Business, meetings, oh my

Farming is a business. Business involves meetings, paper-pushing, hugs, kittens and rainbows. Well, maybe not all of that fits. However, there certainly are meetings, paper is involved, hugs may or may not come in the form of handshakes, kittens would be the farm dog with identity issues and rainbows would be the thing that appears after a rain storm. 

I recently had the pleasure of sitting down with the powers that be in my Canuckland farm and its parent company. Like that play on words, eh? Since the radical notion of a business meeting during the day was too much to consider, an evening meeting was convened at one of our local joints where oodles of caffeine in different mugs and flavors was available. 

If you’re having a ‘business’ meeting at a local coffeehouse, maybe a few suggestions for the next meeting would be advised. 

1) Obviously don’t discuss super personal info and numbers in case the coffee beans are listening. Duh.

2) Hold the meeting in the evening, after the evening meal so you are sure to encounter ALL of the moms (with three kids and baby in tow) hanging out for their weekly dose of reality and sanity.

3) Don’t forget all of the teenage crowd out after church (or before church)

4) Instruct all of your fellow coffee drinkers to order a drink that requires an ingredient to be steamed or blended. This way optimum hearing of conversation is achieved.

5) Be sure that the place is packed because it’s one of the few cool places to hang out after dark.

6) That includes the parking lot.

7) Have half of your party at this meeting come into it (or view it) as a Q and A session. NOT a business meeting where an agenda or items are actually discussed.

8) Have one person on both sides of the table mumble or whisper words that may or may not be an answer to a question or even pose as conversation.

9) Keep up the good work and hope for a legitimate business meeting next quarter.

10) Drink LOTS of coffee. And water, hydration is key to be successful in the long run and outlasting the endurance of the parent company.

Joking aside, a decent-ish meeting was had and both parties walked away well caffeinated. A few, tiny issues of, oh say, me being a gold digger and looking-to-profit-off-the-parent-farm-by-selling-all-the-land-once-that-future-day-of-control-rolls-around was settled. Paranoia and fear of loss of control threw that one out there so I’m going to take it with a five gallon bucket of salt. And I may have pointed out that that thinking didn’t say a lot for my love of farming (or of my hubby’s). The out-law (me) took the teeny tiny win of a somewhat successful first farm meeting. Nothing got crazy, no insults, civilized questions/answers were had and coffee was actually enjoyed. Fingers crossed for the next one!

Auction fever

For the good souls out there that absolutely adore auctions that season is rolling around. I don’t know what it is about auctions that speak to the soul. Maybe it’s the smooth, quick patter of an auctioneer or the bad coffee (and food?). Perhaps it’s the ice cream social version of getting out and socializing with neighbors and meeting new friends. 

We stopped in at a (somewhat) local auction site to check out what was coming in for the next sale. It’s bone-chilling cold and snowing weird snow pellets like fake snow but not. And what are people doing? They’re washing the trucks and equipment! Not exactly the bonniest, sunny good weather like most normal people wash cars or equipment in. This guy looked like he rued the day he took that job meanwhile his counterpart is moving the trucks around for him; nice and toasty dry. 

Somehow on the drive back home I found myself agreeing to follow auctions closely for my hubby. This new ‘job’ may or may not include me also bidding now and again for him. Yikes. Auctioneer speak is like learning another language right? I just need to train my ear to follow it. Wish me luck, I may have serious need of it. Who knows, maybe I’ll find myself waving my bidding number like a crazy woman winning bingo. I’m still looking for my diesel project or a decent wrenching project in general.

Pi Day

I enjoy Pi day because who doesn’t like to eat a slice of delicious pie in honor of Pi day? Of course, that really only works when I remember it’s Pi day. My sister always remembers Pi day. If she has the time, she’ll grab a friend and find a café for slice of heaven in a crust. 

This year I actually remembered (and wrote it down on the calendar) Pi day was near. Unfortunately Pi day didn’t coincide with my being in the same locale as my sister so I did the next best thing. I called up a local café and bakery and ordered a pie for her. The mission, should she choose to accept, was to go and pick up a pie for me . . .  and eat it. 

Choosing a pie at random, over the phone, no less is a tough decision to make. Apple and cherry I consider to be good basics because you can’t go wrong with either. Then I figured that would be too bland and easy of a choice so I spun a thought out there for the voice on the other end of the phone and he agreed. Seeing as how they didn’t specify which kind of pies they were offering to make, I winged it and went for a crowd favorite, coconut cream pie. 

I got an enthusiastic call from her later that day. The pie had been a hit! Turns out the bakery had baked a pie crust cutout of the Pi symbol for added flair for each pie. A pretty neat idea as it turned out. 

In honor of the day, I had pretty, delicious macrons. A delicate puff of pastry but so worth the indulgence they were my nod to Pi day. They were a gift from my thoughtful sister in-law for my birthday that had passed several days before. Did I really need to bake myself a pie when I had these around?

Foggy days in rain

They say March comes in like a lion. Well, that’s true. I woke to dripping, soggy rain and a quiet world draped in muffling fog. All this loveliness is supposed to finish with snow and a whipping wind; because it’s not truly a good storm without wind. 

All I can say is I’m glad I don’t have anywhere to go today. Well, except to my computer for more unending bookwork and my cleaning closet to wreak havoc on the evidence that I have a dog in the house (and a man). My hubby oh so sweetly asked if I wanted to help in the shop today. ‘What’re you boys up to?’ I’d asked. He replied with this and that and oh, we’re grinding rust off this straight truck to replace/reinforce some panels (depending on the nature of declination of the panel). Oh, well, let me jump right to it then. Ha. Being one of the smaller people it’s an easy guess as to where I’d end up, under the truck. Rust dust in my contacts (safety glasses only do so much), eh I’ll pass.

I hear bookwork and calls to return calling me! Sorry, love, no can do and I just remembered I was going to bake some cookies for you.

Then our dog galloped into sight just as hubby was going to head out. Yeah… somehow, somewhere he managed to find the mud. It’s just enough above freezing that apparently there is mud to be found. Boy, does he love mud! Hubby promised he’d hose the dog off in the shop before coming in. I countered with just come in, dry the paws and go straight to the shower the both of you. I can’t quite figure why that logic was met with such resistance. I didn’t mean they had to shower together. Ha. Ha. Ah well, he’ll figure out how to get the dog clean. Maybe running through the fog will be enough to do the job. One can hope. 

However, it's time for my coffee break. Till the next cup o' joe.