Bad Farmer (an update)

Farmer Mark suffered a serious set-back over the weekend.

Coyote-4      Chickens-"Zip"

Looks like someone forgot to shut the coop.  A basic farming oversight.

I've considered buying this for him, but I'm not sure a good laugh is worth the risk of encouraging him to "get back on the horse" so to speak.

Farmer in the DELLusion

Mark goes through these strange tantrums from time-to-time.  Among the many recurring ambitions to seize hold of this otherwise sane man are these alarming ideas:

• Threading his way up the Amazon on a jet ski
• Sailing his way around the globe-with his family as deckhands
• Owning a huge ranch in the middle of Montana-no-where
• Competing in an Ironman triathlon

But the one that has recently reared it's ugly head once again is his delusions of being a FARMER.  Suddenly, he got up one day with a renewed and invigorated hankering to be a farmer.  Go figure.  His "farming fantasy" would be amusing if we were city people living in concrete neighborhoods and could really do nothing about it.  The real pickle is that we actually live on land, land big enough to farm and raise beasts upon.  So when Mark gets these homestead hankerings, whooa!  We're all in trouble.

It started with him bringing home the baby chicks that I recently posted about.  Little did I know that was just the tip of the silo.  Since the chicks showed up his plans have escalated prodigiously-like rabbits, but think bigger in terms of animal size.  Quite suddenly, he has schemed up elaborate garden plots and even brought up the subject of cows.

Cows!

At this point I must confess to you that I am openly against pets, livestock, or anything animal whatsoever.  This shouldn't come as a surprise.  It's not that I don't like animals mind you. I had a dog growing up after all...oh and a couple of cats.  I even liked them a lot.  What I'm against is being responsible for an animal, because quite frankly I'm the mother of four children, which, let's face it, the duties of parenting verses raising livestock seem indistinguishable at times.  Both children & livestock need feeding, watering, shots, and corralling.  In other words, I'm already a farmer so to speak, I'm trying to domesticate children and therefore have no energy left to domesticate animals too.

My other animal theory (a confession that is both frank and somewhat gory) is that you never want to have a pet bigger than a hole you can dig.  Because if something should go wrong you're gonna have to bury the evidence that clearly proves you were really not cut out for animal ownership--the carcus.  I'm not kidding.  Which, quite honestly, puts me OUT of the cow market thankyouverymuch.  This is also why I've only momentarily considered bludgeoning my husband in an attempt to put a stop to his crazy ideas.  He's safe as long as there's a  back breaking 6' x 3' x 6' deep hole to be dug. (Yes, I measured once when he was being particularly insane I thought a moment too long about putting him out of my misery.)

So as of last count, I've got one cat, three kids, four chickens, and one delusional husband who dreams of being a farmer. I'm hoping it will stop here but I caught him researching electric fencing last night when he said he was "Facebooking".  And right now, as I type this post, he's outside tuning up the rototiller. 

For the record, I'm  drawing the line at overalls and a corn cob pipe.

Political Coup Part Deux

Yet another Political Coup has taken place here at the Skillman house.

In case you missed the first unethical saga, "Political Coup and a Dang Lucky Cat", it can be read by clicking here.   At the time of that particular post, I mistakenly thought the whole episode was just a small hiccup in the power struggle of Skillman hierarchy.  It was not.  Pet plots have once again reared their ugly head.

The latest pernicious plot finds me embattled in a rather surly case of election fraud.  Plain and simple.  And since this case also involves the unlawful adoption of more animals, it is a most devious and dastardly plot indeed.

Because of the "Cat Coup" voting regulations here at the house have undergone massive reforms.  Now that Cheyenne is off at college and she is no longer a registered voter at the Skillman house, this means only three votes are possible from the children small citizens who temporarily live here.  AND since the "Cat Coup" largely took place because Mark wrongfully used his two votes to give more "power to the people" and caused me to become the reluctant owner of a cat, I, as the queen consort, viciously superseded Mark's regent status and stripped him of all voting power.  This falsely lulled me into feeling safe once again in my realm, deceptively feeling that the masses could no longer overthrow my pet-free decrees. 

That was until yesterday.

I was upstairs and heard the slightest of commotion signaling the fact that people were coming home.  Strangely, all was quiet downstairs, not a peep.  I wondered why no one had ventured upstairs to say hello.  After a few minutes of dampened frolic from the downstairs, I ventured down to see who was home.

I was met with Mark, Mitchell, Connor, and Chloe, along with two familiar loiterers at the Skillman home: a cousin Tanner and Mitchell's friend Nick.  All of them were frozen in their poses and wide eyed as if they were in a still-life painting entitled "Dogs Playing Poker"  "Dogs Scamming Mother".

Somethings up.

As I hazarded farther into the room they continued their fixed poses.  No one breathed.  Rounding the kitchen table it was then I heard the distinct chirp of baby chicks.  Two steps further and a box came into view.  Another few steps and a hint of cedar shavings wafted in the air.

"Chickens?"

Then the masses caved.  They all pointed quickly at Mark.  To which I hastily pointed out that he's had his voting power revoked so there's no way THREE children can outvote my decision to be a pet-free zone--minus the dang cat.  (Remember, I've now got my 2 votes and Mark's confiscated 2 as well!)

"I didn't vote." Mark said coolly.  Then he shrewdly pointed at ALL the kids and said, "They did!"  He then informs me that Tanner is a cousin which makes him technically part of the family and gives him the right to one vote.  Then he points at Nick and says that because Nick spends so much time at the house that he should have a say in his surroundings and therefore be considered a member of the district and granted voting privileges too.  He officially declares the vote to be 6-4.

I looked at the box of chirping chicks and then at the boys.  I reminded them of all the snacks and sodas I had purchased for them for their gaming weekends.  The countless ordered pizzas and movie rentals.  The days before they had driver's licenses when I acted as the personal chauffeur and cabby.  I even reminded them of the gargantuan and custom made sandwiches that I so willingly construct to appease their monster appetites.  Then I asked them how on earth they could vote down my decree and bring more pets into the house.

Their answer?

The three teen-aged boys, each towering over six feet tall, looked at me and replied, "They're cute."

At this point I had a hankering to scream "Off with their heads!" (the boys', not the chickens'--okay maybe the chickens too.) but instead, I decide to show a sudden (if not misleading) fondness for the stupid cat.  I went to the door and called for my 'precious' Edward Scissorhands.  On cue, he wandered into the house, but to my extreme distress, he largely ignored the box of yummy chicks.  I picked him up and showed him the chicks hoping for an attack of some sort but Edward could care less.

Great.  What good is a cat that doesn't want to eat baby chicks?  Now I am the proud owner of a stupid cat and a clutch of baby chickens.  Chickens that will still need to be cared for long after the excitement wanes.

Couldn't the people at least bring their leader some chocolate to sooth the aches and pains of another coup?  To Tanner's credit, he admits that he did suggest this, though it fell on deaf and marauding ears. 

I am now revoking all voting rights and privileges of the all the people in my realm and adopting a communist rule.  This voting business is...well...highly overrated. 

Seriously. I'm now thinking summer BBQ.