Feed Bag of Memories

It’s time for another thrilling installment of . . .

Grab Bag Special

Are you thinking what I’m thinking?  I might have done a bit of my own work on the bangs.  Why are bangs a reoccurring theme in these pictures?

So, did you know that our dad used to raise pigs?  When I left home he got out of the business.  Read into that what you must.

But weren’t they cute?  (I’m talking solely about the pigs now.)  And loud, let me tell you!  On days when I feel the need to complain about the noisiness of my household I need to remember that wicked combination of volume and frequency that could curdle milk.  You know that’s why we drink cow’s milk and not pig’s, right?  No?

Okay, I don’t know why we don’t drink pigs milk.  They have something like 8-12 milk nozzles (I’m trying not to get any unwanted hits here, so please forgive the technical terminology.)  That seems like a pretty rich resource for tapping milk to me.

Back to the picture now.  Let’s focus on that feed Co-op feed bag.  On our Vogelsang Girls’ 5K we ran past the Co-op and the smell of the feed in the air reminded us of some of the best school field trips ever.  There weren’t a lot of options for field trips, so once a year we went into town and toured some of the businesses – the bank, library, newspaper, jail, and of course Farmers Ranchers Co-op.

They always gave us Saf-T-pops with the CO OP logo on them.  The sign of a good field trip location was always it’s free give-away at the end, and that sucker placed the feed store pretty high.  It wasn’t as good as the year that the bank let us go back into the vault and then gave us pens stuffed with shredded dollar bills, though.  I remember bragging that we didn’t keep our money at that bank, so ours was much safer.

Adorable.