The Farmer in the Dell

A few weeks ago, Bob and I attended a "function," and we were seated next to a couple we hardly knew. While getting acquainted, we had the pleasure of watching an adventure in stereotyping. Our conversation went this way:

The Husband: "So, Bob, where did you grow up?"

Bob: "In Idaho."

The Husband: "Oh! . . . . . . ."

Bob (trying to fill the void, hauled out a long-standing joke between the two of us): "Yes, Idaho. And Judy vowed she'd never marry someone from Idaho, or a farmer, for that matter."

"Me (chuckling): "I was a little . . . um . . . snooty back then."

Pause.

Me: (being the wordy person that I can be in slightly awkward situations): "Yes, a tad bit snooty. But you know, farmers are not what you might think. When we lived in Idaho, I was pleasantly surprised at the people I met and learned to love. They are really very wonderful."

Pause.

Me: "They have a great work ethic."

Pause.

Me: "That is actually one of the things that drew me to Bob in the first place."

What happened next was incredibly funny. Have you ever dug yourself a hole that you couldn't climb out of? Bob and I watched it happen. Gosh, we gleefully let it happen.

The Husband: "Well, Bob, that's interesting. I knew a farmer once. You don't look like one."

Shovel, shovel. Scoop, scoop.

Long pause. We looked at them. They looked at us.

The Wife: "I THINK there was a farmer in the outskirts of our town many years ago.

Yes, yes. I'm pretty sure."

Shovel, shovel. Scoop, scoop.

Bob and I smiled and nodded, but we were silent.

The Husband: "Well, we certainly need farmers. Why, what would happen if we didn't have those kinds of people?"

Shovel, shovel. Scoop, scoop.

Still, Bob and I stayed quiet.

The Husband: "And you really work at a bank?"

Bob: "Yes, for about 25 years."

The Wife: "But you, Judy. You don't come from farm people, right? You're musical!"

Shovel, shovel. Scoop, scoop. Fall in.

All of this only took a minute or two, and it was I who finally had mercy on them. I honestly don't know if they thought they NEEDED mercy, bless 'em. But though I was becoming uncomfortable, I do believe Bob would have let them swing in the breeze a little longer.

"No, I'm sort of a city girl," I said. And I went on to explain where I DID grow up and, my husband told me later, artfully steered the conversation in another direction.

Shovel, shovel. Scoop, scoop. Rather delightful.

And to be truthful, it was Bob's broad shoulders that made me take a second look.

He got them "working out" on a farm.

How Nutty Are You?

For some reason, I am compelled to take any quiz like this. Here's the latest one. According to the nut test, I'm a cashew.

And here's what this apparently says about me: "You are laid back, friendly, and easy going. Compared to most people, you have a very mild temperament. You blend in well. You're often the last person to get noticed. But whenever you're gone, people seem to notice right away!"

Come on, girl chillen and friends, try the nut test and find out what nut you are. And be sure to share.

A Super "Shout Out"

"City Lights"

Some of you have asked about the incredible totes I've been toting around. :-) Bob's cousin Suzanne, who lives in Colorado, is the talented lady who makes them. She is not only an expert seamstress, she has a knack for color, fabric, and ways to put everything together. But, you've already seen that. The good news is that she is giving away a tote in the next week or so, and you can enter your name in the drawing by hopping over to her site on http://www.justanotherhangup.blogspot.com/. The tote in this contest is totelicious! *groan* She's also giving away a Dwipe, another item she makes. Don't know what that is? Take a look and put your name in the pot for both freebies!

Answers to Photo Tag

I've been absent from blogging for a while, partly because of computer problems, and partly because of me problems :-). But, I looked over a couple of drafts and decided to post this one. So, for those of you who have been holding your breath, here are my answers to the Photo Tag posted on July 27 below:

Age: I just loved the picture. I'd never thought of that situation from a baby's point of view. :-)

My maiden name: This is a baseball signed by one of my favorite third-basemen in the business. I took a chance and left the signature in tact. If you can decipher his handwriting, the name is there. But is it his first or last name we're looking for? And are you sure? :-)

Place I would like to visit: No kidding, I would LOVE to "Get my kicks, on Route 66." Beginning to end. In a Mustang convertible.

Favorite object: Even though my mother thought it was absolutely sinful to call a piano an object, ("A piano has a soul, Judy!") it is definitely my favorite object. Sorry, Mom.

Favorite food: Moist chocolate cake. Coming in second, anything other good chocolaty thing. I don't like wasting calories on knock-offs. But, that doesn't mean I don't ever do it. :-)

Favorite color: Blue

Where I was born: Check out the letter on the mountain. It's a Y. I was born in Provo, but I grew up in the Salt Lake valley.

Where I live now: In a little part of heaven.

Best friend's nickname: My hubby's name is Robert.

My first name: The shoe is "Judy" from the "Oh Deer" line. Good catch, Jen!

First job: I worked for my uncle's engineering firm in SLC as a secretary, and therefore usually wore office-ready clothes to college, as I went to my job downtown directly from class (sometimes I'd change in a back room). One day, a day I happened to be dressed for the office and wearing nylons and heels, my uncle announced that I needed to clean all the garbage cans. If you have ever been around engineers, draftsmen, ink . . . Well, I did it. But that was my last day there. My sweet older brother gave me permission to quit. Sheesh.

My grandmothers' first names:

Lorette. This is a photo of a French basilica called Notre Dame de Lorette. Apparently the land it sits on was a strategic site during WWI. See how fun this game is?

Ellen. Either the ship in the picture, winning a race, or Dame Ellen Macarthur ON the ship, who is apparently quite the sailor in Britain. At first I thought it was the name of the ship, but when I looked for more pictures, I learned about this woman who is quite the celeb in England.

College degree: English, hence what seemed to be 24/7 reading.

What I was doing right then: Yes, Mia, I'm afraid I wasn't feeling too well. I found this drawing of a little dog entitled "Sick and tired of being sick and tired." I loved it. I'm not a patient sick person.

And there you have it!

Photo Tag

My Dad often used the phrase " . . . going from the sublime to the ridiculous." Well, comparing Thankful Thursday's post against this one, it sort of fits. However, one thing my Dad knew how to do in a spectacular fashion is to laugh at life. He would have loved this little quiz, Jen. So, thanks for tagging me.

This tag idea was amazingly fun, and it also took quite a bit of ingenuity. It was a top-knotch brain teaser. I'm still trying to figure out a couple of YOUR image-answers, Jen, and I think I know you pretty well. Clever girl. Everyone who wants to try it, consider yourself tagged.

Here's what to do: Google-search images of the answers to the following questions, then pick your favorite image. The images can be obvious, cryptic or clever, whatever you choose. Post them on your blog as shown. If you'd like, try to figure mine out. (Please abbreviate or deftly disguise maiden or last names!)

My age:

My Maiden Name:

Place I would like to visit:

Favorite object:

Favorite food:

Favorite color:

Where I was born:

Where I Live Now:

My Best Friend's Nickname:

My first name:

Bad habit of mine:

My first job:

My Grandmothers' Names:

My College Degree:

What I am doing right now:

All-Star Break

Some might think I'm a demure, artsy sort of girl, but, come to think of it, maybe not so much. (I'm suddenly remembering myself on numerous occasions chasing our dog down the street with a piece of pizza to get him to come back home. Demure. Yep.)

In any case, I feel compelled to memorialize my antics while Bob and I were watching the Home Run Derby last week. For those of you who don't follow Major League Baseball, (or didn't drive a son to three million games from the time he was four until he could hop the bus with the high school team), I'll explain that the HR Derby is part of Major League Baseball's All-Star break. During this break, all the teams take a breather for about four days and do some pretty fun stuff for their fans and charity. Then, the teams play the last part of the season on the way to the World Series in October.

Included in the events are an all-star Fanfest, a Legends and Celebrity softball game, an MLB all-star batting practice, the above-mentioned all-star Home Run Derby, and it culminates in the yearly MLB all-star game. All events are open to any fans of any team who are able to obtain tickets. This year it was held at Yankee Stadium, the last big hurrah for that field. (A new stadium is being built next door.)

Anyway, while we were watching the Home Run Derby, a little quiz began to unfold itself in my mind. Obviously, there was a pause of a minute or two as a new player walked to the batter's box and prepared to hit as many home runs as he could within a certain number of pitches and/or strikes. As each player stood at the plate and squared up to try for a homer, I squared up and, how can I say this delicately and not give the wrong impression, inexplicably began to analyze their legs.

Now, usually I'm drawn to broad shoulders, so this was kind of new territory for me. But, pretty soon, I had fashioned a game for myself, trying to guess how tall the players were by eye-balling the length of their legs. I'd study each player's legs, guess his height, and then look up his stats on the MLB web page. I had Bob's laptop handy, so I could do this rather quickly. (Checking out baseball players' stats? Please. I'm a pianist and an English major.) But of course none of this activity was my fault. (See reference to the three million games cited above.)

At first, I sort of talked to myself. "About five-nine," I'd say quietly. Then I would check the laptop. Wow. I was pretty darn close. I continued my guessing. Pretty soon, my voice took on an umpire's shout of "You're OUT!" as I continued to guess. "Six-two!" I blurted, loudly. "Huh?" Bob replied. "I'm trying to guess heights," I said. "What?" he asked. "I'm trying to guess their heights by the length of their legs." "Oh. Are you watching them hit?" Very funny. I kept on going.

The next batter took his place. I sized him up. "Six even!" I yelled. "What?" Bob asked. "I told you, I'm guessing heights." "Oh. Sure." This was getting fun. I eyed Justin Morneau's legs. He plays for the Minnesota Twins. "Six-four!" I said. Bob, having tuned me out and now on full auto pilot, said "Hmmm." Undeterred, I continued. I didn't care if I no longer had an audience. Now, I was on a mission. "Six-two!" Pause. Laptop check. "Correct!" "Five-eleven!" Laptop check. "Right-o!" Now I was British. And on it went.

If I'd been on a TV game show, I would have taken home some serious cash. Amazingly, I was 100% correct on the guys who were 6'4". Go figure. More amazingly, Bob didn't tell me to knock it off. Obviously, he's a very patient man, and I'm in need of help. But in the end, I had to put my personal game on hold, as one of those 6'4" dudes, Josh Hamilton of the Texas Rangers, hit 28 straight home runs in Round 1. Incredibly, he paused at about number 18 to sign a baseball for a little boy or two. Josh put on a fabulous, unbelievable show. It was a landslide record.

Guessing heights aside, my favorite part of all-star week has always been the Legends and Celebrity softball game. The oldsters still certainly have the "it" factor. This year's game was absolutely, complete fun. I was too busy laughing at the guys calling the game and at the players themselves to do anything but enjoy. They played like there was no tomorrow. Seeing some of those oldsters slog around the bases somehow gave hope to us all. And the celebs? It was obvious that they were having the time of their lives. The fans were loving it, especially the young ones with dreams of stardom in their eyes.

It's called America's Pastime for a reason, folks. And I'm kooked, er, hooked.