My purse took a field trip with my hubby in his car. I have no money - no cash, no credit cards...nothing. No phone, no sunglasses, no reading glasses, no office keys, no car key (but I have a back up), no lipstick, no comb, and no advil.
So picture this...
I'm squinting inside my office (our secretary let me in) while hunched over clutching my sore back trying to jimmy the lock on my desk open. I don't want to have to ask my coworkers for change to get a soda. I look like a just woke up. My hair is all windblown and I'm lipstickless.
Maybe someone will take pity on me and ask if I'd like something from the nearby gas station? Otherwise, I will need to stumble my way across the street, sans sunglasses, squinting from the glorious weather and kicking myself for allowing my purse go on her field trip without a permission slip.
Savor the details.
Tuesday, January 3, 2012
Tuesday, December 13, 2011
Oh Holy Night
On the way home last night, I missed my turn and ended up going through "Christmastown USA." "Dang it," I thought. "It's going to be 9pm before I get home now." I had four hours of sleep in me, was hungry, and I was worried about one of our dogs who had been sick. Perfect. This is really great. I braked hard and braced for another shot of frustration. The cars were bumper to bumper.
People were walking in the street; even little kids. "Shouldn't they be in bed by now? It's a school night." Grrrrr. People had their headlights off so I reached over to turn mine off as well. I crept along a foot at a time. The engine and my mind wanted to go faster. I resisted and dropped the roadster into low gear. I didn’t want the motor to whine going down the hill so slow.
My face was flushed. I was hot. I rolled down the window. It was a beautiful night. Cool and crisp. How had I overlooked how pretty it was outside? I turned off the blaring radio. I could hear Christmas music playing in the distance. It was “Oh Holy Night.”
A car in the oncoming lane had their sunroof open and a little head poked through it. "Merry Christmas," he said. "Merry Christmas." This little man, of maybe four, was wishing everyone he passed a Merry Christmas. I smiled at him and waved. So stinkin’ cute.
It was in that moment, I was reminded of the true spirit of Christmas. I vowed to slow down and really appreciate the simple beauty of the season… before it passes right by me.
Savor the details.
People were walking in the street; even little kids. "Shouldn't they be in bed by now? It's a school night." Grrrrr. People had their headlights off so I reached over to turn mine off as well. I crept along a foot at a time. The engine and my mind wanted to go faster. I resisted and dropped the roadster into low gear. I didn’t want the motor to whine going down the hill so slow.
My face was flushed. I was hot. I rolled down the window. It was a beautiful night. Cool and crisp. How had I overlooked how pretty it was outside? I turned off the blaring radio. I could hear Christmas music playing in the distance. It was “Oh Holy Night.”
A car in the oncoming lane had their sunroof open and a little head poked through it. "Merry Christmas," he said. "Merry Christmas." This little man, of maybe four, was wishing everyone he passed a Merry Christmas. I smiled at him and waved. So stinkin’ cute.
It was in that moment, I was reminded of the true spirit of Christmas. I vowed to slow down and really appreciate the simple beauty of the season… before it passes right by me.
Savor the details.
Wednesday, November 9, 2011
The Ending of an Occupation
My dad, who is in his 80s, has successfully sold most of his large farm equipment on eBay - combine, grain truck, wagons, cultivators, etc. He had a friend help him with the technology and he handled the negotiations. I'm proud of him for taking this on.
Last night when I talked to Dad, I sensed a little sadness in his voice when he spoke about people coming over and buying the equipment. It's an end to his career and a pretty clear indication that none of us kids will be taking over the farm.
At one point, I never imagined anything other than farming. It's how I grew up and what I knew best. Living off the land and being your own boss is the American dream. Isn't it? No one to tell you what to do and how to do it. I imagined living in a cute farm house with cats and dogs; maybe a few livestock. It would be a lifestyle right out a child's storybook.
But the reality is really much different. Farming is hard work. The pay is unpredictable and the hours are long. It is dusty, dirty work too. The mud never really comes out from under your nails. Just thinking about it, I can still smell the Goop hand cleaner that my Dad used to take the grease off his hands at night.
Farming is physically demanding and often dangerous. Back surgeries are common; as are hernias. And it can be lonely. You are often left by yourself working a field most of the day. Your only companion a radio, a cell phone and someone who brings you a sack lunch.
As a child I can remember packing sandwiches and taking them with my mom to the field for a lunch time picnic. We'd sit in the shade of the tractor eating our lunch. Dad liked candy bars so there was always a Butterfinger or Snickers bar waiting at the bottom of the picnic basket.
Dad loves the land and can grow just about anything. His green thumb runs deep in his veins. He comes from a family of farmers. His father farmed and nearly all his brothers and sister's families live off the land. But this heritage will not be passed down to my siblings or me. It is an ending of an occupation for my Dad and really for our family. It was an occupation that was so much more than a check that paid the bills. This rural lifestyle has formed who I am today and know I am truly blessed.
Savor the details.
Last night when I talked to Dad, I sensed a little sadness in his voice when he spoke about people coming over and buying the equipment. It's an end to his career and a pretty clear indication that none of us kids will be taking over the farm.
At one point, I never imagined anything other than farming. It's how I grew up and what I knew best. Living off the land and being your own boss is the American dream. Isn't it? No one to tell you what to do and how to do it. I imagined living in a cute farm house with cats and dogs; maybe a few livestock. It would be a lifestyle right out a child's storybook.
But the reality is really much different. Farming is hard work. The pay is unpredictable and the hours are long. It is dusty, dirty work too. The mud never really comes out from under your nails. Just thinking about it, I can still smell the Goop hand cleaner that my Dad used to take the grease off his hands at night.
Farming is physically demanding and often dangerous. Back surgeries are common; as are hernias. And it can be lonely. You are often left by yourself working a field most of the day. Your only companion a radio, a cell phone and someone who brings you a sack lunch.
As a child I can remember packing sandwiches and taking them with my mom to the field for a lunch time picnic. We'd sit in the shade of the tractor eating our lunch. Dad liked candy bars so there was always a Butterfinger or Snickers bar waiting at the bottom of the picnic basket.
Dad loves the land and can grow just about anything. His green thumb runs deep in his veins. He comes from a family of farmers. His father farmed and nearly all his brothers and sister's families live off the land. But this heritage will not be passed down to my siblings or me. It is an ending of an occupation for my Dad and really for our family. It was an occupation that was so much more than a check that paid the bills. This rural lifestyle has formed who I am today and know I am truly blessed.
Savor the details.
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