And speaking of Brains!

July 28th, 2011

It has been over one year since I whacked my head last Memorial Day on the infamous birdhouse under the pine tree up at the river. (more…)

The Scowl

October 29th, 2008

When I saw this photo I had one of those “AHA” moments.  My first reaction was “what is the heck got into me?”

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It’s All About Me

October 21st, 2008

I thought I grew up on a farm until I actually visited a real farm. What a wake up call that was.  We had all the makings of a farm, 50 acres, a barn and a tractor, but we had no farming instinct or ability.  My dad was a country doctor and fancied himself a farmer. However, he fancied his children as farm hands even more. So we did the chores and he rode around on his red tractor making crop circles. The idea of farming was far more interesting to him than the actual farming itself. It must have been all those Little House on the Prairie shows that created my longing for a farm life. You know, laundry drying on the line, pies a cooling on the porch, walking around barefoot in the tall grass with my children and dogs trailing behind me singing songs and picking flowers.  A husband who could train horses, fix fence posts and make stone walls while I was baking the pies and cooking dinner.

And then I woke up.
I went to Law school, got married, started my own business and more importantly, I lived in a suburban neighborhood. Turns out the grass was itchy, buggy and prickly. My three daughters would rather go to the mall and the dogs want to stay in the air conditioned house. My husband loves playing tennis, golf and watching sports on TV. Changing light bulbs and the batteries in the remote control are the extent of his handyman talents. My fruit trees are barren and I can’t even cook!

How did this happen?  I have had my farm fantasy of living on a real farm since I was 10 years old. How had I gotten so off track? Maybe I didn’t have the farming instinct or ability.  Maybe I would just have to pretend to be a farmer, like my dad.  So instead of a house at the shore we bought the faux farm (OK, a real house) out in Lancaster County. We have no animals, grow no food and there is nothing farmy about the faux farm except that is its next to real farms. As it turns out the real farming stuff is hard work, long hours, and very messy. I was much better at faux farming than real farming and sometimes in life you have to accept things about yourself that can’t be changed. So if you thought I was going to teach you how to grow vegetables, cook, can, quilt or sew you are at the wrong blog. Not only can I not do those things, I don’t really like to do them. I just liked the idea of someone doing those things around me and me watching and helping every once in awhile, in between getting my nails done. Here are the stories of my life as a faux farmer.

Annie, the Faux Farm Girl

How Old Are You?

October 15th, 2008

In my mind I am still 25 and so it is with great astonishment that I find myself with an under wire bra supporting 53 year old breasts. Trust me, that undergarment is working really hard and is a little surprised at itself sometimes. (more…)