Author Archives: Bethel Farms

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I’ll start by saying that from the time I was about 13 years old I’ve always had long, natural (real) fingernails.  And I mean L-O-N-G.  Often, probably too long.  At one point in my life I had them an inch long from the quick because I had heard that nail polish companies would pay a lot of money for long natural nails for use in testing their products.  Okay, so I was a nerdy teenager.  In any event, I kept my nails long for probably 40 years.  I had long nails long before the days of acrylic nails. And they’ve most often been painted red or my favorite Orly color “Terracotta” which is a sort of reddish orange.  But I digress.  Back to my story.  The secret to my long, thick nails was a product called Romeo by Orly.  It was the first nail product Orly made and was a fiber wrap that was used with a ridge filler smoother.  Those two initial products put Orly on the map.  My natural nails were actually quite thin and broke easily so I kept them wrapped with Romeo nail wrap and polish would not chip off of it so it would build up quite thick. Everywhere I went, people would ask me about my nails. I’ve probably referred hundreds of women to Sally’s in search of Romeo.  Well….wouldn’t you know it. After Romeo made Orly a household name, they dropped him. Yes, discontinued him and booted him off the market about 10 years ago.  At first I was able to still find him on the “black market” a/k/a EBay and/or online somewhere but have not been able to find him for quite a while.  Needless to say that combined with starting a farm six years ago and using my hands and nails as digging tools and feed scoops, I’ve not been able to keep my nails long. In fact, I keep them cut to the quick and without polish.  I was looking at my banged up hands and nails the other day and fantasizing about having long beautifully polished nails once again so I decided to write Orly and ask if they would bring Romeo back.  I thought my letter was somewhat witty and even envisioned it making the Orly rounds and maybe impressing someone somewhere who might rethink their decision to divorce Romeo and inspire them to bring him back.  Well, my dreams and aspirations were short lived. What follows is my original email and the one I received back from Orly.  I’m leaving their email exactly as it was written – poor grammar and all. Clearly English is not Kanisha Muslar’s native language.  I would think Orly would at least have Customer Care Representatives who could respond in as witty a manner.  Oh well….maybe I’ll just invent my own nail wrap.

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Subject: Product/Ingredient questions

Hi Orly. I’m writing to beg you, yes beg you, to bring back Romeo. I miss him so and my life hasn’t been the same since he left. For a few years I was able to gain access to him through the black market but I’ve not been able to find him in a long, long time. Our love affair has gone on since the mid-1970s. That’s when I first discovered him and began using him daily. For 40 years I’ve loved him. He is the reason my inch long, natural nails were my trademark image. But the only way I could keep my nails that long and beautiful was because of Romeo. Not only did I use the product, I practically sold it to everyone who asked me “who does your nails?” and when I replied “I do” it was always followed by questions as to why they were so long, beautiful and thick. My answer was “Romeo”. For over 20 years I worked my business as a public speaker and corporate trainer, which required world travel, and I’ve sent probably hundreds of women to Sally’s Beauty supply in search of Romeo and even conducted “How to” classes to show other lady friends and relatives my tricks for getting the wrap nice and smooth. Once you took Romeo off the market, my nails began to break, unable to stay long and beautiful without their thick layer of nail wrap. I now own a farm and plantation home that is open for tours and my nails need the security and strength of big, strong Rome more than ever. Please, please, please bring back my lover Romeo. I’m down to the remains of my last black market bottle. For the life of me, I can’t figure out why you would eliminate your first product and one that was so great. I miss him. And yes, I’ve tried your newer product but it pales by comparison and does not work the same.

Sincerely,
Monique Joseph

http://www.bethelplantation.com
FaceBook: Bethel Farms

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Orly’s reply:

Hello Monique,
Thank you for your Orly inquiry. Unfortunately we will not be bring back nail product “Romeo”. This product has been discontinued for at least 10 years. We do have another product that contain nail fibers as well called “Nail Armor”, this is for . Is that the new product you are referring to? Sorry for the inconvenience.
Thanks,

Kanisha Muslar | Customer Care Representative | Orly International, Inc. | p. 818.994.1001 x 143 | f. 818.994.1144 | E Kmuslar@OrlyBeauty.com

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Needs New Chickens

I know most of you will think I made this story up but I swear it’s true. In many ways, truth is indeed stranger than fiction.

I got a call the other day from a woman who asked if I sold laying hens. I told her yes I did. She said “good” because she “…needed some new chickens” and wanted to get rid of all of hers. She went on to say that her chickens were eating their eggs. I then explained that sometimes hens do that and that it can be difficult to break them of the habit once they start and asked if she knew which hen was doing it. She said “They all do it. The rooster too.  I need to get rid of him too. He eats the eggs”.  So I then explained that maybe she needed to check the nests a couple of times a day so that she could gather the eggs as soon as they are laid.  To which she replied “no, I’m already out there when they lay them and they eat them right away.” She kept insisting she needed all new chickens. Chickens that wouldn’t eat eggs.  So I explained that some people, including commercial egg operations, build special nests that slant so that the eggs can roll to the back of the nests and the birds can’t eat them.  To which she replied “They already got that now.  They lay them on the roof and they roll off the roof and crash to the ground and break open and all the chickens and the rooster run up and eat them. I need me some new chickens that don’t eat eggs”.  It was all I could do to keep a straight face but I explained that even my chickens would eat broken eggs falling off the roof and that she needed to build nest boxes for her hens to lay eggs in. I explained how to do that and that she could use any kind of box or basket or even just put some hay on the ground. She said she would try that but if it didn’t work she was going to get rid of those chickens and get her some new chickens that didn’t eat eggs.

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Daggers Through the Heart

Daggers Through the Heart
 
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The day finally arrives. The day you’ve planned for and dreamed of and anticipated for so long finally arrives.  It is the day your child is born.  There’s no greater joy and you must experience this day to know how true this is.  When you get to hold that precious baby in your arms, you know there is a God and all is right with the world.  You feel as if you might burst with joy.  You find yourself making promises to that precious small bundle of joy that they will never long for anything. That there will never be a need for tears, ever, because you will take care of them. You will love them.  You will see to their every need.  You will never let anyone hurt them.  You will give them all of the things that you never had.  You promise them a great childhood.  A childhood so wonderful they’ll write books about it someday.  You promise all of that and much, much more.  And you believe that you will be able to keep those promises.  You believe it with all of your heart and soul.
 
 The years go by quicker than you realize. Another baby or two may have joined the family and you find yourself sleep deprived, walking the floors at night with one newborn baby or another. Fixing bottles, changing diapers, and slowly losing whatever life you had before children.  A life of quiet time or long baths or hours spent on hair and makeup is just a distant memory.  Your child, or children, and their happiness and well being has become your life and you wouldn’t have it any other way.  Bath time and bedtime stories and cuddle time make your heart melt.  You sing them lullabies.  You teach them to talk and to walk.  As the years go by your afternoons are filled with helping with home work and school projects.  And because you made that promise to that newborn baby, your child is now enrolled in several extra curricular activities like baseball and dance lessons and piano lessons and you now have to fit into those same afternoons of home work and school projects, baseball practice and dance class and shuttling across town to and fro. But you love your child and this is your life now.  And, if you’re like most moms, you also work a full-time job which involves 40 hours per week plus commute.  Your job must never take priority or precedence over your child’s baseball game or dance recital.  You must always be available. And when your baby or your young child is sick, it is your responsibility to take time off from work and take care of it. The father hardly ever shares this responsibility but then again, the father hardly ever shares any of the child rearing responsibilities.  Added to your career work week and your child’s school week and your child’s extra curricular activities is also the burden of providing well balanced home cooked meals for your child.  Never mind that they got out of school at 3:30 p.m. and must be at ball practice at 4:00 p.m. and that you don’t get off work till 5:00 p.m. and have an hour commute, you must and will find a way to make it all work out.  You also find a way to pay for it all. All of those dance recital lessons and dance costumes and braces and trips to orthodontist, field trips and senior trips.  The list is endless but you do it all.   And then there’s college.  By then, maybe you’re a single mom and still doing it all for your child.  You work extra jobs to pay for their first cars, college, apartments and weddings.  Before you know it, twenty or more years have flown by.  Your children are all grown, out of college, married and on their own.  You think you can finally do something that you’ve always wanted to do.  Maybe you open a shop or buy a farm or travel because hey, you’ve got so much free time now, right?  You’ve paid your dues.  You’ve raised your children.  You put your own desires on hold. But then the grandkids come along and your now 30 year old children think you are supposed to be available at a moment’s notice to baby sit when their babies are sick.  They don’t hesitate to tell you how you should live your life and how you shouldn’t be tied to other commitments “at your age”.  You should be available to help them when they need it. And the one time you can’t, you get the daggers through the heart that virtually every mother gets at some point or another.  It’s when your grown children, the ones you did so much for, unleash on you and tell you, with a very straight and angry face, “you were never there for me.”  If your child has ever hurled one of these daggers at you, you know it goes straight through your heart and creates a deep and painful wound that almost never heals.  It’s a wound a mother carries to her grave.

 

Salt

Last night my husband, who is well known for his worst case scenario worries, informed me, during dinner, that something was wrong with him.  I asked him what he meant, since that was a leading statement that could mean anything, and he said “Something is wrong with me. Something is wrong with my taste buds. I can’t taste salt.”   I replied “exactly what does that mean?  Does it mean if you stick your tongue to salt you can’t taste it or does it mean your food isn’t salty enough for you?”     He promptly picked up the salt shaker, proceeded to shake out what would be an extreme amount of salt onto his dinner, took a  bite and said “I can’t taste the salt.”  I replied “Oh my gosh.  It’s worse than that.  You can’t see the salt either.”  He replied “what do you mean?”  I said, “well, that salt shaker has been empty for days and obviously you can’t see that nothing is coming out.”  After a quick laugh I said “I think you’re going to be okay.”

Pandemonium Monday

Well that was fun…… Just had a “most interesting” couple of hours. I was trying to catch a quiet moment of R&R and check out FaceBook for a few minutes when I saw a family drive up and get out of the car. I go out to see who it is. As usual, it is descendents of the original plantation owners wanting to “look around”.   This has become quite a pattern and usually when I don’t have the spare time to play tour guide but what can you do?  This is the Deep South and hospitality reigns.

While showing them around, they got the full farm tour – as if on queue, or out of a script – we had a dog fight due to a hyper GSD who can’t control herself when there’s company (so I had to break up a large dog fight); goats being born (I stopped to check on my doe who I’ve had in a birthing stall all day and sure enough she’s giving birth so I have to stop and help); I finally get rid of the company and finish tending to the goats, and on my way back inside I see a rooster with an infected eye so I grab him up and am carrying him inside to doctor his eye, as I’ve been doing for the past couple of days. I step inside and my husband is on the phone calling me (we have a phone in the stables) and he looks up and says “oh good you’re back, I was just calling you, we have a peacock in the house slamming into windows”.  I have my hands full with the rooster so I say “no problem, just open the doors and he’ll go out”. So my husband opened the doors only to have the five goats (bucks) and the ram come running inside (looking for something to eat – downside to bottle raising all of your livestock and making them “pets”) and the peacock jumps off the organ (where he left a huge pile of poop) and starts flying/slamming into the window again. So I toss the rooster out, start grabbing bucks and ram and toss them out, grab the peacock, toss him out – and look at the new farmhand that just started an hour earlier and said “if you come back tomorrow you’re either very kind (seeing that I really need your help since this place is total pandemonium) or your crazy.”

 
And the new farmhand, who all this time has been busy helping my husband build out a cabinet in kitchen for new fridge, assures me he will be back tomorrow because I most definitely need his help and the first thing he is going to do is build a pen for goats and fix my fences, then says   “and it’s going to be 40 degrees tonight so you might want to bring those baby goats inside somewhere”.  So, after two months of 90 degree heat and I’ve turned all chicks loose – I turn around and head right back out and catch and pen a bunch of young chicks and bring them inside tack room, rig up a heat lamp for another hutch of chicks, go get mama goat and her two freshly born, still wet baby boys and bring them into tack room, go get hay and pine shavings and set up a bed for them, go get heater and utility cord which had already been stored away and rig them up, put babies by heater, get mama some food and water and then finally came back inside my house wondering…….

Is it still Monday?????

Mother’s Day

For Mother’s Day, I started the day by helping another mother. This mother had 8 children she couldn’t feed. They didn’t have access to food or water because she was hiding them in the barn loft.

Yes, this mother was a hen but a mother all the same. For the past few days I’ve taken them food and water because she wouldn’t get off the nest since there were a couple of eggs still unhatched – but her 8 babies needed to be tended to and to have access to food and water and there was no way they could get down from the storage loft. So, today, while crouching in a 100 year old abandoned barn hay storage loft, I had to catch 8 baby chicks – each one running in a different direction and me trying to catch them, all the while, one mad mama was chasing me and flogging me. She did one of her kung-fu ninja kicks and hit one of her baby chicks and knocked it out for a few seconds, at least it sat there stunned for a bit – made that one easy to catch. Finally got them all caught and on the ground. Mama immediately followed them and they were all soon happily scratching around the barn and eating and drinking and singing – “free at last, free at last, thank God almighty, we are free at last.”

Bear with Me

I’ve just started this Blog and am in the process of pulling 4 years worth of posts off another “blog” and put them in order here.  I have a lot of work to do and am learning as I go.  Check back often, I’ll get it all worked out eventually.