on the farm

It is earlier than I normally arise. I've gulped coffee with milk, no sugar. I've arrived at the supposed meeting place, but I get it wrong. I end up chasing a white bus full of roughly 30 senior citizens down 15-501 and then onto Highway 64. We are going on a farm tour. This was how yesterday morning in my life as reporter-at-a-weekly-paper-in-a-rural-county began. The farm tour was the gig. I was covering it and I was excited. I love old people and I love tours. I even love farms. Missing the bus and then having to chase the bus was unfortunate but once I found the group at the first stop I was pumped. A farm...only it wasn't a farm - not in the basic sense of the word. This was a meat processing establishment.

I made my way, smiling, into the classroom where my group of tour-mates were getting the lowdown. We were asked to put on hairnets and smocks. This, I guessed, was to keep us from getting pelted by any pieces of hog skin or random lard.

It smelled and the machines that spat out meat into large plastic containers disgusted me, but I got over it. There to help me were these people, these amazingly friendly people. Once they found out I worked at the newspaper it got pretty fun. "Watch what you say! Watch what you SAAAA-AAYYYYY," they roared. "She's from the NEWSPAPER!" We were kidding around. We were getting to know one another. I took a picture of two men only to be told that I, now, had to pose for a picture they would take. I love getting my picture taken while wearing a hairnet!

We did lots of fun things together that day. We had banana pudding. We talked about dogs. We learned about all the things the county had to offer, like laminated logs with which to make log cabins. Plants grown in water to aid in riverbed restoration. Meat goats.

After the barbecue place, where they gave us each a free sample pack (of meat which I'd just seen coming out of machines into large plastic vats) we didn't get to wear any more special outfits, but we did get to walk around in the bright sunshine. I asked questions when I could, some for my story, and some I was just curious about. There were so many personalities. The gentle old doctor audio-taping the event for his kids. The tall joker. The know-it-all. In fact, at one point while walking into a building at the lumber yard, I felt a steady tug on my backpack straps. I could not move forward. It was my smarty-pants friend. "Did you know...!" he began. I didn't know the particular piece of trivia and it was a fulfilling interchange for each of us.

I stepped on the bus to say goodbye at the end of the day before we all went our seperate ways. Last night I met up with J for a beer and several other friends happened to be out, too. I told them about my day and showed them where I'd gotten pork juice on the bottom of my pants. I settled into the cool night with my sweatshirt on and a Newcastle. It felt good to have traversed such distance in the span of one day.

popcorn delivered

On Sunday I awoke with a raging headache and the distant memory of people singing loudly along with music wailing from a borrowed karaoke machine perched on the kitchen table on the sticky-with-beer floor. Ah, we'd had a party! But dear God in heaven, I was not ready for this next day, this bright, shining morning to have arrived so soon. The only promising aspect was the blue sky - so blue - so enticing, I viewed through the blinds. I would not allow the suffering to continue. The phone rang, a piercing loud disruption. I braced myself, sort of doubled over in the bed. But it was Vinnie - my brother on his study abroad trip in Ferrara, Italy. He had stories. It's awesome, he said. You must come, you will fall in love with the town. So many stories. How he and his roommates rode bikes to the train station, took the train to Padua, bought ridiculous, extravagant outfits and went out to a big dinner. There are little dogs everywhere, he said, and they look like Mina. The study abroad people organized a wine tasting for Vin and his two roommates, the only three in this program for the fall semester.

This is no world to shy away from, I thought. I dragged myself out of bed, head throbbing. I march into the shower. I made it as hot as possible. I put clothes on - no more pajamas, had toast and peach butter and orange juice. Water, so good for me. At this point I couldn't deny the outdoors any longer and ventured onto the deck where I discovered that it was the First Fall Day.

I know it's not the actual season yet and that there will probably be more hot days before the season truly sets in, but if this past Sunday was a preview, I am ready. I parked myself in one of the big plastic chairs we've got out there for a while, reading, while my sockless feet started to get cold. Every once in a while I'd peer up at the sky to remind myself of it's color.

Being outside was all I wanted. Justin and I were alarmed when the doorbell rang in the middle of the afternoon, only to find a dedicated young boy scout on the front step, selling popcorn. I cannot resist young people working hard to sell their various cookies, candies and the like, and I certainly cannot resist the thought of caramel popcorn being delivered to my door. But the boy had it now, he said! I could pay my $15 and get my popcorn now! I waited because he had to run to the house to get it (I glimpsed his father lurking off to the side, a major contraption strapped to his back which I'm assuming held various containers of chocolate, caramel, buttered popcorn. Mine, however, had to be tracked down). I stood on the sidewalk, where it was sunny, but I remained comfortable in a zippered sweatshirt and linen pants. My hair was messy, I didn't care.

Waiting for that popcorn I listened to a the voices of children in the neighborhood. People were wearing typical early fall clothing, like long sleeve t-shirts and shorts, and suddenly I wished I were married. Or about to get married, at least. Suddenly I wanted more than anything to be part of a young married, or engaged couple, striking out in the world, and it made sense beyond any feelings of making that commitment, or moving on to the next step.It just seemed such a sensible adventure for two people in love to embark on, and this is what I thought about while I waited patiently.

It was a good wait on a relaxing day. The boy scout came back and I wished him good luck. The day turned into a cool night. I got back into bed about nine hours after first leaving it. My headache was gone.