Fall break fall break fall break fall break.
Sure, technically it’s only 2 days long–but I care not. Tomorrow is going to be all about sleeping in at my house. And by sleeping in, I mean we are NOT going to wake up at 6:30 a.m. fighting over the fluffy blanket and screaming for apple juice and chocolate chip waffles.
We’re totally going to wait until 7:00 a.m. to do all that.
And then the kids will probably wake up afterward.
Merrick’s class field trip to the farm was yesterday. Caleb and I both got to go–and we had the best time ever. We petted sheep and goats, and also clean pigs. Fat pigs, too–so fat that I think their bellies actually touched the ground when they walked. It was so great. There were hayrides, and train rides, and pony rides. We had hotdogs in whitebread buns, with coke. Merrick picked a free pumpkin. We climbed on haystacks and slid down slides.
Best. Day. Ever. And I am ready to live on a farm–complete with a big red barn and obedient pigs that mind me.
Did I tell you about the time I fed my friends’ pigs while they were on vacation? I’ve since developed a healthy fear of swine.
But whatever. There’s nothing like the glory of an Oklahoma October to inspire the desire for farm living. I don’t watch The Pioneer Woman, but I have a feeling my farm would look and function nothing like hers whatsoever. I’m picturing a smaller place, where Caleb does most of the gross work and I just cuddle baby animals–when I’m not in my barn studio painting giant works of art. Does that not sound freaking awesome? Now top it off with some wild sunflowers and the fact that I can legitimately wear big red golashes all over the place. You’ve just heard a description of my own personal heaven.
Please don’t anybody disrupt my dream with reality; I don’t want to hear about wasps, flies, and rattlesnakes; heatstroke and blowing red dirt, crop circles and aliens, and the costs of feeding farm animals and manure and back-breaking labor. I just won’t listen. I will close my eyes and plug my ears and say over and over to myself : “fluffy bunnies and baby chicks, fresh blackberries and green grass and blue skies, old trucks that miraculously never break down, farmhouse sinks and big family get-togethers, patchwork quilts and apple cider and stargazing.”
Well. I’ve just talked myself into staying in Oklahoma until my dying day.