Life is Like Laundry

There are two chores I absolutely loathe. Laundry and dishes.

We live in an old farmhouse, and our laundry room is in the basement. There's a convenient little chute in our bathroom, so all we have to do is toss our dirty laundry down and forget about it.

Well, the problems is just that. I forget about it. Until I reach into my closet and realize there's no jeans left for me to wear, I have no idea what's going on downstairs. Then I saunter down into the basement, past the pool table that's only used for storage, past my scrapbooking area that I have no time to utilize, and into the laundry room. My washer and dryer look at me accusingly. I've left them down there alone for days. They're dust covered and most likely filled with laundry I long ago forgot about.

Then I make a slow turn to the right and a pile as tall as me of dirty laundry sits in the corner.

It's overwhelming. It's heartbreaking. I'd give almost anything for the pile to magically clean and fold itself.

But alas, no one has invented that handy dandy contraption yet.

Sometimes life is like that dirty pile of laundry. It can accumulate. Take you by surprise. Overwhelm you to the point of tears.

But I think it helps to 'separate the loads' so to speak.

Separate that laundry pile into loads--two loads of jeans, one load of towels, one load of whites, etc--and toss one load in. See that now empty spot on the floor? That's an accomplishment.

When I look at my MS as chapters instead of a book, and I get through one chapter, I have that same sense of accomplishment. Likewise with harvesting. One field down--huzzah. It could be a six acre field for all I care. At least it's one accomplishment. One success.

And we all want to be successful, right?

So next time your life is like that six foot high pile of dirty laundry, separate it into small accomplishments. It's less daunting.

A Different Kind of Deadline: Take a Ride With Me!

Writers know about deadlines. I think, in most cases, even unpubbed authors give themselves deadlines. I do.

Yesterday, here on the farm, we faced a deadline of our own: Beat the rain.

It's a deadline we've dealt with a lot this harvest season. Actually, we dealt with it most of planting season too. This has been, by far, the wackiest year in Northwest Ohio that I can remember.

So, with the weather radar showing a huge blob of green slowly making it's way toward us, we headed out to the field to get as much done as possible. Normally, I work in my office during the day, but when things are hectic, I'm glad to help out in the fields. My husband was harvesting a field that we have to cross what is called a 'low flow' to get to. Basically, it's a fancy word for a place in a ditch that a vehicle can cross. It looks like this:

Yep. That's my Expedition. I took this picture while sitting in the combine.
The reason we wanted to get this particular field finished before the rain is because this small trickle of water:

Would no longer be a trickle after it began raining. And even once the water cleared out, it would be a muddy mess. Since rain is predicted for 40 days and 40 nights--kidding! But we did have a lot of rain in our forecast, so we decided this field was a priority.

The hubs crossed the low flow in the combine and started shelling corn. For those of you who've never ridden in a combine before, it looks just like this:

When the hopper is full, the corn is dumped into a wagon:

Sometimes we use our trucks--in this case (above), the load was light, and my Expedition could handle it. In other cases (below) we string 3 wagons together, and a tractor is needed to pull them. We also have a semi, but since we had to drive through the low flow, using the semi was not ideal.

And then we unload the grain:

The grain goes down into the pit, and an auger pulls it away, then up the grain leg and into what we call the drying bin. The heating system dries the grain while stirring it, and then the system transfers it into a storage bin when it's dry.

Here's part of the heating system. It gives us a read out of the corn moisture and temp every five minutes.

So, that's a somewhat typical day on our farm. Hope you enjoyed working with me!

Well...this blows

It's windy here in NW Ohio. Very windy. And it's put a cramp in harvesting.

Combines are sort of like a digestive tract: everything goes in the front, the good stuff is 'absorbed,' and the rest is spewed out the rear. It's this waste--a mix of dry plant particles and fine dust that can be flammable--in combination with the wind that makes harvesting on days like today scary. When we were combining earlier, all of the stuff that was supposed to come out the back wasn't--the wind was blowing it back inside the combine, near the hot engine compartment. It's a potential fire hazard and if the combine were to catch fire, the field would catch fire as well. The high winds would spread it rapidly. We've already had one smoldering incident this harvest season and didn't want to risk another.

So we walked away.

Sometimes, when writing or editing, I feel the need to push myself. To keep going, no matter what kind of crap I'm putting on paper. No matter how tired and cranky I am. I frustrate myself and get to thinking my MS will never be worth anything more than kindling for a bonfire. I know at that point, it's best to just walk away.

What's the point of harvesting a few acres on one windy day if the end result is a fire that puts you out of commission for days or more?

What's the point of continuing to write if nothing is meshing and the end result is a bunch of sewage that leads you to believe your a horrible writer that will never get published?

Sometimes we need to back up. Take a break. Re-energize and re-group. Have some fun. Have a few drinks. Get lost in a book or watch a movie.

Today, I'm setting aside both writing and harvesting, and I'm heading to the big city for some retail therapy.

What have you done lately to re-energize?

Hey y'all! So glad you've joined me. Let me start this blog by telling you a little bit about myself.

I live in northwest Ohio with my husband and two children on our family farm. We don't have any livestock, unless you count the numerous cats who roam our property.

If anyone would have told me 15 years ago I'd still be living in Ohio, I would have laughed in their faces. I didn't want to live in a rural area. I wanted city lights and late nights. I didn't want to get married until I was at least 30. I wanted kids, but not for a long time.

Well, at the age of 21, I married the love of my life, who lived on a farm in northwest Ohio. I had my first child at 22. Weirdest of all--I love, LOVE farming, almost as much as I love writing.

I only began writing with the intent to be published about two years ago, and it's been a wild ride. I wouldn't have made it without the help of a great group of people - my critique group, my mentor, and my bfff (best 'f***ing friend forever) - and my wonderful, supportive husband, who often listened to me ramble on about writing. When I didn't believe he would fully understand the hell I was going through, I'd say, "It's kind of like farming. You know, when *this* happens."

So that's where the idea for this blog came from.

Writing and farming are extremely rewarding careers that may make you crazy in the process.

I hope you enjoy, and maybe even get a laugh out of it.

--Kim