Making Memories

When I got pregnant with our first child, my husband and I started talking about what kind of traditions we wanted to start. As DINKs, (Dual Income, No Kids) we had no traditions. We pretty much did whatever we wanted whenever we wanted. But now I love that we have several. We have donuts most Saturday mornings, go to the park Sunday afternoons after church, and every fall we take a big family trip to an orchard out in the country. It’s kind of a big deal.

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We try and meet up with my husband’s family for breakfast, then drive a winding country road lined with trees in beautiful fall colors to our destination. The boys feed some goats and llamas and marvel at the colors on the exotic chickens. Before we go we ride the little train that goes around the apple orchard, down the ravine, past the pumpkin patch and back up by the pony ride.

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I’m not a country girl by any stretch of the imagination, but there’s just something about sitting on a hay bale listening to live folk music as a gentle breeze makes the gold and crimson trees dance with the tune. I sit with a hot cup of apple cider as the steam wafts notes of honey and cinnamon in the crisp fall air. We always leave with apples, maybe a pumpkin or two, and tons of great memories.DSC_0688

 

 

Things girls shouldn’t do

Junk to scale.

Junk to scale.

Fifteen or so years ago (boy am I getting old) I had dreams of owning a recycling business. Reusing old scrap metals wasn’t quite as fashionable here in the midwest and neither was the idea of women driving dump trucks. Back in the day, my dad was part owner in a demolition business. I can remember going to a job site after many days of begging and pleading. You see, little girls didn’t do such things like exploring old factories. I remember one particular building we explored was an old laundry factory. It stood about three stories tall. Inside was slide that spiraled from the top floor to the ground floor about 30 feet high. Oh and I forgot to mention the fireman’s type pole. That was before OSHA and of course no one told mama.

So a couple of weeks ago I was called to recycling duty….or should I say Fred Sandford duty. How and why….just know I did. Yes, I drove a loud pick up truck to what used to be called a junk yard but what is now a recycling center. If I were single, suffice it to say there were plenty of  helpful guys, business owners, driving expensive rigs, but I digress….I saw all sorts of big boy tonka trucks, tractors, rail cars, chippers,

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Gotta keep it cute! Check them out, in the store.

etc.  The recycling centers are big business. Our recyclable metals are taken to the centers, sorted, chipped, sold to China for pennies on the dollar, while China refabricates our junk and sells it back to us.  Hmm. Just thinking.

The trip to the junk yard brought back old memories….and what ifs…

Big boy/girl toys

Big boy/girl toys

Junk pre sorted and pre- chipped.

Junk pre sorted and pre- chipped.

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Metals now sorted, chipped loaded on rail cars to be shipped to China.

Mom's drafted for the cause wearing her recycle Eath Day tee.

Mom’s drafted for the cause.

More big boy/girl toys.

More big boy/girl toys.