose and that was to be delicious : )
Did you and David have any of these discussions before you married….how long did you date?
Did you know he wanted to be the farmer in the dell? Do your children know that little ditty? Do they think it is your family?
I can’t stop laughing!
“Tom is in our freezer.”
“I’m not ready to give up milk yet. It’s my only source of protein these days.”
Love it!!!
I’m gonna need my c-section stitching up again at this rate! Keep’ em coming, Taylor.
All this Tom-foolery had me laughing right out loud.
your stories are so entertaining. Thanks for the laughs!
Nutschell
http://www.thewritingnut.com
Happy A-Zing!
The food/animal issues don’t usually bother me, but I totally understand about the fertilized egg thing, no roosters here either for that very reason. As far as the poo on the eggs goes… there are those who refuse to wash their eggs on the theory that it will remove the bloom and they won’t keep as long. Yeah, gross, we wash them faithfully, some things just don’t belong in the ‘fridge. Chickens may possibly be inherently evil creatures but I still kind of like mine.
Really enjoy your blog.
I do enjoy that your LJ “takes care of things.” You know, there are a lot of folks who do live in the city who are quite familiar with that phrase and all it entails.
yeah, camping with the plug in trailer and watchin’ movies. I’d go for that. Congrats on a great weekend opener to the season!
The Lumberjack “takes care of things”? They’ve gotten to him. He’s in the Far-afia (farmer+mafia, see what I did there?). My husband takes care of things, too. He loves to use his tractor to “dispose of the evidence”.
I would so watch a sit com of your life… or better yet, a reality show… Nothing would make your life crazier then a film crew following you around!
I am currently in need of more advice ( I am so needy, I know… sorry!) Pop over if you get a chance and let me know what you think…
Oh, dear! If you get a beef “cow”, then it will be in your freezer soon next to Tom, and you won’t be eating hamburgers on the grill either. Go for the dairy cow. You can always drink orange juice.
This means that David will behead, gut, de-feather and dismember all the fowl going into your freezer? All you have to do is cook it? There’s a book out there you should read. I don’t know the name of it, but my daughter read it and decided that meat had too hard a life on this planet and she wasn’t going to eat anything she hadn’t raised by hand, or knew had been raised by hand. I wonder what she’s going to eat when she visits next week…maybe you could send me Tom?
Stopping in from the A to Z Challenge to say hello! And that’s a terrific family you have!
I so look forward to your posts! Poor old Tom – I don’t know if I could eat him either! And I’m with you on the fertilised egg front too – ew. Can’t the rooster go too LindaK? 😉