Farm Fotos, Vol. 1

It’s a big week around Mayberry. Today is Smoke Goldenstein’s birthday (he requested bridge mix. I wish I could tell you I was kidding), and the fall harvest is in full swing. In honor of that, I’m throwing it back this week…. to my trip home this summer. You may remember Smoke’s hand surgery, Marj, (the mini golf Nazi), and Bev farming. This three-part throwback series involves some Goldenstein farm fotos… with some explanation for you city slickers.

This picture isn’t necessarily farm-related, but it was the precursor to the remaining farm fotos in this post. That, my friends, is a pheasant (I SO wanted to keep up with my Kardashian-like alliteration here, and call this a feasant, but I restrained. You’re welcome.) stuck in the front grill of MamaG and Smoke’s Camry. MamaG nailed the little sucker at 65 mph on the way home from Smoke’s surgery. She even joked about not seeing it on the road behind us, and how it might be stuck in the grill. She was less than pleased when she was correct.

Seeing as how ol’ Smokey was basically one-armed during my trip home, I was often enlisted as his ‘hands’ (aka: he tells me what to do, and I have to try to do it. Which is, of course, not the way he would’ve done it. But that’s another post). Here’s a snap of the tool bench in one of Smoke’s many workshops. I don’t know what this is called. Maybe a ratchet? While the word ‘ratchet’ is certainly in my vocabulary, I typically use it in the Urban Dictionary terms… “A diva, mostly from urban cities and ghettos, that has reason to believe she is every man’s eye candy. Unfortunately, she’s wrong.” Example (via Bev, not UD): Kylie Jenner. But again that’s also another post.
This here is called a creeper. Not a creeper as in… the weird guy who lives down the street who drives by the school a lot. As in… the thing your dad rolls around on when he has to look underneath shit. Like tractors, wagons, combines, and… cars with pheasants stuck in them. (No, I didn’t have to ‘creep’ on this- thank the Lord)

This is basically a flashlight with a 50+ foot cord that hangs on a pulley on the wall. Actually quite damn handy, if I do say so myself. Why can’t I have invented something like this, so I could just pay someone to do things like pull pheasants out of my parents’ car? OK, because I’m a farm moron, but why couldn’t Smoke have invented something like this, so he could pay someone to do things like pull pheasants out of his car?