Monday, January 31, 2011

Brilliance and an Old Farm Tale

Good morning, all.  This is "pre-recorded" because I am not coming to you funny, well-written, and fully composed at 8:00 a.m.  I'm barely awake at 8:00 a.m., even though I'm usually up and dressed and outside.  Today is going to be a busy day, so I thought I'd try this option for you.  Let's see if it works.  If it comes up as a second Sunday post, save it till Monday so you'll have something to read.

If you're one of my Monday Morning Quarterbacks--well, not really a quarterback, but someone who only tunes in from work or when the kids are in school--go back and read "Friends, Legends, Humility and Horses." It is a wonderful tribute to a good friend and a legend.  I am proud I wrote it.  I'm prouder still that I know her well enough to have been influenced by the legend, too. It'll make more sense if you read it.  The entry after that is sort of a "Part 2"--worth the read on your coffee break.

Ok, so, since I've written about my friends, family, boyfriend, and my animals for you in such loving terms, I'm sure you're starting to wonder: Can everyone in her life really be that brilliant and successful?

No, not everyone in my life, but those who are close to me, yes.  I would, and will eventually, describe every one of them with some sort of superlative.  My immediate family, my grandparents, my greatgrandparents--they are all brilliant and successful in their own rights.  Some of them are also hysterically funny.  The same thing goes for my boyfriend, my close friends, and my animals.  They are all brilliant, funny, and successful in some way.  The people and animals I am mentioning here are also very loyal.  Disloyalty gets someone out of my life quicker than just about anything else.

How did I end-up with such an entourage or circle of friends or family or menagerie of animals or whatever you decide to call my family and friends? What's my secret?  Well, it's not terribly flattering.  My family, ok, I just got lucky.  And, in fact, maybe they are partially to blame...because...I don't do well with...looking for a nice word here...dumb bunnies.

Before people start gasping, let me clarify.  I don't mean bunnies like my cute little Bun-Bun in his hutch in the barn.  I don't mean people with developmental disabilities.  I don't mean people with mental illnesses.  I don't mean people with brain injuries.  I don't even mean people with low IQs.  I mean people who just don't try to learn.  People who have no ambition whatsoever to better themselves or the world.  I mean people who are a drag on the system.  I mean whiners and snivelers. The dull do-nothing losers of the U.S., in particular, because we have more resources and, really, very few excuses not to try to do better.  NOT ALL U.S. CITIZENS, just the losers, ok.  Just the losers.  Calm down. You'll spill your coffee on your nice tie, or something.

And, if you're reading this blog for more than the first time, you are probably not a loser.  Of course not, you're my readers.  You get the humor, the essays, the diatribes, the things that other people don't know how to look up.  Face it, if you were a loser, you would have tuned this blog out already because it's not "Jackass" or Paris Hilton on "The Real Life."  It is, ever so slightly, more subtle than that.

In the end, it is true.  I am surrounded by an unbelievable group of people and animals.  They are hard workers, they are curious, they are loyal, they are brilliant and successful--and I mean the people, too, not just the animals.  So, yes, as I promised you from the beginning, it's all true.

This leads us to an old farm tale of someone who was in my life for two years who wasn't brilliant.  Oh, no, this poor girl was not the brightest star in the universe, bless her heart.  It also illustrates a point I've been meaning to raise.

When did it become socially acceptable for people under the age of 80 to publicly discuss their bodily functions?  When, especially 'cause I really want to know this one, when did it become acceptable for people to tell their bosses about their bodily functions?  Because, this boss, doesn't want to know about it, ok?

Unless the person you're talking to is your mother, your spouse, or your doctor, they do not need to know about your bodily functions!  Since we all know by now that I don't have children; that I don't have a spouse, only a boyfriend; and I am not a medical doctor--why do people, especially my employees, tell me these things? Why?  We may never know.  But, if you figure it out, write it in the comments.  I'd like to learn how to prevent receiving information like you're about to read in the following story.  Read on, it's funny.  I took all of the gross out just for you squeamish types.

This is one people have been begging me to tell again.  They are already giggling, in fact.  Here we go.

My first employee from the Bible College was a girl named Mindy.  Mindy was an hour late for her interview, she called ahead, but still, that should have told me something.  I wasn't jaded enough to see the signs, though.  Now, I am.  Mindy was 21 and a beautiful girl.  She'd never had a date but that's not uncommon, even for pretty girls, at the Bible College.  She seemed well spoken.  She seemed intelligent enough to scoop poop.  She'd had a horse her entire life.  She was sweet and enthusiastic.  I thought she'd do fine.  Oops!

Oh, Mindy, Mindy, Mindy, bless her heart. I had to be very specific with her and many times that didn't work either.  She was loyal and honest and she mucked stalls better than even me. She didn't have a mean or passive-aggressive bone in her body. So, that answers the question: Why'd you keep her for two years?

One day last summer, I needed to take one of my animals to see Doc, the small animal vet.  He's way on the other side of the city.  It's a haul over there but he's the best small animal vet in the state and he's down to earth, successful, funny, and brilliant...I knew you were thinking it.  I told Mindy I wanted Paddocks 1 and 2 cleaned. No ifs, ands or buts. Done.  Do you understand me?  Yes.  Ok, I'm off.

Mindy had not cleaned the paddocks in three weeks.  Paddocks need to be cleaned every week.  It's bad for the horses to be exposed to poop for long periods of time.  It's bad for their feet.  It breeds parasites.  Yes, my horses are wormed, but still, not good.  Gotta clean paddocks.  But, Mindy had been avoiding it for three weeks and I was losing patience with her.  This time, I was very clear about what I wanted and when I would be back and expecting to see it done.

So, I came back probably more than two hours later.  There's Mindy in the garden weeding.  That was one of her favorite tasks and sometimes she even fouled that up.  One time I rescued a mum just as she was about to yank it up.  Poor girl.  Not bright.  Not at all.

I got out of the car, yes I have a car and a truck.  I don't always have to drive a truck just because I'm a farmer.  I walked up to Mindy and asked her...that was my mistake..."Are you finished cleaning Paddocks 1 and 2?"

"No."  In her short overalls with dirt on her face.


"Well, because, my tummy hurt.  And, well, it only felt better when I bent over.  So, I only did things I could do while I was bending over.  I cleaned water troughs instead."

"You know you cleaned water troughs two days ago. Why didn't you clean paddocks like I asked you to?"

"Well, I didn't know it at first, but, I had gas."

Ok, I'm trying to think of something to say here that doesn't involve firing her because it's hard to find honest farm hands to do a good job of cleaning stalls in the summertime.  That was always her saving grace.

"Well, I'm glad I missed that," I said with a completely straight face.  I mean come on, what else could I say? I was glad I missed it.  Do you really think I wanted to be around to hear her farting "Root a toot toot?"

Of course, I told my mother the "Velvet Hammer" that one and Elaine, too.  I needed management advice on this girl.  Who in the heck tells their boss they didn't do as they were asked because they had gas and, in fact, that they didn't know what it was at first?!  Who does that, huh? Mindy! That's who.

Why in the world, once she figured out she had gas, didn't she run to the drug store for some Gas-X or something? She knew I'd be gone a while.  She could have been there and back and done her work and no one would have been the wiser.  Mostly, I wouldn't have had to hear about her bodily functions as a work excuse!

Ok, even I laughed as I was typing that one and I already knew the story.  So, you may have spilled coffee on your nice tie anyway-- when it came out of your nose while you were laughing.  Sorry about that.  Keep a spare tie in your drawer or swallow your coffee before you read this, especially when I warn you an old story is coming up.  I mean, really, would people be begging me to re-tell these if they weren't funny?

Ok, go, change your tie and have a nice Monday.  And, please, for God-sakes, don't tell your boss about your bodily functions as a work excuse.  Don't tell your boss about your bodily functions at all. She doesn't want to hear it.  Bye.

P.S. I know, I didn't tell you what happened to Mindy.  She's a restaurant hostess now.  So, consider yourselves fairly warned. Root a toot toot.

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