Tuesday, June 7, 2011

♫...Down here on the farm...♫

Let's be perfectly clear about something, okay?
I am NOT, in any way, shape or form, an outside/outdoorsy kind of girl.
Give me a lounge, a live band and a cocktail over camping any day of the week.

The problem? My parents are the kind of hardcore outdoorsy people that if you drop them in the middle of a deep dark scary forest inhabited by black bears, wendigos, bigfoot and one eyed haints, they would not only survive, they would set up some sort of self-sustaining ecosphere that is powered by something like frog saliva.

My parents have an herb garden, a vegetable garden, a pond, and chickens...that currently live in the herb
garden. In the next few years, my parents want to move to a little farm house and have a self-sustaining farm. My mom cans veggies and makes jam...in fact, at this very moment, I'm trying VERY hard not to sneak into the kitchen and eat an entire jar of her homemade peach or blackberry jam. My dad built the temporary chicken habitat that is over the herb garden...and he's building the actual chicken coup that he's moving them into when they get old enough. They make things! Wonderful things! They have such awesome plans for gardens and food and jams and chickens and solar power and homemade ale...AND IT JUST GETS ME SO EXCITED that I flail around like a little chick, I'm so caught up in the plans they have or the things they are growing/making...and every once in a while I start to think, "Hey, I'd like to start a garden and grow my own herbs like mom and dad!! It's beautiful outside, I want to sit on the porch and sip sweet tea and then dig in the dirt"...
...and then I'm sweet talked into helping Mum outside for 30 minutes...
...and I hate dirt...
...and I hate bugs...
...and I hate the sweltering heat...
...and I hate that my boobs are so gargantuan that bending over numerous times makes my lower back feel like the devil is jabbing me with his little forky thing...

Five minutes outside moving wood and my eyeballs are sweating, my back hurts, my skin is covered in mosquito bites, I feel like there are bugs crawling all over me and I want to force feed a grub to the next person who talks to me...and then there's my little Five Foot Tall Mum slinging wood like a lumberjack...

I'm only sure of 2 things now...She's not human...and I was definitely adopted...

Someone bring me a cocktail.

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