Friday, April 24, 2015

"Dr." Oz vs. Actual Doctors

Today, I actually sat down to watch the Today show (yes, I'm still watching it, even though sometimes I feel like it's a sibling show to E! News.). Why is this so monumental? Well, friends, with our house remodel, we have now joined the 21st century with...drumroll please...


The fact that we use the word "the" before DVR means we're new to this phenomenon.

I'm digressing, but it's exciting.

Anyway, I was able to actually watch the segment that was coming up thanks to this beautiful new feature called "pause" (after being alerted by my good friend Holly via text), as it was about everyone in the agriculture world's favorite doctor. "Dr." Oz.

Why the quotes?

Because he's a quack.

Anyway, seems like "Dr." Oz is getting some flack from his fellow doctors at Columbia. They are having to debunk some of his "Ozisms" in class!


Haven't I written about this before?

Oh yes, here.

Anyway, "Dr." Oz was on the defensive, although not as defiant as Holly wagered during our flurry of texts. He was, however, annoyingly pensive in expression and soft and sorrowful in his tone.


He was so sorry that his colleagues misunderstood how he was not trying to share medical advice, but lifestyle advice.

Oh? That's what "MEDICAL BREAKTHROUGH" means? Lifestyle advice?

He was so determined in his answers, it almost seemed as if he received the questions prior to the interview.


He was adamant that his whole platform, down to the logo of the show (where the word "Dr." is so small) is about a healthy way of living, and not medical, you almost discredit the fact that he is actually a card carrying doctor.

Which I already have.

Anyway, this interview just cemented the fact that "Dr." Oz is simply a dude trying to maintain his fame, promote a lifestyle that, while I agree we should eat more fresh and you won't feel like garbage (see me this week...yikes), exercise more, and try to enjoy yourself while doing it, this dude is losing credibility as fast as he claims you can lose weight by eating kale laced with cayenne and drizzled in agave.

I am not sure what makes me gag more, "Dr." Oz's defense tactics or that fake "Ozish" recipe.

You decide.

Friday, April 17, 2015

Aging and the Ageless

After sharing this Instagram picture on Facebook last night,

I received a comment that completely shattered my already tender, aging heart.

Do you see the comments about the daughter who is 25? Well, I was her daughter's sixth grade teacher, when I was 25. Vickie so kindly shared with me that Lauryn, my sweet little student is,

--wait for it--


Like, as in out of college.

As in a quarter of a century.


I thought they were still in high school, because, clearly, I am just shy of turning 30.

Not really.

Isn't aging fun?

Anyway, it led me to a conclusion. I have decided, upon my birthday on Wednesday, that I am going to remain ageless. I feel like I'm 25. I try to appear like I'm 25 (minus the crop tops (NEVER a good idea), add in a little anti-aging night cream and LOTS of exercise). So why not just BE 25.


Well, because at 25 I thought I had it all figured out. Joe and I were readying to not only be married that summer, but were also looking for houses. I was applying for grad school (because, you know, I'd obviously become a principal...ha, again.). Joe was at the top of his career game, and kids were just a wistful glimmer in our really bright future.

Fast forward 12 years, and I'm so tired I don't have hardly any opinion on anything agricultural and would rather lament on my 37th year of birth.

Lucky you.

However, wouldn't my decision to remain ageless mean that I won't have to lament any more? When I hear of a young pup turning the wonderful age of 34 (which was a good year for me), I can congratulate him or her on the accomplishment, and relish in the fact that I loved 34. When a kiddo turns the corner to 20, I can remember the lovely, lazy days of my college birthday at 20 (no details necessary). 40, 49, 55, those numbers don't scare me anymore because I have decided to just be ageless. All ages and stages are great. All ages and stages are hard. All ages and stages are interesting, frustrating, and demanding, all in their own special way. At 25, my biggest decisions were flower colors, two or three bathrooms, and what shoes to buy.

I know, I was working really hard back then.

Friends, I think I'm not thinking that hard right now, because my big decisions today have been straight or curly hair and rice or peanut butter for lunch.

Are you jealous of my life yet?

Well, in my own fickle way, I have decided, just in this short blog post that I will embrace 37. It's not that bad. My students are 25, and while 25 was a great, life changing, Hawaii tripping, marathon running year, it was just one of the best, because I have had 12 really good ones in between.

Here's to another 12 years, life! In that amount of time, I'll have two sixth graders, two freshmen (one in high school, one college), and two juniors (high school and college).

That's pretty amazing, but my mind just blew up.

Tuesday, April 7, 2015

Easter Hangover

First of all, let me just thank you all for your kind words about my last post. I am trying to be real, relatable, and in a relationship with you, dear readers, so your commentary makes this writer's heart soar. Thank you for supporting me.

Secondly, is it appropriate to have the word hangover in the same title as the day we celebrate the risen Christ?

Too late.

We seem to be hitting the sacreligion hard. Case in point:

We weren't sure whether to be horrified or proud of our boy, but upon hearing his retelling of the crucifixion, we realized what precious and wonderful Sunday School teachers he has. And then we had to explain the Resurrection.

Oh boy.

Anyway, today is one of those days that you have a list of things to do, and you just continually are derailed. Like the first sick kid. Headache. Upset stomach. Tired. Sure. Stay home. Then the preschool drop off where you hear bad news that shakes you up, aching for a friend. Then the Wi-Fi goes down during a call where all your files are on your email because you can't seem to remember to copy and paste. Then, kid #2 calls. She needs to come home, and like a good mother, you tell her to suck it up and hold on. It's nearly halfway through the day. Then the kid calls again, all the while, you're folding the mountain of laundry and you notice a cow in your side yard.

I have had a lot of things in my side yard lately, however, cows are not one of them.

Ol' Bossy was just munching on some corn that Dad had spilled out, loading out a bin. Jack decided to name her Butterscotch and her baby (should she have one) Puddin'. 


So, a phone call later, a grandma to the rescue, and you have yourself a day.

In my line of work, one needs no alcohol to have a hangover. Just give me a holiday.


In other news, we did another podcast! It's something to behold. 13 minutes of glory, friends. You can listen to it here or download the Soundcloud App, and start following Confessions of a Farm Wife. In this one, we're talking about reading everything...even the "dark side of the Silk carton," as Holly puts it. Read, friends, it does a body good.

Which leads me to my next point, the Food Babe. Oh bless her. She takes a lovely picture. The girl can write one heck of a yarn, but, as I read in some of her commentary, she is becoming the "Jenny McCarthy" of experts. 

Awesome. published a great blog by a scientist, and while the language is less than PG, it is, SCIENCE. The author has some great zingers to our Fearless Food Babe, and I agree with the title. She IS full of sh*t.

So, friends, I hope this finds you feeling the love after a holiday spent with friends and family. 

And enjoying that nasty candy that could kill you, you know. 

Happy After Easter, friends.

Thursday, April 2, 2015


Yesterday was a new beginning.

No, it wasn't because I received my four slice toaster via UPS yesterday, and this morning felt like the most amazing mom in the world. Look at me!! I'm toasting an Eggo and toast. Simultaneously.

It's the little things, people.

No, yesterday felt like spring. It looked like spring. It smelled like spring. And while I loved seeing all my farmer friends post their beautiful pictures of tractors in the dirt, I didn't have one.

And it stung a little.

We have taken the high road with our new arrangement. It was what was best for our family. Walking away from farming was hard, but seeing it still march on without us is harder.

That's the truth.

Maybe it's because it's right in front of me as I play outside with Jack and the babies. Fields being worked by unknown folks; pastures empty (sans the ONE cow that's STILL there.); grain hauled out of the bin practically in my yard, without any connection to me, except in name.

The truth is, once again, I'm trying to figure out my place in the farming community.


And the truth is, I feel even more like a phony than I did when I was just a newbie farm wife.

I believe with my whole heart that my kids will continue to be farm kids, having chores and animals and fences to mend. I feel like Joe will continue to make his mark in the agricultural field (no pun intended), whether it's in the dirt or the classroom or a boardroom.

But me? I'm just someone who is stuck between truth and acting.

The truth is, I've always felt this way. I was a city kid stuck in a small town kid's life. A band nerd who played sports. A person who never thought she'd have kids now has a tribe. A curly haired girl armed with a flat iron. A non-farmer who had a voice in a farming world.

The juxtaposition of my life is almost laughable, so I shouldn't be surprised.

The truth is, I finally figured out my voice. I was finally not just talking the talk, but seeing how it was creating opportunities and responsibility in my life, my kids, my husband, that are bigger than just a job.

And then, poof.


Like the smoke in the air coming off the ditches being burned, it just evaporated. And might I add...why? Why all the burning? It's everywhere!

So here I sit, getting myself ready for a podcast with my other farmer wives, and all I can think about is how in the world will I form a sentence about planting or calving or lunches in the field without feeling empty? A phony. Stuck in some place where I don't belong.


The truth is, planting this year is going to be hard. I'll have to watch as another tractor with another family and another little boy sits beside his dad as the crop is put in.

However, this may seem like we're down, but we're not out. It's a gloomy day, right before Easter, Maundy Thursday to be exact, so maybe that's why I'm so glum.

But, like the Easter story, a life can be resurrected. We will overcome these first pangs of weirdness, sadness, and strangeness. I still can have a voice in agriculture, it just might not have all the gory calving details as before, which could ultimately be a good thing.

That's the truth about farming and agriculture. Once it gets in, you're in for good. While you may not be currently driving a tractor or depending on the weather for every aspect of your life, once you've had that experience you get it, and you never forget.

Bear with me as I deal with this first planting season as it passes me by like a parade. I'll be watching, and may have some moments of sadness.

Because sometimes, the truth hurts.