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Stockpiled forages are ready to use

Thursday, December 9, 2004

Here we are in December and I see livestock in numerous pastures where there is no grass left to eat.

Nothing like a 3-year-old spark plug

Thursday, December 9, 2004

It was a gray and dreary morning. Not much happening. Not much to spark the day. Until the phone rang.

New faces at the kids’ table

Thursday, December 2, 2004

I am proud – if a bit startled – to report that my younger cousin brought her own baby to Thanksgiving dinner this year.

Confessions of an errant cow milker

Thursday, December 2, 2004

Based on the e-mails, brickbats and live grenades sent me the last few weeks, it’s time to come clean: I kidnapped the Lindbergh baby.

Getting a ‘license’ for independence

Thursday, December 2, 2004

My daughter Caroline is putting her driver’s permit to good use, always asking if there is any place I need to go, ever willing to drive me.

Getting the worst job in Washington

Thursday, November 25, 2004

Even before Ann Veneman quietly submitted her resignation as secretary of agriculture Nov. 12, the Washington grapevine hung heavy with a long list of likely replacements.

Moral values extend beyond exit poll

Thursday, November 25, 2004

The surprise came from two words cropping up in the exit poll reports. Moral values. The election was hinging on moral values.

As things go down, look to ridge tops

Thursday, November 25, 2004

Just this past week, I once again had a meeting with school officials regarding Cort’s on-going struggle with his health and how that pertains to his education.

Money talks: I just don’t speak the language

Thursday, November 25, 2004

Obviously, I am failing to see the big picture, money wise, and for this (and my being a writer – a career path which ranks slightly lower than illegal alien bus boy in terms of financial success), I’m unlikely to ever be obscenely, or even G-ratedly, rich.

Political wisdom for the heartland

Thursday, November 18, 2004

The first political wisdom ever sent my way came from the gravelly throat of Everett Dirksen.
During Dirksen’s 1968 reelection stop in my southern Illinois hometown, I asked the white-maned Senate Minority Leader how he’d outflank Mayor Daley’s Chicago vote machine.

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