Monday, February 28, 2011

Can a Preppy Girl Live on a Farm?

Train Update: today dawned with freezing sleet...ah, what a Monday! When I got to the train, there was a notice that the train was "not moving" and was running 20 minutes late..which turned into 37 minutes late...which turned into 42 minutes late...which turned into "time to go back home". I ended up working from home rather than wait for a train from nowhere. Turns out the early morning train had broken down and mine was going to PUSH it to Boston. Cut. It. Out. I'm glad I went home when I did...if not I might still be on the little engine that could...

I read a review recently of Confessions of a Counterfeit Farm Girl by Susan McCorkindale. The review was glowing..."a must read"...and "laugh out loud funny". That always gets me. Any book that gets me to laugh out loud when I read it (Have you read David Sedaris?) is a must read. I ran to the bookstore to grab a copy and was so excited to see the cover showing a pair of muck boots next to high heels. How cute! Well, cuter would be little whale rain boots next to some peep toe flats...but the cover still caught my eye.

So, I have this fantasy that if I picked up my family and moved away to a 500 acre farm in upstate New York or Vermont that life would be "perfect". We would have cows (I love them), goats (Tim had them when he was younger and loves them), bunnies galore (okay, I have one now and complain about cleaning her cage...but on my fantasy farm that wouldn't bother me), kitties, and a lazy old dog, and horses, and tons of land for the kids to run around. Of course there would be a pond too that freezes in the winter and we can have skating parties...complete with homemade hot chocolate...and the kids would be wearing the mittens I knitted for them. Oh, and we would have a tire swing on a beautiful, old tree right out in front of our Christmas card perfect farm house...which would be filled with great yard sale finds. You know, in the country, you find the most amazing deals. I would have a beautiful organic garden, would cook and bake all day, and my days would be completely relaxing. I would always have an adorable outfit on....whether I was collecting eggs in my adorable navy skirt and blue whale rain boats or having some fresh squeezed lemonade on the front porch in my khaki capris, white polo with the collar popped, and some adorable black ballet flats. Life would be simple here...my family would really appreciate all the simple things in life and quite frankly, it would be idyllyc.

Insert sound of tires coming to a screeching halt. When I shared this little fantasy with Tim, he looked at me like he was really sorry for me...and he was..sorry to burst my bubble. He spoke kind of slow to me....like I might not comprehend what he had to say otherwise. He said things like "You hate the cold and getting up early. On a farm you have to get up early...even in the winter...to take care of all those animals"...."You have a gag reflex problem....how do you think you will handle the smell of all those animals? And you would be taking care of them all...because this is not my fantasy"...and the kicker "Running a place like this would be hard work...not relaxing. You would be working from sun up to sun down". Hey, Timmy...enough!! Okay?! It could work....

When I came across Susan McCorkindale's book I thought to myself "This is exactly what I want to do...I can totally relate to this!" Turns out I couldn't really relate to "Sooz" as she often called herself. She is a Jersey girl and spent a good deal of the book bemoaning the loss of being able to shop at Neiman's every day, or buy Manolo's, or crying over the $700 pocketbooks that she couldn't find in the country. She didn't embrace country life...although she proclaimed too..but she really didn't do too much on the farm. Bottom line, I was so disappointed that she wasn't more like me. I really wanted to identify with her and see how the whole thing transpired. She was no preppy girl...she was a Jersey girl. Very. Different. She liked big hair. I like my bob. She got a tattoo because she was bored on the farm. Tattoos and Lily Pulitzer don't mix. She wore tight jeans and high heels. I like capris and ballet flats. I could go on and on but there's no need.

Between her book and Tim's "reality talk", my spirit is a little dampened. I'm not giving up on it yet though...I still think this preppy camper girl could survive on the farm. At the very least, I would have some great blog posts!

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