Karbon Kounty Moos

On second thought, get a rope. Then again, maybe I should reach out to some old friends from Queens. This qualifies as “a deserving to be hung out a window by the ankles offense”:

I had just brought my husband home from Red Lodge, where he had some blood drawn for labs. The Sugar Beet Baron wasn’t feeling right and had just laid down. I decided to check his blood sugar, to be sure that nothing else was going on. It was okay. The phone rang while I was reading the glucometer. For some reason, I picked it up.

Caller: Can I talk to the Baron?

Me: May I ask who’s calling?

Caller: John Doe.
(Who I do not know personally, but I know is an auctioneer.)

Me: May I ask what this is in reference to? My husband has been sick, and he is resting right now.

John Doe: I didn’t know that he was sick. I’m calling because I heard that your father-in-law and the Baron are selling the farm and all the equipment.

Me: This is the first that I’ve heard of it.

John Doe: Well, I’m with Dough Auctioneering and our business. . .

Me (interrupting): I just told you that as the Baron’s wife, I haven’t heard anything about selling. So, if you heard that my father-in-law is selling, maybe you should be calling him.
(This is when I hung up.)

*************************

A few hours later, I was in the yard, filling bird feeders. A Suburban pulled into the yard. An area realtor got out.

Me: The Baron isn’t up to company.
(Let’s not bring up the fact that you’ve never been company before.)

Realtor: Is he really, really bad?

Me: No, he’s really, really resting.

Then we lapsed further into the realm of the ridiculous. He asked questions as I answered them, wondering why we were having a conversation in the first place.

He went back to his Chevy and said, ” Oh, before I forget, I have something for you.” He handed me three sheets of paper that he’d printed off the internet - another cancer cure. I went inside before I threw it away.

********************

The next morning I decided to call John Doe.

Me: May I ask who I’m speaking with?

John Doe: This is John Doe.

Me: Good. This is Moos and I wanted to speak with you in regards to the telephone conversation that we had yesterday. I think that the conversation should have ended once I told you that my husband had been sick.

John Doe: I think that there was a misunderstanding. You don’t understand my business.

Me: No, I don’t think that I misunderstood. I think that if you couldn’t have ended the conversation I understood completely. You continued on, telling how “you heard that we were selling the farm and all the equipment”. I told you that I didn’t know anything about that, and you just kept right on going.

John Doe: You don’t understand my business.

Me: And then you have to tell me about “your business”. I do not live under a rock. I know who you are and what “your business” is.

John Doe: You don’t understand my business.

Me: I wasn’t aware that you drummed up business like a vulture.
(Hung up.)

**************

And now the moment you’ve all been waiting for. The letter from John Doe. Only the names have been changed to protect the guilty.

Dear Mrs. Moos:

The purpose of this is to convey to you my sincere apologies for any offense you may have experienced with respect to my call on Monday.

I noticed a sort of general feeling of unfriendliness, and I knew that I must have done something wrong when I called. I will not even begin to give an explanation to what led up to my call, but I’d like to take this time to say I’m terribly sorry to you and the Baron. I would prefer speaking in person, but I sense that would not be of interest to you.

Let me assure you that what happened in your case is not typical of John Doe’s level of customer service. We continue to be committed to providing you and all of our customers with the highest standards of service in the industry.

If you have any questions please don’t hesitate to call me at ———–.

Sincerely,
John Doe

The Sugar Beet Baron and I were happy to be home. After breakfast, we went into the living room to read the newspaper. Someone sped through the driveway to the field. I went out the door and saw that a pickup had stopped. Someone was getting out to open the gate. I called out, and a guy got in the pickup, then backed up to the house. It was windy and cold. I was standing there in my pajamas. The driver was a knucklehead who has been coming out to hunt for the last few years.

He said: “Oh, I didn’t know that you were home. If I had known you were home I would have stopped. I was just talking to your father-in-law, he said it was okay for me to chase up those geese.”

I said nothing.

He said: “If there’s ever anything that I can do for you, just let me know. I didn’t know that anyone was home, if I did, I’d have stopped.”

I said nothing and went back inside.

The knucklehead left soon after.

The next day I related the story to my father-in-law. He said that he had not spoken to the goose hunter. He also said that he had been trying to catch him the last few times that he’d been on the place. Not only had he left gates open, he had been moving cows around.

So I called the hunter and said: “Remember the other day when you said, ‘if there’s anything that I can do for you?’ Well, you can stay off the place.”

The Baron and I were in his hospital room. He was tired, finally able to relax. I was in the recliner, also trying to rest my eyes. Earlier, he had hung up on yet another upsetting phone caller. There had been too many visitors who stayed too long that day. Our Care Coordinator came in and told us that there were some ladies from his church outside to see him. Allan told her that he just wanted to get some sleep. I offered to tell them, but the Care Coordinator said she’d tell them.

Moments later, our Care Coordinator came in, with a stricken look on her face. One of the “ladies from the church” had asked her, “Is he softly slipping?”.

Our Care Coordinator had to hold me back.

Any thoughts?

I didn’t think that this would be necessary - but it is. . .

1. Imagine yourself in the ailing person’s place.

I haven’t observed many doing this, and it is very important.

2. Do not visit if you are hacking, coughing or sniffling.

They’re already sick. Enough said.

3. If there’s a sign on a door that says to check at the nurse’s station before entering a room - do it.

It is there for a reason.

4. Do not question the person, nurses, doctors or care givers about the person’s health.

Are you a doctor - or are you writing a book?

5. Do not ask the person, nurses, doctors or care givers, “When are they going home?”.

Most of the time, we wish we knew. You don’t need to remind us.

6. Do not go into someone’s hospital room while they are asleep and park yourself at the foot of their bed until they wake.

This happened a few times. One time the Baron thought that he woke up in hell, since he was surrounded by people that he did not want to see.

7. Do not visit someone that you would not visit normally. It’s disconcerting to have a parade of visitors who you never socialized with suddenly showing an interest in you.

This happened too many times.

8. Do not start discussing work or business.

Try once again to understand the concept of rest, recuperation and no stress.

9. If you are told that the person is sleeping, resting, bathing, “not up to company”or needs their rest - respect that.

I don’t understand why this is so hard.

10. If a person tells you that they are tired, or ready to go to sleep - leave or hang up the phone.

This seems simple to me, too.

11. If a person is obviously tired, even if they’re not saying it - leave.

Pretty simple. I remember when my Dad was in the VA. If he looked tired, someone would say, “Come on, let’s go down to the coffee shop and let John get some rest.” That was close to thirty years ago. Not one person did this for my husband the last month. Just because you enjoyed company when you had your hernia operation, stroke, heart attack - fill-in the blank - does not mean that the ailing person is anxious for company. So you can stop telling us about that, thank you.

General Stupid Questions Not to Ask:

A. “When are you getting out of here?”

See #5 above.

B. “What’s the prognosis?”

See #4 above.

C. “Where’s the cancer?” also heard as “What kind of cancer do you have?”

I feel that it takes a lot of courage for a person to share that they have a serious illness, including cancer. I don’t think that everyone has to know every detail of the illness. The fact that someone is brave enough to tell you this should be sufficient. We’re not keeping secrets here. But this is a very private matter. See #1 above. My husband chooses to tell who he wants what he wants. I’m respecting that.

D. “What exactly is going on?”

This is when someone wants to know everything. I’m sorry, but it would take several hours to go into. I simply do not have the time or the energy. And again, why do you need to know? Accept the fact that my husband is ill and that he has faith in his God , his doctors, his nurses and his wife.

I liked this idea suggested by A Fire Fly:

But nobody is getting my eggplant. I think that sugarbeets would be much more effective. Apparently, the game warden caught someone poaching on the place Saturday. At least that’s what three other hunters reported. We haven’t heard from FWP. I would imagine that the poachers were trespassing when they got their elk. But what do I know? I just live here.

Now for the serious business. I have been craving waffles and can’t find my waffle iron. For ten years I have put it in the buffet after using it. For the last few weeks I keep checking the buffet and it still isn’t there. It is not in the kitchen. It is not in the dining room. I’ve surveyed the basement. My fingers are crossed that it isn’t down there. That will take weeks to investigate. No one has ever made me waffles with it. No one has ever cleaned it but me. So I don’t think that anyone else put it away. Or stole it. I bought it for a couple of bucks - still in the box - at a yard sale in Fromberg. I suppose I need to go get a new one.

We are not yet chopping corn. You know that if we had been - there surely would have been photos. I do not want to take photos of tired and cranky old farmers banging on iron. I do not want to be in the vicinity of them.
Sorry. . .

I’ve been eating bonbons and watching soap operas. Swatting flies. Canning relish. Feeding the birds. Mowing the meadow - I mean lawn. Wrangling dogs, cat and cattle. Keeping everyone fed, full and fat. Washing filthy farmer clothes. Doing not quite as cruddy other laundry. Entertaining hunters. Yesterday morning a plane circled right over the corn next to the house for about ten minutes. It didn’t bother the elk as much as it upset me and the dogs. I should have thrown rocks. Or come out with a crossbow. . .
If I end up in Deer Lodge or Warm Springs - send bonbons - and cigarettes, please.

I need to get back to the garden. The eggplant needs to be picked, washed, peeled, sliced, salted, dried, egged, breaded, fried, drained, cooled, placed in freezer bags and froze. I only have four plants - with prolific fruit (vegetables?). I’m the only one who eats it. Lucky me. I didn’t know if the freezing would work. I tried it a couple of years ago - and was amazed at the result. Eggplant Parmagiana was never so quick and easy before.

I also need to straighten up the place.
I’ll go get the D4 and a scoop shovel.

On Labor Day, my husband, his father and brother went out to build some fence. I was planning on getting a few things done here. I brought dinner out to the hills - eight miles away. I ate with them, but left soon after. Once home, I had half a hundred things that I needed to do. I thought that it would be nice to have the place to myself. Not counting all the pets that I’m entertaining.

Well, it seemed that everyone who could afford gas decided to drop by. Half of the hunters in the county came in the driveway, which excited the dogs. Then I’d have to stop whatever the heck it was I was doing. Go out, wrangle the dogs and answer questions regarding elk, deer and birds.

Next, a pickup with Wyoming plates pulled in. The driver was looking for my husband. He never introduced himself, but said that he was interested in the cat. I told him that our cat was not for sale - but my father-in-law’s might be. Then I gave him directions to Hollenbeck Draw. While this was going on, our bulk dealer pulled in with his fuel truck. The guys looking for the cat left. I visited with Dave for a while, got the bill (you don’t want to know), and directed him to the sweet corn patch.

Okay, what was I doing? Another hunter drove in. Another hunter called on the phone. Another pickup pulled in the yard. I was close to screaming. Then I noticed that it was friends from Billings. Who didn’t come empty handed. They brought peaches, pears, tomatoes, peppers and cucumbers. We went into the kitchen and I put coffee on. Side tracked again, but at least it was enjoyable. No one else showed up while my company was there, but as soon as they left it started all over again. I was able to post some photos to flickr - since I don’t have to sit at the computer waiting while the dialup does its slow trick.

The duo from Wyoming drove in again. Not only did he not find the guys, he asked someone else for directions and went on a wild goose chase. I was more than disgusted by then. After giving him the same exact clear directions that I had given him the first time, I said, “You never told me who you were.” When he told me that they had been on the place looking at the cat, I had to hold my temper. I will never understand people that think it’s okay to drive around on someone’s place. Would he have let me drive around his place? I asked him if he had heard about the cat from John at Powell Equipment. He said, “No, I was talking to the guy who sold it to you.” I told him that the D4 is not for sale. He didn’t seem to care, and took off again. Eight miles down the road he found the Baron and told him that he was interested in the cat. The Baron laughed. I give up. . . With a table full of fruits and vegetables I needed to get busy. I put the cukes in a brine.

This morning I made pickles.

Then I brought dinner out to the fencing crew of two. After eating, Lucky and I walked around. I took some photos. I heard that familiar buzz and called Lucky to me. She had startled the snake. She came right to me. I was glad that I didn’t have the pup with me. I didn’t have a stick, a shovel or a rock handy. But I did have the Optio. This was a small rattler, under a flat rock. It was an extremely angry thing. We left it alone.

As we walked back down, I noticed a white pickup parked just off the road. Not far from where I encountered the rattlesnake two weeks ago. I didn’t see anyone - that’s odd. There was a trio fishing by the bridge, but they had their vehicle near them. My pickup was further down the road. We continued down when I spotted the oblivious couple. Hmmmm. . . interesting place for some afternoon delight.

On Friday morning, I headed to the back place to check cattle. Sugar rode along. A gutty pup - with no qualms about jumping in the water or going after cows. I’m the one having anxiety attacks. The cattle were in the irrigated part of the place, below the canal. They were fine. I opened the gate at the plank bridge and calculated the best route to avoid the holes in the boards. Once across, I closed the gate behind us. I’d never seen this much grass here before. I wandered through the brush until I finally picked up the road again. We got in and out a couple of times to take pictures. Sugar has learned to get down to the floor to exit the pickup. She kept getting into this nasty needle grass. It looks like hair or wire and has a sharp point on the end. The dogs picked some of it up a few years ago. We weren’t familiar with it before that. It seems the weather conditions for this grass were perfect this year. It is all over the place.

I carefully climbed the furrowed brow concentration part of the drive - in granny in 4WD. It’s not high, but the road is washed out. You have to avoid the ruts that have become a couple of feet deep. Finally past the toughest stretch, I relaxed a bit. Sugar jumped towards the window behind my back. I took one hand off the wheel to put her where she belonged. Uh oh - bad move - now we’re high centered on a steep hill. Can’t roll back, can’t go forward. I got out and discoved that there wasn’t a shovel on the bed. I had post pounder, bars, fence stretcher, posts, wire, clips, staple and tools - but no shovel. I began trying to free the rear end with the bar. This was not going to work.

Do I have a cell phone? Of course. My husband insisted when I drove back east that we get them. They’re both sitting on one of the bookcases in the dining room. It wouldn’t have helped if I had mine. I could have left a message at the house for The Sugar Beet Baron to find when he came in for the noon meal. I had, once again - committed the first deadly sin - not leaving a note as to where I was going. I was only going to be gone a little bit. I did however have the digital camera with me to document the fun. The first thing that went through my head when I knew I’d be walking had been, “I’m glad it’s not Lucky”. Lucky is heavy, old and stiff. A lot like me. We’re both accustomed to walking, and Lucky has a lot of heart. I’m concerned about her overdoing it. But Lucky was home. More than likely on the sofa or in my (our) recliner, dreaming about rabbits.

“Okay, Sugar - we have a walk to take.” She was thrilled until we hit the first patches of that nasty grass. Ouch! I tried walking on cow trails instead of the road. It didn’t matter. When the grass bit - she’d panic and roll around. Picking up more of the stuff. I’d scoop her up, pull out the needles and calm her down. The cow trails weren’t helping, so we went back to the road. The grass and brush were so thick I decided against any shortcuts. Sugar was carried through the stretches of the nasty grass, cactus and yucca. She’d squirm and cry, “I want to walk!”. For two months old she did great. A few times she needed to take a break, so I took some photos. Or maybe it was the other way around. She tripped over a rock once. She picked herself up and looked at the rock as if to say, “Hey! What did you do that for?”. I checked her pads every time I pulled grass from her coat. She was doing fine.

We made it to the county road. I picked her up again, since I knew where she was headed. Into the ditch. I let her drink and carried her the rest of the way. We made it home just before noon.

I thought that she’d sleep all afternoon. I wasn’t lucky there either.

Click on the photos for them to open in a larger window.

This is a classic.

I haven’t heard any updates, so maybe the disguise worked.