2013 has been a great year! I’ve been pretty public about the highlights of the year that were planned: building a house, selling a house and sending the kid to kindergarten. But as life turns out some unplanned stuff has happened too.
This year I planned to build a house near the livestock, parents, family, corn, soybeans, wheat, hay, etc.
Check – done!
I planned to send the kid to kindergarten, whether he wanted to go or not.
Check – done!
I planned to sell the house we bought ten years ago – And was incredibly blessed to get a really strong offer less than two weeks on the market that closed almost a month before I had to give up possession. I didn’t even know a deal this good could exist. I had prayed about this for a while and God took care of that in bigger and better way than I ever imagined! Check +++!
I planned to help my dad some with harvest. Another check mark.
And then I planned to sit on my darn couch and rest for a couple months and enjoy all that I ran myself so ragged the entire rest of the year accomplishing…. Until into an awkward (pre-planned by his uncle for well over a year) meeting walked a turkey farmer.
I’m not generally a sappy, emotional, whatever girly person, unless you have a great personal Jesus story or pork cooking experience to share with me because like somebody once said about bronchitis on YouTube “ain’t nobody got time for that!” I said that so you wouldn’t read on hoping to cry or something ridiculous.
I was invited to a wedding in the turkey farmer’s area. The bride’s family are bacon and turkey farmers (it’s kind of the thing to do out there). The specific turkey farmer we’re discussing’s uncle (this uncle loves turkeys more than my kid loves Santa Claus, but is he involved with pigs too – that’s how he knows me) learned of my invitation and insisted that I needed a dance partner. Feeling VERY awkward about the whole deal I asked him to tell me about this nephew. All I really got is that he’s shy. And shyness is what dreams are made of right?
I never got an answer from myself about what was happening in my life, but I thought whatever and rolled with it.
One of the nephew’s co-workers had asked me for a full report post dance partner program. What do you seriously tell somebody like that? So the next day I sent him this text, “It was love at first sight, I’m trying to figure out when to quit my job and move.”
He replied, “Oh, okay,” fully knowing I was full of crap – so I hope you readers are picking up the intense sarcasm at this point.
A few days later (I haven’t heard back from the turkey farmer at all, not sure if I’m going to) I get a completely unexpected text from the co-worker “the uncle must think his dance partner program went well because he just fired somebody in the office to make room for you” – My intense sarcasm just got one-upped. Dang, the poultry fumes must be fueling some good humor in western Ohio.
I obviously heard back from the turkey farmer / dance partner or I wouldn’t be telling you about this would I?
I told him I wasn’t going to post anything about whatever is happening on Facebook until he quit fence sitting with the two proteins and got a pork tattoo. A friend who knew this joke, I mean story, asked the turkey farmer if he had the tattoo when they met. The turkey farmer responded, “Yes, but I can’t show you.”
Well the last thing about to happen to me as 2013 winds down is getting duped by a turkey farmer. He’s got a few brothers, which I don’t know very well, so I debated whether to ask one of them to look for it. But, then I didn’t know whether to make this request in front of his parents or how that might go over, so I’m just trusting him at this point. I mean a tattoo can always be added, if needed, maybe even bigger and better as punishment for lying, right?
And all of this after the Little Farmer sends this note from our strictly John Deere loving house to Santa:
While we’re all here together disclosing shocking personal information on the internet I might as well admit that pork is a red meat. Yep, I’ve grown up in a family that made a living from all things red meat (and milk) and I’ve carried on that fine tradition to support my son and me. So, I guess we’ll all just have to wait with baited breath together and find out how long this deal with a real white meat farmer will last.
No chicken jokes will be approved in the comments. Remember he’s a turkey farmer!