Farmer Quote #23: Tractor Parking

"You know it's the start of summer when I park on the lawn."

Cow Parades

Spring and summer afternoons on the farm include bringing the cows in from the field. It has been sunny around the farm recently, so The Herdsman and I decided we would venture out recently and help with the herding duties. Really, we just wanted to go for a walk and say "hi" to some cows. They are cute, aren't they?

It also helps that the cute handsome Farmer also participates in the herding process.

As we are still counting the Herdsman's age in weeks, he and I stayed behind the gate and really just watched the cow parade and enjoyed the scenery.

We also were the object of curiosity.

Despite it being a beautiful day and we were able to say hello to all our cow friends up close and personal (see above photo), The Herdsman slept through his duties once again.

And so while The Herdsman slept, The Farmer and I watched the cow parade. 

The Farmer insisted on taking a few photos, and I think these next three are payback for all my a**less chaps comments. 

Yeah, this one especially...definitely payback for the multiple a**less chaps posts.

Now you may notice it is a bit muddy in the cow parade lane.

I normally wear my boots for herding duties, but I decided on this day it would be OK to wear my ankle slip-on boots. 

This was a poor decision on my part. 

These ankle boots were purchased when I was eight months pregnant as I was having tough time getting my boots on. We purchased the ankle version one size too big so I could just slip them on without much difficulty.

However, now these ankle boots feel like clown shoes. They are just a tad too big and my ankles, well, they are no longer swollen. As such they are a bit too easy to slip on - and off.

Case in point...

Yes, that is my footprint in the mud after my right clown boot got stuck in the mud.

And this is my bare sock-foot after my left foot followed suit and stepped right out of the clown boots.

This reminded me of the first time I helped bring the cows in with The Farmer. I was nervous, hoping to pass this very important test of farm life. I was wearing appropriate foot attire - knee-high rubber boots - but as we walked through a huge mud bog near the front gate (there's no way around it), my boot sank...up to mid-calf.

I was stuck.

While we have no photos of the incident, imagine me standing there in a huge vat of mud with one foot buried a good 12 inches in the sloppy, sticky, gooey tar-like substance. And since this was my first time herding the cows I had a lot to prove I was up to the task. Instead I was motionless, teetering on the brink of falling head-first into this pile of muck. And just to be clear, it's not all mud when you are on a dairy farm.

And despite my impending self-inflicted mud-pie face all I could think was "The hat!" Because yes, I had accidentally worn one of The Farmer's good hats out into the field. Who knew that amongst his 834 baseball caps he had good ones and bad ones? But yes, he does! I had forgotten my hat that trip and thus naively picked one out of The Farmer's closet. And yes, I picked a cute one. If I'm going to wear a hat and try to impress The Farmer with my rookie herding skills I'm gonna look cute! However, it turns out this particular cute hat was The Farmer's new/nice/going-to-town hat. 

Oops.

When The Farmer saw said hat on my head he gave a stern warning..."Just don't get it dirty."

So as The Farmer pulled me out of the mud bog - yes, I needed rescuing and the fairy-tale-damsel-in-distress sort of rescuing is not really be-still-my-heart-inducing, but rather borders on mortification - all I could think was how to prevent the hat from impending mud-bog doom. I was sure I would not be invited back to the farm should a minute speck of brown goo appear on the hat upon post-herding inspection. Farming is messy business but there is no excuse for  ruining the going-to-town hat.

Fortunately, the cute/new/nice/going-to-town hat survived intact. My boot was rescued from the mud. I was invited back. 

And The Farmer bought me my own hat.

Farmer Quote #7: Fiber Is Good For You

Half-way through The Very Hungry Caterpillar...

"This caterpillar is getting a lot of fiber."

Hilton Points

The Farmer will tell you he married me for my Hilton points.

Being a Hilton Diamond member has its benefits - who can deny free wi-fi, free snacks, and valet parking (select locations)? It also says you travel too much.

So when The Farmer and I can use some of my thousands of Hilton points it is exciting. And The Farmer can remind me that he married me for my free hotel stays.

While not very romantic, I like having a long list of things The Farmer loves about me. And if hotel bills equaling zero is on his list, I'll take it.

Fall in admission world is "Travel Season" and this fall I'll have some travel companions...The Herdsman is coming along for the ride! My mother - who has dubbed herself "Mary Poppins" - will complete the trio. And if I can tear The Farmer away from the island, I hope he'll join in on a few trips as well.

We introduced The Herdsman to the glamorous life of travel a few weeks ago. We went away for an evening for our anniversary - and stayed a whopping 30 miles from home at the Astoria Hampton Inn.

And look at the room we got!

The Farmall tractor room!

The Farmer has a Farmall tractor. The Farmer has a Farmall tractor hat. He didn't bring either on this trip. He also didn't want his picture taken with the room number sign...something about he doesn't need a photo with the photo of a tractor he already owns, or something like that.

While I was excited about the room number sign, The Farmer and The Herdsman were very excited about free HBO.

The Herdsman was also excited about the big bed.

And this photo...taken at 5:00 am...required me to remind The Herdsman that having a party in a hotel room is an easy way to get kicked out of a hotel and should be reserved for college.

Here's to your first night in what will be many nights of hotel living, my little travel partner! 

Your mama is a Hilton Diamond member.

Farmer Quote #49: The Answer Was "Mice"

While doing the daily crossword...

"What's another answer for 'point and click devices'? Shotgun doesn't fit."

Parenting Tip #81: Swimming and Swinging

The rule of "Don't go swimming for 30 minutes after you eat" also pertains to swinging in the baby swing.

May Day From The Sidelines

Today is May Day.

A little celebrated holiday once you are over the age of eight and done making flower head-wreaths (or part of the labor force).

But in the admission world - my world - May Day takes on so much more significance.

It is Election Day.
It is the last day of school.
It is opening night.

May 1st is the nationally recognized day in which seniors must make their college decision. As such, admission counselors eagerly await (OK, we aren't really waiting...we are emailing and greeting visitors and note-writing and calling and reception hosting...) this day as the day in which we find out who will be arriving on campus the following fall. It is the day we have been working for all year (plus).

We are also doing a whole lot of praying. Pleasepleaseplease may the numbers come in on target. Pleasepleaseplease may that really cool student from Montana decide to enroll. Pleasepleaseplease may the Dean have a smile on his face come 5 o'clock.

Yes, our livelihood is centered around the whims of 18 year-olds whose prefrontal cortex has yet to completely develop. Yep, that same prefrontal cortex that functions as a decision maker. We are in for a bumpy ride...

When I started in admissions almost 20 years ago enrollment deposits (and declines) came in pre-addressed/stamped #10 envelopes. We had one person in the office that opened the mail and everyone hovered around her desk as she calmly slit open the day's mail. We paced. We looked over her shoulder. In short...we drove her nuts.

Nowadays students can let us know online, on Facebook, with a swipe of that square dohickey you attach to your smart phone. And yes, we still accept that pre-addressed/stamped #10 envelope for the quaint of heart. But despite how they tell us of their decision, when they tell us still hasn't changed. My life for the past (almost) 20 years holds this day as significant.

It is the first day of spring training.
It is Tax Day (if you are an accountant).
It is Christmas.

So here I sit, this May 1st, not having checked my work email since noon-ish on March 20th. I can't believe I've lasted this long (I'm sure some people took bets on how long I could stay away). Oh, yes, I'll admit I sent a text to a colleague this morning wishing the office a "Happy May 1st", but that's it.

Instead of checking email every 3.5 minutes for an updated list from the Dean, and then eagerly scanning that list of names for "my" students, I'm staring at this:

May Day 2014 couldn't be any better.

But I do hope I get an email today from the office with the results of those pre-addressed/stamped #10 envelopes.

Old habits die hard.