...We've all got them.

Everyone has their own little quirks, right?

Which is, I think, just a nice way of saying that everyone has a few anal retentive tendencies. So, whether you have to spread your butter on your bread a certain way, or you like the door all the way closed in whatever room you are in...we've all got them.

I.... may have more than most. I try really REALLY hard hide them, but that's almost a laughable idea despite my valiant effort.

Sure my closet is not only organized by sleeve length, but it's also color coordinated. And every. single. time. I make coffee, I put the amount I actually need in the filter and then add a little more "for good luck." Aaaand there is that thing that whenever I have to drink liquid medicine I don't think I've ever done it without first saying (usually in my head) "One for the money. Two for the show. Three to get ready. And four to go." Oh! And I may or may not cleanmyroom/dorm/houseeverynightbeforeigotobedbecauseIreallylikewakinguptoacleanplace. Please don't judge.

However....none of those are my worst.

My worst? My almost neeeeeed for everything I cook to be perfect. It's not just that I want it to taste good, or even that I want to impress anyone... I just almost have a mental meltdown whenever something doesn't go according to plan. Okay...maybe not a total mental meltdown but I am just tempted to try to throw an entire made-from-scratch apple pie in the trash if my crust isn't right or threaten to flush $15 of meat in the toilet because it's not as tender as I wanted it to be, or maybe I have told people to not eat any of my cookies because my last dozen didn't quite make it out exactly at the end of the dreaded "seventh minute." Nothing major.

Needless to say this whole cooking twice a day thing was a worry for me. And by a worry....I mean a constant one that lasted more than entire semester before I actually started this gig.

You see, I cook not only for my self and Lance, who would eat almost anything I cooked (maybe even vegetables), but six other guys that I hardly know. My level of anxiety starting this whole ordeal... was... ummm nightmare producing.

Men. They eat meat. Or meat and potatoes. Or sometimes potatoes and meat.

I. I make casseroles. Or pasta. Or dessert and pasta. Or sometimes casseroles and dessert. (Because Mom never really liked cooking...so we never had much "meat and potatoes" because you couldn't order that from Sonic or Taco Mayo.)

So the nightmares? Totally not joking. I dreamed of all these men coming over to my trailer and smiling as they scooped up a hearty helping of "Casserole of the Day" on to their plates as they joked and ate and later thanked me for the meal.

THEN. When they walked back to their trailer making awful threats under their breath like,
"If she makes us one more casserole..."
"I'm...I'm gonna throw a 13"x 9" pan at her!"
Very well knowing that if they want to keep their jobs they had best say please and thank you and clean their plates.

Well friends....the cooking has started and I still have not had a casserole dish thrown at me yet...but we are only a fraction of a way into the season....

I'll keep you posted. :)
I might even include a picture of a broken nose if I need to.

The deal?

Soo.... Yesterday in my groveling for not blogging in so many days I mentioned that there was not one, but TWO good reasons for why I didn't blog. Then, I only gave you one. Whether you noticed or not, I planned it because today I have reason number two.

Her name is Ashlyn. You could call her my best friend if you wanted. I do. :)
We met years ago and after being trained for years of my life to never, ever like anyone from Alva (I still have to say it like I have a bad taste in my mouth) I met her on a two day bus trip that was the start of a two week long visit to Washington DC with our one thing in common...FFA. She knew who I was...not by anything great I'd done, or any great accomplishment I'd had, or any name I'd made for myself through that wonderful organization that we both love. She new me because...well, I sort of, maybe, on accident, happened to have stolen a boy from her. She hated me a little. Now, years have gone by and that boy doesn't matter anymore, for one main reason: SHE GOT HITCHED!

The wonderful friendship that grew out of a little high school hatred led me to be her Maid of Honor at her wedding this weekend. It. Was. Beautiful. (You can friend Micah Emily Photography on Facebook if you want to get a glimpse of it!)

So, between matching outfits, making new friends, hours in a salon, and all the other busy things that come with weddings I didn't have much spare time that I didn't end up sleeping. (PLEASE read the last post if you don't fully understand my NEED for sleep)

But, since I'm in the wedding mood, I guess, I thought I'd tell you a little story about Lance and I.

My first post was about how we got started "in glorious detail" but I may have saved a couple of things. I'll let you in on one if them now.

You see, I'm sort of a lot to handle. I'm a little stubborn, I may or may not be a bit of a perfectionist, a tad spiteful, and a touch of ridiculous. I've been worried for a looong time (as has my family) that I would never be able to find a man to tolerate me long enough to marry me. So, I had a back up plan: Lance.

I mean, I was always really fond of him, but I never thought he would want to tolerate me by choice. I just did his homework and cooked for him and yelled at him a lot. But somehow I suckered him into a deal. (I guess he thought the same thing about marriage that I did...and he might have been a little fond of me too.)

The deal?

We were going to get married when we were 35 if neither of us was married yet. I couldn't stand the thought of not being married eventually and well...I think he would have enjoyed a life of solitude, but he needed someone to inherit his life of work. So it was set.

For years now, we've jokingly planned our "wedding" from the big things like the location right down to the little things like the song of the first dance. We continued on to plan our life together from where he will build my Bed and Breakfast that I've always wanted to how many of the ten kids I want that I actually get to have. Shoot! We even talked about rings! So when we finally started dating, it felt a little backwards.

Now that we have successfully taken a few steps backwards I guess we'll just have to see if we actually make it to our "backup plan."

That's when it happened. I. Lost. It.

Okay okay...
I know I haven't posted in a while, but it's been with good reason. Well, with two good reasons actually.


The first?

Well, I was sleepy. In case you didn't know, harvesters don't sleep much. Aaand by much I mean not neeeeeaaaarlyyyy enough. The reason being wheat...is kind of like cookies.
You spend a lot of minutes mixing the wet ingredients, then mixing in the dry, then an eternity balling up almost one million stupid balls thinking to yourself with every single one, "I HATE making cookies..sigh.", then you put them in the oven and wait. Time ticks by so stinking slowly for the first 6 minutes, but the seventh...well I don't know where the seventh goes but if it's just 10 seconds too late you've got, not one, but 12 burnt cookies.

Now, if you haven't already forgotten where this was going...wheat is like cookies because farmers started this whole ordeal months and months ago. They plowed. They planted. They fertilized and sprayed for weeds. Then they waited for the six long minutes (relatively speaking, of course) and now it's time for the seventh minute. Which in real time is more like one to two weeks. So, all the farmers are in a big hurry to get their wheat cut and get the big payday for all of their months of hard labor. We have to do our best to get as much done as possible and we literally stay up and cut as long as the wheat will let us, take showers, and nap through the night just to wake up with the sun and do it all over again the next day. Because farmers don't want to "burn their cookies."

So, on a side note, I like sleep. And, if you are curious, I'm very good at it. I can sleep any where, any time, any condition. One of my very best friends, Lindsay, once told me, "Allyson, if you were a superhero, your super power would be sleeping." I mean...I can go without it...sort of. It happens in phases..I'm good. I'm sleepy. Second wind. So sleepy I could die. Thennn the worst: emotional sleepy. This means that something really, really insignificant sets me off and well...I cry. And cry. And cry. It tends to level off with eating and sleeping, but I can usually make due with one..if I have to.

Okay...back to the story. I had had my first week and a half of real harvest. Completely intact with lack of sleep and iced with one night of sleeping in the truck, we were on our last trip to Texas and back before we needed to start harvest at home.

Needless to say, I was on edge. And a number of things hadn't exactly gone my way...so I ended up having to go sit in the truck for a little while to compose myself. I even called my mom.

When it was time to go, Lance hopped into his truck and could tell something was wrong. When he asked, I told him that it was really nothing and I just needed some lunch. So, he takes me to the Braum's drive through and I order my regular: a number 10. The important part here is that a number 10 comes with fries. And Braum's fries NEEEED ketchup. So, to avoid any problems, I asked for ketchup when I ordered. And again when I arrived at the window. And AGAIN when they asked me if I wanted any sauces.

So I get the bag. We drive off. Aaaaand... THERE IS NO STINKING KETCHUP.

That's when it happened. I. Lost. It.


I throw the sack of food in the floor of the truck and cry. I cry big shoulder shaking sobs. Uncontrollably. I keep saying, "I. Just. Wanted. Some. Ketchup." between my body-controlling crying. Lance held my hand and offered to go inside and get me some, but it was too late. So after sucking it up and eating my little-too-dry burger and not even touching my fries (I miiiight be a little stubborn...) I take a short nap in the truck and the world was a little better again.

Later, Lance lovingly told me that that was absolutely the most ridiculous thing he had ever seen. I told him thank you for being so supportive. And I decided that maybe for a few days I should skip the blog in favor of napping.

There are some things that you just need to know...

Okay... just a warning: this post isn't going to be for the faint of heart. You see, I've told you about Lance, and about combines, and about the problems and joys that come with it all. However, now I'm going to tell you about how it really is.

If this is going to be too much for you... you have to stop reading this.

Now.













Okay... if you stayed this long you are in for it.




Lessons Learned of being a Harvester:


Number One: How to Pee in a Field.

Very few people know that I have never actually peed outside. I just hold it. I tell people this is because..well, I'm a little bit pee-shy and my dad believed in "Keeping the Door Shut." This despite everything else that it could mean, actually means that no matter how loooong the drive may be or how bumpy the road is or how many gallons of Gatorade that a six year old can drink...we NEVER stop until the truck needs fuel. When we traveled as a family it was the unspoken rule. We just all knew. In fact, once I had a friend with me and she wasn't exactly keen on the whole "if you can't hold it don't drink it" method my family ran on, so after an hour or so she needed to pee. As generally little girls are, she was too embarrassed to tell my dad that she needed to go. So, she asked me to.
Here's how it went:

Me: Hey Dad. I've really really got to go to the bathroom. Could we stop soon?
Dad: Sure. Where would you like to go Chelsey?


So, this is my excuse for why I have never "gone" outside.

The real reason? Because I can't. I don't want to admit it, but the few times I have tried I totally just peed all over my shorts...and in some cases my shoes. Granted, I have only tried mayyyybeee four times and it was all before fourth grade. Still. It doesn't at all lessen my embarrassment of the lack of this skill.

So yesterday, I was stuck in the one truck without a two-way (two-way: n. another name for walkie-talkies only they go way WAY farther and you can hook them up in lots of vehicles and have group messaging with your voice. Men like them for business-like things... I like them so I can know what's going on even when no one actually tells me) and my phone is nearly dead. It's dark outside and I have to go. So with the 6% battery I have left, I, of course, call one of my best friends. After a minute of me trying to coax her into gentle, friendly conversation she says: "ALLYSON. YOU HAVE TO LEARN TO PEE OUTSIDE. THIS PROBLEM ISN'T GOING TO GO AWAY!!" So, after much moaning and groaning, I decide that she is right. Since last night was my first successful outside pee, I just thought I would be generous and pass the knowledge on to you.

Step 1: Get out of the truck.
Step 2: Wait. Get back in the truck and find some napkins. (They will come in handy later. Trust me.)
Step 3: Get back out of the truck
Step 4: Take careful time to look through the black abyss and make sure no one is looking.
Step 5: Slowly slide off your shorts.
Step 6: Keep sliding them until they are roughly 7 inches above your knees. (Although, this is probably variable due to general thigh length and height)
Step 7: Lean up against the truck and or running board of the truck.
Step 8: Carefully think about the slope of the ground and the placement of your rope sandals as to not pee on your shoes.
Step 9: Balance for approximately 90 seconds while trying to force yourself to actually do it.
Step 10: You know what Step 10 is.
Step 11: This is where the napkins come in handy.
Step 12: Pull up you pants. Jump back in the truck and act like it never happened.
*This may or may not apply to boys. I'm not really sure.
**You also may or may not feel the need to call a friend immediately to report your success. Feel free to do so.

Number Two: Men Usually Know What They are Doing.

So, last night I'm sitting in the same truck..still and due to our conundrum from yesterday we decide that it is best to send a combine back home to start the work there. So, am just sitting in the truck watching them unhook the header and put it on a trailor, hook up the trailer to the another on of the pickups, and get the combine ready to drive up north.


So, last night I'm sitting in the same truck..still. And due to our conundrum from yesterday, we decide that it is best to send a combine back home to start the work there. So, am just sitting in the truck watching them unhook the header and put it on a trailer, hook up the trailer to the another one of the pickups, and get the combine ready to drive up north. I'm sitting. And watching.

If you don't know much about big machinery, I'll tell you a few things: First, they are very loud. Second, when they back up they have this awful beeping noise that is partly so awful because it has to be heard over the roar of a giant diesel engine. So, as I watch all this progress be made I see that the header is off and the trailer is hooked up and all that is left is to leave. The pick turns around and heads toward the gate. Then the combine starts backing up, I assume to pivot and then head toward the gate.

Except for, the combine doesn't pivot. It just keeps backing. And backing. I start to panic. Because what I haven't told you is that perpendicular to my truck is a huge fuel trailer. It's big and green and holds about 1000 gallons of fuel. So, this combine is backing up into this big fuel tank and that is not only big but it is completely full! (One of my jobs this afternoon was to go fill it up so we wouldn't have to do it later that night.)

The combine pauses. I heave a sigh of relieve, because even though combine's have side mirrors I don't think you could see something that was directly behind you that was the same color as the scenery in a black abyss. Then the worst thing happens. The combine starts backing up more! It's now only like 10 inches from the fuel tank and still backing. (In my head, which fast forwards scary events by two-fold, the fuel tank gets thrown on its side, spills all the fuel everywhere, and in the process tears up the whole back of the combine.)

It is now that I start rappidly honking my horn, but it can't be heard over the loud engine and the beeping I told you about earlier. I just honk, and Honk, and HONKKK! My blood is pumping and I'm shaking over the idea of what might happen. So, I keep going and realize that the honking isn't working.

I JUMP out of my truck and start yelling people's names, but still... no one can hear me. I didn't even have a two-way to holler at them on to tell them what is going on! I wave my arms, but no one can see me! I don't know what to do..

I almost become reserved to the fact that all kinds of bad things are eminent and I can't do anything about them fast enough. When suddenly...  the combine stops again. A mere 4 inches from the fuel tank. The driver hops out and unhooks the nozzle and begins to fuel up the giant machine for the long drive home.


It is at this point that I realize that I am somewhat of an idiot.
The men were all on the two-way guiding the combine back to the fuel tank.
I was in a completely unnecessary state of panic because I couldn't hear them to know this.

So, for your piece of mind, nothing bad happened. That is the reason for rule number two.

Both of these rules are laid out for you by me, because there are just some things that you need to know..

We are ALL too stubborn...

So today we have a conundrum. The problem? We have nearly, yes nearly, been blessed with more work than we can handle. It's a good problem. It means we are doing things right and people like us because we are reminding people every minute of the reason that they wanted us in the first place: we are the first ones up in the morning and the last ones to bed at night and we work every single second in between.

Right now, it's just taking all of our sleepy minds all the thought we've got to figure out the right solution to how we are going to get everything done in the next week. I think we've all been praying nearly continuously for the last few days for a fool proof method on getting everything done in the very best way....the only problem is: we are ALL too stubborn to listen after we ask for help.

So we pray. We think. We admit that we are stubborn. And most importantly we keep faith in the fact that God has a plan and (hopefully sooner rather than later) He will let us in on it.

Because the Show Must Go On...

Today. Today is a sick day in a harvester's world.

But not the kind where you get to call your boss and in between coughs convey that you are just too sick to do any good work today. It's the kind that no matter how much you cough, how red your eyes are, how stuffy your nose is, or how miserable you feel from all of that, you must still do good work. You see, it's kind of like being the lead actor in a play...the show must go on. The difference is that Mother Nature decides when the play starts and how miserable you will be throughout.

Lately, that same Mother Nature has been seeing how hard she can kick us before we break. Her leading weapon? Rust. No, no...not the stuff that when water and iron and air and....whatever. It's this awful, terrible stuff that grows on wheat whenever it has had too much moister. More or less...it's kind of like mold that lives on the stocks of the wheat and when you go to harvest the wheat it turns into this cloud of black powder that lit.er.ally coats everything.

So, today we are fighting allergies and asthma, countless coughs, and the stress of getting it all done, doing it well, and getting out of here on time... because the show must go on.

It is times like this that you can realize what motivates you. No one would stay here (or anywhere) if their miserable-ness outweighed their love...of money, work, love, or maybe even stubbornness.

So...I guess what I'm saying is...if you don't have time to smell the roses and your nose wouldn't work if you tried at least recognize that roses (as allergy inducing as they might be) are pretty.

So, here's my list.

A few days ago we had a bad day in a harvester's world. 

Here's how it goes. 

The big green thing in the picture is called a combine. The long bar-ish thing that goes out in front of it is called a header. What the header does is spin really fast and these things on it spin and literally comb the wheat into a chainsaw-esque blade. The blade cuts the wheat and then moving belts push it into the mouth of the combine, actually called a feeder house, and the combine eats it up and pushes the waste out out the back. Got it?

You see what happened was that since the wheat is so thick and so full and so beautiful this year...  you can't really see much of what's in front of you other than wheat.

Long, sad story later...our header was broken. 

Following this there was a little gloom hanging around and no one really had good words to say and then I remembered this:

A looooong time ago (okayy..maybe just a few months) one of my very good friends said that one of her very good friends made a list of 100 things that made her happy. It sounds simple, but the whole point of it is to realize that even when you have big, big things go wrong you still have many, many little things that still make your cup of live overflow with happiness.

So, here is my list.

 1. When I find the PERFECT song on the radio that matches my mood

 2. The best friend moment when no words are spoken, because none have to be

 3. Learning something new and after tedious practice realizing you aren't that bad at it

 4. Dancing.

 5. Trusting God and letting go. Then waiting to see that everything turned out WAY better than expected.

 6. Thinking about my sister trying to use a turkey call mouthpiece without throwing up

 7. The smell of clean laundry

 8. The "my life is so put together" feeling I get after flossing before bed

 9. Matching. Oh, I love it when things match. 

10. Songs that will ALWAYS remind me of a person, story, or time of my life

11. Fonts that the exactly match the tone of voice that you want to talk in

12. The first night in freshly made bed

13. Slumber parties. Call it crashing at a friend's place, or visiting a friend, or couch surfing...whatever you want...it's a slumber party. 

14. Walking out of a cold building to get roasted by the welcoming summer sun

15. State fair corndogs. Aaaand funnel cakes.

16. The sound of my teeny, tiny 26 pound cousin STOMPING through the house on her teeny, tiny feet

17. Long drives late at night that seem to relieve all the stress in my life

18. JR. HIGH. CAMP.

19. Any time that my very best friends are together, including the BQ.

20. Happy hour sodas.

21. Finding the.perfect.gift for someone

22. Running with Erin

23. Inside jokes that are old enough to have lost their original meaning, but still make you laugh

24. Getting a pedicure

25. Waking up and realizing you had the most ridiculous dream and telling someone about it before forgetting it completely 

26. Flowers.... even if they are from a cattle pasture and are placed in a "Big Gulp" cup for a vase

27. Seeing a picture of two people so in love that is just oozing from the photo

28. Alliteration. Hence: Happiness with a Harvester

29. Puppies! PUPPIES! PUPPIES MAKE ME HAPPY.

30. Finding the perfect scripture to give your soul peace when you need it

31. Loooong, silly, pointless voicemails

32. Going to bed and not having to set an alarm

33. Baby/Mini sized anything

34. The whisper that wheat makes when it's ready to harvest

35. Baking

36. Seeing trees start to bud after the cold winter months

36. Hearing my silly farm boy call me Darlin'

37. The smell of new schools supplies...shoot the whole school supplies aisle

38. The silly hugs I give my dad because he's so tall I just have to wrap my arms around his belly

39. Listening to my mom tell stories

40. Having all my laundry clean and folded and put up all at one time

41. Knowing that something I did made someone else smile

42.Christmas lights

43. O-K-L-A-H-O-M-A

44. Before and after pictures

45. Old couples that still hold hands

46. Finishing a good book

47. Starting an even better one

48. When I find out other people besides those in my family play they card game Pitch

49. Sunsets

50. The peace that comes after prayer

51. The janky, old, small town food joints that always have the most grease and the best burgers

52. Finding out that I spelled something right… which doesn’t happen very often

53. Well organized things….shoot, the whole school supplies isle

54. Coffee…. Mmmmm Coffee

55. Ordering…well, anything and when I receive it, it being EXACTLY what I was hoping for

56. This little guy… Creed

57. God’s humor and how he lets me know that he is sovereign: My favorite food is peanut butter and Lance is one of those peanut allergy freaks…good thing he’s not the swell up and die kind!

58. Words of affirmation

59. The overwhelming feeling of accomplishment I get after a long day of work

60. Surprises… as long as I don’t know that they are coming

61. Walking out of a cold building to be roasted by the Oklahoma summer sunshine

62. Hugs

63. Making Lists….. obviously

64. Celebrating every.day like a holiday

65. Roadtrips

66. Large sonic waters with extra extra extra ice

67. In car concerts…. The only place that I can sing well

68. Painting my nails

69. When acquaintances turn into good friends in just one conversation

70. Earning something that I’ve worked for

71. Making captions to pictures

72. Fireplaces

73. Wheat on an apple pie

74. Noooooodles. Yes, noodles at holidays.

75. Coming home to a clean house

76. Getting all “gussied” up

77. Arts and Crafts

78. Antiques

79. Napping on Sunday afternoons

80. Rain

81. Naming things…I just love to name things

82. Opening anything that comes in a box, bag, or envelope

83. Cooking and cleaning for those I love

84. Heels and pearls

85. Family

86. Burned CD’s

87. Spelling things with pretzels

88. Really good pillows

89. My family <3

90. The just brushed clean teeth feeling

91. Traveling… any where, any way

92. Windows down, sunroof open, radio up.

93. Calling people by their first and last names

94. Hashtags

95. Soft, warm, fluffy towels

96. GIANT windmills

97. Palindromes

98. Correct grammar and punctuation

99. Good time spent with God

100. Feeling so blessed because He gave me all of this

What makes you happy?

Here's how it all started. In glorious detail.

Okay.... So here it goes.

My name is Allyson. I am a small town girl from Oklahoma, a place that I love more than any place else. Some people like roller coasters, or romantic movies, or really nice, expensive cars.... I, however, can think of absolutely nothing that makes my heart race more than rural, Western Oklahoma. Oh... and my silly farm boy, Lance. This summer, for the first time, I'm going with him on a seven month journey of international harvesting. In case I don't live through the next seven months to tell the stories when we get back, I'm telling every story as it comes.

Here's how it all started. In glorious detail.

My silly farm boy and I go back a long way. In fact we sat next to each other in third grade. My lovely mother was our teacher. She still teaches and has a God given talent for reaching and teaching students like no one else I know, however, she loved this job when my sister and I were younger solely (I think) so she could screen all the young boys that graced her classroom as prospects for my sister and I's husbands. Of course, for spite I would never even consider anyone she picked out for me with the exception of a pretty "serious" fifth grade boyfriend and now.... Lance.
He and I were good friends all through middle school and high school. Every time I "couldn't get out of my driveway because it was "too icy" or I "was so hungry I might die" or well... any excuse I had to need him... he would take care of me. Pick me up for school. Buy me breakfast. Drive me around in his truck for hours when I was having a bad day. He was always there. But in the summers, things were a little different: summer means harvest. I didn't see him all day, every day like when we were in school, but I usually saw him every evening.
You see, I love cooking and cleaning (I know. I'm a freak) like he loves harvesting. So he would call me at the end of almost every day to say that he would be home in an hour and ask me what I was cooking for supper and couple times a week he would take me out to eat with him to give me break from cooking. It was this summer that my entire family started affectionately calling him my husband.
Fast forward a few years. We are both now in college and he has moved up from just harvesting around our area to starting in Texas and ending in South Dakota. He has asked me several years in a row to go with him and cook for his crew and do their laundry when they are in the field. I've never been able to until this summer. Back in October he asked me again and I realized I would be graduating in May, and I really couldn't stand the idea of being a grown up right out of college. So I said yes. Duh.
Shortly after all of this was decided, we started spending more time with each other and after 8 loooooong years he finally kissed me. So now my silly farm boy is actually MY silly farm boy and this is the story of our first real summer "together."