In America apparently I'm a Woman

My grandma relayed a little conversation she had yesterday with a neighbor.
It was a hot one, sunny, but the threat of rain was in the air which is why my dad was desperate to get as much hay off the fields as possible. Yes, I live on a farm and we were baling hay. It's not often that people just say, "oh, i baled hay all day". Anyway, you need to bale the alfalfa, grass and whatnot while it was dry. My dad and I were unloading wagons loaded up the night before. He was in the haymow (upstairs of a barn, storage) whilst I was on the wagon placing the bales on the elevator (like an escalator for bales, carrying them up into the barn) pretty tired, and the bales were heavy. Our neighbor who must be in his seventies, had seen this. He came by and told my grandma of the converstaion he had with his wife in observing my gruelling work not knowing it was me.

Donnie: "Why, would ya look at that. Look how hard one of Jim's (my father) daughters is working in this heat. What do you think. Should I go over and help her?"
His Wife: "Well, I don't know"
Donnie: "Maybe I should. Can't have her lugging those bales around by herself."
His Wife: "Well I don't know Donnie. Judging by the way she is throwing those bales around like that, I don't think she really needs ya."

He came over later talking to grandma, and she laughingly told them it was me. Well now, I know that it's getting a bit long and shaggy, but I truly can't believe that I am now being mistaken for a beautiful (I'm sure) woman. Never thought that would happen. Sure, I got a slim face and all... It's tough growing out your hair with little support. My mom and sisters hate it, and practically gag when they have to look at me. My manager at the bakery thinks it makes me look a lot thinner in the face and kinda gaunt, and the old workers at the restaurant just don't think that shaggy hair suits their image of "Brandon", the golden boy of last summer. I know there are plenty of others who don't like it either, and prefer a clean cut guy. Across the seas, this may have been ok, but people who know me are appalled.

There are two, maybe three people that support me in my cause. Tara at work, who always has had a thing (not for me, no worries mary) for guys with long hair, and my pop, who had long locks back in the late seventies and 80's and for all I know is proud of a son who wants to live in such a golden era. The third questionable character is my girlfriend Mary, who in the end maybe is only being supportive, not that I question her opinion. THe way I see it, this is my last chance to really grow it out and "let my hair down" before I start my carreer in teaching. I will probably have to be clean cut, and looking sharp for the rest of my life. I am determined to make it through the summer til Luther, and will then cut it maybe in October. We will see how attached I get to it.

Liminal Spaces

This is the long anticipated, retrospective blog on my feelings as far as wrapping up my year in England and also talking about all those goofy mixed up feelings of coming home. Well, I hope to get there if I don't fall asleep first. One would think that people understand what jet lag is, but apparently my manager at Great Harvest Bakery does not understand this concept and has scheduled me to open the bakery today, my second day home, and the following two mornings. This means I wake up at 4:45 in the morning to head on in to the dark building to begin making scones, cookies, muffins and whatnot as I am the designated morning sweets man. Normally I don't mind this early shift, but three days in a row the day after I got back from a foreign country. Pllllleeeeaaasssee! Honestly, give me a break, she is just not the smartest cookie in a six pack of our famous Oatmeal Choc and Walnut Cookies. She's alright but definetely is not being considerate here. So my body is aching and partially damaged not able to recover from being sick the night before I left England, and also not finding time to adjust to my old life. I've been working a fair amount around the farm to, so I am fully in the swing of things, and it's only my second day home. I just started to unpack this afternoon.
All things aside I also am missing Mary all the way over in Italy with her sister Catherine and friend (they share her)Karrisa(?). We've gotten quite used to having the other conveniantly within a few paces of my bedroom door, and basically always in arms reach for a hug. Will be a challenge, but we will do well. She'll make the first visit here to the farm in early July, and I am so excited already.
Well if I didn't know I was in america... There has been a huge weather advisory for the whole state, and I'm assuming much of my fellow Notters homelands as gusty winds are sweeping in. Some tornado damage was caused in the center of the state. This would never happen in England. the weather is just one more base, typically unchanging and uneventful characteristic of living there. They don't experience extremes in temperature, hardly any extreme weather. a breezy day is enough to make people a bit skittish, and a quarter inch of snow shuts the city down. America is for the rugged, folks who like things to be extreme and always unexpected.
I never realized our forks and spoons were so small. Never in my life, but now I find it very shocking. I didn't realize just how large the silverware was back at the flat until after I got used to it and left. Some of those spoons there hardly fit into my mouth, but I guiltily admit it was nice to be able to shovel food at such a quicker rate. Actually, I have found that I am below average in speed as an eater. About third to last in the flat from finishing, which is a good thing. Good for digestion at least. Still always eat cereal like a madman. My main tactic is to never have my mouth empty. Really, our cutlery is so tiny, I thought I was using Kadin sized dishes. Very strange. Alright, time to get some shuteye. Signing out, but hopefully I will find time to keep this blog rolling with something interesting from the monotany of summer working.