Used to take me all of 5 minutes to jump on a chance to head out of town. I once had a friend newly back from her
honeymoon with a two-day turn-around before speaking in Hawaii. In the short window we had to touch base, she mentioned off-handedly she “had to go to Hawaii
the following day” to which I replied “Have to” and “Hawaii” should never be
used in the same sentence.
Lightheartedly she shot back something about accommodations
for two, and her new husband having to get back to his work of his own. “Wish you could go with me,” she haphazardly quipped. (Friends have since learned not to toss such notions out there
lightly.) “Are you kidding? Give me 30." Suffice it to say I was on her
flight the next day. I have a similar
story with a professor friend who “had to be in Rome” one Thanksgiving weekend, to speak at the Vatican. Suffice it to say, we dined on spaghetti, not
turkey that year…(Again, ya don’t toss it out there lightly.)
All to say, I’m a “travel on a dime” kind
girl…well, at least, I used to be.
You’d never know it now, given my past 2 ½ years, which
have found me (grateful though I may be) tethered to my garden. But little did I know that
traveling is a muscle; and like all muscles, if you don’t use it, you could
lose it.
For 6 months I’ve been anticipating the weekend, wedding for
which, the sweet young couple were gracious to extend an invite. Yet as the
time drew nigh, I could see it was not a weekend I would be engaged in, but one simple evening (PM wedding) the list of “to do’s” left behind for those caring for my farm, making
for one busy pre-game set up.
First off, Sweet Minsky (at 14 1/2) requires meds
every 8 hours, (some are drops, some you crunch, most of which you hide in
food, which she has painstakingly learned how to disassemble, despite her failing eyesight. Add to that her faulty hearing,
and suffice it to say both Minks and I are blessed to have a friend who knows the routine. So before heading out on my 5 ½ hour drive, I had two
hours of delivery time, delivering Minks.
Next, come the
big dogs. (Big dogs btw, now watching a barn being built, which means every
nail box, screw packet, flapping tarp, and pallet tie, every-everything needs to be
battened down or set up high ‘cause everything’s one big chew toy to dogs like
Hix and TJ. To keep the crews moving (and the pups out of their stuff) we secure extra chews, extra bones, extra stuffed toys,
extra-everything prior to departure, all while leaving taped instructions on
top of Tupperwared rations of dogfood in cleanly stacked bowls for both dinner
and breakfast feedings. (Thank God for neighbors, friends and barn-building
water-checking crews, all pitching in so that I might spend one peaceful night away.)
Fortunately,
Boo is low maintenance, as are the fish.
Still and so, 4
– 6 hours of critter prep (vs. the 30 minutes I gave myself, including dusting
cobwebs out of luggage that hasn’t seen the light of day in over 2 years)…all
to ensure a stress-free evening (which we a l m o s t got to) before driving the 5 ½ hour drive back
the next morning....
Let us just say...the wedding went off without a glitch!
As for me, “Glitches
are us” but none so critical as to infect those I’d shown up to support.
In the end it (once
again) it all serves to remind that farming’s no one man (or one woman) sport.
Moral of the
story: It’s high time we bring on the help!
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