Tag: Humor

adventures in stairwells

One of the strange and beautiful things about human nature is the way grief and sorrow can live next to joy and laughter. I don’t mean to say things that grieve us also make us laugh. I don’t mean to say that at all.

What I mean is the way one can get into a helpless state of the giggles on the same day one feels helpless about the state of things in the world.

I say all this because yesterday was my first day to “have court.” This is what all my co-workers say when they go to the courthouse, so I say it now too. When we “have court” we sit behind the DHS worker and the child’s attorney, available for information about the case.

It all sounds really serious because it is. You would be shocked to know what children face. You probably don’t want to know any more than that – just that it’s devastating.

So, here I am driving around downtown Des Moines looking for public parking so that I can “have court.” I’ve had problems with parking garages before, but I wrongly assumed Des Moines would be an easier animal to wrestle. I found a parking garage in plenty of time, but when I slung my briefcase over my shoulder and flew down the stairwell I decided I should be in a hurry.

Coming out of the parking garage was like someone had spun me around and set me down facing a different direction (which is actually exactly what a parking garage does). I didn’t know which way was North and what historical building to walk toward.

So, I picked one and hoped it was the courthouse. I got close enough to see “POLK COUNTY” written on it but as I was walking up the steps, a lady taking a smoke break said, “You don’t look too happy to be coming here. But, hey at least it’s not the courthouse!”

Yeah.

So, I walked in one door and out the other where I promptly asked a parking meter officer to point me in the direction of the courthouse. She looked at me, smiled with all kinds of pity, and said, “Just walk up Court Avenue right there and you’ll run right into it.”

Right. Court Avenue, silly me.

So, I got to court with time to spare (thanks to my enormous cushion I operate with due to my Latin tendencies). Everything went well enough and when I left I felt good about things.

And then I met the sidewalk and realized retracing my steps would lead me in all kinds of circles. Everything looked familiar because I had passed all of downtown on my adventure to the courthouse.

So, I did what any new-to-downtown would do – I walked briskly in the direction of a hunch with my briefcase slung over my shoulder and my heels clicking professionally on the pavement. I saw that nice parking meter lady again and gave her the grandest smile.

And then I walked in every parking garage stairwell I came to until I found the one that was just right. I can’t be sure how many stairwells I walked up, but I kept the brisk pace so anyone around thought I was going someplace important. I finally found the stairwell I was searching for – one with no numbers, partially inside/partially outside, and with my little car Eddie waiting on the fourth or fifth floor (no numbers).

And so my adventures in stairwells gave a different kind of ending to my first court experience – proof that a helpless state of giggles can live inside the helpless state of the world.

let LOVE fly like cRaZy
Posted on by Caroline 2

Occupy Life: Lunch Hour

Yesterday (right before I went crazy trying to read the scrawled handwriting of email addresses I was entering into an excel sheet), something glorious happened.

Noon.

Yes, lunch time qualifies as glorious when it means quality bonding with a new friend and a respite from deciphering the illegible scrawls of half a city.

My friend came up to my cubicle, kind of a surprise attack from behind and it’s like she hit the silly button! I guess entering data (literally) all morning long is kind of like sitting solitary in a tractor – except MUCH less interesting. Apparently, both have the same effect on me: I I get crazy. My friend didn’t know what she was in for, but she took it with the swaggest of strides.

She’s a cool cat, my friend – one of those people that carries wit on her hip like a gun in a cowboy’s holster. You gotta be quick with her or she’ll get clever and you’ll be left in the conversational dust (something I don’t enjoy). Needless to say, we hit it off.

She also beatboxes and I just happen to be looking for another white girl to beatbox for a white girl rapper I know (ahem).

Anyway, as we half danced/half moseyed our way to the car, we started freestyling a song… and then life started dancing in my fingers. There I was, claiming that beautiful lunch hour with a beautiful person, not willing that a moment of it would be wasted.

Just so happens, my friend’s day was not going so hot. There’s actually a lot of things that were legitimately bumming her out. I listened and let the bummers hang out with us, processed a bit, asked a few questions, and empathized. She was headed to her second job at a coffee shop after our lunch and wasn’t too pumped about it. Sometimes bummers occupy space, too.

The cool thing is, we interspersed our bummin’ out with laughter and lyrics and love. It was kind of like a “cloudy with a chance of rain” day where the sun is still shining. Have you witnessed one of those? The clouds are all pregnant with rainshower, but the sun is too stubborn to give in.

In the mix of this glorious noon hour, my friend told me (while smiling), “You are the weirdest person I’ve ever met!”
I kind of laughed, but I wasn’t that surprised. I mean, I’ve heard that before.

But, it was a first when she added awhile later, “Yeah, my biggest fear is being weird. I try to get people to think I’m funny before they think I’m weird.” I laughed again. Apparently, she doesn’t think my biggest fear is being weird, because I don’t do much to cover it up.

Oh, goodness. I love life!

I jumped back into entering data with the zeal only someone fresh off a crazy lunch hour could muster. While I was at it, I hit up an amazing workshop on Women Teaching Women the Bible (via headphones, of course) by Jenny Salt while typing in addresses and phone numbers and re-learning the language of cursive.
Boom. Afternoon: occupied.

I ended up happening to be “in the neighborhood” of my friend’s coffee shop last night.
Boom. Night: occupied.

God is so gracious! As we occupy space and time every day, God offers an INFINITE amount of joy to accompany us.

go ahead and
let LOVE fly like cRaZy

Posted on by Caroline 7

the key to a healthy farmer

I’m not sure, but I think today might have been my last official day farming… for Eeyore anyway.

It came on kind of like a surprise attack – the end of harvest, that is. I thought I’d be more than ready to move on to less farmer-ish things, but (as it turns out) it’s a good thing my tractor-ing abilities have attracted some attention. Another farmer ’round here said he might need some help. I guess that makes me an independent farming contractor, doesn’t it? Wonder if that’ll fit on my resume…

I will say it might be hard to transition to a new boss. I’m kind of partial to the one I have. That brings me to the subject of today’s post. It’s been awhile since I shared some wisdom from the field (and by that I mean literally from the cornfield in Iowa, if you haven’t been following my posts), but don’t think I’ve been twiddling my farmer thumbs. Nope, when I’m not writing about farming, I’m probably studying it (in the classroom-without-walls sort of way).

Lately, I’ve realized something. And it is REAL important if you want your farming operation to run smoothly. I mean REAL important in the same way that I need coffee in the morning (just ask Eeyore – it’s an absolute must).

Here it is – the key to a healthy farmer. Are you ready?

Well, first let’s assume the farmer has his machinery and fields and bins and whatnot in order. Let’s assume he’s a good farmer (because Eeyore is, of course). I didn’t say I was going to share the key to a good farmer (there are plenty of more qualified people who could tell you that). I said I’m going to tell you the key to a healthy farmer. I also don’t mean a healthy diet – farmers, I’ve learned, have coolers packed with all sorts of good things to nibble on during the day.

So, the key to a healthy farmer?

a good dose of UNfarmerly humor

I don’t mean knock-knock jokes and I don’t mean the blushing kind. I mean … skipping versus trudging and smiling versus frowning and yes, the occasional innocently unknowledgeable (some would say blonde) remark.

(Pardon me while I make my position as field hand a bit more irreplaceable)

From my observation, the farmer can grow quite somber at times. His furrowed brows can get accustomed to a serious study of things and his jaw can set in a “and that’s settled” sort of way. Not that a somber countenance is bad, but sometimes (a lot of times) it is healthy to have something to chuckle about (or someone).

Let me give you a scenario. I’ve got to preface it by saying I prefer the 3 person rhythm. I know, I might sound like a fieldhand snob, but I really like how the harvest rolled in when it was Partner, Eeyore and I making decisions and jokes and (every once in awhile) mistakes. I liked how the radio would crackle with familiar voices and that I could rock out to music in the cab when no one was looking. I love visitors, too, because I can draw on the weeks of knowledge I’ve tried to store in my brain and show off my mad tractor skills. I especially like kid visitors because I like being a kid myself, which actually brings me around to my scenario.

It was a day in the field that turned quite confusing for me. There was a lot of mumbling and grumbling and a somber shadow that hung unfortunately lower than the bright sunshine that I was trying to bask in from my front row seat in the cab. For the life of me, I could not figure out what everyone was so sad about. No one felt like mumbling and grumbling to me, so I had to take my best guess at where I should go and what I should do. Thankfully, I had a very lively tractor companion and we laughed. Oh! Did we laugh! I tried out a few funny accents while going on about his stinky feet and if he wasn’t belted in, he would’ve been rolling on the ground. We hopped out of the tractor and saw all the somber faces and I still didn’t understand one bit of it. I’m sure they were discussing something really serious and important.

The next morning, when Partner, Eeyore and I got our rhythm back, I realized I was tense … and quiet. Eeyore will forever blame it on a caffeine deficiency, but I think I just needed some time to readjust to the old rhythm. Eeyore kept coming over the radio, asking questions like, “How you doing over there, Caroline?” and “Are you awake?” and “None o’ them yawns, now.”

That’s when it all started to make sense (maybe that was after a Diet Coke was delivered). All those silly questions I ask and sorry attempts at humor and mistakes a seasoned professional would never make … those don’t fit inside the furrowed brow and set jaw countenance. And that is refreshing.

Sometimes farmers don’t want to talk about farming at all… and sometimes they want to talk about farming with someone who thinks every piece of information is new and interesting – like the first time you were introduced to silly putty or hot chocolate or the game of football. The first questions are always silly, and even the farmer can’t keep a straight face while explaining.

The farmer needs UNfarmerly things to talk about and laugh about and comment on. He needs someone that will take his mind off the weather, the price of corn, and decisions about upgrading his operation. Or, maybe, the farmer needs someone who will listen to all those things, try to say something smart, and then talk about something completely unrelated.

Because, at the end of the day, farming isn’t living… and we need people to remind us just what that is.

(do you think adding “comic relief” to my job description will get me a raise? Eeyore will see right through this as an attempt to flex my business prowess and make myself more valuable 🙂

Well, from the fields of Iowa, I’m trying to

let LOVE fly like cRaZy

Posted on by Caroline 2

the farmer comedian

I must preface this by saying I ran this post idea by Eeyore and all I got was a grunt… and then he said to Partner, “We’re pretty serious ’round here all the time.”

view from the tractor

So, I’ve got this theory (inspired by Eeyore’s wife actually) that farmers would make good comedians. Sometimes intentionally and sometimes unintentionally, they’ll surprise you with their wit and woefully dry humor. There is a catch, however. The conditions have to be just perfect. You can’t throw a farmer on a stage and expect him to be funny… no, you’ve got to have the perfect set-up and it goes something like this:

They will definitely need to be wired in by radio – farmers aren’t necessarily the most approachable comedians when it comes to appearance, but when you give ’em a radio they churn out the real charm. From the seat of a combine or tractor (the 20 ft. view, some say), the world makes sense. Things are divided into rows and bushels and pounds and yields, so the mind can wander into those clever little things that don’t make sense at all. From that little throne in the little glass cab, the world is his soybean (and those are pretty glamorous right now, aren’t they?).

It’s not just a radio you need (if you’re thinking you could secretly tap a farmer’s radio and air it during prime time to make a buck). No, you need time… like hours. You see, part of the farmer’s charm (Eeyore’s anyway) is that there’s no rush. When he climbs the steps to his throne in the morning, he knows he’ll be ruling all day long. So, he strings out his material… across about 8 hours. A joke here, a sarcastic remark there… it’s good for the same reason a birthday is good – you wait and anticipate and then celebrate because it doesn’t come around too often. If we’re talking rain (as all farmers do), then it’s more like a drip-drop then a flash flood.

There’s something else you must know. When the humor does come, you can expect a 3-5 exchange. That’s a little phrase I’ve coined to explain the back and forth on the walkie-talkie. When I’m filling up the air in my glass cab with belted choruses and ideas for inventions (has anyone ever thought to use the innermost part of the corn cob as styrofoam?)… Eeyore is preparing his next one-liner and it goes something like this (a recent conversation about our college rival):

Eeyore: See, now they’re startin’ the game early on Saturday, so’s them Hawkeyes can get to drinkin’ earlier.
Me: Really? You’re just being mean … Maybe I should go up there and teach the students something about healthy lifestyles…
Eeyore: Well, I don’t know that it’d make much difference.
Me: You can lead a horse to water, but you can’t make him drink.
Eeyore: Well, with them I think it’s the other way ’round.

I’ll admit, it took me until I was driving home to make sense of this clever turn of phrase… and then I had the AHA face right there by myself in my car, “Oooooh! I get it!”

You see how he did that? He lured me in with something interesting and a bit vague, drew out a comment or two, and then went in for the slam-BANG finish. Impressive, folks. That’s what that is. But, back to my point… it’s the 3-5 exchange and then silence. No explanation, no resolution, just silence. If I’m in eyeshot of Eeyore, I’ll see him slowly put the walkie-talkie back in its place and concentrate on the rows ahead. This is key. He’ll be funny again when he’s ready, but not before.

I still haven’t figured out how to make any money off this discovery. Eeyore is always bothering me to make money off my ideas, like this blog. He and Partner think they should be getting paid royalties because I’m using their stories. I said I didn’t use their real names. “E’rbody knows,” he says (I’ll just let him think that this blog has that kind of reach). I told him I don’t get any money from the blog.

He thinks I should get sponsors so that I’m getting paid for the time I put in (you know, a ROI). I told him money doesn’t make any sense to me and I don’t care much for it. He said I better find someone who cares a little.

One thing I do know, jokes aside, when that auger swings out over the empty rows of corn, I better be ready with that grain cart.

let LOVE fly like cRaZy

Posted on by Caroline 2

rained out

Well, this morning started out soggy, but I had “high apple pie in the sky-y-y hopes” for harvesting… and then I got to the “far north side of the field by the cow field” and walked the muddy way to the tractor. A couple hours after I got there, we had to pack up and leave because the rain seemed so persistent.

So, I traded my cheese sandwich for grilled and my bottle of water for steaming coffee and my walkie talkie for a laptop and the firsthand farmer lingo for a secondhand re-telling. After my “10 things I learned in Iowa harvest” post spread around the family like fire, I realized if I target the Midwest audience, then my readership could explode! Not that I care about how many readers I have… it’s just funny to me that I can write a blog pretty regularly and the biggest response I get is from my comical/embarrassing experience with Iowa farmers.

I thought I better at least take one more shot at sharing my perspective on farming (since the rain is keeping me from the fields). I’ve learned a few more things since that post…

  • First, the farmer (Eeyore as we call him) is not so sure his identity is as concealed as I promised. Within hours of my post, he came over the radio, “What’s this Eeyore business?” and I responded, “I don’t know, you tell me. I didn’t put any names in there…” pause “Well, e’rbody’s figured it out then…” Sometimes, I just giggle because I don’t know what to say. So, just to make things clear – I have not given any names and the names that are given are changed to protect the innocent. That goes for “partner” too. If my descriptions match someone you know, it is only by coincidence.
  • Second, I drove with my cousin (the third grader who is qualified for my job) and I’ll be honest – I was nervous. I thought he’d get in there and push all the right buttons and drive circles around my anxious jerking. Well, turns out I can sleep a little better at night knowing that he’s not quite ready to take over.
  • Today, I am proud to announce I moved up in rank (of course I’ve made up ‘ranks’ so it feels like I’m getting promoted and if you’re about to question it, don’t – it was my birthday last week). That’s right. Today, I got to drive another tractor and it was different in every way. The transmission was a gear shifter, the buttons were all in different places. There was A – F and then 1-2-3-4 in each letter. The clutch is essential is this machine and oh! I forgot to mention that there is a very large obstruction in the form of loader arms right where I count the 5-6 rows out for on the go loading. I got a 5 minute tutorial from my partner and then off I went, picking up a load on the go. I haven’t told Eeyore, but I’ll expect a badge tomorrow.
  • So, partner and I cover a pretty wide variety of subjects between the tractor tutoring and the unloading. I’ve been storing advice on WAY more than tractors (he’s probably trying to forget the things I say). He’s also super encouraging, like when I learned the new tractor today he said, “Well, hey! You’re a natural,” even though I was obviously struggling. He said that people just assume girls can’t do things like drive a tractor, but he says he can teach anyone. I also know now that it’s harder to load corn on the truck on the road because it’s level and that dry corn unloads like water. I know that you can go 40 mph in a truck chasing deer in a field and I know the human body is capable of a 24 non-stop road trip (and much other anecdotal advice). I know that he doesn’t like my weird music and that a certain pair of jeans with holes will always be my “sunday jeans” (because they are hole-y). I have to share one conversation that (he would say) reveals a bit of the blonde farmer in me:
    “I hate it when people call me Carolyn. I mean my name is obviously Carol-ine so people should pronounce it that way.”
    “How is your name spelled?”
    “with an i-n-e”
    “C-a-r-r-o-l-l-ine?”
    (joking) “Yeah, C-a-a-r-r-o-o-l-l-i-n-n-e-e”
    (blank stare)
    “No, of course it’s C-a-r-o-l-i-n-e”
    “Well, that’s not how I would spell Carroll”
    “Oh, well that’s how I spell my name – C-a-r-o-l-i-n-e. How would you spell Carol?”
    “Well, my aunt’s name is Carroll and she spells her name C-a-r-r-o-l-l”
    “Well, that’s not how I spell my name!”
    “That’s not how my aunt Donna spells her name either”
    (long pause and puzzled look and then serious)
    “Well, that’s not even the same letters!”
    (laughter)
    “Hey!!! No blonde jokes!”
    and so go our conversations….
  • I wish I could record how the grumblings go over the walkie talkie. I’m working up to a real good impersonation and it’s kind of scaring me. I can’t decide if I’m copying what I hear or if it’s actually starting to be how I talk. I can carry on a good five minute conversation about yields and head rows and moisture and fields and weather. I surprise myself (and then I realize I don’t really know what I’m saying and so I’m not a complete farmer yet). Here are some funny things I’ve heard over the radio:
  1. “Well, it’s pretty rough in here… better unload there at th’ end.”
    Translation: You’re good, but you’re not that good. I’m not taking chances on your driving, but I want you to think the field is responsible.
  2. Me: “Sorry about that, I was SO close but SO far.”
    Eeyore: “Close only counts in horse shoes and hand grenades.”
    Me: “I’m not good at those either.”
  3. Eeyore is waiting with auger out, ready to unload.
    Me: “We had to cut a tree…”
    Eeyore: “Cut it or pull it out at the roots?”
    Me: (Oh, crap) “Uh.. well, we cut it but pretty low down”
    Eeyore: “You gonna come back next year ‘n cut it again?”
    Me: “Well, that sounds like pretty good job security I guess.”
    Eeyore: “Sounds like a government job.”
    Me: “That’s why we’re broke.”
    Eeyore: “Yep.”
Well, I guess I might as well make an apple braid today. I’ve been wanting to try this recipe and today seems like the perfect opportunity to put some fresh Michigan apples to good use! And, yes. I will be cranking the Christmas music – I firmly believe there is NEVER a wrong time to sing “O come all ye faithful.”

What will you do to
let LOVE fly like cRaZy
today?
Posted on by Caroline 3