tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-630950695945190762024-11-01T03:52:11.052-07:00Day-to-day happenings of a city girl's life on the farm.Giniahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18224197737379595464noreply@blogger.comBlogger86125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-63095069594519076.post-28813127407217647872012-10-13T12:51:00.002-07:002012-10-13T12:51:27.005-07:00

Hello, World! Just wanted to let you know that I am moving my blog to www.myhomeonthefarm.wordpress.com. Please join me there. Thank you for following my life on the farm and I hope you will take the time to sign up for email notifications at my new site. I've also made a new Facebook page for you to "like" https://www.facebook.com/MyHomeOnTheFarm. Have a great day! -Ginia

Giniahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18224197737379595464noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-63095069594519076.post-49099850612287440832012-09-07T07:51:00.001-07:002012-09-07T07:51:17.051-07:00

Three weeks ago today the most intense pain I’ve EVER felt punched me in the stomach like a bolt of lightning.No exageration.I tried to walk it off, laid down to ease it, even tried to curl up into a little ball to make it to go away. Didn’t work and in no time at all I knew I needed help. Matt was already gone to work and the kids were starting to rouse so I called my poor mom and awakened her

Giniahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18224197737379595464noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-63095069594519076.post-84827773081709287342012-09-07T07:50:00.001-07:002012-09-07T07:50:31.895-07:00

I want to write a book. Kind of.What I really want to do is effortlessly and painlessly compile some words onto some pages and have somebody somewhere mail me large checks. I would gladly receive those checks at my farm where I’m content to never ever leave again.If, due to only God’s power, my book is popular and doesn’t get me strung up by PETA (think back to my columns about chickens), I would

Giniahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18224197737379595464noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-63095069594519076.post-12925963212824299582012-09-07T07:47:00.002-07:002012-09-07T08:00:24.914-07:00

Sunday afternoon, April 15, I was taking a nap. A nap on a rug. Not a literal rug, but a figurative one. Honestly, I had no clue I still even had that rug. Because when I left for college and then when I had a family of my own, I was sure that I left the comfort of that rug and moved onto my own. But when the phone rang, waking me up from my Sunday afternoon nap and I heard the words “Ginia ...

Giniahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18224197737379595464noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-63095069594519076.post-71617947154117199192012-09-07T07:46:00.001-07:002012-09-07T07:46:05.963-07:00

Constant noise. No release. No peace. No quiet.Maddening. Cut your toenails to the quick. Makes you want to scream.Noise.That was one thing I never anticipated being a problem back when our fourth child was born four years ago. Lots of diapers? Yes. No sleep? Of course! But noise? I never really thought about it.Let me tell you though, the noise level  around my brood has become a constant

Giniahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18224197737379595464noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-63095069594519076.post-2680652813016516362012-09-07T07:45:00.001-07:002012-09-07T07:45:14.482-07:00

I realize only a select few will feel sorry for me when they hear my story.Because I should have known better.It seems life has found me in nearly identical scenarios more than once. What Bible says is so true: “As a dog returns to his vomit, so a fool returns to his folly.”That’s me. Getting myself back into situations I know should be left in my already digested memories of lessons learned.But

Giniahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18224197737379595464noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-63095069594519076.post-25922478669403567742012-09-07T07:44:00.004-07:002012-09-07T07:44:29.274-07:00

Next week holds the first day of spring.HA-LE-LU-JAH!!!!!!!I am sooooooo excited, not that we really have a reason to be seeing as our winter has barely lived up to its name and reputation.But still I am excited.Totally pumped.This time of year brings out the best and the worst in me.I have a knack for getting really, really excited about something — like couponing, for example — and then

Giniahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18224197737379595464noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-63095069594519076.post-53958957445750802432012-02-22T06:09:00.000-08:002012-02-22T06:09:37.174-08:00

I have a history of doing things sensible people might avoid. Like on Friday, the eve of a potentially great weekend with no plans and decent weather. All I had left to do was  clean the house. That was it; then the weekend was ours. We haven’t had one of those in a while. So, of course, at 11:45 a.m. I decided it was a fabulous (and sensible) time to start ripping out the floor in our

Giniahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18224197737379595464noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-63095069594519076.post-24679395411217162082012-02-15T10:15:00.000-08:002012-02-15T10:15:37.657-08:00

How to make grape freezer jelly from frozen grape juice concentrate. Step 1: Mix 1 pkg. pectin with 2 cups lukewarm water. Stir until dissolved. Let stand 45 minutes. Step 2: Pour thawed 6 oz. grape juice concentrate into separate bowl. Mix in 1-3/4 cups sugar and stir until mostly dissolved. Add 1-1/2 cups sugar to pectin (AFTER the 45 minutes). Step 3: Combine the grape

Giniahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18224197737379595464noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-63095069594519076.post-56001448589660245982012-02-13T09:09:00.000-08:002012-02-15T10:16:25.407-08:00

I am NOT a crafty person ... AT ALL!!! So the following project we completed to create four Valentine's boxes was a major accomplishment. First, we washed, cut mouths out of and painted four 2-liter soda bottles. We had some spectators... Then we cut teeth out of white felt. Fins out of blue and ears out of pink. The pigs' legs and tails were made out of pink pipe cleaners.

Giniahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18224197737379595464noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-63095069594519076.post-10428811908600695092012-02-10T08:07:00.000-08:002012-02-13T09:34:26.154-08:00

I think it's no secret that back in the day, most housewives organized the household chores by doing certain tasks on certain days. Generally speaking, SUNDAY = Day of rest MONDAY = washing TUESDAY = ironing WEDNESDAY = sewing THURSDAY = shopping FRIDAY = cleaning SATURDAY = baking I LOVE this kind of thinking. I love routine and schedules and lists and on and on. I also love to tweak it

Giniahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18224197737379595464noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-63095069594519076.post-67059220668730861012012-02-07T18:43:00.000-08:002012-02-10T08:07:37.559-08:00

I attended a personality conference a few weeks ago with Matt. It was an all-day training on what motivates you and how to be aware of and modify negative traits associated with your personality type. The way it works is the personalities are broken down into four colors. Red=power. Blue=intimacy. White=peace. Yellow=fun. Each person’s personality is displayed in a pie chart showing his or her

Giniahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18224197737379595464noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-63095069594519076.post-57697491502258941922012-02-01T08:25:00.000-08:002012-02-01T08:25:39.696-08:00

I have acquired my husband's cold. He always has been a good sharer. Me...not so much. But I'm learning. Almost every day I feel like I am heading or veering more toward the way I want to be as a person, not that I really could define what that is.  But days like today, when I feel like a fresh, steaming pile of manure, it's hard to do the right thing. All I want to do is veg. Be

Giniahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18224197737379595464noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-63095069594519076.post-22618463187780053012012-01-30T12:37:00.000-08:002012-01-30T12:37:35.324-08:00

I love to read what others are reading. So, I assume you do too! Here's what I've been reading the last couple months: • The Egg and I by Betty MacDonald • Making Your Small Farm Profitable by Ron Macher • Storey's Guide to Raising Chickens by Gail Damerow • Her Mother's Hope and Her Daughter's Dream both by Francine Rivers • Plain Truth by Jodi Picoult • Heaven is for Real by Todd Burpo • I

Giniahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18224197737379595464noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-63095069594519076.post-22023987490536518592012-01-23T13:34:00.000-08:002012-01-23T13:34:58.482-08:00

Do you think real farmer's wives (back in the day) allowed their houses to be a pig sty? Surely not. Surely every house was filled with peace and free of clutter. Right? For the sake of personal motivation, I am going to say that things back then while not perfect were definitely a lot more peaceful than today's version of messy. Simply speaking — and I am going to generalize the entire

Giniahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18224197737379595464noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-63095069594519076.post-24121926188934309762012-01-20T06:31:00.000-08:002012-01-20T06:31:17.067-08:00

All the journals I've read from women of the past have been clear on this subject matter: A good farm wife is up with the sun and continues in an up-right position until said sun goes to bed. Ugh. My nature, my genes, my will and everything else that makes me me desires to go to bed late and get up late. Oh, and I LOVE to nap. I realize how luxuriously lazy I sound, but I typically get a

Giniahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18224197737379595464noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-63095069594519076.post-79373181888599963742012-01-18T08:54:00.000-08:002012-01-18T08:54:15.109-08:00

After living on the farm for five years, I've decided it's high time I learned what in the heck I am doing. Or, to be more exact, what it takes to be a farmer. A real one. I have always admired stories of women of ago who worked their fingers to the bone from sun-up to sun down ... survivors, these gals, and I feel like such a wimp, slug, prissy gal when compared. But I do live in 2012.

Giniahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18224197737379595464noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-63095069594519076.post-12227187200651336602012-01-18T08:02:00.000-08:002012-01-18T08:02:09.874-08:00

The other day as I was lamenting over the length of my to-do list and the kids were running around like mad men, it hit me. “Why aren’t these kids helping out more?We give them shelter. We give them food, clothes, etc. etc. And none of it is free. None of it comes without sacrifice, without work. But that’s how life is and we know it. They don’t. They are just kids. Soon, God willing, they will

Giniahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18224197737379595464noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-63095069594519076.post-3365107846027305332012-01-18T07:30:00.000-08:002012-01-18T07:50:02.591-08:00

Our cat is a dog. Not in some weird science fictional way, but I promise to everything, that animal is con-fused! There is much evidence to support my theory. Patrick Star (that’s his name) is a sock stealer. If I leave socks on the kids’ dressers for the next morning or if a sock drawer is even cracked, he will have those socks strung out all over, chewing on them, growling and then eventually

Giniahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18224197737379595464noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-63095069594519076.post-74557803707697290502012-01-18T07:23:00.000-08:002012-01-18T07:50:18.456-08:00

I MET THE DUGGARS!!! I MET THE DUGGARS!!! I MET THE DUGGARS!!! And while a few weeks have already passed, I am still totally stoked about it! The Duggar family (you know, the family from Arkansas with 19 kids and one on the way ?) were guests at the Fresh Grounded Faith conference held in Springfield Nov. 11-12. When I heard they were going to be so close, I snatched a group of tickets so

Giniahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18224197737379595464noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-63095069594519076.post-63967487665501874102011-11-23T06:33:00.000-08:002012-01-18T07:50:30.258-08:00

Sometimes, Matt answers our house telephone, “Hoberg Daily News! How may I help you?” Most of the time, I roll my eyes and get on to the matter of why I am calling, but recently, Matt’s salutation has got me thinking. I’ve started to think about the newspaper and its significance in history. Birthday season began last month and with it, like always, I am beginning to realize that everybody was

Giniahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18224197737379595464noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-63095069594519076.post-15348940272485460812011-11-23T06:32:00.000-08:002012-01-18T07:51:24.849-08:00

“You should’ve been a nurse,” my Aunt Mindy (the licensed nurse practitioner) told me after we corresponded back and forth about yet ANOTHER medical situation. Yep, having some medical training would definitely come in handy with the group we have. Every day is an adventure and it is even more of an adventure during cold and flu and strep throat season. Every morning I wake up and I have

Giniahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18224197737379595464noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-63095069594519076.post-65398682466226869932011-09-27T11:59:00.000-07:002012-01-18T07:51:33.057-08:00

Poor Matt has such little help on the farm. Yes, he has me, but I am sometimes (let’s face it, most of the time) more of a liability than a help. Sometimes the little relief I can provide is worth the liability. (We decided early on in this little farm venture that my having life insurance was a must!) On the Sunday morning Matt was loading a set of calves to transport to the sale barn, he came

Giniahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18224197737379595464noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-63095069594519076.post-56467592639306216042011-09-27T11:57:00.000-07:002011-09-27T11:58:20.913-07:00

I’ve decided Oehlschlager Farm is not an appropriate title anymore.Matt and I are now the proud owners of Roosterville.At least that’s what it feels like after our last chicken debacle.It all started with (what I thought was) my best idea yet.We were ordering our spring chickens when I thought it would be great to add some flavor (no pun intended) to our rather uniform flock.We ordered the “Grab

Giniahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18224197737379595464noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-63095069594519076.post-31530659090332224402011-08-22T08:57:00.001-07:002011-08-22T08:57:45.569-07:00

Have you noticed that nobody waves anymore? Well, not nobody, but most do not wave. Sure people wave at those they really know, but just the good ole raise of the paw to a stranger is very uncommon in these times we live in. Matt is a waver. I am not. It’s not that I’m not friendly, it’s just that when I’m driving there is typically a “crisis” of some sort in the back and I am intent on staying

Giniahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18224197737379595464noreply@blogger.com1