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My friend, Barb, sent me a link to Annie’s Project which is a great program started by Ruth Fleck Hambleton (an Iowa State University Extension officer) and named for her mother Annette (Kohlhagen) Fleck. It’s designed to empower women who find themselves in farming through choice, marriage (which is also a choice, Annie set out to marry a farmer, after all), or inheritance… Whatever circumstances might land a woman in the position of farmer, this is the program designed to help her compete on equal footing in a male dominated profession.

The syllabus includes such topics as risk management, crop insurance, business planning, human resources & time management, and retirement & estate planning. Purdue, my alma mater, is offering several sessions throughout Indiana, but no one has picked up the ball in Michigan so far.

On a side note, one of the sessions will be held in Rensselaer at Drexel Hall (also known as the Indian Normal School). It’s nice to know that the building has been completed and is being put to good use. It was empty when we moved to Rensselaer and still being renovated when we left for Michigan.

This evening, after an outing to the book store, we splurged and ate at Food Dance, my favorite Kalamazoo restaurant (like I’ve eaten at so many). We started with a delicious crab cake, Scott had the Mac & Cheese with Otto’s Chicken and I had the Sesame Ginger Wild Salmon. The mac & cheese definitely had some gruyère in the mix and my salmon was delicious with the ginger lemon rice that came with it (and the purple carrots were a nice side as well!)After an appetizer, soup, foccacia bread and an entree there was no room for dessert, but I would love to take the Chocolate Decadence class.

I may have to order some purple dragon carrot seeds for my garden this year!

Here you go Barb. My five things that I’ve never blogged about myself á la Erin McKean over at A Dress a Day…

1. When I was in 5th grade I got to go to Chicago and be on the Bozo Circus Show. I was the kid who said, “good morning and welcome to Bozo’s Circus.” After the umpteenth take I’m pretty sure they were sorry they pulled me out of the crowd. I was a little camera shy to say the least. Bob “Bozo” Bell, for me, is the one, the only Bozo the Clown, now and forever.

2. My paternal grandfather was an avid genealogist. He discovered that one of our distant relatives was one of George Washington’s drummer boys during the American Revolution. Now, if you have ever seen Revolution (1985) with Al Pacino, you probably have a greater appreciation than others for what kind of brush with greatness this might have been.

3. My Great Aunt Virginia is the genealogist on my mother’s side of the family. She traced us back to Robert the Bruce. You know, the guy who sold out Mel Gibson in Braveheart (1995).

Okay, genealogy is getting boring…

4. My children never watched Mr. Rogers Neighborhood. Well, I let my daughter watch it once and then spent weeks fighting her new found fear of the bath tub drain. He explained that there was no reason to be afraid of the bath tub drain - you can’t fit down that little hole. It had never occurred to her before that moment that there might be a reason to be afraid during bath time (obviously he was trying to cover something up!). I remember loving Mr. Rogers and watching it frequently as a child which could explain all of the anxieties I suffered from.

5. I didn’t go up in the Eiffel Tower when I was in France because I’m terrified of heights… I blame Mr. Rogers.

This is how much pure, unadulterated, local honey 14 dozen eggs will buy you around here. An entire gallon of golden goodness. I have never tasted better honey than the honey in this jar. I think it may be, in part, because of how satisfying I find the act of bartering. I love getting honey for eggs or a luxurious bar of handmade soap for an unloved bottle of essential oil. Things just seem to hold some extra feeling of value when, instead of giving an item some abstract concept of value, you give some thing of concrete value and in return you get something of concrete value. It’s just more satisfying than going to the super market and running the bank card through the reader.

Another record breaker. I’m not sure the picture does the egg (or the chicken) justice. It’s a REALLY big egg.