Prairie Grains Jan.-Feb. 98 - Prairie Ramblings

Issue 11
Jan./Feb. 1998
Prairie Ramblings

By Tracy Sayler

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Prairie Grains is the
official publication of
the Minnesota
Association of
Wheat Growers,
North Dakota Grain
Growers Association,
South Dakota Wheat,
Inc., and the
Minnesota Barley
Growers Association.

Resolutions Guaranteed to be Keepers through 1998

With the New Year well underway, Extension Specialist Clyde "Curly" Curdle reminds us not to overlook a major faux pas ("Faux pas," a French word meaning "Dan Quayle") that, as faux pas go, is bigger than wearing white pants after Labor Day, wearing a trucker's wallet chained to your belt loop, or displaying a velvet picture in your living room of four dogs playing poker: leaving your outdoor Christmas lights up until July.
Most experts agree that Christmas decorations should be taken down before a half-inch crust forms on the guacamole left over from the last college football bowl game on New Year's Day. Studies indicate that anything longer will only cause Martha Stewert to hyperventilate.
Other timely winter tips from Clyde:

Put leftover holiday peanut brittle in the back of your rear-wheel drive pickup for handy icy road traction.
Don't throw out that dried up old Christmas tree! Gather up just eight more, place them side to side and with the help of some barbed wire, you've got a brand new harrow!
When attaching jumper cables, connect the black clamp to the car battery owned by someone you are positive is Polish, and the red clamp to a negative Pole. Or something like that.
Face it, you're not going to find the lost left-handed partners to the 16 right-handed gloves you have in your closet. So turn half of the right-handed gloves inside out, and presto, you have eight usable pairs of gloves!
Make a point to have that "man-to-man talk" with your son, so that he may learn from your experience: in sub-zero weather, don't lick a metal pole with your tongue.

Clyde also suggests we take stock of our New Year's Resolutions, which can actually be traced back to the earliest of humans. Biblical scholars say Adam scribed the following:
"I resolve to find underwear more comfortable than this fig leaf."
"I resolve to understand Eve's roller-coaster emotions better, so I shall take it upon myself to read, "'Men Are From Mars, Women Are From Venus.'"
"I resolve not to listen to any more talking serpents."
"I definitely, definitely resolve to stay away from that one fruit tree in the garden."
On the world wide web, Chris White and Ziff Davis have even authored New Year's Resolutions for pets:
Cat: I will no longer be beholden to the sound of the can opener.
Dog: Take time from busy schedule to stop and smell the behinds.
Fish: Get out of the castle more, maybe swim counter-clockwise this year.
Human behavioral experts say that many of us have a difficult time just staying committed to daily tasks and routines (Let's see, no popcorn, chicken, or other sinewy foods consumed today…heck, I'll floss tomorrow) let alone to start some new ones. So, the experts advise setting realistic goals (ie, selling grain in an acceptable price range you have established for yourself, rather than "at the peak") and also, setting attainable steps to reach the desired goal (ie, don't base your marketing plan on when your neighbor hauls his grain to town).
So with these simple strategies in mind, I've crafted several New Year's Resolutions for 1998 that you may also wish to consider, if yours haven't already crashed and burned. I resolve to:

Breathe as much air this year as humanly possible.
Accept the fact that the bank will own my butt well into the next century.
Accept the fact that the only thing Super Glue bonds to is human flesh.
Never sit through a Richard Simmons exercise video, or one of those "Ernest" movies.
Not use more than five profanities in cussing out the jerk who cuts in front of me without signal lights in traffic.
Continue to wonder whatever happened to that "Home Alone" kid, and Cliffy from "Cheers."
Get right in there and grab that last piece of pizza, since everyone else is too bashful to do it anyway.
Not vacation in Iraq this year, unless there's a really, really good sale on sport utility vehicles.
Put something into the offering plate each time I'm in church, lest anyone think I'm a tightwad. Bonus resolution if you're Catholic: give up chard for lent.
Accept my hair as an endangered species, knowing that there are plenty of people out there who look much goofier with hair, like Sam Donaldson, that Kramer guy, and Don King.
Drop what I'm doing and gawk at country music star Shania Twain anytime she appears on television. Except when my wife is in the room. For some reason, women don't care for the male practice of girl watching that is clinically termed as "rubber necking."

I try to explain to my lovely wife that this is merely a hormonal instinct. That the male species has, since the dawn of time, been innately programmed to appraise attractive members of the opposite sex. "Men are pigs," she responds, using the all-familiar motto of the global sisterhood.
So I elaborate on my point with the following analogy: Even a person who drives the most unique, expensive car in the world cannot help but to admire other flashy cars on the road. And just looking at another nice car doesn't mean he actually would want to drive it.
"I'm not a car," she growls back. Maybe I should also resolve to read that "Men Are From Mars, Women Are From Venus" book this year.

Copyright Prairie
Grains Magazine January 1998

Issue 11 Jan./Feb. 1998	Prairie Ramblings By Tracy Sayler

Library Home E-Mail Back Prairie Grains is the official publication of the Minnesota Association of Wheat Growers, North Dakota Grain Growers Association, South Dakota Wheat, Inc., and the Minnesota Barley Growers Association.	Resolutions Guaranteed to be Keepers through 1998 With the New Year well underway, Extension Specialist Clyde "Curly" Curdle reminds us not to overlook a major faux pas ("Faux pas," a French word meaning "Dan Quayle") that, as faux pas go, is bigger than wearing white pants after Labor Day, wearing a trucker's wallet chained to your belt loop, or displaying a velvet picture in your living room of four dogs playing poker: leaving your outdoor Christmas lights up until July. Most experts agree that Christmas decorations should be taken down before a half-inch crust forms on the guacamole left over from the last college football bowl game on New Year's Day. Studies indicate that anything longer will only cause Martha Stewert to hyperventilate. Other timely winter tips from Clyde: Put leftover holiday peanut brittle in the back of your rear-wheel drive pickup for handy icy road traction. Don't throw out that dried up old Christmas tree! Gather up just eight more, place them side to side and with the help of some barbed wire, you've got a brand new harrow! When attaching jumper cables, connect the black clamp to the car battery owned by someone you are positive is Polish, and the red clamp to a negative Pole. Or something like that. Face it, you're not going to find the lost left-handed partners to the 16 right-handed gloves you have in your closet. So turn half of the right-handed gloves inside out, and presto, you have eight usable pairs of gloves! Make a point to have that "man-to-man talk" with your son, so that he may learn from your experience: in sub-zero weather, don't lick a metal pole with your tongue. Clyde also suggests we take stock of our New Year's Resolutions, which can actually be traced back to the earliest of humans. Biblical scholars say Adam scribed the following: "I resolve to find underwear more comfortable than this fig leaf." "I resolve to understand Eve's roller-coaster emotions better, so I shall take it upon myself to read, "'Men Are From Mars, Women Are From Venus.'" "I resolve not to listen to any more talking serpents." "I definitely, definitely resolve to stay away from that one fruit tree in the garden." On the world wide web, Chris White and Ziff Davis have even authored New Year's Resolutions for pets: Cat: I will no longer be beholden to the sound of the can opener. Dog: Take time from busy schedule to stop and smell the behinds. Fish: Get out of the castle more, maybe swim counter-clockwise this year. Human behavioral experts say that many of us have a difficult time just staying committed to daily tasks and routines (Let's see, no popcorn, chicken, or other sinewy foods consumed today…heck, I'll floss tomorrow) let alone to start some new ones. So, the experts advise setting realistic goals (ie, selling grain in an acceptable price range you have established for yourself, rather than "at the peak") and also, setting attainable steps to reach the desired goal (ie, don't base your marketing plan on when your neighbor hauls his grain to town). So with these simple strategies in mind, I've crafted several New Year's Resolutions for 1998 that you may also wish to consider, if yours haven't already crashed and burned. I resolve to: Breathe as much air this year as humanly possible. Accept the fact that the bank will own my butt well into the next century. Accept the fact that the only thing Super Glue bonds to is human flesh. Never sit through a Richard Simmons exercise video, or one of those "Ernest" movies. Not use more than five profanities in cussing out the jerk who cuts in front of me without signal lights in traffic. Continue to wonder whatever happened to that "Home Alone" kid, and Cliffy from "Cheers." Get right in there and grab that last piece of pizza, since everyone else is too bashful to do it anyway. Not vacation in Iraq this year, unless there's a really, really good sale on sport utility vehicles. Put something into the offering plate each time I'm in church, lest anyone think I'm a tightwad. Bonus resolution if you're Catholic: give up chard for lent. Accept my hair as an endangered species, knowing that there are plenty of people out there who look much goofier with hair, like Sam Donaldson, that Kramer guy, and Don King. Drop what I'm doing and gawk at country music star Shania Twain anytime she appears on television. Except when my wife is in the room. For some reason, women don't care for the male practice of girl watching that is clinically termed as "rubber necking." I try to explain to my lovely wife that this is merely a hormonal instinct. That the male species has, since the dawn of time, been innately programmed to appraise attractive members of the opposite sex. "Men are pigs," she responds, using the all-familiar motto of the global sisterhood. So I elaborate on my point with the following analogy: Even a person who drives the most unique, expensive car in the world cannot help but to admire other flashy cars on the road. And just looking at another nice car doesn't mean he actually would want to drive it. "I'm not a car," she growls back. Maybe I should also resolve to read that "Men Are From Mars, Women Are From Venus" book this year.
Copyright Prairie Grains Magazine January 1998