I Can Clip My Nails Again!

I can also put toothpaste on my toothbrush, i can cut my meat with a knife, i can drive my car, i can tie my shoelaces and attach my bra. No big deal you're gonna say. WRONG. It is a HUGE deal. Don't ever take these amazing abilities of yours for granted. 

You might remember that at the begining of July, i lost a wheel in the field hence couldn't continue on working the land and went back to give a hand to the Boss and my colleague in installing a sewage system. That's when i took the "give a hand" a tad too literally. Long story short, my hand got poked by a 1.2 tons tank against a sharp piece of metal while we were bringing down said tank into the hole we just dug.

Excruciating pain, profuse bleeding, during the fraction of second it took me to grab my hand and actually looking at it, i was convinced i had only the thumb left on my left hand. When i didn't see any finger on the floor and that they were actually all still attached to my hand i couldn't help but feel a massive relief. 

It's amazing the amount of blood that pumps out of a hand. I mean it'd give Old Faithful a run for its money. The couple we were working for rushed to me with a paper towel in which i wrapped my hand not to have their kitchen look like we've just sacrificed an entire cattle of pigs to whichever god. 

Put my hand under the tap, saw the damage, knew for sure that i need quite a fair amount of stitches and that i needed to go to the ER stats. 

The amazing thing with the ER is that if you're actually dying, well, you'll probably die waiting. I waited for an hour before someone came pick me up to check on me. The pain was tolerable but my middle finger and my index were getting numb and that was worrying me.

I had my hand dipping in some antibacterial liquid for a good 30 minutes before a doctor came to see me. Since the wound was deep, he told me he'd anaesthetize my hand. I swear to god, when he put the needle in my hand, it was like he was hiting me with an ice pick. All the pain i wasn't feeling up until now shot out and i honestly screamed. I'm normally pretty strong before pain but damn, that one was insane.

He dug in, noticed that it was super deep and told me, you need to see a specialist.

Following day, met the specialist of the hand at a clinic, he saw the wound, touched it a little, i jumped, he said: we're keeping you for the day. 

DAMN IT.

Anaesthesia second round, needle in the armpit to numb the entire arm. I don't know what kind of needle they use for anaesthesia but hot damn, are they painful.

Went in for surgery with a very nice and laid-back surgeon and staff in the OR, he told me that i had missed both the nerves and the tendons. Hold on, let me get back and finish the job.

8 stitches and quite a few hours later, i was back home. Alle-freaking-luia.

2 forced weeks off-work. A nurse coming to change the bandage every 2 days. Middle finger still numb but got the use of my hand back a couple of days ago. Now i can tie my shoelaces. Even though i know i'm using my middle finger, i still have no idea what it's doing!

Stitches are getting off on Friday. I can't wait. I'm dying to go back to work as well which is unfortunately unlikely since the wound is so fresh and in such a delicate part. Being stuck at home is depressing.

Hopefully, some good news are around the corner. I mean i went to the ER twice and through 2 surgeries in 3 weeks, i'm starting to feel like i've had my share of bad news, i could do with some good ones. I promise if i win €45 million at the lottery this week end, i'll stop whining.

I Missed the Fireworks

Yesterday was July 14th. Bastille Day as they call it in the States. Rightfully so, since it's the taking of the Bastille back in 1789, during the French Revolution, which officially put an end to France's monarchy and the begining of it being a democracy. I won't comment on that knowing that the French Democratic Republic is more a name than the true meaning of it. Moving on.

So yesterday was a celebration nonetheless and i wouldn't normally miss the fireworks. I absolutely adore them and it's always very emotional for me. Don't ask me why, i wouldn't know. But i can't help but tear up a little when i watch fireworks. I can somehow feel it in my gutts, i don't know, it's a weird feeling.

But i wasn't in a good place yesterday and by the time they actually started firing them, i was already in bed only wanting to sleep to make that awful day come to an end. Needless to say it's always when you truly want to sleep to make the hurt go away that you can't find any. 

So here's a picture of beautiful fireworks (i've also watched some online while trying to fall asleep!). There's another one planned to be fired in August, at the fare. I'll go for sure then!

Oh No, Not Again!

It's harvest time! I missed it last year cuz i wasn't working there yet and i missed it this year cuz well, i had to call in sick. DAMN IT. But anyway, the day i got back to work, i was sent back in the fields with my tractor to start preparing the land of newly harvested fields. And off i was. 

A lot of people i know don't like being in the fields, working the land with a tractor cuz generally, you're going super slow. For this particular work I'm doing, I'm going 5km/h. Needless to say it's gonna take me for fucking ever to do a 17 hectares field but i don't care. Drawing lines in a field has this amazingly soothing feeling for me. I'm focusing on the lines, not thinking about much else and i drains any bad thoughts from my mind.

At some point, i was making it back to a place where i had to skim the neighbor's field when i saw this big slice of un-worked land ... My first thought was: wow, was i this bad the first time, passing this far from the neighbor's field's edge? I mean it was a good 6 meters wide and I knew i hadn't been that far off. Right at that very second, i saw a massive harvester pulling out of the wheat's field. 

Security scream (as my colleague calls it!). And off i was again, minding my own business!

A short time later, i heard an unfamiliar sound/noise as i was making a U-turn in the field. I turned around and i was like: holy crap, I've lost a wheel!

I was cartoon-like, when the driver loses a wheel and he sees it going its own way rolling away. Took me a few meters to stop and contemplate the "work".

CRAP.

Called the Boss, told him that, hum, well, i had lost a wheel. He started to ask me about mechanical shit and i was like, i don't know any of that: the wheel is unattached to the trailer it's supposed to be on, nothing seems broken, please come help me!

Verdict: bearings are DEAD. We'll have the new ones in 3 days.

Well, i guess i ain't working in there for the rest of the week then. Booo.

Does this kinda thing only happen to me? I mean, seriously? I've pretty much been on the spot for every breaking there's been with agricultural equipment ... (** sighs **) Maybe once I've had broken every single one of them at least once, I'll be able to work properly! One can only hope!

It's Been Forever

It's been almost 6 months without me writing a single word in there and i won't make an apology because there are no other reason than me being lazy. I always have tons of stuff to write about cuz let's be honest, i have this amazing ability to attract the crazy, the unusual, the odd and the fantastic. 

So even though this ain't an apology for being a lazy ass, it's a little note to let you know that, well, i'm back! So buckle up and get ready!

Can You Tell Someone: Your Baby Is UGLY ?

Facebook is the tabloid of people you know. And the most amazing thing about it all is that they're their own paparazzi. If your FB friends (please note the emphasis on Facebook friends since probably 90% of them are not real friends, if not more) were actually famous people, they probably wouldn't publish half of what they actually publish. Note the probably. When you see what celebrities publish via their twitter or instagram account, you can't help but think that they must like the attention ... But i digress.

I'd be lying if i said i don't publish personal stuff on Facebook because i do. I generally publish stuff that is either inspiring, funny and/or that make fun of me. The world is hard enough as it is, i've never taken myself too seriously and i like laughing about stuff that happens to me. And i've come to realize that i made some of my friends laugh at my crazy little adventures and it kinda make it all worth it.

But again, i digress.

Some people on FB (and obviously, you can all imagine that they're part of my contacts otherwise, how would i know about what they do, say or publish) are so obnoxiously self-absorbed that it's almost painful to see a publication coming from them. A couple of "friends" of mine (i mean they're a couple as well as FB friends of mine) used to be vomiting their love for each other all over their wall. I mean i don't mind you being madly in love with your spouse but you don't need to convince me you are because:

a) i couldn't care less

b) it's very intimate

c) what are you trying to prove?

d) who are you trying to convince? 

Oh, please, don't try to shovel down my throat that your life is so perfect with the absolutely bestest husband/wife in the world in it. Nobody is perfect, life is a bitch (if not all the time, at least from time to time) and your better half can be a bitch/dick just like any other ass in the world.

Well that same couple, still vomiting their love for each other by the way, is now happily married (obviously) and also recently reproduced (oh sweet mother of god). Needless to say that they're not only vomiting their love for eachother, they're also doing so with their newly born, who's now 54 days old. How do i know that? Because damn it, they publish a picture of that baby every single damn day with its age in days. Talking about months for a baby is annoying enough but in days, i don't even know where to start. 

When i think about another friend of mine who waited until she was 6 months pregnant to tell the world that, "oh, yeah, i almost forgot, i'll have another baby in about 3 more months" and that we have seen only ONE picture of the cutie pie since he was born!

But the thing is, i don't really mind that they're posting a picture of their beloved baby every day. OK, yes, i do. I swore i will never do that when i'll have my own little creature but i can understand that you feel like your baby is the most beautiful living thing that has ever set foot on this planet, that he's shining heavenly light from every single of his pores. Problem is (and sorry to burst out your bubble darling): he's not.

Nothing shines out of nowhere on that baby and dear god, am i the only one who think that it's an ugly baby? Do you actually say that kinda thing out loud? Can you tell the parents, i'm sorry, i don't think your kid is beautiful i think it looks like an old man. And an ugly one with that!

So i never sent my congratulations to the "happy" couple for bringing their descendance to the world since i wouldn't know what to tell them. I can't lie. I can't just tell them what they're expecting to hear, nor what everybody has been telling them. In my humble opinion, your baby is ugly as fuck and it makes me cringe every single time i see a picture of it appearing on my newsfeed.

With that say, i'll go back at my practising to get my own most beautiful and perfect-in-every-way baby! 

Cutest baby on the planet ... yep, that would be me! :D

PS: i've googled "ugly baby" to find a suitable picture to illustrate this post but oh my god, i'm gonna have nightmares! Ok my friends, your baby is ugly, but he doesn't get the prize for ugliest baby! Lucky you!

The Reason Behind It All

I started this blog quite a few years ago, i believe in 2009 ... As i mentioned it in one of my first post, it was after 2 guys told me to do so. I obviously enjoyed writing but didn't know how to share it. 

I've always tried to keep this blog as "apolitical" as possible. Politics are not my thing. Never were and probably never will be. I just wanted a support where i could express myself freely about very light stuff that either makes me laugh or makes me cry but things that create a strong feeling within myself. And i'd say that so far, so good.

Something terrible happened in France 2 days ago. 2 armed guys rushed into the buildings of a French satirical newspaper called Charlie Hebdo and cold-blooded killed 12 people, harmed 11 more, 4 of which critically. Amongst them, journalists, cartoonists, humorists and a few non-press related people, a cleaning guy, 2 policemen and people who had the misfortune to be at the wrong place at the wrong time. 

Regardless who those people are and how famous they may or may not be, the act itself is horrendous. 

An entire nation has since rised in support of what these people (and this newspaper) represented: the freedom of speech.

And with that in mind, it reminded me of the main reason of why i started this blog in the first place.

I was then living in Mexico and working for one of the biggest tour company in the country. We were 700+ employees there and one day, a guy in charge of who knows what suggested that it would be nice to have/make a little internal newspaper. And i immediately thought: fuck yeah. As soon as he asked for volunteers, i signed up for 2 columns. One was interviewing the oldest employees (by oldest i mean the people who were working there the longest, basically since day one ...) and the other one was something i called: "me and ..." and it was kind of a prototype version of what this blog was going to be (so not so much in direct relation with the company but something funny and light-hearted to read)

Well, he probably thought highly of himself since he censored me pretty much from day 1. And i don't like being censored. I don't like censorship in general. There was so many little details he didn't like, i couldn't write what people were telling me in the interviews because it made either Big Boss look bad and/or the company better in its old days than what it was now. So i ended up giving up the interview column after just a few interviews. And for my second column, it was even worse on the censorship when i had the bad idea of writing about Mexico City's insane traffic (he was from there you see).

Anyway, i won't write about this old story again, mainly because i did so already in this amazing post of mine ... but also because a great deal has happened since then and i honestly don't hold grudges for that kind of insignificant things.

Or so i thought.

Ok, grudge is probably a bit over-the-top, but i remember perfectly the feeling i got when he censored me and when he completely modified my text. It was infuriating, it was frustrating and the only thing it made me want to do was to keep on writing to show him that nothing he could do or say could/would stop me. And that's exactly what i did. 

As i said earlier, this blog is not very commited. Of course, i do have my opinions on things happening in the world and i sometimes ramble about things and raise my voice pen about it. But given the recent attacks on that newspaper which can be totally said as an attack on our freedom of speech, it reminded me that our greatest power against religious radicalism and extremism is culture. Words are more powerful than any weapon. And as long as there'll be words, then there is still hope for this world to become a better place. 

It's been amazing how people have stood united. I believe last time it happened was in 1968. Maybe there's a new revolution in the making. It's about time we stand together against oppression and for our liberties. 

France, you kinda make me proud to be one of yours today. 

Finally Found a Lefty Mug

I know what you're gonna say: a lefty mug? What the hell is that? And if you're talking about a mug that is made for left-handed people, allow me a little laugh, a mug is like a glass or a pen, it's not made for right or left-handed people, there is just one side to it.

NO.

NO, NO and NO!

That is where you guys are so very wrong. 

I totally agree on the fact that a glass, or a pen don't have a side. Whether you're right-handed or a lefty, it doesn't matter, you can use it. But there are so many objects that DO have a side and a mug is one of them. How, you're gonna ask? Because the print is on the right side. Not right, the opposite of left, right, the correct side of the mug. 

When you hold a mug in your hand, you normally don't face the image on it. Well in 99% of the cases, i do. Cuz i hold my mug in my left hand. 

But the other day, we bought a few mugs with the "lapins crétins" (idiot rabbits) on them. And one of them is the Holy Graal of the mug for lefties ... It's the biggest one, a black one and i love it! Just because i now feel that this mug was specially made for me :D

Now, i need to find a fish knife that is made for me as well and my life will be complete!

Yes, cuz fish knives have a side too ...

My Problems Are Not Yours

It's not that nobody ever has the same kind of problems that i DO have, it's just that my job implies problems that not every John Doe has. As you might know by now, my current job is actually divided in 3 parts: working the land, cleaning septic tanks and installing septic tanks (with all the civil engineering works involved). 

A few days ago, we had to plow some of our fields. It's that time of the year when you have inspectors checking that you've done what needs to be done at the time it has to be done so Anthony and I were both on our respective tractors and doing lines in the same field. The problem there was that day was that the soil was so very much in love with the tractor and my feet it made massive sticky blocks everywhere. So i had to stop every other line to scrape the dirt out (took forever to take it off my shoes because, as usual, i only take my boots when my regular working shoes are either soaking wet or covered in so much dirt i feel like i'm actually walking 50cm off the ground). 

Needless to say that we had some serious cleaning to do afterwards. Took me 2 hours to see the axletree of my tractor again!!

and you haven't see what it looked like from the back!

I don't know who invented the Karsher (a high-pression water hose) but it is an awesome invention. A very splashy invention but a great one nonetheless. Even if i had to use a hook, a pickaxe and my own hands to get rid of it all, let's be honest, the Karsher did a lot of the tedious job. But damn, i was covered in dirt from head to toes. With the misty rain to accompany me, it was one heck of a job to do. I was drained when i was done. Literally! 

But today was the apotheosis of my working day. For the first time ever, this morning, i got sent ALONE to empty a couple of septic tanks. It went pretty well to be honest, even though moving all those sucking pipes is heavy. I got to drive the shit truck on my own, did the hoovering, did the oohing and aahing with the pipes, even wrote the bills and the certificates. But what do you do when your truck is full? Well you go to the shityard to empty said truck.

That was the second time i was doing it on my own. But man, what a second time it was.

Not entering all the details of how to unload a truck full of shit in a gigantic tank, i can at least say that things need to be done in a certain order. And when you don't follow that order, well, shit happens. And damn did it happen.

When i opened the valve, it was Shitty Yellowstone Old Faithful in all its splendor. I got drenched in shit in a split second. It was phenomenal. It was spectacular. It was so amazing that i took a picture of my misery (after taking a second to get rid of my waterproof (but not shit-proof) vest).

obviously, the phone got some too!

Anthony laughed, my boss laughed and sent me home, my boyfriend didn't think it was funny and kept on complaining about how much i stunk. I took 3 showers: one fully dressed to rinse most of my clothes, and 2 after that and i still feel i'm stinky. It feels like that crap has gone right up into my earrings holes and every single one of my pores! 

This is the kind of magical thing that happens to you ONCE. Not twice, not 3 times, just that one time and i swear to god it's never gonna happen to me again. Order is a tall order now!

But you know what? I still think my life is awesome. Shitty for some part, but awesome nonetheless!

How was YOUR shitty day?

Encounter of the Third Kind

I honestly have no idea what the other 2 kinds of encounters might be but for me, today, it was one of the third kind. Why? Because it was extraordinary. At the root-sense of the word. Meaning, something out of the ordinary. 

(OK just checked, technically, an encounter of the third kind is when you see an UFO which is nothing of the sort).

As most of you know by now (and if you don't, you should read this blog more often! and be ashamed of yourself for not doing so earlier) I now live in the countryside. And even though i don't work with animals, needless to say i've come across cattle more than once. 

I'm not confortable with big animals. Not because i think they're scary or gross but because i've never had interracted with them because i know knew nobody who actually breed them. Up until now obviously.

One of my better half's karatéka is the son of a cow breeder, another one the son of horses and ponies breeder (yep, not comfy with horses either). My grand father in law used to breed swines, my father in law used to breed sheeps but they only have cats left now. And as cats are concerned, i'm pretty well served with my 3. So when i was told that a cow has a tongue that is raspy like one of a cat, i was in shock. I thought they had a smooth one like a dog. Same when i heard that cows are actually pretty affectionate animals. And i thought, damn, i need to go see (and maybe even pet one) from up close.

So i called the guy after my man had told him about my little query. And i met him and his cows today. 

When i parked by the field they were staying in, first thing that came to my mind was, damn, they are huge animals. It's very impressive. And i was quite far away from them still! We went in, but since it was in the field where a couple of born-yesterday calves were at, mommy cows were extremely alert and following our every move. So he took me to another field, to introduce me to Marguerite (this is such a stereotype name for a cow, i love it), a cow whom mother died calving and that he pretty much raised on his own, feeding her with a baby bottle.

Daniel and Marguerite

He kept her horns because other cows, as she was growing up, were mean to her because she acted different than they did. Animals are just like human beings, they're racist! They don't like Different. So now, she can actually defend her food when others are trying to steal it from her. 

It was amazing how he called her by her name and how she recognized it and came to us. We had brought some flour that she voraciously devoured. She even ate from my hands. I mean I HAND-FED A COW!!!! (no pic here, it was so over the top that i didn't think about asking him to take a picture)

Marguerite so very much enjoying her food!

I was a lot more nervous when he called the bull. We were in a field with about 15 cows with their calves and one bull. A one point two ton bull. It's bigger (and heavier) than my very own CAR! But i pet him. I PET A FREAKING BULL!!!

THAT bigger-than-everybody-else's bull

We then went to a third field with another baby-bottle fed cow named Peach (Pêche in French). And i couldn't help but ask for my picture taken with her. Otherwise nobody would trust me that i did go in a field full of cows and actually gotten close enough to pet them. 

Peach and I

 I couldn't pet a calf. They're fearful and always stand aback. But jeez aren't they curious. You can tell they're scared but their curiosity is still stronger than their fear and they want to get closer! It's funny. They're like a little kid hidding into mommy's skirt!!

I even got to drive that little tractor (it's not a tractor but i don't know the name of it, not even in French, let alone in English!) to bring a haybale to them. I was on my own (with the farmer's dog) in that little engine, in the middle of a dozen cows, bringing them that caramel flavored candy to them (seriously, this stuff smells like caramel, no wonder they like it!).

Farmers in France, even in the countryside, have a reputation of being assholes. And jerks. Well i have yet to meet one of these nasty specimen because all the ones that i've crossed path with have been nothing but awesome with me. Maybe it's because i'm new to this world, maybe it's because i'm a woman, maybe it's because i'm the wife and the daughter in law of a very well known family here, or maybe it's just because i'm excited about learning and discovering all these new things.

The way he talked about his cows was touching. He could pretty much tell which calf belonged to which cow, and he talked about Marguerite and Peach with some kind of pride but most of all, a tremendous amount of love and affection. This guy cares for his animals and it shows.

It was a fantastic experience for me. And you could tell he was only too happy to show me his "babies". And what is probably so natural for him was an extraordinary encounter for me. Kinda made my day :D

Poetic Justice

I have been on training for a month now and it's finally over. I probably won't be using any of what i've learnt but it was a mandatory training, with an exam at the end so i thought, to hell with this, might as well enjoy the ride and learn something. And i did. There were 15 of us, of which i was naturally the only girl but i met some very cool people with whom i intend to stay in touch. 

I don't like venal people. Or people who just do things because they can get something out of it. I'm not saying i've never done that once in a while but i don't think i can ever truly trust someone who just live that way, 100% of his/her time. And since i was amongst the oldest people during that training, i was somehow shocked of how venal younger folks can be these days. It's all about the money. How much you make, how much you can get from this or that, not doing anything selflessly.

But more than just that greedy behavior of some of the group, i was also shocked (and profoundly annoyed) by their rudeness. They show absolutely no respect to the tutor or the rest of the group, constantly talking (not even lowering their voice), making inadequate comments, arriving late every day, always asking the tutor to repeat because they didn't bother to listen, even sleeping on the table without the slightest care in the world. I could have smacked them.

One of them in particular. So when one day, he decided that sitting next to me in the afternoon was the best thing he could come out with, i was fuming inside. I tolerated him two days before i actually told the tutor that, please, tell him something or i will and it'll be ugly. He did. But it didn't work. Mostly because that piece of shit didn't give an effing damn. 

So i took matters in my own hands. And i told him, just like that: would you please shut the fuck up for at least 5 minutes? It's annoying, it's distracting and more to the point, it prevents me from actually listening to the tutor. I don't give a flying fuck if you don't want to listen but i do so shut up.

Obviously, i said it out loud, not whispering at all and there was this heavy "i-can-hear-a-fly-passing-by" silence in the room and everybody was listening to me having this massive go at him. And funnily enough, most of them were smiling at me, daring to actually say something.

It's easy to complain about things and people. But if there isn't anybody to do or say something, then it's completely useless.

On Friday, we had the test with which we'd qualified as commercial truck drivers. He didn't pass. Karma is a bitch darling. I know i shouldn't be happy but awww, the sweet poetic justice of it all ... made me swoon.

And because i'm allowed to show off a bit ... i came out 2nd. 

This Is A Man's World

And it would be nothing without a woman or a girl. Or so he said. Truth is, there are some trades that are not made for women. Or short guys. And strangely enough, i've just started one just like that. No kidding! (do you honestly think i would bother write about something i haven't experienced myself? Of course not, that's the entire purpose of that blog in the first place!!)

I work the land. I also drain and clean septic tanks. If you still see (less and less) women in the agriculture world, they are a lot scarcer in my other job. And even though you still encounter women who work the land, we still have to face those stereotypes that are stuck in people's head: a woman in agriculture? she must be ugly, or fat, or both, submissive to her husband, not feminine at all and uneducated. 

Jeeez, where to start?

I'm not gonna defend myself on it all, i honestly don't care what people might think. I don't consider myself ugly, nor fat, let alone submissive and i have 2 degrees (which are, in all honesty, completely useless for what i do now for a living). But i'd like to talk about the feminine aspect of it.

For my new jobs, needless to say that i needed some adapted clothing. Cuz i wouldn't be using my regular everyday jeans or shoes knowing i would either be in the fields, in shit holes (literally) and doing some mechanics hence lying on questionably clean floors. 

So i went to the store which sell such clothing and shoes (amongst tools, construction material, paint and so on). And i have a few questions to ask all those people convinced that women doing men's jobs don't look feminine or pretty while working: 

- How can you possibly look good in men's clothes? 

- How do you look feminine wearing a trouser that is 2 sizes above your own? 

- How do you walk like you own the place when your safety shoes are also 2 sizes above your own? 

- How do you look good with clothes that are stained with grease that doesn't wash off in the washer? 

- How can you smell good when you spread chicken shit in your fields? 

- How can your hands look like you've just come out of a French manicure when you have to change the tire of a 15 tons truck or dig in the engine to get something fixed?

You can't.

But man or woman, you'll be happy to find your favorite bread at the bakery made with the cereals we planted and harvested, or eating your t-bone from the cow that ate those same cereals, and probably even happier to see the back of us once your septic tank is finally emptied and it doesn't smell like hell's broken loose in your kitchen and bathroom.

End of it all, does it matter what we look? 

There's a job to be done and that's all there is.

PS: and that makes me able to say that I am the one wearing the pants!

I love being a girl. And i love my masculine job. But why should i stop the glamour when i'm in my tractor? Girl power in the tractor! LOL.

Best Birthday Gift Ever

NOT!!! LOL

Every year, you know, there are dates that are automatically coming back, anniversaries and birthdays being some of these. Obviously. I'm not a big fan of big birthday bashes, nor is my better half so we didn't plan anything special, just a dinner at a restaurant and that was pretty much it! 

What my boss had in store for me though, was quite another story!

Totally oblivious it was my birthday (which kinda makes me think it would probably have been a lot worse!), i got sent with my pal and co-worker Anthony down a shite pit we're installing right now, the day after it had rained pretty much all night. And no it wasn't shit i was stepping onto but clay.

Go down in the pit, he said, it's dry he added. 

DRY MY ASS!

It took me for freaking ever to get the clay off of my boots and i had to drive home barefoot in order not to plaster that crap all over the carpets of my car. 

That pleasant interaction with one of nature's stickiest shit was only the hors-d'oeuvre.  In the afternoon, the boss said that he needed the two of us on another kind of oh-so-enjoyable task: standing at the back of the crop-spreader because he had just ordered several tons of chicken shit mix to spread onto the newly planted rapeseed. And since the mix was with chicken shit and sawdust, we had to make sure that it wouldn't get blocked inside hence, not spread where it should be.

It was 27ºC outside, we were under the burning sun, with hats, gaz mask for the dust and our sticks to break up the occasional block of chicken shit and long story short, we were COVERED in chicken shit dust. The only place that mess didn't get into was my panties.

But we did it. And as we've grown accustomed to, we had fun doing it. Anthony shot a video but no picture is here to show the apocalyptic look i had! Doesn't matter. I still think it's the most unusual yet awesome way of celebrating my birthday.

I freaking love my job!

I Have A New Friend!

We're not technically "friends" per say, but in the fields i've been spending time in, i've noticed this big bird of prey, probably a different one each time since i'm not on the same spot every time. Don't get me wrong, i'm not a big fan of birds, but strangely, i don't mind birds of prey. My problem is that i can't seem to find its name. 

It's a big grey hawk that looks like a mix between a Northern Goshawk (but doesn't have as much white as this one) and the Crane Hawk (but that one is from America so can't be).

Northern Goshawk

Crane Hawk

I've seen it hunt and get mice, walking on the fresh plowed land and chasing another one off of his dinning "room"! These birds are majectic. It's a utter pleasure to watch them be. I wish i could get closer. I even wish i could touch them.

I love the countryside. 

I Nap Everyday

So i've started a new job. I love it. But damn right it's tiring. 

The other day, 3pm, in the middle of a field, behind the wheel of a tractor and i was seriously dozing. I thought, crap, this isn't good. I mean, it's less dangerous than on a road or if i was driving a trailer truck but still, it's not good anyway.

When i mentioned it to my man, he told me, well, take a quick nap when you come back home on your lunch break. And i thought, pfff, what's the point, for a me, a nap is at least 1 hour and a half long so i won't have time for that. Morevoer, it makes me grumpy ! And he said, no, you need to take a power nap. 20-30 min max. 

I was hyper skeptical. How can i possibly fall asleep, rest and wake up and be on the go in 30 minutes? 

Well i did it. Went to my bedroom, took off my working clothes, set the alarm for 1:30pm and fell asleep in the blink of an eye and slept like a log. For 20 minutes. It changed my afternoon. My life. And my perception of naps.

A power nap is repairing. I start my afternoon shift all pumped up and reloaded for what awaits me. I always try to leave work on time (at noon) so i have time to eat without rushing and take a nap. 

I never thought i'd ever nap without feeling groggy and/or bitchy. I'd never thought i'd nap at all!! But it's something i enjoy every day. It's something i believe i actually NEED every day.

Who knew i'd become the napping type!

I Have OCD

I just realized that i do have OCD. Not in a big kinda way but i do have at least one little thing i cannot deal with without being overly uncomfortable. 

OCD is a disease. And i know for a fact that i'm not sick. But i have this obsession that i can't control. I'm fully aware of it and not sorry about it nor suffer from it.

My obsession is that my tea cup (or coffee cup) has to be full to the brim. Always. If the liquid doesn't come up to the top, i re-heat some more water to make sure it does. 

On Tuesday morning, my tea was almost 1cm lower than the edge of my giant mug and i thought, sod it, i'm not heating more water. And at the same time, i thought, well, this is not a good start to a day.

Little did i know that on that very same day, i had 3 breakings on the tractor and couldn't finish what i had started the day before. 

So from now on, even if it sounds stupid, picky or demanding, i don't care, i'll ask for more water to make sure my cup is full the way it should ...

Life In The Slow Lane

As of today, i have started a new job and oh, what a 180º turn around it's been! I am now officially a farmer. I don't work with animals, i work with the land. So obviously, I've had to learn how to drive a tractor. And god knows it's nowhere close to driving a car. Or a truck since i now can. But let's put those details aside for now. 

On my first day, my boss, who happens to also be my father-in-law, brought me to a big ass field (17 something hectares to be exact), showed me how to drive the tractor, drew a couple of lines with it to show me and then told me, OK, off you go, call me if you have a problem. 

And there i was, alone, in the middle of the field, thinking of all the buttons and shit i had to do before even thinking on moving the tractor and more than a hundred and seventy thousand square meters of land to furrow. 

I followed big boss's advice, got myself in 4th of the slow gear, blocked the speed to 5km/h and off i was. FIVE FREAKING KILOMETER AN HOUR. Do you even realize how stupidly SLOW that is? 

Well so i thought. Up until i actually got going ... and then trust me, in a field, behind a wheel of a tractor, 5km/h shakes the crap out of you and it truly feels like you're going 100km/h. And honestly, it helps you put things into perspective. 

I have seen, while in that field, animals i hadn't seen in years: all kind of birds, hares, rabbits, mice, all kind of insects and butterflies and this quietness i was so longing for. Obviously, the tractor's engine is loud but in the air conditioned cabin with the radio on, i'm like in a cocoon, all by my lonesome self.

And i'm going slow. Very slow.

And it feels good.

Here, time seems to have stopped. And after all the frenzy of the city and life in general, it's a huge bowl of fresh air.

I'm loving every second of it.

I Got My Truck Driving Licence

I have no idea if that's the way you call it in English but i don't really care. I spent 2 weeks training like crazy to present my exam to get my driving licence to drive trucks and i got it.

I freaking got it at my first attempt.

When we first started the training, we were in the classroom for about 15 minutes when the instructor said, i'm presenting yourself for the theory in a week. OK. Wait. WHAT? In a WEEK? Like in 7 days? After only 5 days of training here with you? Are you out of your freaking mind?

Needless to say the tension got up one notch. At least for me. There were only 3 of us for that session at the beginning of August and the other 2 were 2 young guys who drove trucks before so i guess they weren't freaking out as much. But that was still a shit load of stuff to learn and know in a short amount of time.

And that's when you notice that we truly are all different people. The two guys maneuvered the truck like they were born driving it whereas i was excelling in all the writing tests and the learnt-by-heart texts we had to say during the exam. So they spent time in the classroom and i spent time on the practice track polishing my reverse (slalom) driving and parallel parking skills!

On the day of the exam, i was sick i could have puked. I didn't. We presented the exam in alphabetical order hence, me first. I also had the horror honor to pick the maneuver we were gonna have to do: right side parallel parking. FUCK.

It all went well until my first attempt at the maneuver. I exceeded the allowed time and i was only half way through. Took a deep breath, drove back to the departure point, put a smile on my face and tried again. All in one go, like a freaking PRO!

We spent the rest of the second week driving the truck in traffic and it went rather well. That's when you're behind the wheel of a 19 tons truck that you come to realize that car-drivers are assholes who believe they own the road. Being on the other side has transformed the way i drive my car now and i like to believe i'm not the potato head i used to be.

I presented the driving exam on Tuesday. I so very nearly avoided a crash with a dick in a delivery van who probably thought that staying behind a school truck for 30 seconds was already outrageous enough and cut me up without a care in the world. 

The Holy Grail came in the mail 2 days later ... 

I am officially a TRUCK DRIVER!

I Drink Boiling Water

When i drink coffee, or tea, or soup, it always has to be boiling hot. I've never really question it, it's always been that way i've liked it and well, it has to be that hot for me to actually enjoy it. I also take showers that are probably hotter than most of anybody's morning coffee cup but that's another story.

So i never really paid more attention than that to the fact that i drink pretty damn hot liquid. Up until my man actually made me notice it. He wondered why. I had no answer, it's just always been that way. 

Then one day, we were at my parent's house and i realized, after a comment my dad made, that my mom also drink super hot coffee. And i thought that, there you go, i must have gotten that from her! Mothers and fathers pass on habits to their children and i did just that. And i immediately thought, well, then, problem solved (supposing that's a problem, which i don't think it is in the first place!)

Drinking boiling water being an established fact now, my man and i didn't fuss about it any longer (nor that we even did before). At least, not up until my aunt invited us over for lunch at her place. She's my mom's older sister. 

We have lunch together, and then she obviously offers coffee or tea at the end. I chose tea and notice that she poured boiling water in my cup. I smiled at my man and told him, see, it's obviously running in the family, we must have gotten that habit from my grand mother then! 

And that's when my aunt told me: you don't know why, on this side of the family, we drink boiling water? I was shocked: WHAT? there's actually a REASON behind it?? AWESOME. I want to know!!

My grand mother was the 12th child of 12 and her mother died when giving birth to her. So she was brought up by one of her elder sister. In 1918, there was this massive flu pandemic in Europe (we call it Spanish flu in French but not too sure it translate that way in English) that took the life of millions of people (between 50 and 100!!) and lasted for about 2 years! After it was "over", one of my great-grand-aunt prided herself on making it through because she always drank her coffee and her soup BOILING HOT. So all her brothers and sisters (my grand mother included, even thought she was just a child back then) started to drink super hot in order not to be infected if that dreadful flu would come back.

Let's be honest, drinking that hot is USELESS. But it's a family tradition that has passed onto 3 generations now. After i heard that story, i even remembered my mom telling me to drink extra hot when i was sick (cuz it would supposedly kill all the germs!!).

I don't know if i'll pass it on one day too. But i love that kind of old story ... It kinda give me a feeling of belonging to a clan that's long gone. Grandma, i think of you everytime i drink my tea. Of you and all this gigantic family of yours that i didn't get the chance to know.

Long life to the boiling water drinkers clan!! :D