Clean is a dirty word

When the chickens are shipped to be turned into the chicken nuggets that you may have just ordered at your local Mickey-D's, it's time for clean-up at the farm.

Adam has spent the last couple of days power washing the fans, etc., in the barns. But in order to do that, he gets covered in water and dirty feathers. So, the fans might sparkle, but the washer looks and smells like a wet chicken.

And apparently I've gotten a little bit of a reputation around the farm. I was looking for the thing-y (that's a technical term, you know) to put on the drill to raise and lower the brooders, and Adam asked if I knew how to use the drill to wind up the winch automatically. He said, "You have to be careful, though." Then he looked at me and just put that drill bit away. Hmm.

I did a little bit of mowing yesterday. Andy's been working long hours, and now that Brian is big and old, he's working on another farm full-time this summer. That means, with Grandpa gone, the mowing is falling behind. I like to mow, and I would help Andy with it sometimes, but Grandpa is definitely the resident mower. I miss looking up or out the window to see him bouncing around on the mower and then I would sometimes send the kids out with a tall glass of kool-aid, since he doesn't drink water straight, you know.