Friday, February 27, 2026
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Lovina Shares Fun Time with Grandchildren

By
tammiehoeme
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0

Another week has gone by and it’s time to pen another column. Everyone has gone to bed except me. I stayed up later to get organized for another day of cooking and baking recipes for the upcoming cookbook. The photographer will come tomorrow and take photos of the dishes we prepare to put in the new cookbook. This will be the third photo session. One more will need to be done to finish it up. 

I had daughter Loretta and Dustin’s two little boys here this afternoon while Dustin went with Loretta to her six-week checkup at the doctor. Byron is now six weeks old and seems kind of fussy at times. It is hard to get him to burp after a feeding, which I think brings him discomfort and makes him fussy. Denzel is quite the busybody. I folded the laundry, and pretty soon he was crying because he managed to put the laundry basket upside down on top of him. He couldn’t figure out how to get it back off. Dustin said at home Denzel will empty the toy box and scatter them all around the house. Then he’s bored and heads for the cabinet door to empty all the Tupperware containers. If by chance someone leaves the bathroom door open, he unrolls the toilet tissue. He just loves to see what he could get into next. Such a little busybody, but ever so precious.

Grandsons Timothy (T.J.), Ryan, and Curtis go to school a few days a week. They all love it! One day their teacher asked Ryan which hat is his and which is Curtis’. Well, Ryan takes one and smells it, then shakes his head no. Then he smells the other one and shakes his head yes, that it’s his. I have no idea how he knows which is his by smelling it. One day Curtis came home from school barefooted. Somehow he slipped past the teachers without them seeing that he had taken his shoes off. I am sure this is the first of many adventures those ornery little boys will have. Haha!

On Friday, daughter Lovina made and decorated two cakes. One was for granddaughter Abigail, 7, and the other for grandson Curtis, 4. Curtis will have his fourth birthday on September 22. He is a sweet blonde-haired, blue-eyed boy and always has a big smile for me. 

Abigail is growing up so fast and was really helping Lovina after she came here off the bus. We had Allison, 3, and Andrea, 18 months, here Friday while daughter Elizabeth took T.J. to his asthma doctor. 

Then Friday night everyone came for family night. We had a nice evening together. 

On Saturday morning we had a nice surprise when Joe’s 77-year-old Uncle Solomon from Dundee, Ohio, showed up for a visit. Last Saturday we had a surprise visit from Uncle Joe and Aunt Betty from Geneva, Indiana. Uncle Joe is 81 and a brother to my dad. Solomon is a brother to my husband Joe’s dad. 

Son Benjamin has a broken leg from a buggy/horse mishap. The buggy had him pinned underneath, and after going to the emergency room and getting an x-ray, he found out it showed that he has a broken leg. Wednesday he will see the orthopedic doctor to have a cast put on. He has a temporary cast on now. It is still quite swollen and painful. We are so thankful that his horse was patient and didn’t keep going and waited until someone could lift the buggy off him. Benjamin is not one to stay quiet, and there will be some challenging weeks ahead as he has to stay off his leg. If anyone wants to send him a card to pass his time, it would be appreciated. God’s blessings to all!

Pumpkin Spice Cake

3 cups flour

3 1/2 teaspoons baking powder

2 teaspoons pumpkin pie spice

1 teaspoon baking soda

3/4 teaspoon nutmeg

1/2 teaspoon salt

1 1/2 cups sugar

3/4 cup butter, softened

3 large eggs

1 1/2 cups pumpkin puree

1/2 cup evaporated milk

1/4 cup water

1 1/2 teaspoon vanilla

Maple Butter Cream Frosting

1/3 cup butter, softened

3 1/2 cups powdered sugar

2 to 3 teaspoons maple flavoring

2 tablespoons milk

Dash of salt

Combine flour, baking powder, pumpkin pie spice, baking soda, nutmeg, and salt in small bowl. Beat sugar and butter in large bowl until creamy. Add eggs; beat in pumpkin, milk, water, and vanilla. Gradually beat in flour mixture. 

Preheat oven to 325 degrees. Grease and flour three 9-inch round cake pans. Spread batter evenly in prepared cake pans. Bake 20 to 25 minutes or until toothpick inserted in center comes out clean. Cool. 

For frosting, beat butter and powdered sugar until fluffy. Add flavoring, milk, and salt; mix well. Assemble cake with frosting between layers and on top of cake, leaving sides unfrosted. Garnish with nuts if desired. 

Lovina’s Amish Kitchen is written by Lovina Eicher, Old Order Amish writer, cook, wife, and mother of eight. Her two cookbooks, The Essential Amish Cookbook and Amish Family Recipes, are available wherever books are sold. Readers can write to Eicher at Lovina’s Amish Kitchen, PO Box 234, Sturgis, MI 49091 (please include a self-addressed stamped envelope for a reply); or email [email protected] and your message will be passed on to her to read. She does not personally respond to emails.

Contact: [email protected]; 1-800-245-7894

Mind Your Manners

By
Lee Pitts
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lee pitts
Many people celebrated the hundredth anniversary last year of Emily Post’s book called Etiquette, but not me. The book was published in 1922, and it laid down a set of rules that we are expected to live by today, despite the fact she never even mentioned proper cell phone etiquette. There have been 19 editions of the book subtitled, The Blue Book of Social Usage, and it seems the first rule is that every house should have one, thereby enriching Emily. I don’t know who gave Emily the right to make the rules, other than she was a snobbish socialite.
In our house we have the 9th edition and on a lark I read the 671 page book and have never laughed so hard in my life as she addressed such burning issues as how to talk to your servants; how to enter a restaurant; how many servants should there be in a well appointed house; how high a man should lift his hat to other members of the privileged class; and how to “take leave” from a bridge party.
First of all, I’ve never “taken leave” from anyplace that I know of, nor do I play bridge. I’ve never attended a formal dinner party that had more than one fork and one spoon per table setting and I’ve never packed for a picnic, dressed in tails to attend the opera or received an invitation to a ball of any kind. Nor have I ever employed a butler, parlor maid, private secretary or footman. (Whatever that is.) I don’t know how to bow or curtsy, never dated a debutante, nor have I gone anywhere with a chaperone, other than my wife.
It’s obvious that we need a new rulebook because Emily’s book doesn’t even address proper cowboy etiquette. Who better to write this new rulebook than a man who has lived his life surrounded by cowboys, truck drivers, roustabouts and roughnecks?
Yes, that’s right, I nominate myself to be the next Emily Post for the 21st century.
A lot of our rules were written centuries ago when men shook hands merely to show they didn’t have a gun or sword in their hand. They rose from their seat when a stranger entered the room because they couldn’t draw their sword from a sitting position. So why are we still doing these things when most of us don’t own a sword, nor do we usually bring a gun to the dinner table? After COVID no one shakes hands anymore anyway and we’ve replaced the handshake with the fist or elbow bump. I suppose I reluctantly approve but I simply cannot abide the use of all these secret handshakes that ballplayers do after a touchdown, three point shot or home run because they are hard to remember and one could easily throw their shoulder out of place performing them.
The only idea I liked in Emily’s book was when she talked about calling cards, which were  credit card-sized pieces of expensive stationery with one’s name on it that you presented to people of the same caste upon seeing them. In the Age of Alzheimers I think they’d be a great idea because while I can remember names okay I don’t always pair them up with the right person.
Seeing the profit potential in becoming high society’s next Emily Post I’ve started a list of proper cowboy manners such as, never take a beer cooler to church; don’t put your spurs on the host’s sofa; never ride your horse on a busy sidewalk; after your married it’s not necessary to open the door for your wife anymore; always drink your beer directly from the bottle to show you’re not drinking Bud Lite®; two women kissing each other on the lips is gross, so cut it out; if you’re a close relative who expects to be mentioned prominently in the will don’t drive a U Haul to the funeral just to rub it in; never talk about the condition of your bowels at the dinner table; don’t eat chicken with a knife and fork, in fact, never eat chicken at all; and finally, never take your cowboy hat off except for the American flag, unless a utility company wants to lease your chrome dome for use as a solar panel, or at the funeral of an honest to God cowboy or cowgirl.

A Fair Assumption

By
Steve Gilliland
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There are great life lessons to be learned at the Kansas State Fair. For example, knee-high socks of any color, but especially black, DO NOT go with shorts, if you’re not ready to purchase the last mop, set of cook ware or garden-hose nozzle you’ll ever need, DO NOT go through the vender’s buildings, and if your hair doesn’t need fixing or your tennis shoes or glasses need cleaning, avoid the afore mentioned buildings also. And where else but the state fair can you find racing pigs, campers costing more than my house, a guy selling Ecuadorian pan flutes, a chain saw sculpture, hot tubs, mattresses and water softeners all within a stone’s throw of each other. Beneath the grandstand, you’ll find sewing machines sold next to a Chinese massager parlor, and more yard art than you can imagine, including metal sunflowers, tornados fashioned from barbed-wire, dogs made from railroad spikes, frogs made from rebar and bugs built from assorted nuts and bolts with toilet tank floats for abdomens. Then on to the dark and forbidden midway, aptly named because its “midway” between you and your wallet, where shadowy hucksters await behind every tent flap. Here you could throw balls or bat balls, throw darts or throw rings, shoot rifles or shoot baskets, to win anything from framed pictures of Dale Earnhardt and Sponge Bob, to a three-foot stuffed Garfield or a huge inflatable dolphin. And of course, there is the absolute plethora of fair food, where you can find anything imaginable deep fried and / or put on a stick.
A great piece of advice from Jeff Foxworthy is “If you’re going somewhere alone, don’t wear a T shirt that says “I’m Here with Stupid.” I love reading T shirts people are wearing and boy-howdy, there’s no better place to do that than at a state fair. Here, in no particular order are my favorite T shirt captions seen at this year’s state fair;

• The Only Thing that Should Come Between a Hunter and His Meat is Bread
• 9 out of 10 Bears Surveyed Prefer Campers over S’mores
• I Believe Every Form of Wildlife has its Place; Right next to the Mashed Potatoes and Gravy
• You’ve Read My T Shirt, that’s Enough Social Interaction for Today
• I Love My Country, it’s My Government that Scares Me
• Your Political Correctness Offends Me
• (This appeared with a picture of a Harley Chopper motorcycle ridden by a skeleton and is possibly my favorite.) Sons of Arthritis, Ibuprofen Chapter
• WORN BY ADULTS WHO PROBABLY ALWAYS SAY WHAT THE REST OF US ARE THINKING:
• “Your IQ test came back negative”
• “I have multiple personalities and none of them like you”

• JUST FLAT-OUT FUNNY ONES:
• “I don’t suffer from stress, I’m a carrier”
• “My take home pay doesn’t take me home”
• “I have the right to remain silent; I just don’t have the ability”
• “I’m not a complete idiot; some parts are missing”
• (written below the picture of a fish skeleton)- “Proud member of the Fillet-and-Release club”
• (written below a picture of a running whitetail buck) – “Eat more fast food”
As you’re reading this another Kansas State fair has come and gone, and along with it the smells, both good and bad, the horrendous traffic and the sea of humanity that floods Hutchinson, KS this time each year. Yup, there’s no better entertainment for this country boy than the state fair; fond memories, life lessons learned, fine dining and new fashion statements. Continue to Explore Kansas Outdoors!
Steve can be contacted by email at [email protected].

Flint Hills Cowboys Teams To Compete In State’s Oldest Ranch Rodeo

By
Frank Buchman
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The 37th annual Fall Ranch Rodeo sponsored by the Morris County Youth Rodeo Association (MCYRA) is scheduled for Sunday, October 1st.
Four-member cowboy teams representing 14 Flint Hills ranches have pre-entered in the rodeo at the MCYRA Arena, 1½ miles east of Council Grove on Highway 56.
A junior ranch rodeo will be Sunday morning at 10 o’clock, followed by the ranch rodeo starting with a grand entry at 1 o’clock.
“Of special significance is that our ranch rodeo is the oldest in the state of Kansas,” said Clay Wilson, MCYRA president.
“The rodeo is also one of the oldest in the nation, along with possibly being the longest continuous annual ranch rodeo anywhere,” Wilson added.
Events for the junior rodeo include sorting, calf branding, and mugging while the afternoon matinee features penning, steer branding, team roping, and mugging.
To provide for a full family day of rodeo activities, the host Morris County Youth Rodeo Association will again offer complete concessions with meals, drinks, and homemade lunch offerings.
There’s still time for teams to enter the rodeos and find out more information by contacting Wilson at 785-466-1359, and on Facebook.

CUTLINE
Four-member cowboy teams representing 14 Flint Hills ranches are pre-entered in the 37th annual Fall Ranch Rodeo at Council Grove Sunday afternoon, October 1st, at 1 o’clock. A junior ranch rodeo will be Sunday morning at 10 o’clock.

The Mortgage

By
Milo Yield
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0
Thayne Cozart
Milo Yield

In sifting through my archive of “paper stuff,” I ran into another poetic gem that is deserving of space in this column. It’s timely, too, sadly, because the fall harvest is less than spectacular, and surely, the poor harvest is going to end up putting some good, honest, hard-working folks into financial trouble.
But, rest assured, any mortgages that farmers and ranchers took on will keep right on going, thriving, with a financial life of their own.
So, here is the melancholy poem. In this case, the writer is known. He is Will Carlton. The date he wrote it is unknown, but I’d guess it was back in the 1980s or even back in the Great Depression.
THE MORTGAGE
We worked all spring and winter,
Through summer and through fall.
But the mortgage worked the hardest
And the steadiest of us all.
It worked on nights and Sundays.
It worked each holiday.
It settled down among us
And it never went away.
Whatever we kept from it,
Seemed almost as bad as theft.
It watched us constant time,
And it ruled us, right and left.
The rust & blight they hit sometimes,
And sometimes they did not.
But, the dark-browed scowling mortgage
Was forever johnny on the spot.
The weevil and the cutworm,
They went as well as came.
But, mortgage stayed forever,
Eating hearty, all the same.
It nailed up every window.
Stood guard at every door.
And happiness & sunshine made
Their home with us no more.
Until, with failing crops and sickness,
We got stalled upon the grade,
And there came a dark day on us,
When the interest wasn’t paid.
And there came a sharp foreclosure,
And I kinda lost my hold
The children left and scattered
When they yet were hardly growed.
My wife, she pined and perished,
And I found myself alone.
What she died of was a mystery,
For her docs twas never known.
I know she died of “mortgage,”
Just as I also wanted to.
If to trace a hidden sorrow,
Were within the doctor’s art,
They’d a’ found a mortgage lying
On that woman’s broken heart.
Worm or beetle, drought or tempest,
On the farmer’s land may fall,
But for first-class ruination,
Thrust a mortgage against it all!
***
Well, I need to counter that tear jerker with something brighter. I’m 80 years old, but some folks say I don’t look that old. Then I tell them I can prove my age. When they ask how I can, I tell them I’m so old I can remember the introduction to the kid’s program, “The Howdy Doody Show,” on first-generation black & white television back in the early 1950s.
These words will prove my age. “It’s Howdy Doody time. It’s Howdy Doody time. Bob Smith and Howdy, too, say ‘howdy do,’ to you. Let’s give a rousing cheer. ‘cause Howdy Doody’s here. It’s time to start the show. So, kid’s let’s go!”
***
There, that should prove how old I am.
Have a good ‘un.

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