Wednesday, August 31, 2011

Will Work for Water

Labor Day is in just a matter of days, bringing summer to an end. But something seems a little backwards because I've been doing a lot more laboring than I have summering these past few months.

Want to know the quickest way to lose sleep? Most new mothers will tell you it's having a baby. Wrong. It's opening your big fat mouth and offering to help on the farm.


Such offers will lead to midnight dates moving irrigation.


How romantic.

There's nothing like the soft glow of 4-wheeler lights to set the mood...

...to move irrigation.


And let's not forget about those sunset dates with irrigation.

This is our first year watering the fields. Until we figure out exactly what type of equipment will work best for our crops, we are borrowing some from a friend for a test area.

If you know anything about irrigation, you know that a small travelling gun will only cover a tiny area. Which means we have to move it every 8-10 hours.

It's starting to take over our lives.

So much so that there are nights we just crash on the couch at the farm office because we know we'll have to go move irrigation in the middle of the night.


How did my husband know that I always dreamed of growing up, marrying a farmer and sacrificing my every free minute to his existence?

I complain, but I wouldn't have it any other way.

This is still way better than a day job.


And if I didn't have an excuse to be standing out in a field at dusk with my camera, when else would I be able to take creepy sunset self portraits?

I look like I should be registered on some sort of database ... for creeps with creepy eyes.


I love this picture because it is so typical.

The mad finger point and the escaping dog.

Woodrow is naughty and he knows it.


And it's amazing how he has a radar for mud.

It has been a dry summer (hence, the irrigation) but yet he manages to find his way over to the well and lay down in the one and only puddle on the whole entire farm. 


Oh look, water spewing out in all directions.

Awesome.

It's going to be a long night.

Tuesday, August 9, 2011

Workin' Woman

My old TV station called me up to fill-in the other day.

As excited as I was to leave the world of television just one year ago, I was equally excited to go back for a small dose of it.

So that's just what I did.

I put my big girl panties on and went to work.


My day was made when I walked in the door and saw this crazy nut would be directing the show.

Anyone who dresses like this for a casual night out on the town is bound to be a good time at work:


You better head for the hills when they turn the disco lights on because she just might blind you in all of her sparkled awesomeness.

Katy Perry called. She wants her tour wardrobe back.


I'm glad no one trashed the newsroom handbook I made as executive producer because I somehow forgot everything I used to know.

But my memory was not the problem.

No, my hair was.


It is never a smart idea to go spend a day in the DC humidity before going in to anchor.

That hair was a frizzy force to be reckoned with.


But nothing my super cool polka dot hair straightner couldn't handle.

I just cranked the heat all the way up and let the scent of burnt hair permeate throughout the newsroom.

One of the many reasons they'll probably never ask me back again.


Another: I still take over the make-up counter like I own it.

And I'm pretty sure I left behind a nice layer or two of hairspray gunked powder sprinkled funk for the morning anchor to deal with.

Oops.



Uh-oh, crazy girl is marking her scripts.

Alright people, it's go time.



I swear I didn't look like an Oompa Loompa on air.

The studio lighting likes to play funny tricks on my camera.


We made it though the show without any major disasters.

A feat considering I haven't anchored a newscast in a year and my brain has turned to mush.


1 whack job + 1 nut job + A bunch of stories about our garbage economy = Best Newscast Ever

Too bad no one actually stays up until 11:00 on a Sunday night to watch.

They don't know what they missin'.