Betting The Farm
I had a busy morning running errands and getting things in the mail before 10am. It was drizzling but I chose to ride my bike anyway because, I just wanted to. One trip to get boxes another to send them out. I thought I had extras here but since I have changed my pack-rat ways multiple trips are required. (note to self). Mailing went more smoothly than I expected and I chalked one up in the “un-thwarted” column for the month. I then returned home to have a conversation with a client that did not go at all as I had hoped so, erase and move that mark over to the other column. January, you are certainly sure footed.
Edy and I had a nice lunch and reviewed a new fashion line she had discovered while we ate. Between bites and various shoes, handbags and dresses we discussed her pending trip and the conversation I just mentioned. Human relationships are a trip. We also discussed how life with me is never smooth and simple because I will “bet the farm” at the drop of a hat for something I believe in.
In my business one gets many kudos for the work completed but not often are heartfelt compliments given. On my way back from the post office I was recalling a few that just happened to pop into my mind as I was zig-zagging through traffic. I guess I needed to hear them today.
The top five are:
1. Edy’s 1st trip to El Monte and I knew-that-she knew what it was all about, she felt me there and set the stage for our future.
2. From Heathe’ and Fred last month when they said that they knew a project I had done was going to be beautiful just because I did it.
3. My son when he was young telling his sisters that “Dad is like “Google”
4. A colleague last week commenting on how much he knew I love my wife purely via some simple actions I wrote about.
5. A construction crew member asking me if I “grew up on a farm?”...”because you can fix anything!”
As a matter of fact I did spend summers on my grandparents farm in Kansas. I spent a lot of time in the gardens and in the garage, barn and basement growing, fixing and building stuff along side my other chores. My grandfather was a gun-smith, furniture maker and mechanic. During the war he built ships. My grandmother was a horse and buggy school teacher and I have other writings dedicated to them. I was given a lot of free rein and had hours and hours to simply “putz” (as a verb). I could build, blow up and repair to blow up again just about anything imaginable because of access to gunpowder.
Wood blows up easier than Cast Iron but Cast Iron makes for an impressive concussion if the right formulas are used. Glass, bad idea and the same with concrete or any paper products (you have no idea how high burning cardboard can go until you see smoke in your neighbors walnut tree across the pond – just saying…). Homeland Security would have definitely been tracking me at age 9 or 10. So yes, farm life tends to allow one to develop a very creative bearing in the world, be adventurous and daring yet also teaches us not to blink when faced with potential detonations as we know what to expect. If it blows up, no problem we’ll fix it and do it all over again, and better this time. If not then chalk up one for the success column and move on to the next new adventure. I know it is going to be a doozie and am betting the farm on it.
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