I’ve got baby fever.You’re pregnant… I’m probably going to stare at you. You have a baby… my insides are secretly (or not so secretly) screaming to snuggle that little bundle of love, for hours. You want to talk cloth diapers… I’m your girl. Pay no mind to the fact that I don’t have a child,Continue reading “I’ve got the fever. Baby Fever.”
The roads start to dampen and traffic slows a bit because it’s the first snow of the season — and though I live in a state where snow is commonplace, there are a plethora of drivers stick their heads up their rears the first few rounds every year. This, my friends, becomes an enormous blessing. I’m approaching the Berthoud exit on I-25 — about 20 minutes from work — and the brake lights of the cars ahead began to flare. I push the brake to slow with them and nothing. I pump the brakes because that’s what I’m suppose to do and nothing. I start praying that the breaks will start working and nothing. Nothing, no brakes on the highway. Fabulous.
A few years back, my dad lived on this farm in Missouri. I grew up in the city and thought it was absolutely spectacular to visit and “work” on the farm for a few weeks a year. Throughout my childhood I would dream of living on a farm, having unlimited access to all kinds of animals and just living in the country. I think that I’ve mentioned that I have family in Iowa (if not, you now know), and about half of them live on farms. We’d go for a visit but never, really, got to experience the day-to-day grind of farm life, meaning my Dad’s farm was all new to me.