Thursday, May 21, 2009

Enjoying a Given Day

So, yesterday I spent the day in VT with my Dad, and it rocked. We laughed, we cried, it was better than Cats. I mean it, I saw Cats on Broadway and yesterday was totally better, and included less make-up and more ballads under the spotlight. What? That's just how we hang in my fam. So?

I got there about 20 minutes late because I inexplicably drove towards the wrong highway and found myself in bleeping Concord for no good reason. Mala, I think I really just wanted to hang with you, so my car steered itself in your direction. Bear in mind that there are only TWO highways heading north, and I drove 10 minutes out of my way to get on the wrong one. FML.

When I got there, I was fully ready to get my Farm Girl on. My parents have a couple of horses and make their own hay, and they used to be dairy farmers before I was born. Plus, it's Vermont, yo, so it's all rural and shit. I grew up there, but was never all that "into" it. My dad loves to tell people that I'm the farmer's daughter who once asked him if butter was a dairy product. Yeah, I rule! Anyway, I get there, and the blacksmiths are already working on the horses' hooves, and I'm cursing myself out for my little detour because I had meant to get there before they arrived. My whole purpose today was to help out Dad, because he had some fonked-up shit done to his brain yesterday in the form of a medieval torture device/screws in his skull/gamma knife thing. Yeah, no shit.

I go out to the ring and Dad's standing there with two total V-Monty characters, a man and a woman. She's all tough as shit and is filing down our big Quarterhorse's dinner plate-sized hoof, and I find out her name is Sloane, which does two things to me: 1. makes me wish I had a cool name like that, and 2. think of Ferris Bueller's Day Off. Meanwhile, Dad is standing there all casual-like, but he looks like Dr. Frankenstein just removed his bolts and he's wearing a little Tractor Supply hat perched on top of his humongous bandage/turban. HEE!!! I know it's wrong to laugh, but come ON! He looked really, really bizarre. Also, he looked like he'd been in a bar fight because his eyes were practically swollen shut. Wicked cool.

They're all talking, and the smithies ask Dad who his vet is. Dad can't remember (can't blame him - again, BRAIN work), so they start tossing out truck colors. As in, this vet drives a blue truck, that vet drives a red one. I'm barely containing my giggles at this point. I mean, for real? We can identify people by their trucks 'round these parts? Jebus. After a while, Dad sends me down to the lower pasture to wait for some chick who's supposed to buy some hay. I'm like, great, I get to load hay today. Suh-weeeet. So I go down there and sit in my car, and the whore never shows, but it turned out to be my MOMENT OF ZEN for the day:


The birds are singing. There is a babbling brook to my right. There's a farmer working a field just over yonder. I'm feeling VERY peaceful and very much at one with nature and the universe and all that nice stuff, and all is right with the world.... Good stuff. Side note: one thing that I love about Vermont is that everyone waves at each other when they pass in their cars. Everyone. It's so goddamn friendly, I can't stand it.

Later on, I helped Dad put in his air conditioners, and darn it if that guy wasn't swingin' a hammer and handling a drill like he hadn't spent yesterday in a hospital with metal screws holding a steel cage on his skull. He is amazing. We went out to lunch, and he even drove. There's something about bumping along in his big ol' Caddy (yeah, Dad always drives a Cadillac, always has, always will), talking to him like nothing is wrong, that puts the happy back into my soul. We've always had very deep philosophical discussions, and some of our best talks have been in the car. In Vermont, it takes a while to get just about anywhere, so we spend a lot of time driving along, shooting the shit, laughing, and talking about life.

After lunch we went grocery shopping and I chuckled at what a little old man he has become. I also realize that I'm totally not as frugal as I pride myself on being; if I want something and it's not on sale, I buy that fucker anyway. Dad? No way! However, he bought my mom a dozen roses... just because. *sigh*

On the way home we took a detour and he showed me his friend's dairy farm. He spends a lot of time there, helping out, because he just enjoys that type of work. First of all, I have to say that I have seen the Rocky Mtns (magnificent), and I have seen the Swiss Alps (stunning), but there is just something about the gently rolling green hills and valleys of the Northeast Kingdom that inspires awe in me like no other place. Maybe because it's home.

The dairy farm was cool. I don't think I've set foot in a working barn in about 20 years, to be honest, and it was nice to see it all again, even if it does totally gross me out on many levels. And, I don't like that I got cow poop on my favorite sneaks, but I can deal with that. It was cool, and I love a good slice of life. Also, I'm a sucker for accents, and I totally DIG the Vermont accent. It's not like southern NH (which is sort of like Bahston, but not quite), and it's certainly not like Maine, which is just totally effed up. It's just this way of speaking that makes 1 syllable words into 3 syllable masterpieces of sound, and it is so down-home and so comfortable; well, I just dig it. Example: the word "cow," is pronounced, by the thick-accented natives, as "key-ow-a." Rock the fuck on! Dad gets a kick out of "harrow," which they pronounce, "herw." FYI - we don't really have accents; we're from New York/New Jersey originally.

Ok, I'm babbling. Suffice to say that it was a lovely day, and having a chance to spend time 1:1 with my father is something I'd never trade for anything. He is one of my favorite people on the planet, and he always will be.

26 comments:

Steph said...

I'm glad it was a great day. Also? I think you should do a vlog to prove this lack of accent because, my friend, I've met people from Jersey. They have accents. I'm not judging - just sayin'.

Frank Irwin said...

Wow. Sounds like a great day.

I'm the same way about people and their bicycles as those folks were about vets and their trucks.

Kate said...

Sounds like you have a Superdad just like Cheasty.

And I am green with envy about the farm. That is the kind of life my husband and I want but we don't have millions of dollars to buy a ranch or farm. Maybe someday.... ::sigh::

Samsmama said...

Agree with Steph. My neighbor is from Jersey and upon hearing him talk my husband asked if he was retarded. No offense.

(Seriously, I think he's a little "off")

What a fabulous day! I'm so happy for you. And I completely thought of Ferris, too.

Here's how dumb I am. I went to see "Cats". About halfway through I looked at my mom and was all like, "Seriously? It's just a bunch of singing cats?" I had thought the title was meant to be ironic. Having never seen it, I imagine "Rent" to be a ton of people writing a check once a month.

rkintn said...

I'm so happy to hear you had a wonderful visit with you dad! I am so jealous of the whole rural farm thing, though! I would so totally be stoked to be livin' on a honest to God dairy FARM! lol

I'm glad your dad is doing good:)

Bev said...

Steph & Samsmama - dooooods, do not make me vlog to prove that I don't have a wacky accent! Mala? Mala... where are you? Back me up, beyotch.

Ok - so my first job out of college was the little ABC affiliate in Burlington, and the news director once asked if I want to be on the air (I didn't) - if I sounded like Joisey trash, would that have happened? I think not!

Oh, and Samsmama, one more thing - you have discovered my secret. I am, indeed, a little 'off.' Shhhh.

Frank - ha! What color is your ride?

Kate and Rhonda - Yeah, dairy farms are ok... but honestly, that cow poop smell does NOT go away. As a kid, when a farm kid got on our school bus, everyone else would groan and roll their eyes. It's not all it's cracked up to be....

Frank Irwin said...

The color of my ride? Well, it's either silver/black, red, blue, white, or green/white/purple. :-)

Teresa said...

My dad was a cadillac guy too! A big black mother that made you feel like it was almost a limo!

I am glad you had a great day.

Mala said...

Sounds absolutely lovely! Cow poop and all.

Yeah, I haven't wanted to say anything about that Jersey accent, but since you brought it up.... I mean, it's not that you sound TOTALLY retarded... and it's gotten much better since you hybred it with that Bahston accent.. so, like, it's cute...well, for you.. don't worry about.



I kid! I kid!
Just like me, she ain't got no accent.

Harmony said...

Sounds like an absolutely dreamy day. I am glad that you were able to go out and do some one on one time with your dad.

Also? He sounds amazing, I love the way you describe him. You are still so young with him...and that is something to cherish.

jessica o said...

Bahsten AND Jerey. Yikes!

We have a family farm, too. I love it, but it is nowhere as pretty as that picture.

Your relationship with your dad sounds like something worth cherishing.

and in the middle of writing this comment, I had to give Lily instructions to which she replied, "Oh, snap!"

Jillinator said...

I loved reading your blog today - it totally gave me a warm and fuzzy that you had such a fantabulous visit (no, that wasn't my word verf... but I love my little made up word anyway).
Mwah!
PS - todays word verf - rebse... french word for rubbing linament (sp?) on a horse... I had to rebse leeenammeent on se orse.

Cary said...

Very nice post, John Boy.

Bev said...

Frank - if it's purple, I like it already.

Teresa - Caddy's are the shizzzzz.

Mala - bitch! I keel you!

Harmony - he is a wonderful father and person. All I do is recognize that fact. :)

Jess - My accent is wicked good, dood. Now, whea are my cah keys?

Jill - warm fuzzies on me! I've got enough to go 'round!

Cary - Really? Can't I at least be Sue Ellen? John Boy had that huuuuge furry mole on his face. Ick.

Mary said...

sounds like a fab day- except for the cow poop on your sneaks...i do not like poop on my shoes. I once threw out a pair of shoes b/c it just seemed like too much trouble to clean them.
don't tell your dad though b/c while I honestly am frugal- that little comment would totally disprove it :)

The Daily Wit said...

Can I move to your dad's farm? I love the Northeast.

Does he have any sheep?

Mala said...

"where the men are men, and the sheep are scared"

jessica o said...

...reminds me of a joke about a brick layer.

I built twenty buildings and churches in this town. Do the call me Johnny the Brick Layer? No.

You fuck ONE sheep.

The Daily Wit said...

jessica o, that's a great joke. My favorite sheep joke is retold here.

Bev said...

You guys kill me!! How'd my post suddenly become about sheep fucking?!

hahahaha!

Samsmama said...

Wow, from a wonderful day with your dad to beastiality. Didn't see that one comin'.

Word verf: sworsh

How the Nike symbol introduces itself when drunk.

The Daily Wit said...

I apologize -- but I did mention that I love the Northeast.

Mala and jessica o started it.

jessica o said...

WhatEVER sheep-lovah.

Samsmama - LOL @ sworsh! You think they say it that way in Virginia when they warsh the dishes?

PorkStar said...

Cats. On Broadway. Good lord, im just glad they dont have it here anymore. Just my opinion. : )

Bev said...

I dunno 'bout you guys, but I might get a little sworshed tonight, yo. Wheeeee!

Pork Star - ITA. That show was dead beat by the time they retired it. Incidentally, I saw the revival of A Chorus Line there two yrs ago and it did not hold up to the test of time.... No that jokes about gonnorhea (sp?) have an expiration date... but they do.

Cary said...

Don't fuck sheep. You'll be disappointed. They never call.

Smama - sworsh. Brilliant.

word verf = holees

Assholes who ask if you've accepted Jesus into your life.