The Diva is diving into Facebook!

I was sitting in my favorite couch at the farm, and contemplating the future. We have so many plans for the farm this year that include refilling two beehives we lost this winter, outside projects where the MWM (Man with Muscles) can use his monster Ford tractor, and his Mother is starting a Victory Garden this year. I took pictures, see?

Chienne, my Pyr pup, is content on lying on the grass, the great room carpet, playing with her toys, and trying to fit on the floor of the pick-up. She is 6 months old, 65 lbs, and she thinks she is a toy-poodle or something!

The Victory Garden is important because vegetables are important – especially for the MWM, my son Jack, and anyone else who might be afraid of items that are not meat and potatoes on their plate.  America needs to learn to grow their own food again!

P.S. — The Diva makes a mean Eggplant Lasagna (minus the pasta).

In this economy, saving money on the grocery bill is paramount. Heck, my weekly gas bill and grocery bill are just about the same. Our garden will be feeding us, as well as our extended family, and other friends. This is good.

I am looking into drying, canning, pickling and freezing our crops to make sure we have something fresh to eat in the winter. I know our friend Pat can help me out with the canning, but my mind was buzzing with other ideas – and since research and development is my job on the farm I just had to do a little cyber-digging.

The Diva loves THAT kind of digging!  And digging for the Diva means some Facebook on the Farm time…

While surfing the net for everything self-sufficient, I made a decision. I was going to really attempt to reach out to you, my readers, via Facebook. I was thinking about what a great idea it would be to have a Facebook page with links to many of your fabulous pages regarding self-sufficient living, off-grid, on-grid, livestock, or not — and anything and everything else that would help direct someone wishing to live out their days on their own farm – in peace and tranquility.

I have met so many cool people this week. The Diva is having a great time shaking hands with like-minded people. Facebook is an amazing tool for this sort of thing.

So, expect some changes around here in the future. I will be focusing on my Facebook page, and really getting to know all of you – and what you are interested in reading and viewing. I have contacted and I am working with my IT guru on revamping my WWW.MUCKBOOTDIVA.COM site in the coming months.

The Diva’s Red Velvet Kiss

The MWM (Man with Muscles) thought it might be a good idea to get me a puppy.  You know –
something warm and cuddly to keep me busy and to offer some unconditional love when needed.  I agreed, IF (Note:  A very big IF) everyone else was keen on helping out.

So, we checked out a few breeds and decided on the Great Pyrenees as we wanted to have that breed on the farm anyway when we eventually started raising sheep.

Chienne (dog in French – some people prefer the “B” word) was ready to pick up right before Christmas.  I do not understand why breeders love to use the “B” word.  I think mine used it
twenty times in reference to Chienne during the twenty minutes we were there to pick her up.

Chienne is endearing pup; very energetic, smart and trainable, didn’t bark, and wanted to be with her new owners.  Certainly not traits indicative of the “B” word.  Did I mention she is cute?  That has saved her from a heap of trouble during the last several months.

The first interesting thing about Chienne is that she loathes not loves her cage.  It was about the only thing that has enraged her thus far.  We kept one in the truck so she could come safely with us to the farm.  She used it for paw painting experiments.  I will leave it to your imaginations what she used for the paw paint. I considered using the “B” word the first time I had to clean up her first paw painting masterpiece.

After a while, I became sick of dog baths and cleaning up every time we went to the farm, so she got her own way and now rides in the back seat with my son Jack.

Right around Valentine’s Day I purchased a red velvet cake roll for the guys to indulge upon.  Before I went to bed the cake was safely tucked away from the paws of our huge puppy that could easily reach the kitchen counters (where she was sequestered during the evening hours).   Apparently, the cake was “calling” to one of the men in the house.  They didn’t put it back where it belonged.

I woke up at 4:30 am, before work, to let my charming little furry pal out on her lead – and what did I find?  Red Velvet Cake paw-prints with hardened icing covering the ENTIRE kitchen floor, and an empty tray.  Hoping my eyes were playing tricks on me I shut them, and slowly lifted the right eye lid.  How could a small cake roll cover an entire kitchen floor?  It is truly one of the
great mysteries in life…

Chienne was crossing her legs at that point and I let her out – reminding myself the whole time that she was not the “B” word and only a puppy — and that one of the men would pay for this.  I had to scrub the entire floor, and smelled like Pine-Sol for the rest of the day.  The Diva was not happy.

My fur ball just sat there and looked at me through the sliding glass door – with red dye blotches on her white fur.  With those big sad puppy dog eyes — you all know what I’m talking about.  Needless to say, she earned her own “stage name” that morning for her official papers:  Nautica’s Red Velvet Kiss.

Did I mention that she is cute yet???

More news next time, until then —

Splashingly yours,

Muck Boot Diva

The Rabbit Rendezvous Lodge now stands in the back of the MWM’s (Man with Muscles) mother’s house in Greenwood Lake, and the breeders have moved in!  After several tryst’s, that could have used a little candlelight, less scratching and biting to the MWM and a bottle picked by Bacchus himself, the babies have finally arrived. 

The pro’s call them kits, as that is the official name for rabbit offspring.

The MWM was in his glory; I was just relieved that he was not pacing around waiting for a pregnancy to transpire.  After a while, he started looking my way.  I said, “Oh, no, no, no. No way Bub, I came with kids – package deal.”  At forty eight, there’s no way I’m starting all over with that again.

There are 7 kits all together – they are black and fuzzy.  As they mature, they will look like a silver fox.  We are breeding them for meat production, and plan to focus on specialty restaurants.  

Today, it looked like they were lined up for the subway, according to our update call.  We are provided with these rabbit updates by the MWM’s mother, daily.  She has given the rabbits all human personifications at this point.  When “Illinois” was going in for delivery it was like hearing the real thing, play by play, if you get what I mean.  “They are rabbits,” I said, “they live in a nest box full of hay in a coop outside in the cold -– they are not people.” 

At some point after the birth, I proceeded to hear how Illinois planned on getting her figure back.  I just shook my head and left the room.

The MWM did a lot of hard work putting the structure together.  The inside of the “lodge” looks great.  There is modern day lighting, an automatic water system, and a wall full of cages.  They purchased an A/C for the summer, and a heater that will trip on at 40 degrees to keep the bunnies warm.

I will keep you all apprised on how the set up works throughout the winter – this is the real testing ground for our future operation.  In the North, we have to get the water working right, and avoid any pipe freezing issues.  Winters are hard!

For now – we all get to enjoy watching the kits grow.  It is a marvelous process, and my niece is still young enough to enjoy it. 

P.S.  It seems I am in the “family way” after all; Chienne (My birthday/Christmas present and our new family puppy) just arrived today! 

Enjoy the Holidays!

Splashingly yours,

Muck Boot Diva

         The Diva’s connection with Champagne D’Argent rabbits, begin just after “buying the farm”.  We parked in the driveway of our twenty-eight acres of heaven, during the floods the week of July 26, 2006.  The rain stopped, the sun came out, and a rainbow appeared.  After looking at the ceilings in the house and the basement and finding them to be as dry as a bone, we were sure The Maker of All Things  intended the farm for our use, and we put in an offer.  

          We wanted to start learning about the animals we had decided upon for the farm.  Since sheep, pheasants, geese, and honey bees couldn’t fit where we were living at the time – we decided on having a few Champagne D’Argent rabbits that we purchased from Rabbit Breeder, Ed Hildebrand in PA.  The MWM (Man with Muscles) wanted to go French with all of the animals – so, “Fifi” and “François” were our first trial rabbits.  We had two huge cages set up for both of them that took up most of our metropolitan living room. 

          I was not too keen on having the lagomorphs until we actually moved to the farm, and preferred the idea of reading about what we wanted to do via the books I began piecing together for a huge “self-sufficient living” library.  The MWM wanted to experience the real thing – there was no putting him off.

          I rationalized to myself, “how noisy could a couple of rabbits be anyway?”

          The rabbits moved in.  I cried in bed every night.  I loved the rabbits, but their cages were right against our bedroom wall, and I didn’t get a lick of sleep.  It was like living next to punk rockers in cages slamming into garbage pails.  The MWM smiled and said “They like the night life baby.”       

          The Diva did not find that comment funny.  The rabbits were nocturnal, not her. 

          Later, we settled on moving the now four rabbit cages and their occupants to our kitchen/dinette area.  This was much further away from our bedroom, and against a solid outside wall.  “Pierre” and “Paris” had joined the gang bringing our total to four adult Champagne D’Argent rabbits, plus “babies”.  Remember folks – this is a 500 sq. ft. residence.  My kitchen was now basically null and void.  Each time the oven door creaked, the rabbits look at me as if to say, “It’s not rabbit tonight, is it?”  I felt guilt-ridden, and was considering turning vegetarian.

           Like I said, I LOVE the MWM very much – So we ate out a lot in NJ.

             I cleaned my kitchen, sometimes twice a day.  The MWM cleaned the cages every day – house rule.  It was like a spotless laboratory – most of the time.  We even involved our neighbor upstate who lives about 2000 feet away from our farm.  He has two rabbits who we bought from our original breeder, but from different blood lines. 

          We were hoping that, by the time we moved, we could breed ours with his and begin to really increase “the herd” as the MWM referred to them in the barn at our farm where they will live – not in the house! 

          We are looking at redesigning one side of our barn right now and figuring how many rabbits we can fit.  Once at the farm, I will visit the little cuties outside every day with their pinecone treats and will hopefully sleep well at night.

           The plans have changed somewhat on the NJ end of things – we had an unexpected move where the rabbits were not welcome.  The Diva must say that she is relieved; they have been transferred to a newly built cabana at the MWM’s mother’s home just over the border from NJ in NYS.  Part II of my Champagne D’Argent Rabbit blog will focus more on the construction of this Cabana and the beginning of our meat rabbit operation.

          Our Central New York property has room barn expansion and also came with two ponds (that the beavers think they own).  We are in the midst of negotiations with the beavers. 

          Each time I visit, I dream of gardening, the animals, fixing up the house and the barn, even the beavers, and just plain and simple happiness that will be our future security.  Sure, the winters are bad – but the Diva can’t resist enjoying a good book in front of a roaring woodstove and watching the snow fall outside her picture window.  Just remind me I said that two months from now, huh? 

          More about Champagne D’Argent Rabbits, and how we intend to include them in our small farming dream next week.  Life is good; be well.

Splashingly yours,

Muck Boot Diva

My Blackberry alarm began to climb.  I turned it off, before I had to use my flail.

I woke up this morning all set for a busy day.  Grabbed a cup of coffee, the breakfast of champions in NJ, and sloshed it down; I was wearing all black – so a drip here or a drop there really would not matter.

I got off on the right foot with a trip to the horse farm where I take riding lessons.  I took Rosie for a spin through the fields and the woods.  As a writer, the Diva needed a little time to clear her mind.  Rosie was happy to get out of the stalls for a while.  I managed to stay in the saddle and none of the low tree branches swiped me off. 

After dismounting, without falling on my rear end this time, I handed the reins back to the instructor and rushed off in my big black pick-up.

I blasted the radio and decided to sing along with “Put on a Happy Face” for about the fiftieth time this week because that was what everyone had been telling me to do – the Diva had been facing disaster after disaster for what seemed to be a long time without a break.  Thus, no recent posts. 

I fear “Banana Splits and Licorice” and a bit of dancing on the mental stage are not enough to cure this sort of trouble.  The Diva’s deepest apologies are extended to her readers – I will keep up on my posting in the future.

I know the U.S. East Coast has suffered greatly through this most recent hurricane, numerous earthquakes, and the dreadful economy.  America itself has suffered a huge loss – all the emotional upheaval and of course the complete financial ruin of many of its citizens.

 Do not fear – I will not ask any of you to sing “Put on a Happy Face.”  I won’t ask you to dance with me either — it would just hurt your toes.   I know firsthand how hard “acting happy” is to do. What you REALLY need is a virtual shoulder to cry on – and believe me, you have mine!  I will continue to pray for you all.

Coming out of this disaster of an economy will depend on the survival of the farmer — large or small.  America needs to become self sufficient once more.  We need to befriend one another, and stop wandering the planet, thinking only of ourselves, without offering a helping hand to our brother or sister.  This is why the Amish survive — they band together.  Just like bees in a hive.

Anyway this, of course, brings me to honeybees.  They are suffering from a collapse that is most likely due to the selfish people in the world planting one crop for miles and miles.  With no diversity for the honeybee.  We need to lend a helping hand. 

I had the opportunity to attend the film Queen of the Sun: What Are Bees Telling Us? A new, award-winning documentary about the disappearance of honeybees and the vital role bees and beekeepers play in a healthy, sustainable planet. It was attended by our Bee Group in NJ, North East NJ Beekeepers Association and my friend Rachel asked me to go.  Our MWM’s came along too.

Many top name beekeepers were in the film, along with some of our local bee “movie stars” in the tri-state area.  The challenge was given to the viewer to begin raising honeybees, for without honeybees there is no pollination and no future food for us, or our livestock. 

Many of our local beekeepers in NY and NJ have seen signs of collapse in the honeybee communities.  Last year was horrible.  A friend lost over fifty hives due to the hard winter in NYS. 

Many are trying to care for the bees more than ever.  Rachel from NJ takes great pride in her hive in the middle of a NJ Suburb.  While her numbers are not up, because the hive started production late, she really protects it – even to the point of giving it some shade and water!  I’m waiting to see a glass of honey out side the hive with a swizzle stick!  I hear she will be putting the bees in an observation hive inside her house over the winter — very, very brave Rachel!!!!

Bees need our care and watchful eye.  As many people as possible that can house them on their property should.  The bees are a very calming creature to spend time with; they produce free honey.   They will do far more work in pollinating the property than the effort and time the property owner will ever put into their care.

I know – You think the Diva is crazy.  BEES!  CALMING????

Yes.  If you are properly dressed, there is nothing like walking out in the quiet of the morning or the early evening to your hives and listening to the hum of your bees, smell the honey, and even have them exploring your suit and gloves. 

I am not sure how the bees will do this year as a whole; nature’s feathers have been ruffled.   

I spoke to Pat, my friend from Sherburne – LT’s Tables and Stuff, and she said, “Our friend Bob’s bees did not even pollinate his fruit trees that were less than 100 feet away. Our bee’s pollinated our apple trees and garden. You cannot predict the honey production for this year because we still have a month or more of honey production; the goldenrod and bamboo are just starting here. We have gotten twenty swarms this year, last year we got about 10 or 12 swarms.”

I decided to include a picture of the swarm Lash (Pat’s MWM) has captured this year in his own back yard – I find the process fascinating, but this is one area of bee keeping the Diva will leave to the experts!

More swarms collected this year by Lash, and possibly others, mean the bees might be doing a bit better I think – or at least I hope so.  If you can, think about placing a few hives on your “estate” and help our ailing planet stay alive and thrive. Plant a variety of flowers and plants on your property and a variety of crops for them to “dine on”, not just one or two – remember they need a proper bee diet!

Maybe this will help our little honeybee friends  ”Put on a Happy Face“!

Splashingly Yours!

Muck Boot Diva

I just wanted to send out a formal thank you note to the many readers that have been commenting on my posts.  While I can’t respond personally to all of them, you can be sure that I AM reading all of them!  If you need a direct reply from the Diva — please let me know as you make your comment, and I will do my best.

You are all just wonderful!

Happy reading!

Muck Boot Diva

No, I am not trying out for the latest version of “The Fly”.

 This Diva was brought, kicking and screaming, to the eye doctor.

Visiting the eye doctor rates right up there with root canal – no one touches my eyes without severe procrastination on my part first.

But, the meeting was made mandatory after suffering from several recent ocular migraines. 

She poked, prodded, stuck mechanical things in my eyes, and forced me to look at bright lights while she stared into my brain.

You know – BRIGHT LIGHTS – one of the problems that were CAUSING these migraines.

Well, when it was all over I did not get my lolli-pop – but I did order some real nice purple reading glasses that will have beneficial light-cutting lenses, and the proper strength too!

The Diva loves purple reading glasses. 

All covered by insurance (which was the best part – NO MONEY).  Whew!

I wanted to get my eyes squared away because this was my BIG weekend.  Rosie and I were ditching the ring and going on the trail! 

My little Ukrainian eye-doctor said as long as I kept my big black shades on and stayed out of the bright lights, I should be fine till the purple glasses came in.  I promised to do a few other things for her too with my fingers crossed behind my back, and left that office quick.

The next day was true blue, through and through, New Jersey – bumper to bumper from the moment we woke up till the moment we arrived at the farm after work. 

We unpacked near midnight.  The MWM and his mother were planning on harvesting the garden, and I promised to help with the bees after I returned from my ride.  They ate dinner, I decided to have an egg and some toast which made it acceptable, and then scooted off to bed.  I had to be there by 9AM.

I set my alarm.  Twice.  The Diva had to wake up on time.  This could be a challenge.

 The thought of a REAL ride far outweighed the extra  Zzzz’s, and I figured I could catch a cat-nap later after the ride to make up for lost time.

The Blackberry did not fail me.  I awoke to the gentle rise of the Blackberry signature alarm that tended to crescendo so annoyingly that I rarely let it get to that point. 

It was breezy, the sky was blue, and it was seventy-two.  What a day!

However, all I had to wear was what I stuffed in my knapsack before I ran from the Garden State.

 “Oh well, this won’t be a fashion statement morning for sure,” I murmured — half-asleep — donning my Jersey black leather cap, a black jacket with a silver zipper, blue jeans and a pro-American shirt along with my signature black Alligator skinned boots and sun glasses. 

I took a large gulp of coffee, winced in the mirror, said “Eeek!, and left.

I arrived at 9AM sharp.  Rosie looked fine.  So, I took pictures of her.

I remembered all the rules of the ring. I did my horse-prep work — watched the trainer do the mechanical stuff – and she applied the fly stay the heck away spray!

 Then we took Rosie out towards the field.  There was a foot stool so I could get up and on the horse.  Getting off Rosie was another story.

My stirrups were in the right position notch 5 on the left and notch 6 on the right.  I was up and on Rosie in a flash (Ha) wondering how we would do.  The breeze was beautiful and I was enjoying the view – poor Rosie was fending off the flies — they were relentless.

The trainer mounted her horse and off we went.  We went through the fields; The trainer would look back every once and a while to make sure I was still on the horse.  The Diva had surprised her. 

The trainer said, “You’ve been watching those horse riding videos on YouTube again, haven’t you?”  I grinned and said, “Yup.”  She said, “You look good in the saddle, they paid off!”

I wondered, while riding, how the MWM and his mother were doing with the garden harvest and if I’d actually make it back in time to help with the bees.

The next part of the trail was in the woods.  Here is where it gets interesting.  Rosie and the Diva are a little “height-challenged.”  Seventeen hands plus five foot ten is too much. 

 Not being familiar with the trail those horse ballet lessons in the ring paid off.  I had to avoid many a hanging limb that would have otherwise knocked me on my – well, you know.

We only had one little spot of real trouble.  There was a “scary spot” for Rosie.  I don’t know why.

 Rosie decided to two-step it in high gear when we passed it.  The Diva was NOT ready for this as all.  I forgot the word for stop, and just pulled back on the reigns yelling, “What’s up?”  Guess that was enough for Rosie – she settled down and let me lead her away from that area.

We had to pass it again on the way back, but she was better – still a bit skittish but she got a pat on the neck for passing it without fussing again.  The trainer wanted me to try to ”jog” with Rosie to get it out of her system, but I didn’t think I was ready.

We went over the river and through the woods and made back to where I could see the barn, after about an hour on the trail. 

Then Rosie stopped dead in her hooves.  I tried to get her to move and she just would not budge.

I looked at her face – it was COVERED in flies.  I yelled to the trainer – “Flies — HUNDREDS!  What do I DO?”

 She said, “Nudge her and try to encourage her to move.”  Well, I didn’t really want to jog, or worse – but I hated to see any animal suffer.  So, I asked Rosie to get going with a gentle nudge and some pressure with the thighs.

“Rosie, Let’s go!”  I gripped the reigns tight; I was expecting for her to bolt.

All she did was saunter towards the barn. “That’s it?” my adrenalin shouted.

I shook my head and whispered, “Rosie.  The one time I was ready to let you fly, and you pooped out on me.  Oh well, you can’t say I wasn’t willing.”

It was fun.  This Diva stuck to her saddle the entire ride, and according to the trainer I even looked like I knew what I was doing!

I sweat brushed Rosie off, and made her look nice and shiny.  The trainer put that ridiculous looking fly mask on her face (I think they should make black sunglasses for horses) and sent her out into the field.

Then, of course, Rosie rolled around in the dirt. 

Until we ride again!

Splashingly yours,

Muck Boot Diva

How to prevent writer’s block. What do you imagine right now?  I scratched my head.  Cows. 

 The editorial droned on about facing realities in life, negativity, finding new pathways.  All I could see in my mind’s eye were – cows.

I decided to take a walk through the castle – with a candlestick.  Just in case I ran into Mrs. Peacock or Professor Plum.  There had to be something electrifying in this place – and I need to find it — quick.

This got a little boring, so I put down the candlestick.  I still didn’t have a clue, or a cow.

I wrote the Mayor of Hamilton a quick note about the need for alternative energy –- in the form of horse and buggy – and illustrated my “green-energy” proposal noting the prospect of a government grant to expound on the venture.  Rosie and I had discussed it in the ring last week. 

I turned on Montserrat Caballé, The Ultimate Collection, and did not much care if the Opera loathers in my house liked it or not.  I had to get the cows out of my brain – they were blocking my creative juices.

Then I got to thinking — Maybe if I talked to the cows nicely, they would just moo-ve along.  I sat down on my big leather couch and considered the possibility.

Positioning myself comfortably, I leaned back soaking in La bohème/Act I/Mi chiamano Mimì and promptly fell asleep.

A cow walked in the front door, then sat on the foot of my couch.  The couch groaned.

 “Ok Bessie, let’s get this over with,” – I said rubbing my eyes.  “I can’t be caught talking to cows – especially the invisible kind – you understand, right?”  I prayed my couch would carry her load.

The long-horned hairy beast looked me in the eye.  “My name is NOT Bessie.”  I fluffed up my pillow, plopped my head back down, and moaned, “OK, then what IS your name?”  The cow answered briskly, “Fatty Pie.”  I covered my face with my hand. 

Do I REALLY have to answer this Cow by name???  Someone give me a shot of milk.

I hid my face in my pillow and slowly turned opening one eye – it was still there.  “Ok – eerrrr — Fatty Pie,” I said trying to remain composed, “what ARE you here to tell me.”

“Just one thing,” the cow said seriously.  “You have forgotten your invisible friends.  You no longer talk to ANY of us.  We are ALL very offended.  That is why you have lost the ability to write.”

I guess Fatty Pie now included herself as one of my “friends”.  I took a whiff of the air, and couldn’t help wondering if I would be stepping in a little gift from her later.   

Leaning back, I took a gander at the Cow on my couch.  I breathed in deeply and shut my eyes and thought about all my quirky invisible friends that rapidly became characters in my stories. 

Haystacks!  Fatty Pie was right! 

I jolted awake; Montserrat was still singing away and Fatty Pie had “POOF” vanished into thin air — without a cow-flop in sight.

My couch had survived, and I had one sweet storyline to spin.

Lesson learned – Talk to the cow!

Splashingly yours,

Muck Boot Diva

SEE THE MUCK BOOT DIVA — NOW ON GRIT MAGAZINE’S ON-LINE BLOG SECTION TOO!

http://www.grit.com/blogs/blog-landing.aspx

I graduated from riding the ring last weekend! 

I think Rosie behaved especially well, because she was sick of being embarrassed by walking the circle with this great clod on her back.  AND – so much more fun could be had on the trails.  I am sure she has great plans for me…

We went around the circle, through the circle left and right, did crazy eights in the circle.  Rosie swatted flies, and resisted the urge to horse jog with me.  I gently nudged, and pulled the reigns correctly performing a bit of horse dancing without stepping on Rosie’s hooves.

I decided, after viewing some you tubes on how to properly ride, that I must have looked completely absurd holding the reigns out like strings of spaghetti in my hands, rather than close down like they should have been. 

The trainer must have been secretly wondering, “Who the heck are you and what have you done with the Diva?”

Speaking of the Diva, she could not resist the urge to scour EBay for proper riding apparel after GRADUATION.  Poor clothing horses should ALWAYS shop EBay – heck, it’s fun!  I can bid, I can dicker, and I am a sucker for jackets of any sort.

It was a MAJOR ego crush to learn, on-line, that I had to buy a Dressage Jacket three sizes LARGER than my street clothing.  If Canadian or UK – even bigger (mentally insert Psyco music here…). 

After dropping gads of weight the last few months buying anything that sounded LARGER made me feel queasy.   But, I eyed up measurements, guessed, ordered some things on-line upstate — and then enjoyed the rest of the weekend.

There was SUN, SUN, SUN!  I really needed it.   Dark and gloomy with rain was just not working for me. 

I was actually smiling, joking, and having fun – everyone wondered what the heck I was on since I don’t drink.  Betty, Sue (the MWM’s Mom), and I wandered the property and paid special attention to the tiger-lilies. 

The MWM visited the Amish neighbors, and worked to his heart’s content which always makes him happy.  He even hung the American Flag on the house! 

Betty hung out with me.

Sue and Uncle Alan (her brother) painted the barn door – he had his Van Gogh hat on.  I think they called each other in the morning to see what they were wearing. 

He also took care of our “little friends” that share our home.  He is The Exterminator (say it like Arnold…). 

His daughter Christie read in solitude at the picnic table in the “grove” – being a NYC woman, I think she was soaking up nature to the max. 

To top it all off, we had dinner with friends — eight in all waited for me to get back from my ride with Rosie before cutting the roast.  I told them to go ahead and eat without me.  I guess they couldn’t bear to allow anyone else to do the slicing. 

As everyone well knows, I am a great carver – and can always be trusted implicitly with any slicing tool!  

The holiday weekend provided non-stop sun and gave me an extra day to rest a bit (hahahahahaha) – which I really needed.

When I got home there was a box – one of the jackets came.  I eyed it up and prayed.  While the rest of the family was busy, I opened it up in my locked bedroom and tried it on.  It was made in CANADA.

After slipping it on, and buttoning it, I was quickly reminded of a scene in an old musical (I love old B&W movies, musicals, and old big band era radio shows). 

Oh, this fits perfect, I thought, looking in the mirror — as women always do when others are not watching – I was wondering about that one minor little detail though – oxygen.

Click on this – you gotta watch!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tgAHesDfzOY

Pay close attention to those facial expressions on the main character, and her feelings about corsets. 

My sentiments exactly.

This jacket fits me like a GLOVE.  A glove that should have a corset under it.  I did not know it was from Canada – so it is more “glove-like” than expected.  Gives a WHOLE new meaning to the word fitted. 

This Diva likes things that are a size larger – sloppy, generous and comfortable – something that permits breathing!   Believe me — the little black dresses are WAY in the BACK of the closet. 

Taking another glance in the mirror I laughed, ” Hmmmmm — High Horse Fashion, in Muck Boots, on the Farm.  Back to EBay tomorrow!   I must find some tall riding boots and a suitable pair of breeches to seal this deal!”

“Sure, it LOOKS good,” I said placing the woolen straight jacket on a hanger.  “This is the kind of jacket the MWM would LOVE to see me wear.  All the time!  Who cares if your wife can breathe anyway — Is it really that necessary?” 

Pride does prevail — The Diva will keep it, and wear it without the buttons “done up”for now; I still prefer oxygen.

Splashingly yours,

Muck Boot Diva