Just Some Oatmeal.

Consider yourself warned that this is a pretty lame post.

We've been hunkering and snuggling.  I've been lazy and hormonal, and I haven't felt like living in cyber land.  But, I can take a few moments out of my 7th Heaven marathon to entertain you for a bit.

Sometimes I walk down the cereal aisle, and I stop to stare at the oatmeal.  I look at the tiny sugary packs  of individual servings and I want them.  I want the variety pack.  I want the single serve cups.  I want the maple and brown sugar, and the apple cinnamon.

But in the back of my mind I can hear Joe saying "why in the hell would we buy that when we can buy oats and make healthy oatmeal?"

I get it, and so we do.

Breakfast for two!

And in other news, the chicks are here...I'll get a chicky chick post together soon!

xoxo, e.

Name That Sheep.

This shit fascinates the dickens out of me...so here, good people is your sheep naming tutorial.

It's no secret that I want to be a farmer, but since I didn't win the lottery this week, and have to work at my real job, I'll live vicariously through my friend Kelly and play with her animals.

We attended a super bowl party on Sunday.   And, along with the typical hot wings and buffalo chicken dip, the hostess cleverly built into the festivities some "light" farm work.  Name and tag 21 sheep.

Kelly recently acquired a herd of Tunis sheep.  These beauties have cream wool, but cinnamon and white colored faces and legs.  They are a meat breed, so the mammas are the breading stock, and the boy babies will be raised to eat.   

They came very pregnant, so over the last few weeks, in the middle of a harsh deep freeze, babies have been coming!  Little, tiny, shivering sheep.  Kelly has been loving and creative - everything from taking the babies in for the night and giving them warm baths, to dressing them in baby clothes.  Then back out to the waiting, protective mammas.

On to the naming.   The USDA designates a letter each year for that year's herds.  That way, you can easily keep track of what generation your stock is, and you also know not to breed daddies and grown up babies.  The mamma sheep fall under last year's letter "C," and this years babies will be "D's."

In true Cornman Farm fashion, letters and numbers didn't cut it.  They love each of these little beauties, and so they needed names.  "C" names to be exact.  We layed out the tags and the children started yelling ideas.  We ended up with a Clio and a Chloe, Queen Catherine, Curious Georgia, Charlotte, Cowgirl, and the ram, Captain Crunch.

For some reason, Joe decided he would do the tagging...piercing the tag into the sheep's ear with a tagging gun.  The young 4H young men showed Joe how to wrangle the sheep and where to tag...and the rest is history.

We were four sheep in before we realized that we forgot to identify and tag the ram first.  And of course, he had already been tagged as "Cossette."  Don't worry, we fixed it.  I also lost one tag in my pocket, so we had to come up with an extra name...hence was born Carmen Miranda!

And in other news, as we were setting up a Valentine's making table for the kids in the basement, Kelly found this Huge striped sweater in a bag.  "Put it on!"  I begged her...and she did.  And we laughed,  Hard.  I tried to defend it...It was hand knit!  It was high quality!  Ok, never mind, it was pretty bad.

And as I cuddled into bed later that night, this picture came across the wires.

This is Carlos, probably my favorite animal on the farm.  He always wants a pet and a cuddle.  He was a rescue donkey, and he came with a sombrero...you can't make this stuff up folks.  And now, he is the proud owner of a hand knit sweater.  And here is Carlos in the warmth of summer!

xoxo, e.

Farm Week In Review...

It has been a cooold one here in the mitten, but quite a lovely week at the snowy white farm.  We had snow every day, two snow days due to snow and fog, and just an all around good week to snuggle in and be with each other and friends.

On Wednesday, my friends and their cavalcades of children rolled in for Scrabble night!  There is nothing I love more than putting an apron on, putzing around, making the house pretty, and making some yummy cocktails and vittles.

The Cocktail:  The Improved Brubaker

Tequila Agave

Fresh Lime Juice

Fresh Blackberry Syrup

Dash of Cinnamon

The Eats:  Homemade crustini, baked asiago, fresh pomegranate (do you know about pomegranates?  These are a new discovery for me, and we can't get enough!)  Followed by pasta with sauce from this summer's garden, Allison's tiramisu, and Kelly's root beer floats...belly up people!

The pretty ladies...

This is the life...a house full of happy moms and happy kids...and Kelly with the camera...

And while the moms eventually moved the scrabble board to bring the food and wine closer to us, the responsible children set up the board and played a round in the other room.  We are raising responsible kids people.

And in other news...We had to give the bird back.  It's mamma came home, and she needed him, and it was the right thing.  We truly enjoyed our time with him, and welcome him with open arms should he ever need a home :).  And, kindness begets kindness.  His mamma baked us an amazing chocolate cake with butter cream frosting that tasted like love, and angels, and heaven.  And home made goats milk soap and a beautiful card.  

And still, in other news...kittenpants took a nap in the vintage piles.

And in even more news (last one I promise)...The first issue of Hey Doll vintage magazine came out yesterday, featuring yours truly in the "all dolled up" section!  These two lovely gals put out an adorable and informative online magazine for us vintage gals to connect...yay Brittany and Bunny!

We wrapped up last snowy night in the embrace of friends at a cozy groundhog celebration, and we leave in a bit for an early Superbowl "eating and making valentine's for the elderly" party.  Because we're cool that way.

xoxo, e.

The Infertility Chronicles.

At the risk of over-sharing, and after a long day of feverishly navigating the infertility clinic labyrinth, I'm diving into this topic feet first.

It's no secret that we have been struggling with infertility since we had Coco, who will be seven in a few months.  After so many years of this overtaking one's life, I'm in a good place.  I know that like, with so many other things, we are on a path.  I don't feel like our family is finished, but whether that means more children of our own, or adoption somewhere down the road...it all happens on Someone else's schedule, and I'm just along for the ride.  So many of you sweetly and lovingly want to ask "how's it going?"...so this may be a good way to relay the process.

Here is where we stand.   We have charted, counted, had blood work and, eh hem, other lab work, been massaged and acupunctured, been ultra sounded and hystropingogrammed...and all systems are a go.  They call this "unexplained infertility," meaning we could totally just wind up pregnant one day, or not.

Last week we had an appointment with our infertility doctor.  We came up with a detailed plan for this month.  As this is our first time going through treatment, I took notes and asked as many questions as I could think of.  She called in a script to my pharmacy, and then the rest of the plan revolved around very specific days in my cycle.

Quickly, before the plan even took action, it started unraveling.  The doctors office called in more scripts than I was told about.  When I called to question them about it, the nurse suddenly "changed" the well detailed plan that we spent 2 hours working up with the doctor last week.  In the end, the nurse was the only person I ended up trusting, and the new plan seemed great.  Then my script came in the mail and according to my notes, it was the wrong dosage.  In between all of these phone calls I also had to navigate the insurance system and make sure everything was covered (or not, but affordable).

At the end of the day, I think we have everything squared away.  I work in the health care system.  I know that I am my only advocate.  If I hadn't caught a dozen different mistakes on my own today, and advocated for their correction...there is a 0% chance that we would have gotten pregnant this month - after involved and expensive treatment.  All I can think is, "what do people do who put all of their trust in their physician?...or who are scared to ask to many questions?  who are rushed through appointments and didn't take notes?"  Thus is the modern day medical system.  This is why we use midwives.  This is why we tried everything natural that we could first.   But, to no avail, so here we go folks!

I'll check back in as this process unfolds.  In the next few days, I will begin to take meds that will make me feel "extremely menopausal."  Have fun with that one Joe!!  ;) 

xoxo, e.

I Love When They Get it Wrong.

Happy one year shop-aversary to Farmstead Vintage!  A year ago, I was scared to take the leap.  I remember hemming and hawing, scared to post my first piece...scared that I would never sell a thing.  But here we are, you and I, 226 sales later!  Every sale is still as exciting as the first.  I am totally proud of what I have created, and that feels good.

I want to chat a little about the thrift of it all.  I'm a treasure hunter.  I love sifting through dingy stores to find the gems.  If you have great thrift stores near you, by all means go scavenge them and do not waste your money on me.  But, that is the beauty of why Etsy and Ebay work.  I may find your perfect dress in Detroit, and you may find my perfect cowboy boots in Nashville.  And, we are both willing to pay for the service of the other getting out there and finding them!

I don't however, only thrift for vintage.  Many of the items I score are new indeed.  I dress Coco in Hannah Anderson and Mini Boden, and she sports a new pair of Bogs each winter.  Joe is always a dapper dan for work, and when things get hair dye and bleach on them at the salon, I can throw them away because they were dirt cheap.  I hate paying more than around $3.00 for clothes or shoes, and no more than $10 for quality boots.

One of the best parts about thrifting is when "they" get it wrong.  Sometimes the pricers mark really quality items at $1.80, and crappy Kohl's brand things as high end.  And we, good people, are the beneficiaries of these  mis-pricing shenanigans!

My friend Kelly and I tag team all of the local thrift stores.  I often check my texts to find she has sent yet another picture of her cart loaded with goodness.  Sometimes one does not find a thing, but when the getting' is good...it's really good.

The recent spoils...

New J Crew cream wool and cashmere pea coat...$5.80.

On sale here for $189.99

Stella and Dot Chandelier earrings...$3.20

New here for $49.00

Vintage Frye Harness Boots (can't tell you what I paid because I'll sell these :)

They've made this style for decades, but seen new here for $298.00

And, The piece de resistance of the week...a brand new The Kid Craft My Modern Dollhouse  
$10.81 at the thrift store.

List Price $199.99.  I know.

And this, she said,  is why I thrift.  
Here's to another successful year!  xoxo, e.

We Got a Widget.

Through a series of unforeseen circumstances, we got a bird.

A starling.

Our little Widget, to be more exact.

   The call came in this weekend that he needed a home, stat.  I have been pretty good about not seeking out animals.  Believe you me, I could browse Craigslist all day and have a serious petting zoo going on over here...but I don't.  My rule of thumb is that if an animal finds us, we are supposed to be it's home...which Widget did.

   Joe's rules of thumb is that we have "no pets unless they give us something."  Which made the whole "I'm getting peacock's" discussion fun this week.  He totally didn't understand that "my pure enjoyment" or "feathers for Christmas crafts" were two perfectly good things that peacocks could give us.  (*note* the peacock discussion is not closed, we are in negotiations, Joe and I).

   Widget is a curious little fellow.  He is a creature of habit, and so, my daily routine has been altered a bit to fit his.   Coco and I uncover him when we get up in the morning, and I set his cage on the coffee table while Coco eats her breakfast and I make her lunch.  After I put her on the bus, I sit down with Widgie and my coffee, and hold his little tin of fresh water so he can "take a bath."  He hops onto my hand and shimmies the water over himself, adjusting and preening feathers along the way.  Intermittently, he sticks his beak through the cage and wants me to bend my head to him so he can preen me for a minute...then back to the bath.  It's awesome when I make Joe sit and do this, and get to yell out "He wants your head!  Let him preen you!"  And so he does.  hee hee.  

   Then I change his paper, get him fresh food, and hold his little food can while he sits on my hand and has some breakfast.  Rewind and repeat whenever I have a minute during the day.  Sometimes I set his cage in front of the heat vent after his bath, and he nestles up against the warm air.

   I know.  Seriously right?  Hey, we never know what God will bring us in a given day, but I must say that Widget has been a lovely little surprise!

xoxo, e and widgie.

Annabelle.

Yesterday I sang at the funeral of one of my special gals.  For the last few years, Ann and I spent time together every week.  This is a gift that we don't get with many hospice patients.  But Ann was the gal with 9 lives...literally.  We were called in 8 times over the last few years because she was ready to go, on her way out, this time for sure.  Yet every time, I'd cozy up next her bed, start playing her favorite music, and she would roll over and say "Oh, you know I like to look at you while you sing!  Wait a minute and let me get comfy here.  You are so pretty!  I love you so much!" - she was like a little pep talk in pajamas, always full of love and compliments, and I loved her too.

Truly, it was a gift to be on this journey with someone who, till our visit last week, was able to discuss what she was experiencing with me.  She was ready to go for so long, I'm not sure what kept her hanging on.  Her husband of 55 years, Dick, the love of her life, was waiting for her on the other side.  She was totally at peace with dying.  She would wake up every morning and say "Good Lord!  Am I still here?".

Part of this journey was planning her funeral service.  She knew what she wanted sang, which versions, and who she wanted to sing them.  I promised her week after week that I would sing The Old Rugged Cross, When We all Get to Heaven (the Alan Jackson version ;), and You are My Sunshine, her special song with Dick.

I've been asked to sing "crazy" things at funerals over the years.  One old gal walked the halls of her nursing home singing "She'll be Coming Around the Mountain," and so this was how she was remembered.  One family asked that I sing "Will the Circle be Unbroken," boasting the endearing words "undertaker, undertaker, won't you please drive kind of slow...cuz that lady that your haulin', Lord I hate to see her go!"

These are not my choices, I'm just there to make the family happy and comfortable.  But today, when I arrived at the funeral and looked at the program, and saw that Ann's special requests had been nixed, I took action.  I was given 10 minutes of "pre-music" before the service, and then had some pieces during, but not her requests.

So, during my ten minutes, I did a rousing rendition of "When We All Get to Heaven", and the sweetest, most tender "You Are My Sunshine" that I could muster.

Because I promised.  Thank you Annabelle, for all of the beautiful talks, the tender hugs, and for the meaningful journey.  xoxo...e.

I'm including an outfit post, because Ann loved my style.  She couldn't wait to see what "get-up" I'd show up in each week...

outfit details:

1940's black dress - thrifted ($1.80. for real.)

1960's beaded cardi - thrifted

black patent belt - thrifted

sweater chain - thrifted

champagne drop earrings - Stella and Dot

Victorian embroidered patch broach - thrifted

T-strap pumps - Ann Klein, TJ Maxx ;)

Oxblood bow clutch - thrifted

Chicken - Dolly Parton.

What, you thought I went tromping around the farm to take pics in my pumps?