Knee Surgery

The long awaited knee surgery is over!  I had to jump through so many darned hoops to get my insurance to approve it and for it to be fast tracked before Jan 1st when my deductible jumps back up to $7800.  But, it's done.  
My coworker, Flynn, was my chauffeur on Friday.  Long day too: 7-5.  Tip of the hat to him!
Accolades go out to the staff at the Jack Hughston Orthopedic Hospital in Phenix City too.  What a state of the art facility.  I've had previous OK experiences with other surgeries at another hospital.  But, Hughston is top notch.  I wasn't forgotten in the waiting room for 3 hours, I wasn't shoved off without any post op instructions, I didn't have to share a room, I wasn't left to freeze without any blankets... East Alabama Medical Center Hospital, you know I'm referring to you! And I'm confident they didn't gift me with a staph infection either.  
The only thing I brought home with me was a bad case of nausea.  The nurse said to do deep breathing exercises to circulate the blood and get rid of the anesthetics. Wasn't working.  Not wanting to ralf on my clean bed and carpets, I went for a walkabout outside.  The dogs, my crutches and a back pack full of ox feed went out the door.  It felt so good to be out with the dogs that we skipped over to the Farmhouse to let the pipes drip overnight.  A usual 20 minute walk took me over an hour, we got in after dark and with an appetite.  Mission accomplished.
My three fuzzy nurses have been sticking like glue to me.  

Low dropped to 23'F last night.  A proper three dog night.
I'm glad I cut all the remaining flowers out of the garden Thursday night.

Feels like a real hospital room in here, flowers are everywhere.
Betcha they don't have this at the Hughston Hospital though:

Organic Bolivian coffee that I roasted this week.  My first cup of joe in 48 hours.  Ambrosia!
I'm having homemade French Onion soup for lunch with a venison burger, not on the menu at the hospital either.  
I'd been waiting for the long acting analgesic in my knee to wear off and it's a coming.  Contemplating taking my first narcotic, but trying to avoid it.  I'm playing with the farm's accounting program today and I don't want the accountant to ask:  "What?  Is she on drugs, or something?".  As a matter of fact...

Cancer Resurrected

Wednesday, I had the bright idea to overbook myself with veterinary appointments. It looked great on paper. The cattle at the Auburn University Large Animal Hospital for trims at 9:45. Cole in for cancer staging, next door at the Small Animal Clinic, at 10. And Pete for an osteopathic evaluation at 10:30. 
Problems arose with cattle loading at 7.
Daphne couldn't be caught. One look at the trailer and she was off galloping. Tommy... dear Tommy, he put up a mighty struggle. 

He's the only one who made the trip to the vet school. Daphne wins this battle, but not the war.
Cole was kept all day for testing.
Pete ended up staying all day for his tests too. He was not impressed.

Garrett and I tried to provide moral support.

We were unappreciated. 
Tommy was trailered back to the farm at noon. Garrett and I turned around and ran back to the vet school to be greeted with bad news. 

His cancer has metastasized to his spleen. He's not feeling any pain, no discomfort. The prognosis is 2-3 months, maybe a couple of months more with a new therapy protocol. Bottom line is that it looks like we have less than 100 days to spend together. 

Considering how I shouldhave lost him 100 times over in the past decade due to all his misadventures, I'm staying grateful that we've had such a long run.

And what an unbelievable great run it has been. No reason we can't make the last bit count. Love you, Cole.

Play With Your Food

Shorter days mean less time to garden, but more time to play in the kitchen. I'd been dying to try my newest gadget.  

Total disappointment.  
Creme brulee being industrialized:

And a few pipes soldered too!

Milk, eggs and sugar, with ginger root infusion.  My idea of divine. Not universally shared--in the 19th century, Ambrose Bierce wrote that it is "A detestable substance produced by a malevolent conspiracy of the hen, the cow and the cook".  
With Dad here as my taste testing panel, we've had fun over the past couple of weeks.  I dug deep in my 30 year old box of recipe clippings.  The less conventional, the better.

Roasted cauliflower with kalamata olives and lime juice.  Bizarre, yet, so much better than plain with butter.

Stuffed shells with lentils... weird, let's try it!

Other oddities from my files:

Turkey-Quinoa Chimichurri.  Strange but so good.  The topping is capers and artichoke.  
Mushroom and goat cheese tartlets:

Puff pastry is fun to eat!

It was more than play though.  Part of my goal was to stock up the freezer with healthy food to tide me through after my knee surgery.

No baby portions in this household!

Fearing that my father had grown too accustomed to a full night's sleep, I started a chili, white bean and sausage soup and beef bourgignon at 4 AM... on a workday.  FYI there is no way to chop onions quietly.
He soon forgave me.

But one must continuously push the envelope.  "Hey Dad, come help me finish digging up a few sweet potatoes..."

Almost past our bedtime and we're hauling our load into the house to dry and cure on canvas.

6 different heirloom varieties, even a purple skin purple fleshed one from Indonesia.  We be rich, Cole!
Speaking of rich... I practiced a Kahlua chocolate cheesecake recipe two days ago.

Life is sweet here on the farm!

Little Girls

You never outgrow being your father's little girl -- even if you're pushing 50. 
After a long day, my poppa was dragged out into the woods to watch his little primadonna ride her ponies.  

Look, Daddy, look, no saddle.

This is how Axel gets pulled around!
 Daddy, no bridle. 

 I ride Angus with two ropes off his halter... no real stopping power, it's merely there as a suggestion.  Which is what I suggested, after a mile of pleasant riding, and he declined.  Galloping with a little buck as a finale.  Needless to say I was not using a horse whisperer's voice when I said "Whoa @$%!".  He was fine after that.  We turned around to go collect Axel, looking dumbfounded at the sudden burst of speed.  Angus, very succinctly, pointed out that His Lordship lets me ride out His benevolence, and that He controls the seat ejection button, so I'd better be nice, or else.
See? Girls are also good at giving even the most patient father cause to reconsider why he ever procreated in the first place... and a full head of grey hair.

I started training my dad early:

At the age of 5, I decided to do my first solo lake crossing without permission.

Never gave up trying to follow in my dad's ski prints!

Growing up is so overrated!  

How Tomatoes Are Evil And Cole Can Be A Dunce

I am no fan of tomatoes.  Never have been.  This year, they've done nothing to elevate my esteem.  From a dismal production this Summer to a bumper crop of green tomatoes in November.  That's what I call a sick sense of humor.

Thus forcing me to devote a couple of days to make green tomato chutney.

Cumulative total of 8 hours in the kitchen and closet full of chutney bottles, a girl's fancy soon turns to homicide.

With a bucket still leftover, why not take one's frustrations out with a little target practice?

...in order to be zen enough to fight with the tomato plants to evict them from their cages.

All hands on deck for this one.
Cole, always helpful...

..carried his leaf all the way to the compost pile.  My hero.
Garrett doesn't receive accolades for being highly perceptive.  

"Look Ma, you missed some."
Tomato debacle over, we get to focus on Captain Cole, again.
The day before Thanksgiving, the leg that has been operated on 3 times, the source of the cancer, the one without a lymphatic system, yeah that one -- it begins swelling.

Getting progressively worse on Thanksgiving Day, of course.  His type of cancer is associated with histamine reactions, so any allergic type of reaction or swelling needs to be silenced ASAP before the mast cells start reproducing like crazy.  Nothing from my pharmaceutical stash can quell it.  By Friday, I say %@#! it and run him to the vet school as an emergency.  
Not my first choice for a Friday night venue.  But, the hours passed thanks to my friend, Helene, and her lofty package of newspaper clippings. 

My favorite editorials are by this guy:

Serious topics with a flair of humor.  Who can't chuckle at pixie dust and unicorn flatulence?  
Tip of the hat to Helene for getting me through another rough patch.  Tip of the hat to the overworked AU emergency clinic.  Cole and I are still not on speaking terms.  He's having to wear to rigid cone of shame to prevent self trauma. No fun for any of us, he takes out knee caps when running by.

Or the back of one's head.  He's an equal opportunity maimer. 
The days at work this past week have been long, trying to get the winter wheat planted before the rain arrives, long lists of chores, Cole, Cole again, horses, Axel colicking.  Never ends, thankfully, otherwise I'd be bored.  But, my wish for next week is one where I can walk around like Pete...

.. without a care in the world and snug as a bug in a cardigan. 

Two Smittys in One House

What do you get when you toss two of the Smith clan into one living space?
A little pandemonium, a little hilarity.
Dad has found Cole's ticklish spot to make him sing:

Dear Father always wants to be in the thick of it.  No matter the job.
When I told him that he couldn't help me do any catering because he didn't have a hair net-- look at what Mr. Smarty Pants did.

We made nigiri sushi and norimaki rolls.

Not that foul stuff with raw fish and seaweed!  This is Rice Krispie treats with Gummie fish and fruit rollups.

He needs all those calories for all the painting he's been doing.

It's a messy job working with the oil based paint.  The paint gun unit takes a full hour to clean at night, almost the same amount of time required to scrub down Dad too.

He'd been trucking away on his own, but I pitched in to stay ahead of Picasso and his non discriminating paint gun to minimize collateral damages.

Who'd thunk it?

Don't let his innocent face fool you.

I'm not adverse to a bit of guerrilla warfare myself.  Stray chickens were harassing my hens, so I took 'em out.

And them Dad had to clean his own supper.  

Dad isn't the only guilty party of acts of mischievousness, the dogs upped the ante.
See this lonesome duck on the lake?  I heard Cole yipping and saw the bald eagles circling overhead.  Fearing Cole had caught an eaglet, I dropped my work and ran through the shrubs to the water. 

Cole and two adult bald eagles were after the same duck.

I screeched for him to swim back to shore before they grabbed his head in error. Then we watched them taking turns dive bombing their prey.

I didn't get a chance to see the end of the hunt because Dog #2 was now in peril.  I could hear commotion coming from the pool area.  Garrett had decided to try his hand at walking on water like Jesus.

By the time I arrived, he'd made it to the shallow end, but was engulfed in the plastic solar blanket and water. I jumped in and took this picture when I felt he was out of danger.  This is the second time I've filled my cowboy boots with water to save my dog.  

I am not in despair over the mutiny against me by the above mentioned because there are two in the Smith clan who are busy atoning for their brethren's sins:

My little 20 year old Appaloosa, Axel, hadn't been ridden in 5 years.  I broke him to ride myself 15 years ago.  I hopped on and was immediately transported to heaven.  He hadn't forgotten a thing.  He's still the spitfire I adore!  And on his second ride, he ponied Angus!
Who says you can't teach an old dog a new trick?

Except this one.  This dog does not learn his lessons.  He's wearing the cone of shame this week because he's been licking himself raw again.  This time in a very personal place! Why, Cole??? Why?