Okay. I’m not gonna lie. I’m struggling with finding a hobby or two that doesn’t feature me sitting on my ever-expanding butt. I know my way around the Dish TV guide (hence my previous admission that I am fast becoming a certified reality t.v. addict) and I enjoy Facebook for at least an hour a night. Before I became a farmer’s wife I had a vision that I would became some sort of character out of a Hallmark movie. Quilting, growing a garden, canning, baking and occasional plowing would satisfy my need for social contact and hobbies and I’d hit the pillow each night marveling at my contented and peaceful life.
I do grow flowers in the summer but that’s the extent of my “gardening”. Pick up plants from Home Depot, dig a hole and cover the rest with mulch. I grew a vegetable garden my first year on the farm and realized that you should probably like vegetables before you grow three hundred of them. My coworkers would run as I showed up to work with bags upon bags of produce to heave upon them. Obviously, that leaves canning out of the running pretty quickly. Moving on, the fact that I don’t know how to sew, at all, would make quilting relatively dicey too. I love quilts, I really do. I totally admire anyone who has the skill and patience to take material, batting and a pattern and make it into a beautiful homemade creation. I’d just rather buy one from Herbergers than make one myself. So that leaves baking. I can totally bake. My middle name is Chocolate. I actually have two middle names Chocolate-Peanut Butter. I baked myself twenty pounds heavier! My husband is one of those people (actually I consider them aliens) that can have one piece of cake and never want another piece for a month. I wasn’t born with that chip. If I bake a cake or a pie, I know exactly how many slices are left. They stare at me from the refrigerator shelf. They seduce me. They telepathically transmit directions to the fork and plate drawer and before i know it, I eat the rest of my baking. Some people grow their own pot or brew their own beer, I bake myself into the next pant size.
When you marry a farmer, you quickly realize that your life revolves around the seasons. Spring and Fall mean planting and harvesting and me spending alot of free time by myself. If you’re new around town, it’s not easy to make friends and maybe even more so when you’re a former “city girl” with my accent . Maybe people assume you either don’t have much in common or that you already have a full calendar. Maybe, other women have their go-to friends and just like things status quo. Who can blame them? If anyone has any suggestions or ideas, feel free to throw them my way especially if you are interested in starting a book club! But please, don’t ask me to bake anything…….