Thinkin' about you today mom....

Hey - you said I didn't have any idea what you did all day long - and then I found one of your day planner pages and now I know. I believe you forgot to add..... talking on the phone! Don't worry - I'm cleaning my own basement (: Love ya. Nic

Sorta corny but true....

"Oh hey mom - is the corn ready?"
"I dunno, havta ask Eric"
"So should I plan on someday in the near future?"
"I dunno, havta listen to the racoons - they know when it's ready"
"Ok mom - see you on Monday"

And so the ritual begins - maybe - but then again you never know. Sometimes I get up there to help get the corn harvested and they already have it stripped, cooked, sliced and in the freezer. I HATE that because I always want to help do it with them! For the past 1,000 years, or so, our family has grown corn. Well, mom and dad have grown corn - enough for most of Cache Valley. We set up the tables in the shade and dad would strip the stalks and the grandkids would shuck the corn. Gma would have the big pots ready and then Gpa would sharpen his knives. He had an old white knife he would use - hardly had any metal left on it he sharpened it so much - but he could probably cut your arm off with it in one swipe! (Never argue with Gpa during corn season) (Sharpening the knife with spit and a sharpening stone is another long story....) After we cut the corn off - Gma would come out with another heaping pile of cobs and exchange it for the cut corn. The ladies on the inside would scoop the corn into perfect sized packages and also run the ice cold Pepsi out to the cutters. All of this had to be done before the flies came out or the Grandchildren would learn new words that you won't hear in PRIMARY! After all of the tables were squirted off from the corn juice, and the last big blue pot was left drying on the back porch - it was off to Hyrum Dam for swimming and then back for a hot dog roast in the fire pit. There are some memories that have burned a hole in my memory bank - I back it up and replay it often. My dad's hands are quite still, and his eyes distant, but you can get his heart beat up a tiny bit if you say - 'Dad - let's get the corn done, can I get you a Pepsi?" Mom - thanks for always planting corn - I know it's a pain - but it's a beautiful thing - and a wonderful memory.
Hot buttered corn on the cob - and lots of salt - pass the napkins!
Here's my second favorite way to eat my veggies...