I just returned from North Carolina where I attended my granddaughter’s wedding. (By the picture above, you can probably guess what city we were in.) The festivities were all wonderful, but unfortunately, the plane ride stirred up my trigeminal neuralgia big time, and I wasn’t able to participate to the level that I would have liked. That meant no dancing at the reception. 🙁
The plane ride home was just as painful and has left residual discomfort that will limit my activity for a some time. So, while I’m sitting in the dark and quiet, I’ll let Slim Randles entertain you for the next few days.
Before turning the blog over to Slim, I do want to say that I hope that everyone is managing to avoid that nasty corona virus. This is certainly a scary time for us, and the only thing we can do is follow the guidelines for staying safe. I’m going to be hunkered down here at home for the next few weeks, and I have lots of hand sanitizer for when I do have to go out.
Now here’s Slim with a post that ran here first in July 2011.
When Harley Jacobsen came into Doc’s office the other day for his physical – you know, the one his wife, Gladys, insists on from time to time – it was a treat for Doc.
Harley is one of Doc’s favorite people. Harley is a farmer. Not a young farmer, but a solid farmer. A 24/7 farmer. It is said in coffee-drinking circles – and we have several here – that ol’ Harley can make hair grow on a bald head and wheat grow on rocks.
When he’d been thumped and bumped and listened to and pumped up and partially drained, Harley asked Doc for the verdict.
“Not bad at all for someone your age, Harley,” Doc said, grinning. “But you look tired. My advice is to take some time off and go fishing or take Gladys to the beach. Something fun. Relaxing.”
“Can’t right now, Doc,” Harley said. “Plowing summer fallow.”
“Well, how about later on?”
“There’s harvest you know, and the trees will have to be pruned before winter, and then the winter wheat will go in. Have to overhaul the wheel tractor this winter and add on to the equipment shed, and then it’ll be time to plant.”
“Harley, I want to see you get some rest,” Doc said. “You need two weeks with nothing to do. Get someone to help with the farm and go do something fun.”
“For two weeks?” Harley asked.
“Two full weeks, Harley.”
“Doc, I just can’t do the job in two weeks. Took 60 years of farming to get this tired.”
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Brought to you by Ol’ Jimmy Dollar, Slim’s children’s book about a happy hound-dog man and his “kids.” See it at riograndebooks.com.
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Oh my Maryann…it’s late/early, however one looks at it by 12:14 a.m., but I was compelled to get on the computer and check my e-mailers (as ma calls them). I was intrigued by Mr. Slim’s writing!! Really made me remember my dad and how he always continued working on the farming and never gave up, no matter what. Yip, 60 years in the making 🙂
And on the other side of things, I pray you are staying well and in good spirits, as I can ‘feel’ in your writings. I wish I have been on your site more, things are rough up yonder too. I pray for your little paws to type and to avoid this contagious virus. If you need toilet paper, my city is out, we have some paper towels and tissues. Or you can do like I did growing up in the woods north of the house when I would go writing…use leaves 🙂
love, bug
Many of Slim’s writing brings fond memories of your dad to me, too, especially the fishing.
I do have enough provisions here for a couple of weeks, but when TP started disappearing a week or so ago, I figured there were ways. We didn’t always have paper products. 🙂
I hope you and the rest of your family stay safe and healthy.
Hugs,
Maryann