Being a working mother=hard.
(Heck, being a mother, period, means you’re working. And it’s all hard.)
Being a working mother with kids at home=hard.
Being a working mother with kids and traveling while working and taking care of children while navigating being a business owner during a pandemic=superhero level hard.
Meet Laura Haffner (aka Wonder Woman). She and her husband Ryan own High Plains Harvesting, based in Park, Kansas. I was fortunate enough to meet her through the Virtual Farm Food Tour, sponsored by Kansas Soybean Commission, Kansas Farm Bureau, and Kansas Pork Association. After participating in the Farm Food Tour several years ago, I’ve been honored to continue partnering with these organizations to help tell the stories of our Kansas farmers.
Meet Laura!
Laura and I sat down for a Zoom chat, …
I believe in activism. I believe in standing up. I believe in speaking out. Power. To. Da. People.
What I don’t believe in? Slacktivism. That is, the act of sharing and shaming online without actually doing your homework or better yet, getting your hands dirty. Getting involved. Getting your boots on the ground.
I was recently invited to do just that when I went on the #FarmFoodTour, sponsored by Kansas Farm Bureau and the Kansas Soybean Commission. It was a three-day trek from Kansas City all the way to Scott City and back again to tour various elements of our agriculture landscape. While I’ve grown up in a farm community and have written for ag publications for several years, there’s SO much I have to learn. And more importantly, I wanted to see for …
You know, it’s a wonder any of us Kansans have derrieres. We freeze them off in the winter and sweat them off in the summer. And the wind. The d*mn wind that never, ever stops blowing. To be honest, I’ve been fantasizing lately about a new home, and suburbs where young families flock, and a state other than this one. But all it took was a day like today to make me fall in love all over again (for now).
It’s not fancy, but it’s ours. And that’s all that matters.
You see, there’s a part of me that takes comfort in deprivation. A lack of choices. Too many, and I’m overwhelmed and panic-stricken. I prefer Aldi’s over the mega stores, and do most of my clothes shopping online. I need things narrowed down to the …
Down one dirt road to another. Our house moved 11 miles before coming to its final resting place.
Reaching deep into the pocket of my dark red Carhartt, I pulled out a crumpled piece of paper that was shoved deep into the seams. 140th, S. on Milan, W. on 13th, S. on Bluff…This simple list of directions, scrawled in my chicken scratch handwriting made me both smile, and experience a bit of relapse panic attack. Nearly four years ago to the day, these were the directions we were given by the company that was moving…our house. No, not packing up our contents and moving them from one place to another. No, our actual house. That’s right, we’re those crazy people you hear about who buy a house and have it moved from one place …
Snapping the handmade afghan, a gift from our wedding, up in the air, bits of stale popcorn flew up like confetti. There were eight blankets spread on the living room floor, their smell a combination of dribbled milk, kettle corn, cracker crumbs, Labrador, house cat and…my family. Here is where we made our bed two nights ago. Here is where we hunkered down during a blizzard, the second in five days, only this time, the power didn’t stay on. The lights flickered, and then, just didn’t come back on. We’d all just settled down in the living room for a “popcorn picnic” and a movie. The four of us, ready to weather this storm together, but not before we enjoyed the luxuries of outlets that were alive. We were only several minutes into Chicken Little, when …
They say this year was one for the record books. Our neck of the woods got 12+ inches of snow in two days, the second highest amount in recent record keeping. I can remember one other time, from deep in my childhood, when we got a comparable amount.
Now that I have my own children, my own home, I finally understand how it is that adults used to rattle off the years that certain weather events happened. Like the old men sitting around at the gas station, talking about the frog choker back in ought-six, or something like that. I will always remember 2013 as the year of the blizzard. The real deal. But the snow isn’t the only thing that left an impression. It was the food, glorious food! Thanks …