The pretty and the crazy!

I have shared pictures of the beautiful garden, the lovely fruit trees laden with fruit, and the pasture  bathed in evening's golden sunlight. What I am unable to convey with pictures is the craziness that sometimes characterizes our days. However, I can recount the craziness via words, and even admit that the crazy days are the spice of life, and end up being really good stories some time down the line. Like the day in June 2007, which began with me in the bathroom fixing my hair. At that time, I used a brush style curling iron to style my hair. I was just about done and ready to go have a first cup of coffee when my cell phone rang. It was my employee. "Mrs. Fordyce, a customer just threw up all over the chairs and tables here at the u-pick tent!" I assured her I would be right there to help her clean it up, even though I wanted to run screaming. In my vanity, I decided to finish styling my hair before cleaning the vomit, but in my hurry I got the curling iron stuck in my hair. Like up to the top of my hairline,can't get the thing to budge stuck. I start to frantically try to untangle it, to no avail. Then, my phone rings again. My other employee to tell me that the store is locked and she is out of quarters. I assure her I will be right there, and go back to picking at my hair. Then, the doorbell rings. I know who this is, because my calendar clearly states that the man from the USDA who checks our scales every year will be gracing us with his presence sometime that morning. Since there is no earthly way I am going to open the door to the USDA man with a curling iron stuck in my hair (with the long black cord bapping around behind me as I walk) I do what any frenzied woman would, and cut my hair. Just chopped that big chink right off, thereby freeing the offending curling iron. As I ran to the door, I glanced at the clock. Only 7:05 a.m. The good news is that as I was talking to the USDA man, the farmer walked by with a bucket, a shovel, a roll of paper towels, and a jug of bleach. My day probably wasn't as bad as the day of the customer who vomited on the tables and chair. She threw up because she had gorged herself on strawberries as she picked, and, as she vomited, lost control of other bodily functions as well. Just another day in the life of a farmer's wife!