Soup day, bad practice, payday

Yesterday was National Soup Day, so my company had anyone who was willing to do so prepare their favorite soup to share at a luncheon for all who were in the office. There were eleven soups on the table, and I am sure all of them were delicious, but I was not able to sample each one. I did manage to sample six of the offerings and enjoyed each one I did taste. It was a potluck lunch that was right down my alley. I love soups. I sampled chicken chili, minestrone, broccoli and cheese soup, tomato soup, seaweed soup, and of course, I tasted the soup I had taken to make sure it was okay.

I made the chicken and dumpling soup that Mama and I enjoy. I was pleased when I went to get my crock pot at the end of the day and found it completely empty. I was told a few minutes later that three ladies had had a spirited discussion about who would get to take what was left of the soup home for dinner. I do not know who won the argument, but it was made easy to collect because I used a crock pot protector bag when I put the soup into the crock pot after I had prepared it in another pot on the stovetop. To get the remaining contents to take home, the lucky winner simply gathered the plastic liner like a bag and knotted it. Mama was hoping for leftovers of the soup but that did not happen.

Twice now, Grandma has witnessed the outside dogs chasing cows in the field across the road. I do not doubt what she has seen but I had not, to date, witnessed it myself. However, this afternoon at lunch I saw the cows coming into the far corner of the field where there had been chased by the dogs and the dogs, Gemma first, began to bark and move toward the field. I yelled to the both of them and thankfully they stopped immediately. Dolly came to me in a very submissive way so I fussed at her and fussed over her for a few minutes. A few minutes later, a truck towing a field feeder came down the road to spread cubes out for the cows in the quarry area. Again, I stopped Gemma and Dolly from responding and waited outside as the bull – last in line of the cattle returning across the field – lumbered up to and then followed the truck back onto the larger property. I do not know if I made any difference in the dogs newly discovered game of cow running, but I tried.

It is not allowable for dogs to run cows for fun. So far, the two of them have been tolerated by the landowner and the lease holders, but chasing cows will be so poorly viewed that we might lose both of the dogs if Mama and I cannot stop them from continuing to do so. I myself have shot dogs that were running cattle on my own property back in West Virginia so I would not have protested if one of my own dogs was shot when engaged in the same bad practice. I hope we can win this little skirmish with our dogs, but I am not overly confident.

Mama had to take Grandma and Grandpa out for their monthly ritual of getting money orders to pay bills as well as doing some banking that is carried out every month after payday, the third Wednesday of every month. It is the one-time Grandpa has to be stern with Grandma. They have only one check coming per month and they have many little bills to cover with that fixed amount, so even though there is money in the bank, there is not enough to blow on little shiny things that catch Grandma’s eyes. Most of Grandma’s trinkets are things that can be given to others – cards, knick-knacks, mementos. The challenge is that there is not the required money to cover all of her requests as well as the postage needed to send those items to their recipients, so they work out how much they can do this month and leave the rest undone until next month. It is amusing to watch the interactions each month when the two of them are dealing with their limited money income.

I am continuously surprised by how much Grandpa is able to do with that little income.