Farm Times: A True Story OR "Don't Be Afraid, Just Reach In and Scoop." (I couldn't decide on a title)

I had toast with jelly this morning for breakfast.  Remarkable, huh?  Not so much. But every time I eat it, I always remember how much I really like jelly, and then I go on this nostalgic mental train ride where my mom used to make all our jelly out of sandhill plums and from the peaches that grew on the weird little peach tree in our back yard.  At least, I think they were peaches.  The flesh was white, and the outside was always green, even when they were very ripe.  They never got properly peach.  Then one year, the tree just died.  Suddenly.  Can trees have heart attacks?  It was like that.  The train ride (Yes, we're back on the train, guys.  Keep up.) where I grew up on a farm, fed our cow/future dinner, was woken out of a dead sleep in the middle of the night on more than one occasion to help deliver a litter of piglets (Have you ever done this?  Deliver piglets, not wake up.  Cad.  It's wonderful and amazing and unbelievably damned squishy and gross beyond compare.  Nothing like making life happen when you're elbow deep in a pig vagina, your dad in the background like some awful cheerleader out of a redneck nightmare, saying in his most encouraging voice, "Don't be afraid, just reach in and scoop."), and where having both a railroad box car full of baby chickens and a random farm animal in your yard was normal, the train ride that ended up with me being me.

So, I've been met recently with some incredulity about my having grown up on a farm.  I guess I just don't seem very farmy?  So yes, y'all, I didn't make all this up, and I'm pretty sure I didn't hallucinate it either.  I did grow up on a very small farm, and last night, I found the pictures to prove it.  Enjoy a walk down my weird little memory lane:  

In order of appearance, from left to right:  Annie, Me, John, cow/dinner
That shed blew away in a tornado shortly after this photo was taken.

When I was 7 years old, I was roused from a peaceful slumber
to go help these little cuties get born.  Awww, they grow so fast.
And to set the record straight, yes, this is the pig, the one with the vagina.
See the boxcar in the background?  That's the one full of
baby chickens (who look cute but are actually monsters).

Here's me on my horse.  We called him Lightening.
I don't know why.  He wouldn't go faster than a walk.
That's probably good because I was a pretty clumsy kid.

So, you may have noticed there are no pictures posted in my blog of me serving up hot meals to Florida's less fortunate or snuggling sea turtles.  You may have also noticed I'm not sporting purple hair, or throwing back some rocky mountain oysters (calf fries, bull jewels, swinging beef, cowboy caviar, etc).  You may be wondering why this is.  If you're thinking right now, Well of course you're not, crazy.  What in the world are you talking about?, you should read this.  If you have read that, and you're wondering why I haven't done the things I promised, I can assure you it's not because I don't want to.  Sea turtles are attractive creatures, right?  Totally snuggle-worthy.  And I think I'd look super hot with purple locks.  It's simply because I haven't reached the donation levels I've set for my son's school thing.  If you're wondering why not, I can tell you, I am wondering the same thing.  If I had a dollar for every read I've gotten this month, I'd be on a mechanical bull right now instead of in an office chair, writing this entry.  I'm not sayin', I'm just sayin'.  On the bright side, I'm not likely to be thrown from my chair, not that it hasn't happened, but I'm sober right now, so it's not likely.  Yes, guys, I know this is shameless.  I don't care.  We are coming down to the wire (May 10 is my drop-dead date for most of the money - $8000), so if you can give, please do.  If you've been sending your good vibes, keep it coming.  You must be doing something right because I have received some very generous support from our local businesses.  I will be sure to write an entry about them once this is all said and done, and I'll give them the mad props they deserve.

*Update:  I just sent out a giant stack of letters asking for support.  My son has also agreed to do some volunteer work in exchange for donations.  His volunteer choices are making oyster mats, a day-long beach clean up and helping build a house at Habitat for Humanity.  I will be honoring those donations with my promises as well.  So basically, he and I will both do the things we promised, regardless of the source of our donations.  Wish us luck!

My happy little winner.