Our life as a mellow couple transformed in one day from tranquil
sounds of rural life to an explosion of activity, opening the doors
at Linda’s Last Chance Ranch to the people we call family.
Our life as a mellow couple transformed in one day from tranquil sounds of rural life to an explosion of activity, opening the doors at Linda’s Last Chance Ranch to the people we call family.
As our family members arrived, some kind of leftover, unused Supermom powers from my Superwoman Syndrome days of the 1980s automatically kicked into action, unleashing this surge of energy to do anything and everything it takes to keep things running smoothly to make sure worlds do not collide. Meanwhile, of the seven relatives arriving at our doorstep, cousin Jeannine arrived last and in need of supervision while recuperating from a hysterectomy.
Having come home from the hospital three days after surgery, Jeannine needed someone to assist her. One thing our families have in common is a fantastic sense of humor and handling awkward situations in stride. For the last week, Nene has been walking around carrying a catheter bag, which she calls her “purse.”
“Golly, I have to go empty my purse,” she said, heading for privacy, having regretted giving up the larger bag the hospital sent her home with. “Too bad I couldn’t sell this the way I keep filling up this bag.”
First thing in the morning before roosters Frick and Frack, the tapping brothers, crow to greet the day, it’s out the door tending to chores – which amounts to a lot when you have 10 acres of land and a herd of critters (the four-legged kind).
Besides mucking manure, wood needs to be stacked, the hay barn needs organizing, a perch needs to be built and a run-in shed built for the livestock before the winter rains begin, and I have story deadlines to meet. What to do, what to do?
In a matter of three days, family members from both sides of our families began to arrive for one reason or another, covering a generational span of 40 years.
For the time being because of certain food allergies, three different diets have to be considered. One family member can’t have dairy products, another can’t eat pork or have dairy products while still another eats nothing green but lettuce.
Furthermore, having cooked more than enough food to feed our household for a week, I have also mastered creme brulee. Imagine, making creme brulee for your family. Apparently I have gone too far; my cousin said the Martha Stewart chip in my brain is malfunctioning and needs to be removed.
“Stop that! Quit! Sit down!” she said, but none of the people commands worked.
Superwoman-Supermom had taken over. We can empty a catheter bag while filling up the water trough and baking the creme brulee, but how much more can Supermom do before the Martha Stewart chip explodes?
Coming home after work was an instant party – the chatter, the food, watching a movie, music, more talking and finally calling it a night, dog-tired, but you have to get up and do it again the next day.
It isn’t easy keeping up with people who don’t have to go to work the next day. It was a time to put another plan into action or I would be dead tired for the rest of my life. “I am Superwoman! Hear me delegate!”
Looking around at the chores and major projects that needed to be done, it was time to recruit the healthy bodies of my young family members.
A week of hard labor on a ranch is good for young people, camping out is romantic and Sunday is justifiably a day of rest with the exception that critters have to eat.
“You kids go out and have a good time,” I told them. “You don’t have to hang out here.”
Watching the clock tick away into the evening, my sweetheart says to me, “You drove them kids off. They ain’t coming back because they figured you worked them too hard.”
Working hard won’t kill them, I said to my doubting man, but boredom will. But hey, if they can’t make it at Linda’s Last Chance Ranch they won’t make it anywhere else because life is good here, even for Mr. Pepe Le Pew – last seen mad and stomping his feet while trying to dig his way into the house under the foundation where the cat door remains locked during the night.
