Thanks for you kind comments about the mountaintop video. Like almost everyone else in the world I hate the sound of my own voice. Oh my, it's Chicago all the way although the Farmer's voice is even more Chicago, if that's possible. Think Mike Ditka.
You must seriously be careful what you say to me. Katrinka mentioned that I should do more videos. If you say something like that to me I'll be off to the races and then you'll be innundated with videos.
As you know, yesterday was the Harvest Fest in Belvidere, Illinois, just around the corner from where my sister works at the Boone County Conservations District's Heritage Gardens. With her encouragement we put together a booth filled with our things.
Keep in mind that as my brother-in-law reminded me, it has not rained here in two months. TWO STINKING MONTHS!!
So, here's the video. Watch this first and then we'll talk about the Two Minute Cry.
As I pulled into Belvidere it started to sprinkle. We'd been warned by the weather report but we were hoping that it would just be a light rain. The people in Illinois are a tough breed and a little drizzle will not deter them. But, as you can see in the video, it turned into something more. Just after we finished putting up the tent it began to pour.
I'd forgotten something in my car and so I ran to the parking lot, arriving soaked to the bone. Yes, I'd also forgotten my umbrella! There I sat, pondering on the dismal skies and the keen disappointment. Sometimes these things just cut like a knife. My sister and I had worked hard to put this effort together and now we faced a day of sitting inside a soggy tent and watching the rain.
I felt myself tear up and thus began a Farmer's Wife tradition - the Two Minute Cry.
It's cathartic. This is something that began when my doctor gave me some not-so-very-good-news years back. At that time I walked to my car, allowing the full impact of what she suspected to wash over me, and then the tears began.
I cried for about two minutes, allowing the fear and uncertainty to work it's way out. And then something amazing happened. I felt total peace emerge from under that fear. That peace allowed me to move to what I call the "now what?" stage.
Now what? If what the doctor suspects is true then I face the possibility of dying.....
If I'm going to die, then hell's bells, I'm gonna live.....
The two minute cry was over. I had peace and I had a plan. I put the car in gear and drove to the Hematologist's office. That's right, my doctor insisted I leave her office and drive directly to the specialist. My white blood count was astronomically high and she would have put money on the fact that I had leukemia. I did not. The specialist assured me that something was wrong but it was positively not leukemia. After a year my white count returned to normal and no one had a clue as to what had happened.
All I know is that I had learned the benefits of the Two-Minute-Cry. Allow yourself to feel the pain, the fear, the disappointment, whatever it is, and then pick yourself up, dust yourself off and charge back into life with a plan.
I know, I know, sometimes easier said than done but on this day it was just a disappointment, nothing more. And so I had my cry (only 1 minutes because this was actually a minor disappointment) and reached into the back seat for my hot pink umbrella.
I jumped out of the car, pushed the release button and the pink umbrella proceeded to EXPLODE!! Pink rip-stop nylon ripped, metal bent and the useless umbrella almost blew away.
I quickled dashed back to the craft area in the downpour because you're only allowed one Two-Minute-Cry per day!
NOTE: Tommorrow is our staff meeting, but come back on Tuesday to find out what happened next at the Harvest Fest.