Simple Life




	WRITE 2 THE HEART Stories that are aimed "Write 2 The Heart" August 8, 2001 Volume 1, Issue 30 Cheryl Speir, Editor, moderator@write2theheart.com -------------------------------------------------------- By subscription only! Welcome to your next issue of "WRITE 2 THE HEART" ----------------------------------------------------- Freely forward this ezine to as many people as you wish, just remember to send the entire issue. ----------------------------------------------------- Do you have a story you would like to share with our readers? To submit, send your original story as an email along with a few sentences about yourself to: moderator@write2theheart.com Remember to keep it family friendly. ------------------------------------------------------- Ever wanted to move to the country for a less complicated life? Believe me, it is not what it is cracked up to be. ------------------------------------------------------- ------------------------------------------------------- The Simple Life By: Cheryl Speir --------------------------------------------------------- --------------------------------------------------------- Wanting a less complicated life for our children, we moved to the country. The first thing we did was get a dog…a big dog. After all, there was so much nothingness that it was frightening. Never before had I felt the need for a dog. We reasoned that the extra money spent on 25 pounds of dog food each week would be well worth it for the added protection. The dog wouldn’t stay home. He had to visit the neighbors each day. That dog food lasted a long time because each family believed he needed to be given a treat each time he visited. We changed his name from Blackie to R.D., short for Road Dog. Next we acquired the horse that we had always wanted so our children could enjoy it. Only horses were very expensive that year, so we settled for a Shetland pony... a very old pony. We should have considered how old when the sellers were telling us how gentle it was. It had ridden their children and grandchildren and was riding their great-grandchildren. All we heard was gentle. On the way home from picking up our new pony, a small argument ensued over the name. My husband wanted to name him Pee-wee, my son wanted to name him Peanut. They playfully bickered about the name all day. Finally, my son said, "I know daddy, let’s name him Peanuts-wee”. He was called Peanuts-wee until he went to the great old-age horse corral in the sky. The pleasure this little creature would provide would be well worth the 50 pounds per week of horse feed. Only it didn’t work out that way. Peanuts-wee developed a liking for dog food. A battle began between he and I over this marvelous treat. I was terrified it would cause him harm and he was determined to have it at all costs. I never believed that pony’s could jump a fence until he sailed over at R.D.’s feeding time each evening. Then he would push me away. A couple of days of struggling with him, taught me to tie him up first. Pleasure indeed! He began to watch me closely, to see where I was getting this treat. The shed? No problem, he just crossed the fence when no one was looking to help himself. He would eat till his sides would look like they could burst. I bought metal garbage cans for the food. Each day I would make sure the snug lid was placed tightly on the can. That stopped him for two days. He discovered if he leaned his chest and legs into the can, he could place his chin on the other side and work the lid until it popped off. I was obviously dealing with a creature smarter than I. My dog food jumped to 50 pounds each week. The opened cans attracted opossums. They would get in at night and eat till their hearts content and be unable to climb out by morning. It was terrifying to reach into a can and have a mouth full of wicked teeth hiss at you. You can’t live in the country without raising chickens. Did you know that there are catalogs from which you can order baby chicks? They list so many breeds and sizes that it is easy to be carried away. There is a 25-chick minimum. I exceeded it. Lets just say I was carried away with visions of fresh eggs. I placed my order in the mail and received my confirmation that my chicks would arrive on a certain date in four weeks. That was great, I had plenty of time to prepare for them. Two weeks later, the honking of the mail carrier’s horn awakens me. Seems he has a large box with 100 plus chicks that has my name on it. I had ignored the fine print on my confirmation that said if hatching rates were higher than usual, I would get my chicks earlier. The only thing to do was bring them into the living room of my small trailer. They might be small, but they were LOUD. Fortunately, they came with written instructions. I read that they will be thirsty. I should mix sugar and water together for them to drink to give them energy. I read that they will not know how to drink, so take each chick and dip its beak into the water mixture to teach them. The instructions didn’t tell me how long to dip those beaks. After the first one came up gasping for breath, I realize a quick dip will do. Reading more of the instructions, I’m told they will have to stay at 90 degrees for two weeks. This means they can’t go outside in the March chill. Great! What to do with all those fluff balls that are already hopping out of the box? Obviously the sugar and water was working. I build a larger wooden sided box on legs with hardware cloth for the bottom. I place lots of newspaper under it and a lamp over it. Problem solved. I thought. They peeped all day long. Did I tell you they were loud? I never did figure out how they knew when it was dark outside while under lamp light for 24 hours. Every night they went to sleep and woke up chirping each morning. Then there was the smell. I was begging newspaper from everyone so I could change the paper and throw it out several times a day. Those droppings under heat, were more than anyone could stand. After two weeks, they developed wings. They began to fly out of their pen. Droppings were harder to confine. Instructions or not, they were going outside. I built a bigger pen and placed it in the shed. You know the one where the dog and horse food was kept. My husband introduced me to rubber straps with hooks on each end. What a life changing moment for me! I could hook one end on a garbage can handle feed it through the handle on the lid and hook the other end on the other side of the can. It was opossum proof. It was Peanuts-wee proof. By now my worry was no longer one of the food hurting him, but him hurting himself by over indulging. If he couldn’t have dog food, he would have chick feed. He discovered if he pushed and banged on the cage, food would drop out for him. The chicks became frantic every time he came near their cage. They never lost their fear of him. Finally, the chicks were grown. Because of Peanuts-wee, it took three times the normal amount of feed to get them there. I could finally turn them out into the chicken yard. This caused R.D. to start staying home more. He even brought friends home to help him chase chickens. Peanuts-wee thought that looked like fun and joined in. Did you know that flustered hens will not lay properly? All those chickens, so few eggs. That first dozen eggs must have cost me fifty dollars. Ah, the simplicity of country life. Why didn’t someone inform me that country life was so expensive and complicated? Cheryl Speir moderator@write2theheart.com -------------------------------------------------------- Cheryl is editor of Write 2 the Heart. She enjoys reading, writing and crafts. She is currently working on a cookbook. -------------------------------------------------------- -------------------------------------------------------- FROM OUR READERS --------------------------------------------------------- Dear Allison, What a nice story! Thank you! I was able to become friends with some young girls with Down Syndrome about 20 years ago. They were so loving. One of the members of the Lioness Club had a foster-home type setting for them. We in Lioness Club decided to adopt the girls as a special project. We set up special times before holidays to help the girls with projects. For Easter we held an Easter Egg hunt, providing baskets for each girl. They had a great time and so did we. That was a very special project. Before Christmas we helped them make tree ornaments. We always brought treats, and the home provided drinks. The little girl in your story was blessed to have such a caring brother. I think the kids are learning to be more kind to these children now that they are being integrated into the school system at a young age. Keep writing your wonderful stories. Pat Lowe ***** Cheryl, Do you need me to send you a clean notebook and a box of new crayons? I love the smell of new school supplies like men love the smell of new cars? HA! There's nothing like having a new notebook with clean, blank pages. It just conjures up visions of all the things you can write and draw. Oh, the possibilities. Tammy --------------------------------------------------------- Cheryl's Corner --------------------------------------------------------- Poor old Hoover! Our old dog is miserable living in town. Every time the meter readers come into our back yard, he makes a bolt for the gate. He wants to go back to the country or at least find some children to play with. I am getting my exercise trying to keep him home. That's no fun in this heat. Froggy is hiding from from the heat. Taco, the parrot loves it. When he's happy, he yells "Momma, what cha do'n". Bet the neighbors love that. Till next week Cheryl --------------------------------------------------------- --------------------------------------------------------- Copyright 2001 Write 2 The Heart Nothing may be reproduced or published without the written permission of the individual authors or copyright owners. ------------------------------------------------------------ All subscriptions sent to your email free of charge.