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Advanced laundry skills grow from farm experienceEditor's note: Jennifer Latzke is out of town this week on assignment. This "Common Ground" first appeared in September 2006. I couldn't have had any better training for the "real world of adulthood" than growing up the daughter of a farmer. Besides being able to change a flat tire and fix a meal for a crew of 10 on an hour's notice, I can also drive a standard transmission, run a squeeze chute, and I'm comfortable towing a livestock trailer. But, perhaps the greatest survival skill I developed as a farmer's daughter has to be in the laundry room. By the time I was nine, I could easily identify the differences among the kaleidoscope of farm stains in our hampers. Grass, mud and food stains are nothing compared to green tattoo ink, blue bearing grease, red "ick" and brown barnyard "mud." Let me tell you, farm laundry sure isn't for the squeamish. I still think that laundry detergent companies could make a million dollars more if they would only put advertisements in farm publications: "Not only will Brand X tackle mud, grass stains and food, it will also handle used motor oil stains, black livestock show adhesive and that pesky manure-around-the-collar problem!" I would buy a product like that. Hey, I'd even buy stock in the company. Farm laundry hazards aren't limited to ugly stains, though. There's also the odd foreign object left in a pocket that could damage the load or the machine. In suburban laundry rooms one might encounter the occasional errant quarter or forgotten ball point pen in the pockets of clothing. These can be occasional annoyances, but nothing that can't be fixed if caught in time. In the farm laundry room, however, foreign objects could include anything from a handful of sheep tail bands, to a spare ear tag, to a tube of green tattoo ink, or even a number of bolts and washers. Any farm wife will tell you that the first rule of sorting laundry is to check every pocket for random objects that can ruin her precious washer and dryer. Sorting is also important when segregating "good" clothes from the "chore" clothes. There's nothing more frustrating than having a favorite shirt ruined because it got smuggled into a load of Dad's nasty sweatshirts from the calving barn. I'm still holding a grudge from a laundry disaster involving one of my favorite western shirts and Dad's winter coveralls in 1992. The biggest lesson about laundry I've learned is that, unfortunately, men just don't get the concept of detergent, fabric softener, water temperatures and keeping colors and whites far, far away from each other. After 40 years of marriage, three kids and millions of clean socks, my own father is just now venturing into my mother's sacred laundry room. It's taking a lot of patience on Mom's part, but Dad now can differentiate between the various sorting categories of whites, darks, and "anything-that's-been-worn-around-cattle-or-grease." He's even delving into the tricky waters of folding clothes just like Mom likes them. I like to call it his "real world of retirement" survival training. Jennifer M. Latzke can be reached by phone at 620-227-1807, or by e-mail at jlatzke@hpj.com.
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