Tuesday, August 28, 2012

Sam and Sharon: Part Deux

“Your blog totally changed my life.” 
“Reading your blog, it just…inspires me.”
“Write some more about your crazy parents.”

I’ve heard one of the above phrases in my lifetime, and I’ll let you guess which one.  At no point have I endeavored to do anything with this except make fun of stereotypes, text speak, and whatever else bugs the crap out of me in life, but the blog I wrote about ole Sam and Sharon really struck a chord with some folks, and so, in the interest of keeping the 2 ½ readers I sometimes have, here’s another introspective into the lives of my parents. 

1.  I called my mother the other day for the catch-up chat.  When I inquired as to their weekend activities, she said, “Well, Debbie had a swarm of bees…” She then proceeded to explain that swarms of bees are highly sought-after in the bee community and in trying to create a win-win situation in that they could rid the neighbors of the bees and then keep said bees for themselves, they suited up and began Beepocolypse 2012.  The bees were apparently terrified of whatever contraption they came up with to catch the bees and they disappeared completely, making it a win-lose the bees situation.  It also served up delicious fodder for this here blog as I’m almost certain I was the only person in the Metro area having a conversation about capturing a swarm of bees with her mother on a Tuesday afternoon.  On another note, if you too have a swarm of bees, gimme a shout.  I know people. 

2.  My parents also raise chickens and these chickens produce what I’m quite sure are the most glorious eggs ever.  This is not the point.  You see, they got some new chicks a while back and these chicks weren’t yet ready to go in the area with the bigger chickens, so they were relegated to the cellar until they were able to be emancipated.  They started off in a cardboard box, but as they got bigger, so did the box.  So much so that my mother started calling their enclosure the “Chicken Hilton” and became the owner of what I’m sure are the most-hated-due-to-jealousy chickens in existence.  These birds were living it up in the comfort of a cool cellar, a heat lamp, and enough room to order up some room service chicken food.  I would lay an egg if I could live like that for a while but sadly, I’ll just have to keep eating them.  One delicious frittata at a time. 

3.  My father manages a mill for a group of Mennonites in Kentucky.  I don’t think this needs further explanation on why it’s funny because I’ve never in my life heard this as a job description.  What I do know is this job nets responses along the lines of, “Oh, I’m just driving the Mennonites to the feed mill” or “going to pick up a grain auger for the Mennonites.”  Really, though, isn’t any sentence instantly more intriguing when you add “with the Mennonites?” 

4.  My parents’ extracurricular activities are extremely varied and not necessarily limited to chicken architecture and bee entrapment.  My father took a hog-butchering class the other day (I won’t lie, though.  I was a little jealous about that,) they sometimes grind their own flour, and at one point my mother took a class on growing mushrooms (not that kind.  I know.  I asked.) 

5.  I called my mom once and she was extremely excited about the fact that she had just unearthed some forgotten apple trees.  These trees just happened to have been forgotten in their hallway (not to be confused with the several bushels of sweet potatoes that were temporarily housed at the top of their stairs.) 

6.  Once when I was growing up, our wild cherry tree behind the chicken shed amassed quite a few cherries.  We picked what we could, but were stumped when so much of the treasured fruit was beyond the reach of our ladder.  Not to be outsmarted by a mere tree, my mother decided it needed to be pruned anyway.  Cutting down the branches, she brought the cherries into arm’s distance and many a pie was had that summer.  The chickens didn’t have quite the same amount of shade as before, but they didn’t seem to mind that much. 

7.  The majority of my parents’ garden equipment has white stripes painted on the handles.  My mom will tell you this is so they can find them easier if they’re lying out in the garden.  This IS partially the reason, but the real motive behind it is my mother spilled a bucket of white paint once and, not wanting to waste it, gave the tool shed a zebra-esque revamp and painted everything she could find with white stripes.  Easily-spotted implements and the rescue of paint – it was a good day in Robertson County.

And so I leave you with another glimpse into the lives of my folks.  Stay tuned for more stories involving wild animals, produce, and the adventures of Sam at the mill.  It promises to be awesome, because it’s true.  Real Housewives, eat your hearts out.  


  1. While I realized that both your parents and I have been the receiving end of many comments from our two misguided daughters, let me assure your readers that both of you were brought up with a deep appreciation of life on a farm in the deep south. Your parents are the most geniune people I know and I love you all dearly. Come on Jamie, give them a break and enjoy their own type of uniqueness!! LOL

    1. Oh, I definitely appreciate my upbringing. I like to think of this as not poking fun, but shining a light on a life that a lot of folks have no idea even exists! The parents get a kick out of the blogs. As well they should - they're some of my most popular! If anything, I like to think of this blog as a way of glorifying their unique lifestyle and showcasing how awesome they are. Not many parents send their daughters home from dinner with 8 dozen eggs and homemade salsa :)

  2. I like the Crazy Parents stories! (Maybe because I've got a set of Crazy Parents myself....
    -Lauren T

  3. Love this post, too, Jamie! You are definitely not alone with the crazy parent stories. I can't imagine anyone else out there with a dad who works at a funeral home, drives a school bus, & raises rabbits.