Fat & Selfish

 “You're selfish, that's what you are!” the voice on the other end of the phone teased. It was one of those real busy weeks when you're coming and going at the same time. Water melons and winter squash were waiting to be delivered, cows needed to be hauled to the sale, our Littlest was fluffing hay, our Oldest stacking it, and I had hay to swath, and a couple boxes of tomatoes to can before they died. As much as I hated to say it, someone else was going to have to swath. The voice on the phone was right. Swathing is not a job I give up easily—I am completely selfish about it—but who wouldn't be? Its the best job outside of driving forklift. I have sunflower decals lining the edges of the windows and doors, and a long skirt tucked next in with extra blades (in case I'm cutting a field without trees or bushes and nature calls). I have the ability to listen to audiobooks while I just sit in a climate controlled cab with an air conditioned seat—does harvest get any more luxurious? I have played the girl card, the mom card, the seniority card, and any other cards I thought might keep others out of “my” swather. But today, it just wasn't going to happen. I gave up my favorite job make tomato soup. I chopped parsley and spinach, grated car rots, horseradish and beets, and sauteed onions. I had pots and jars full of hot and spicy tomato soup—and that's when I realized I'd lost ten pounds. Any other day I'd have been thrilled to drop a few pounds— but losing weight on the pres Widner Electric & Ind. Supply Inc. 1124 N Columbia St Milton Freewater, OR 97862 541-938-5518 Sept 29- Oct 10 sure canner just isn't the same thing. I had both canners out and ready—and not a single weight to be found. I emptied out two kitchen drawers (that were long over due to be sorted), with no luck. I asked several people if I could borrow theirs, but they weren't the right kind—apparently I'm very picky about the extra weight I pick up. Three hours into my search, I just stopped and stood in the middle the room, truly befuddled as to where they could be. I'm not sure how long I stood there, but it must have really confused the cat, because she came up and gave me a sharp bop on the ankle. I looked at her. Surely not? She was so tiny—but—I'd looked everywhere else. There, in the bed of her cat tree, I found my weights. I'd never been so happy to find ten pounds. The next morning, 35 quarts and 21 pints of spicy tomato soup lined the pantry shelf. I smiled in satisfaction before heading out side to reclaim my swather—ten pounds lighter—but every bit as selfish!