Her Side Funnies

I repeatedly mention that my husband is from Denver. It explains his innocence and gullibility and his resistance to accepting my core Redneck values.

Last spring we bought some chicks from the farm store. Buff Orpingtons. Golden Rolls Royce’s of the chicken world. They were cute. They were fuzzy. They quickly morphed into flapping balls of feathers coating the interior of the house with more dust than my liberal housekeeping policy allows.

A chicken house needed to be constructed, which brought the first of many misunderstandings between Ken and myself.

Ken believed that the chickens needed a far more “sturdy” home than I recognized from my childhood. My family’s chicken coop consisted of patchy chicken wire, baling string, a German Shepherd dog, and a door with a tricky latch that allowed cousins to be locked in the chicken coop for games of cowboys, Indians, robbers and jail until their mothers played squawk-n-swat, an unpopular farm game involving yelling and spanking. But, I digress. (more…)

To see a complete index of slipforming posts, click here.  For an index of comical posts, click here.

Colorado tax lien sales are a mystery to a lot of people.  For that reason, I took my freshly-turned-18-year-old out of school to attend her first tax lien sale in nearby Montrose County.  She was wide-eyed at the process and the people.  She returned to school and bragged to her high school civics teacher that she had done something “civic” during her absence.  She now knew about tax liens.  The teacher requested that I come to class and share the lesson with the other students.  I agreed, but struggled with how to put the enormous importance of tax lien sales into a lesson that a high school student would understand.

This Chinese restaurant in our local small town did not pay their taxes of $16,000.  A buyer who pays this amount for three years can apply for the deed to the property.  At present, this concept has benefits and drawbacks.

I gathered some facts and figures for the 28 students.  Dry statistics lose audiences, so I took a few pages of the tax lien along.  I created alphabetical jobs (26 occupations), plus one retiree, and one unemployed person.   I also grabbed some “Life” game cards with houses on them, and divided them into similar ratios as we have in our county, i.e., there are more mobile homes than mansions, and only a few very large properties. (more…)

For a complete index of Dani’s comical posts, click here.

I was busy trying to finish a building project that had consumed the garage bay, forcing me to leave my car outside, which, considering the condition of the fences, had the ever-present risk that I would find a goat on top of it. This is always a decidedly unhappy discovery.

Speaking of goats, I took several to the sale.  I needed Ben’s help and he ended up getting dragged halfway down the steep, rock-covered hillside leading to our house.  Poor kid.  I told him to grab the goat by a hind leg and when he did, the goat somehow wheeled around and kicked him in the crotch in some sort of goat karate move that surprised both Ben and me.  (I, for one, didn’t know the goats were studying karate.)  

The goat pictured above is a blue-collared (blue belt) in karate and is giving “the submit-or-I’ll-embarrass-you” stare.  She can flip, kick and humble an owner in less than eight seconds.  True black-collared goats can leave an owner wishing they were dead. (more…)

As a special request, I am confessing to what amounts to a crime – destruction of property – at least according to Ken.

It started with the acquisition of, as Heidi put it, “an excellent, champion buck goat with a pedigree to die for.” She begged and pleaded. She pried and twisted. She swore that the only thing between her and goat fame was this one lonely buck goat. The answer to her prayers. She ultimately tormented her dad and I to allow her to buy “Pete.” (more…)

Sixteen-year-old Ben just came home from a 4-H leadership conference in Fort Collins. He had looked forward to it since last year when he met a bunch of friends and found that there is, indeed, life beyond Hotchkiss. Even “girl” life. That was particularly exciting to him. So, when this years sign-up list was making the rounds, Ben’s name was first to hit the roster.

The event lasted three days, and for some young pups, it was the first time away from home. They frolic, drink Mountain Dew, Red Bull and other caffeine-based drinks, listen to inspiring lecturers and then drive the chaperones crazy until the wee hours. Usually, with a little therapy, the chaperones bounce back to normal within a week. Some remain abnormal the rest of their lives. (You know who you are…)

As is our tradition, all heck broke loose on our end as Ben left. Dad broke his hip; a goat got her leg broke by a dog; another goat got sick and Dad’s cows got a case of the “Happy Feet,” and were running loose apparently heading for a field trip in Montana.

The photo, at right, shows one of Dad’s cows deep in thought about navigating the most direct route to Montana.  Once the plotting is complete, the cows feet levitate and the rest is a blur of hooves, wringing tails and cow glee. 

Waiting to pick up Ben from his trip, I got a phone call from the vet saying he had a shot for the sick goat and that we could stop by to pick it up on our way home. Time did not allow me to alert Ben to the change in the usual drive home, so he launched into a full detailed account of the most exciting parts of his trip. That included one story after another involving girls. (more…)