Sign In | Create an Account | Welcome, . My Account | Logout | Subscribe | Submit News | Contact Us | Home RSS
 
 
 

Number crunching too much for me

From the Farm

November 18, 2011
By Kerry Hoffman , The Journal

It was time for me to get out of the house.

Steve was busy in his office manipulating numbers on his computer. Paying bills and configuring our income and expenses were his top priority in preparing for his annual meeting with our accountant yesterday.

Steve had warned me earlier in the week that "we" were going to have to do some number crunching.

Article Photos

Kerry Hoffman

"What's this 'we' stuff?" I asked.

"Well, I need numbers from you," he replied. "I need to know your income and expenses too."

That's easy enough for me. I open Quickbooks on my computer and print out an income report. (I think that's what it's called.) Then I dig through my rather sparsely populated expense file in my cabinet and report any office purchases, tuition and other deductibles.

I think I spent approximately 15 minutes preparing my information.

Steve spent nearly the entire day looking at numbers on the computer.

He still hadn't finished when chores time came around at 4 p.m.

Earlier he said something about let's look at this and get it to equal.

I said something like, "Why does it have to equal? Isn't close enough, close enough?"

I needed to get out of the house and away from those looming numbers and getting things to equal. That's ridiculous in my book; getting things to equal.

Turns out Joey and Russell were on the schedule to milk together that evening. I realized this was the perfect excuse to get myself out of the house and as far away from number crunching as I could.

Perfect.

"I think I am going to help you two in the barn tonight," I mentioned.

Immediately Joey came over and put his arm around my shoulder and lovingly looked down at me from above. (He's a good six inches taller than me.)

"I love you so much," he said.

I was hooked. I would help our boys milk; I knew we would be having a great time in the parlor.

And we did.

Earlier in the week, while pre-dipping a cow for milking, a splash of iodine landed right in my eye. Pretty soon I am going to have to wear glasses for eye protection. For two days my right eye was redder than a ghost-white person's first sunburn of the summer. And talk about goo. I woke up the following morning with my eye glued shut. That was OK; I figured Steve would only look half as bad that morning!

So anyway; the evening we milked together found Russell and I in the milking parlor. Russell likes to have the radio on while he milks and he doesn't listen to talk radio.

Well, Russell's choice of music put me in the mood to dance. I was trying to do the moon walk. I did my best to impersonate a water sprinkler and sang my heart out like my niece Allie did when she was just a youngster and wanted to become a famous singer.

All Russell could do was roll both his eyes.

Joey finally showed up to help with milking after taking his jolly time to do the outside chores. He started pre-dipping the cows in his designated section.

All of a sudden I heard this ear piercing screech.

"Ow! Ow! Ow!" he yelled while jumping up and down. "I got iodine in my eye. I need safety glasses."

I stuck my tongue out at him.

A few minutes later he was making some smart comments from the other end of the milking parlor.

"Ooo, I really did need to be wearing these Safety Goggles 3000," he laughed as he pulled his regular glasses off his face, "I just about got iodine in my eye."

He really did. He actually splashed iodine and a little bit hit him in the face and smack dab in the middle of his glasses.

I was kind of jealous because he didn't have to feel the searing pain like I did just a few mornings previous.

See, I knew milking with Joey and Russell would be much more fun that sitting with Steve in his office crunching numbers. Numbers make me cry; children make me laugh.

For questions or comments, e-mail me at kahoffman@newulmtel.net.

 
 

 

I am looking for:
in:
News, Blogs & Events Web