Truth of the matter: a confession

My husband and I are a mixed up mess of agricultural experience.

He was raised on a dairy farm like his father and grandfather.

He spent half of his young life on the seat of a tractor. Took the regional dairy show circuit by storm. Broke hearts at county fairs. Spent long, hot summers making hay when the sun was shining, and sweating in the mow when it was time to restock for the coming winter. He went to school for engineering, switched to computer science, and now works as some kind of computer-AV techno-brand training guru for Certified Angus Beef LLC.

I was raised on a fruit and vegetable farm.

I picked apples, peaches, green beans and pumpkins, started rotten tomato fights with my siblings, and daydreamed on the back of a very old Quarter Horse named Cherokee. There was a ramshackle band of Herefords in my early years, but they were replaced by Angus cattle. AI began. Club calves were sold. County fair steer shows were conquered. As were hog shows. And I wore my pink lacers everywhere.

I went to a liberal arts college barely aware of the agriculture industry. They responded with shock and awe when I landed an internship at Farm & Dairy newspaper. I worked at PBS Animal Health while going to school. I worked at a chestnut farm when I graduated. Then I worked as public relations coordinator at the Ohio Agricultural Research and Development Center.

Then I married FarmGuy.

Had a baby. Quit my job for motherhood.

Began part-time career at Certified Angus Beef LLC. 

Had more babies.

Now it’s 2010. I’ve been focusing on Angus cattle for nearly 10 years, FarmGuy for 13.

The truly messed up part?

We feed Holstein steers for my father-in-law. We balance our loyalties between his freezer beef, the Angus beef grown and sold by my family at the fruit and vegetable market, and the internationally recognized Certified Angus Beef ® brand products we market and promote as employees of a company that’s been around since 1978. 

Oh … and my brother (and next door neighbor) raises feeder calves, too. And my cousins (and next-door neighbors) raise Polled Shorthorns. 

It can be overwhelming.

And I won’t even mention the chickens, rabbits and at one time, goat that live amongst us all.

I still daydream from the back of another, very old Quarter Horse … though not as often as I’d like.

There’s a fat little pony around here somewhere, too.

Dogs and cats come and go.

It’s a big hot mess.

Did I mention my girls think they want to show sheep at next year’s county fair?

Welcome to the Funny Farm …

Where all the women are strong, the men are good looking, the children above average and the cows are every color under the sun.

Oh wait.

That’s only at Lake Wobegon.

You do know Garrison Keillor, don’t you?