"I need hay," I told FarmWife.
"You have hay," she told me. "You have half a bale of delicious orchard grass. It will last you a week."
"I need buffer hay," I told her. "I need hay stored against the possibility of a calamity."
"We cannot afford buffer hay," she told me. "FarmHusband's work has been patchy, and we cannot buy hay in any fashion but one bale at a time."
"We need a Paypal button. I will earn my own money."
"You cannot simply ask people for money, Fenway. You need to provide a service."
"I asked for harness money, and look what that got us! It got you the nicest birthday present you've ever had. I got it myself, by asking for money."
"You did that once, Fenway, but twice would be tacky."
"It isn't tacky when you get paid to write a magazine article."
"True."
"It isn't tacky when you sell a copy of your book."
"True."
"It isn't tacky when you accept payment for a poem."
"True."
"It won't be tacky, then, for me to suggest that people might throw something in the tip jar at Brays Of Our Lives."
"You can't make them feel obligated."
"They are not obligated. I blog because I love to blog—you transcribe for me because you love me, and they read because they love me too."
"Just so we're clear—no one has to chip in to your "Feed Fenway" fund. I will feed you—always. You will not go hungry."
"But if they do chip in, FarmWife, don't tell me you won't be grateful."
"I will be grateful."
"Okay then."
"Okay, Fen. You may have a Paypal button."
"You have hay," she told me. "You have half a bale of delicious orchard grass. It will last you a week."
"I need buffer hay," I told her. "I need hay stored against the possibility of a calamity."
"We cannot afford buffer hay," she told me. "FarmHusband's work has been patchy, and we cannot buy hay in any fashion but one bale at a time."
"We need a Paypal button. I will earn my own money."
"You cannot simply ask people for money, Fenway. You need to provide a service."
"I asked for harness money, and look what that got us! It got you the nicest birthday present you've ever had. I got it myself, by asking for money."
"You did that once, Fenway, but twice would be tacky."
"It isn't tacky when you get paid to write a magazine article."
"True."
"It isn't tacky when you sell a copy of your book."
"True."
"It isn't tacky when you accept payment for a poem."
"True."
"It won't be tacky, then, for me to suggest that people might throw something in the tip jar at Brays Of Our Lives."
"You can't make them feel obligated."
"They are not obligated. I blog because I love to blog—you transcribe for me because you love me, and they read because they love me too."
"Just so we're clear—no one has to chip in to your "Feed Fenway" fund. I will feed you—always. You will not go hungry."
"But if they do chip in, FarmWife, don't tell me you won't be grateful."
"I will be grateful."
"Okay then."
"Okay, Fen. You may have a Paypal button."
FenBar,
ReplyDeleteI donated a wee bit. With Christmas coming, I will try to either send a Christmas present, or donate a little more to the Fen-Fund.
Best wishes from the East Coast!
Jenn
Jenn, you're very kind!
ReplyDeleteHere's to a great Thanksgiving for you and yours. I hear you have cold weather moving in just as ours is scheduled to move out—hope you remain warm and well.
Ears to you,
FenBar
Fenway,
ReplyDeleteI donated a tiny bit. We have 10 rescue horses and 6 rescue donkey,s so that is about all we can do. Hope you and Farm Family have a wonerful Thanksgiving,
Keep on blogin!!!
Gary
You're awfully sweet! Thank you for throwing me a flake, and thank you especially for saving those 16 friends!
ReplyDeleteAll the best,
Fen
Dear Fen, Our mom has an easier time than farm wife cause we give her our wool to sell for our hay bill. It makes her crazy if we get dirty and she makes us wear coats even in the summer time to keep us clean but she needs all the helk she can get with the hay bill too. Have you ever thought of giving farm wife your wool to help with the hay bill? we SAW WHERE YOU HAVE A COAT TO KEEP YOU CLEAN, YOUR wool might be worth something. WE WILL SEND YOU A BIT FOR A BITE OR TWO FOR now-we had a little burro once who hung around with us, Mom said it made us look like a manger scene. We loved it when he sang to us! Thanks for keeping mom smiling with your stories! Love, "The girls"
ReplyDelete