Weekend Adventure

This was the first Labor Day weekend in years that I haven't either gone to Kemah, TX or picked Neal up at the airport for a short hiatus at home. Janet and I had discussed the possibility of going camping...you know, actually taking the 5th wheel out for it's original intent and purpose. Neal mentioned that he was thinking of going out west to mow the 40 acres that's in CRP (Conservation Reserve Program). Now, getting Neal to actually make definite "plans" is like trying to nail jello to the wall. I'm usually the planner and organizer and he dutifully follows along. But this time, I decided to leave everything up to him. That was my first mistake. By the time he was ready to start making decisions, it was too late to try to get a camping spot and the Richardson's had made other plans. Okay, I guess it's a good time to head west. Even though my uncle has more John Deers than Old MacDonald, Neal insisted on loading his baby on the trailer and hauling it down I-40. I took along my Spanish CD and planned on doing some practicing and then having a nice siesta on the road. We had barely made it to the turnpike, when the airconditioning changed to heat. That meant open windows, hair-in-the-face, hot & sweaty, and the desperate need for earplugs. By OKC I was in dire need of el agua and managed to yell loud enough to let Neal know that I needed to stop. As we passed El Reno, with parched lips I reminded Neal of my request. We finally pulled over at Weatherford where I bought a large bottle of water and lingered in the airconditioned store as long as Neal would allow. Meanwhile, not only had we not secured a place to stay the night (usually at my cousin Carolyn's, who was away for the weekend) but we really didn't know the regulations for mowing, since it's in a government program. Minor details. We reached our property around 6:30 p.m. and I helped Neal unload the tractor...which looked more like a riding lawn mower on the acreage. I got back in the truck and commenced extracting the cuckleburrs/goatheads/stickers (whatever you like to call them) out of my Old Navy flip flops. The evening air was relatively cool, so I sat with the windows open while reviewing my Spanish. It wasn't long before the ginormous mosquitoes began their attack. I fought a losing battle and finally closed the windows and killed off the last sucker (literally) when Neal came and opened the door (I can't even remember why) letting in a dozen more. I continued to swat until it was too dark for Neal to see to mow. My uncle and aunt gave us shelter for the night, as well as sausage, biscuits & gravy for breakfast, and a huge delicious, farm grown meal for lunch yesterday. In the meantime we started checking around for details about the regulations for CRP. Aunt Don asked if we'd looked it up in the handbook. Handbook? I guess since the acreage was already in CRP when we acquired it, the handbook was lost somewhere in the shuffle. I remembered getting a notice last year that we would have to mow, and when I called to inquire, I was told we had two years to do it. I thought that was sufficient. Not so. After several phone calls to those "in-the-know" we concluded that we could only mow from November to March. Hmmm. Hope they don't notice those strips Neal cut Sunday night. The trip home last night was slightly better than previous. The airconditioning worked long enough for me to get a short nap, then back to the open windows. Neal did some dove hunting and I got to visit with my aunt, uncle and cousin (who returned on Monday), so the weekend wasn't a total loss. And I learned a valuable lesson--not to leave the planning up to Neal.