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Thursday, August 30, 2012

Five years of farmwifery and counting!


Five years ago this week, I was frantically running around buying flowers, renting decorations, ordering a tent and porta-pottie…and I lost about five pounds in as many days. When I went for my final fitting, the seamstress at the bridal shop grumbled through the pins in her mouth: “you lost more weight. Get me the box.” The box was full of fake boobs in various cup sizes. The seamstress picked me out a pair and promptly stitched them into my dress. I stepped back into the gown and she zipped me up. There. No one had to know I had stressed myself right out of my boobs. The Farmer didn’t seem to notice.

On August 25th, 2007, I became Mrs. Fisher. It wasn’t until I woke up the morning after the wedding—to the sound of sheep and a braying donkey—that I realized I had also become a farmer’s wife.

We spent the first day of our marriage cleaning up the joyous mess from our farm wedding. We had friends to help us so the work went quickly, but it was exhausting anyway. Then I realized I had to move out of my townhome too – before the end of the month. Anastasia just kicked it into gear and said, “come on, I’m getting my stuff. Let’s move.” That little powerball was all we needed: she lifted furniture, packed boxes, and mopped floors. She wanted to settle into the farm too.

We didn’t have a honeymoon right after our wedding. I just wanted to put down roots at the farm, because I didn’t live there before we got married.

Just before our wedding, my father was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer. On September 11, he announced to us that it was terminal. In Dad’s usual irreverent fashion, it wasn’t a somber occasion; he delivered the news like the punchline of a joke, complete with a little song and dance. We spent the next few months forming a bond of our new blended family. On Sundays we had everyone over for dinner. It was a nice, informal way for each member of the family to connect with Dad. We had him for just one more Christmas. Four more months. He passed away in January, 2008. Every Sunday we follow his wishes and host a family dinner. That’s what he would have wanted. And without it, we wouldn’t see each other very much at all. Life is so busy.

Over the past five years I have changed jobs five times. I worked for a real estate developer, a newspaper, a marketing firm, a real estate developer, myself, and now the radio station. The common thread is writing. Whether it’s marketing material, stories about farm life or the local news, I love to write.

In the time since our wedding, four of five daughters have graduated from highschool and one has even been a bride herself. We are so proud of the good people they are becoming, and just hope that they make choices that keep them safe and bring them happiness.

Five years is a short time, when you’re our age. But a lot happens in a short time.

It’s been a good five years, Farmer Fisher. Thank you for giving me a second chance to go on a first date with you (the first time he asked, I wasn’t ready). My future changed that day, as did yours. I hope you are just as happy as I am with the life we have made together.

Life is expensive, and man, do we have debt. Maybe someday I will get this column into syndication, or someone will discover my blog and decide it would make a good movie. Then I will pay off our debts, buy you that bass boat you always wanted, and we can take a holiday. But that’s about all I would do. Because there isn’t much I would change about this life I have with you. Happy Anniversary, honey. I love you.




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