Wednesday, July 21, 2010

Fasten Your Seatbelts

To some, I am probably just that blond chick who hangs out around the farm and keeps the shop fridge stocked with drinks and candy bars. Little do they know I am taking over the world, one tractor at a time.

In the past week (after much persuasion) my husband has let me drive a tractor, a forklift and the big tandem truck. Well, he had me move the tractor about 20 feet, but you better believe I took that sucker for a spin around the circle drive first. And the forklift only needed to be moved about 100 yards but I floored it and let the wind blow through my hair at a whooping 5 mph. As for the big truck, there was one small debacle there. I hit a giant rut in the farm road and it sent the front end of the truck flying in the air.... the headlights probably could have guided in an airplane or two the way they were bouncing up and down. The initial jolt ripped my hands from the steering wheel. And that bouncy driver's seat that I love so much?  It just about bounced me right over into the passenger's seat. Everyone is still alive and the old truck is no worse for the wear.

But my big farm wife debut came yesterday when I had to drive my husband's farm truck into town ... all... by... myself. It's a stick shift. Ughhh. I wasn't one mile from the farm before I ran into trouble. Let's just say I'm not a big fan of stop signs on inclines. I had to coast backwards back down the hill so I could get the truck back in gear and blow through the stop sign without killing the motor.
Good thing I had my trusty sidekick with me.
But the big dope wasn't much help.
We were on our way to get fuel. And we made it there in one piece, though I did about take out the side of their building with one of the dual wheels. Good thing the fuel tanks were a safe distance away from anywhere I had to drive.
I am sure the guys there got a kick out of a maxi-dress-sporting, flip-flop-wearing farm wife. But my style changes with the day and I own it no matter how inappropriate it may be for the task at hand.
On the way back to the farm I noticed something in the dash. This is my husband's trademark move. Whenever he is driving down the road and needs to write down a phone number, he just carves it into the mound of dirt and dust on the dashboard. Clean cars are so overrated. So are notepads.

When we got back and I surveyed the truck for any damage, I started to realize that this old farm truck and I have more in common than I thought.
Big mouths.
And big hips.

Wednesday, July 14, 2010

Husband For Sale

Today was going to be a productive day in the sewing room. I had two apron patterns cut and pinned and I was ready to make some progress. That's until I realized my ribbon mysteriously disappeared. There was supposed to be 9 feet on the spool. Only 3 remained.

They cheated me on this ribbon, I told my husband. Now I don't have enough for the ties and straps on my aprons.

No, they didn't cheat you. I took it. I needed to measure and mark off some stuff in the shop.

You what?! I had the exact amount that I needed.

Oh, and I used your yellow ribbon, too. I needed multi-colors.

Whatever happened to baler twine?

This wouldn't be that big of a deal except we are practically in the sticks and the fabric store is 30 minutes away. Oh, and he decided to use the most expensive ribbon they make.

To add insult to injury, he gave me that what's the big deal look.

The man is smart. He took off on his tractor as fast as he could.

With that being said. Let the bidding process begin....

Husband for Sale:
Married white male.
6'0'' (in boots)
170 lbs (soaking wet)
House trained.
Good with animals and children.
Decent Dancer.
Good on the guitar.

Make an offer.
You haul.
Please pick up today.
Like now.

He's all yours ladies.

Monday, July 12, 2010

Hair Torture

I filled in at the TV station last week because there were several people on vacation. When my husband got back from his weekend float trip with his buddies, he was less than impressed with the mess I left in the bathroom. Farm wives don't need to use five hair appliances each morning, but news anchors do. But more important than the hair dryer, two sets of curlers, curling iron and straightener, is the teasing comb. I could give Dolly Parton and her wigs a run for their money with the amount of back-combing I do when I'm on TV. 

Aren't I a beauty? And that's only one section done. You should see when I get the sides going. It's just plain scary. I've threatened not to tame it down or smooth it out before going on air. Maybe next time I won't. What are they going to do, fire me?

Friday, July 9, 2010

Feeding Time

I love cows. When you have cows like ours, it's hard not to love them. It's not exactly a production herd. More pets than anything. Some of them even have names.

Feeding time is my favorite. They love getting a new bale of hay. There is nothing funnier than seeing a 1,000 pound cow frolicking in the hay like a 5-year-old would do in a park fountain. They get so excited sometimes.

This is the tractor I almost got to drive the other day. My husband was a few songs in on the guitar at a July 4th party and wasn't ready to leave. He asked me to feed the cows. I was psyched. I get to the farm, get the tractor fired up and then he calls to say it's getting too dark and he'll just bring the cows a bale first thing in the morning. Boo.

Oh look, there's the tractor hog himself. Share. Please. Let me drive.

The strategic bale drop-off. Should I be taking notes?

Nope, I should be watching where I am walking.

But aren't my shoes so cute? Even with cow poop on them? I only dress appropriately for this farm wife thing about 50% of the time. And this was not one of those days.

She's not as mean as she looks. Of course you would have a scowl on your face too if your name was Honey B .... short for Honey Bin Laden. I'll have to fill you in on the story behind her name sometime. It's actually pretty cute. And will make you fall in love with my husband.

In that case, maybe I shouldn't tell you.

Yum, yum, yum.

Now that's attractive.

I have such a soft spot in my heart for the babies. I love that they all hang together.

What do you tell a woman who has two black eyes?
Nothing, you already told her twice.

That one never gets old!

Which one doesn't belong?

Oh geez, do you think he heard me?
Sorry to insult you.

You know a man loves his cows when he camps out on top of the hay bale to watch them eat.

Maybe these are the only friends he can get.