Last night’s blog was a bit wonky.  I apologize.  I was sitting here, my mind was whirring, but nothing could really come out.  One of my mother’s best friends had passed and it had me thinking many thoughts.  Throw in some text messaging from one of my retarded brothers and well, there you go.  You ended up with a blog that made Schoovy kill brain cells trying to figure out if he died, somebody else or if I was just trying to screw with him.  

      As I stated, I’m not good with passings.  She wasn’t family, but you would gladly claim her and her husband as family.  Good people; no, great people.  I don’t like it, but most of all, I don’t like it for my mom.  My parents were both rocks while dealing with their parents’ passings.  But as their friends start to go, I can see chinks in the armor.  Which in turn makes me feel vulnerable.  And I am damn sure not good with that.  

     Now throw in the fact that I have had a right big toe that has hurt like all hades for the past two weeks.  I thought that it was a sticker on the bottom side of my toe.  I’ve been suffering, waiting for the sticker to fester and burst.  But NO!  It just gets worse.  So, tonight, I self-diagnosed that it was a wart, then self-medicated and then I froze the living fire out of it.  OWWWW!!!

        Now here’s some stuff to put in your little black books of important crap.  Mark the date, 9-13-14.  Why?  I screwed up.  I read the seed chart for the no-till drills. Then walked around and set the drills.  I have no one to blame but myself.  I set the drills to put on exactly double what I intended.  I guess 125 lbs/acre might be a tick high.  And therefore, I ran out of the Slick Trit (beardless triticale) that Heith Sander sold me.  Head up donkey.  My fault.  I am a dumb ass.  As an added bonus, that stuff isn’t cheap. Luckily, my father saved the day and I finished up with some of his wheat seed.  

      Sunday saw a pile of wethers and does at the big barn.  Lots of hooves trimmed, all of them weighed, some can get showed, some not quite.  But, we did see a consistent set of really good goats.  More impressive than the goats, was the quality of kids that we saw.  I don’t care if somebody thinks I’m bragging–I am.  We get the opportunity to deal with a tremendous set of kids.  They are the reason that we do this game.  Kids should be the reason that any of us are in this business.  Sure, we all want to make a $.  But it will pay off bigger and better if you can help some kids while doing it.  

      We haven’t offered any in a quite a while, but Seelke’s and I will be offering some Rumour Has It semen in an upcoming benefit sale.  

      And for your random Kelln thoughts of the day:  I miss the Real Men of Genius commercials that Bud Light put out years ago.  Yes, I have a CD with a bunch of them and yes, I have some on the iPod.  Those things were well-written, catchy and down right funny.  Mr. Multi-Colored Sweater Wearer–“They say that Beauty is in the eye of the beholder.  But we say, ‘Whoever beholding that sweater, be holding one ugly sweater.'”    Mr. Giant Pocket Knife Inventor, Mr. Wedding Band Guitar Player, Mr. Silent Killer Gas Passer & Mr. Garden Gnome Make–“What says, ‘Welcome home like a dwarf in the hedges?'” & Mr. Really Big Pet Snake Owner.

Oh and the Mr. Used Car Salesman, “Oil spot, what oil spot?  That’s nothing but sweat from all that horsepower!”  I actually used that line while selling a JD 4020 one time.   

     The first time I bought a CD set of these ads was at the gift store for Anhowsyourbusch (sp?) products in St. Louis.  The Dragon Lady and I, along with Tyke and Mandy Greer were attending some Cardinals’ games.  We didn’t even make it to Joplin before Tammy was threatening to throw a CD out the window.  I don’t know why.  Those things are classic funny.  

      Nope, no.  I’m wrong again.  Tammy and I were alone when I bought that first set.  Tyke and Mandy were with us on a different Cardinals trip.  That was the one with the pony rides and a homeles guy that was an identical twin to Tyke’s dad.  Yeah, the homeless guy looked just like Kenny Rogers also.   Game got rained out and I didn’t want to walk anymore, so we (I mean I, like Tyke would want to spend money? RUSM?) I bought a pony ride back to the hotel.  And, I might have paid the pony driver to make a stop for beverages for Tyke, Mandy and Tammy.  None for me, thank you.    

      Those twins better hurry and get broke to being home alone.  It’s time to go back and watch some baseball in St. Louis.  Better yet.  Just wait till Brandt (AKA Bardt) is ready to go with Uncle Kelln to the ball games.  We might even take Uncle Mustard along for the trip.  

      Make sure all of your goats have access to salt and mineral.  It’s that time of year when they will start hitting the salt blocks and mineral tubs.  

I’m not done, but I’m going to stop.  For some reason, my whole foot is numb.  I think I used too much liquid nitrogen on that wart.  Oh well.  If I lose a foot, I’ll just start using the CB handle, “Stumpy”.   Speaking of which, I think we need to install a CB radio in the ’93 Chevy Van.  

     One last thing.  I did find a new recipe.  Paint + Work + Tonto= FUN  I think we’ll try this and see how it works.  It might need to be shaken a bit, but I think it might work.  UnHh! I’m wrong again.  I don’t THINK it will work. I KNOW it will work.  

        Have a good day and a better tomorrow.