I married a Hoffman.
I married the Hoffman that just happened to be the one that was going to continue the family tradition of milking cows on the home farm.
We are hosting the Hoffman family reunion tomorrow. Talk about stress.
I am not talking about pressure from planning. I didn't have to plan anything. All of Steve's aunts took the bull by the horns and planned the reunion. Sure I was included in the minor decisions, but that's only because of one reason.
It just seems normal to have the reunion on the farm where the family started in this area.
I have been a little stressed. I have yet to clean and polish the upstairs of the house. I won't mention how I started fixing up the flooring and trim in the upstairs hallway, and have yet to finish.
Steve assures me that people don't have to go upstairs; we can just put yellow police tape at the bottom of the stairs.
"You cannot tell me that your aunts and uncles are not going to go upstairs to see their old bedrooms," I said.
"Yea, I guess you have a point," Steve said.
I certainly do hope they go up stairs and check it out. I hope they don't hold any fond memories of closets. I may have to stuff those full of winter clothing and such - and my closets are tiny. I don't have walk-in closets; I have squeeze-ins.
Our house also has a smoke house which was built right in the basement. It hasn't been used in years. In fact, if we wanted to smoke a large carp or a side of beef, we could probably just hang the meat around the oak chairs and start them on fire.
Do you think varnish and stain give off a yucky taste?
I have to at least get a walking path cleaned out to the smoke house, so all the relatives can reminisce while looking in the dark, scary smoke room. (I have yet to actually look in there. It's creepy and scary in my world - spiders, cob webs, dirt.) I don't know where I am going to put my assembled Christmas trees.
And, because Steve and the boys are in charge of cleaning the rest of the basement, that means I also have to pick up around down there - the area of the house I avoid. I get to frustrated, going into rooms that were cleaned yesterday, but look like they've haven't been cleaned since Great-Grandpa Conrad built this house.
I did clean the oven; just in case I have to store something in there.
In the end, by the time the reunion rolls around, the house should be clean. If they do open the door of a jam-packed closet, I hope they can at least have a chuckle and say, "I remember when I did that!"
Imagine having the opportunity to walk around the farm where you grew up and recall such great memories.
I think each end of the barn has the pulley remaining where the hay bales were lifted into the hay barn. I am sure there will be comments about making and stacking hay.
I know there are a few loops in the side of the barn where I think animals were tied, but I am not positive. I bet by the end of the reunion, I will have the answer to that question.
We are going to have hay rides going down into the woods and near the river. I cannot wait to hear the stories of the adventures of all the Hoffman children.
Even the middle-aged (that would be my age) people are going to have stories. They may not have grown up here, but I bet they spent some summer days out on the farm.
In the end, it really isn't about how clean our house and farm are at this moment in time.
It's all about the memories created in previous moments in time.