Dear Friend Letters, Sunday, Uncategorized

Hug a Farmer

WIN_20151229_09_52_46_ProDear Friend,

In about five years you will read a story that I wrote with a scene that was caused by a farmer’s depression.  (And yes, it will take me this long to get it enough self confidence to print it out, hand it to my “special” people, who will then engage in a dance with me for about 5 more edits and changes, and then the story will meet my rejection quota to finally be self published. #ccfarmerwriterlife)  Since today is National Hugging Day I thought it would be a great time chat a bit about my favorite occupation other than writing, farming.  Farming is not without it’s problems.  According to an article about farmer suicide from 2014, farming has the highest occupational suicide rate.  HIGHEST.

What can you do?  The first thing I would suggest is hugging.  It works for me.  Sometimes we can not do anything else but sit, hold a hand and hug.  We can’t fix problems overnight.  I have a new friend named Nancy.  (She councils me every wed at the same time because she knows that I have OCD and try to keep everything as a routine.  Ok so I have not been diagnosed with OCD.  I have diagnosed myself as COW BRAINED.  I panic less when I have a routine. #ccfarmerlife) Anyways, I am only going to her because I was trying to get rehabilitated to get a part time job. (Which is basically because of my autoimmune disease I would fail at being a teacher, which I have been trained to do so then I need to fall back on my other skills to keep myself from feeling like a failure and achieve what my limitations will let me. Counseling is to help me ACT.  Acceptance and Commitment Therapy).  I wish that Nancy would be available to farmers.

Are there councilors that live in rural areas that accept food/crops as payment and travels to the farmer, where the farmer is and in more likely to have counseling sessions at night, very early mornings before milkings, and or when it is storming outside???????Basically when the farmer is not trying to survive or make a living?

Since I have no brilliant solutions to farmer suicides , and I know that hugging makes a person feel better, I have chosen to hug my farmer.  What about you?  Have you hugged a farmer today?

Sincerely and God Bless,


Sunday, Uncategorized

Elijah cont. BE HUMBLE

Today we sang with the adults before sunday school.  Noble and Dignity were not there yet and Puddleglum was with his Grandma for the day.  He was going to Grandma’s church and then the child would go with his great uncle fishing out on a boat.  That left Yuri and Periwinkle under the Farmer’s care.  We sang “Jesus Loves Me” and followed it up with prayer then finished off with “Go Tell It On the Mountain.”  Farmer sat at the piano and pressed the key for the beginning note.

From there we went and sang Happy Birthday to Dignity.  Violet came down from the upper class to one hand Happy Birthday for us.

Obviously, the Farmer needs to think of a way to get the kids piano lessons.  (Anyone want to buy any books?  Look for C. C. Farmer on Amazon.  Every 25 cents helps.)

Once again we prayed before we started class.  Our prayer consisted of “Dear Lord, before we get on youtube, please don’t allow us to see any inappropriate advertisements.  Amen.”

And yes our prayers were answered. Since it was my Anne account there were only documentaries.  I did feel awkward because I had my Dairy Promotion Team as my background.  I guess I was thinking that since I am in God’s house with my computer I was opening my soul or private life to the kids in my class.    Anyways I apologized for stating that a bull was at the table with Jezabel.

bull eating

Then we watched a youtube video.

After which we turned to Matthew 18. And we read parts of the chapter and talked about steering clear of temptation.  I used the example of an animal sanctuary.  If I drove by it everyday I would bring home animals, therefore to keep myself away from temptation I would take the few minutes longer route and stay away from the temptation.

We talked a bit about how to let the Lord take vengeance and resist “teaching the other person a lesson.”

Then we hurried and cleaned up, had a quick snack and hurried over to the sanctuary for Grandparents Day.

During the service guess what happened?  Dignity stood up and sang a song that blew me away.  Gorgeous voice.  Gorgeous.  Then guess what bible verses Pastor L read?  Yep it was from Matthew 18.  Be Humble.  Be Humble. Be Humble.


Random, Uncategorized

Babysitting Orphan Kittens ep. one

The Day Three Kittens Came episode one.

The day after Queen Mom read a FB post on how the animal sanctuary closed in Wellsboro, Mama Cat went splat on the road at Empress Granny’s house.  Queen Mom had a house to clean, four children to feed and a tortoise that was long overdue for some attention.  But with the animal sanctuary closing and the fear that Empress Granny would either lose her mind or turn into the neighborhood Cat Lady, she offered to take the kittens for the weekend.

Princess Rose was overjoyed.  Princess Lilac was not sure.  Prince Reuben was excited, for he had named the yellow kitten Shine.  Prince Lindsey gave a how to care for orphan kitten commentary while reading “Big Nate Comics”.  Queen Mom was hoping that the kittens would keep Princess Rose from getting into trouble while she accomplished her to do list and that her loving, kind, sweet, manly, genius, not fond of any animals in the house other than an obedient dog, precious and forgiving husband would be able to cope with them for the weekend.


Queen Mom was hoping that the kittens would keep Princess Rose from getting into trouble while she accomplished her to do list and that her loving kind, sweet, manly, genius, not fond of any animals in the house other than an obedient dog, precious and forgiving husband would be able to cope with them for the weekend.


To Be Continued……..20170520_090528 (1).jpg




poem Persist



book review, Hero, Love An Author, Uncategorized

HOEDOWN with Misty Simon

There are days where I almost cry because I spent all my book money.  Here is a book that is going on my wish list and it’s not just because of the title.

  • Ivy Morris Mysteries – Hoedown Showdown

With the Tasty Tomato Tournament just days away, the small town of Martha’s Point is all abuzz. This is the first year without a sure winner, and the competition is fierce to gain the judges’ approval, even before the tournament starts.

But when Ivy finds one of those judges dead in a shed across the street, things go from bad to worse. All she wanted was seven glorious, kid-free days of messing around with her husband. Instead, she’s going to be tracking down a killer, staying out of the way of a pickle-obsessed farmer, and dodging the new cop who seems out for her blood.

Rating: Spicy


“Myrt,” I said patiently, as if talking to a small child. “First of all, this wasn’t the tomato crusher. It was Judge McIntyre.”

I didn’t even get to the next part since she started wailing. “Oh, my stars! I’m never going to win the Tasty Tomato Tournament now! It’s the fiftieth anniversary, and I wanted at least one chance before I die! And now I will never win this! I’ll be a dead woman long before I can ever show my face again in the tournament! And this was supposed to be my year!”

Not only was that a lot of exclamation points, but she also dragged the last word out until it sounded like a cat dying. I tried to calm her down by settling my hand on her shoulder. She shook me off while dropping her cane at her feet. With a ton of creaks and cracks, she knelt down beside him and started babbling about how sorry she was.

“I don’t think you should touch him.” I said this while definitely keeping my distance. I did not want to touch him more than I already had. To be honest, it had been some time since I was involved in anything more than feeding and playing with my kids or running my store and being a wife. Occasionally I would help Ben with a case or two in his work as a private investigator, but it was more paperwork than anything else. I did not want to even know what had happened to the judge, much less who had done it. Ben was not going to be pleased. At all.

“I’m so sorry, Mr. McIntyre,” Myrt said with her face close to his, her hand patting his chest. There was a crinkling noise, but she was still talking. “So very sorry. When Irma died last year in her sleep after winning her forty-ninth straight tournament, I thought I finally had a chance, and now I hit you, and I’m so very, very sorry, and I can’t believe I mistook you for a burglar.” She twisted her hands together like she was wringing out a dishtowel. And she was going to draw blood if she continued biting her lip in between babbling some more.

I had few choices right now. I have to admit here that I had no desire whatsoever to call the police. I didn’t want to be involved in things. I had plans this week. This was not going to keep me from swinging from the freaking chandelier if I could.

Of course, I could go across the street and call from the house, or have Ben call and then remove myself from the situation altogether. But that would be completely unfair to Mrs. Crandall.

I couldn’t help myself. I let out a scream that would have brought down an opera house, something between frustration and fright because, at that moment, something furry ran against my leg before shooting into the bushes.

In the end, the decision of what to do was taken out of my hands because the police came tearing up in the one marked car in town, screeching to a halt at the curb. A man in uniform was out of the car before I could blink again. And I’m glad I didn’t blink because I would have missed the way he jumped from the car and then did a forward roll across the front lawn as if he was in some crazy-assed shootout.




Twitter: @MistySimon

Buy Link:

Author bio: Misty Simon loves a good story and decided one day that she would try her hand at it. Eventually she got it right. There’s nothing better in the world than making someone laugh, and she hopes everyone at least snickers in the right places when reading her books. She lives with her husband, daughter and three insane dogs in Central Pennsylvania where she is hard at work on her next novel or three. She loves to hear from readers so drop her a line at



Love An Author