Moo Means Moo

The one thing about having to act like a grown-up is that your life tends to follow a domino effect. There was a time when I was a kid where if I wanted to ride my bike for hours or practice guitar in my room or just space out while playing with some toy where, sure -- those hours were essentially blown away on nothing, but all I had to do to get back on track was just be downstairs in time to wash my hands and set the table.
One of the secrets of youth is that your personal tangents always seem to be
worth more, but in terms of time lost they cost less than when you're older.
What I mean is, whenever I get off the track to do something fun or interesting or just plain old compelling in my life now -- it inevitably knocks something else I have to do out of whack, and sometimes even forces me to drop it completely. And while I'm sure most of the traffic jams in my time management world are of my own making -- the simple fact is that if there's something really important to do in the morning at my job, more often than not it means that I'll end up having to skip lunch in order to fit in everything else I have to do during the day.

And I'm not really Mr. Type A personality/has to be doing something every minute of the day kinda guy. But like most every other adult out there -- my time is dictated in a lot of ways by the responsibilities I choose to burden myself with versus the tangents or diversions that I enjoy.

For example, as this past week came to a close -- I had a number of things I knew that I wanted to do, and an equal number of things that I had to do. I had to stay later at work on Thursday afternoon to finish a time-sensitive project, but could only dedicate so much time to it because it's my job to pick my son up after school every day. Lunch was skipped, the work got done (several of my other lower-priority projects got put off until Friday) and I made it to school on time to get him. His mother showed up a little later to pick him up from me, which meant that I now had time to go to the gym.

Except before I was able to leave I got a call from a friend who had blown out a tire and needed help changing it. I tried to get out of it -- but eventually headed out there, changed the tire, headed back home -- knowing the Seminole game had already started and the friends I was gonna meet at the sports bar had probably already shown up..
So the gym trip got cut, which gave me time to get a shower and head out to meet everyone.
FSU's victory prompted a follow-up trip to Endo, where good times and hot sauce eating contests took place. It wasn't full-on insanity, but it was enough of a throw-down to make me slow to wake up the next morning (late to work), slow to get started at work (some projects unfinished, put off 'till Monday), and stay a little later (stern look from the woman at the school when I showed up a few minutes before the cutoff time picking my little boy up). Then because of time constraints we had to race out to meet my dad -- had a quick dinner, took my son over to his place so he could watch him for the night, race home to change clothes, race out to the beach to get to Freebirds in time to catch Taproot and Sevendust, hung out a little while afterwards, got a call from Matty -- headed to Endo for a nightcap, stayed a little while (knowing I had to get up early), drove back to my apartment (in all my hurrying forgot to pick up part of the Scout Uniform for the outing the next morning) -- then drove to my Dad's place to crash.

The reason for this is that my kid's Scoutmaster was insistent that we meet up at 8 'effing AM for our field trip, and even if I were to wake up on time all the driving from my place to dads place to the scout place would mean we might miss it if any little thing should go wrong. I opened the back door, piled up a pillow or two on the couch, and then crashed out hard.

The time was 4:25 am.
At 6:30 am, I got a shake on the shoulder from my dad, and a cup of coffee. Woke the boy up, got him fed and dressed, and we hustled out to the spot. The scoutmaster handed everyone a Google map printout, and explained that we would drive from where we were in Jacksonville to a smaller town called Hilliard (about an hour or so away) to go visit the corn maze and all the other attractions at this particular place.

This is where the difference between me and the other parents starts to become clear. I mean, it's early on a weekend, so no one's really thrilled to be up -- but I seem to be the only one wearing the same clothes I had on last night, talking with that scary sorta vodka-voice that happens to me after a good night in a mosh-pit or a bar (or both, as the case actually was) I'm the only one wearing sunglasses to cover up raccoon eyes, I'm the one the other kids are pointing at and whispering to each other about (one of the kids in my son's troop is the younger brother of one of my former students -- which means several of the parents probably already know some things about me I wouldn't have told them on my own), which might have something to do with the wide berth I'm getting at the moment.
But we were there dammit, and on time too.
Then things get a little fucked up. Because apparently this corn maze trip is something the scouts do every year, and it's always in the same spot -- but somewhere along the line our little caravan of cars ends up on the side of a road in the middle of nowhere and the scoutmaster gets out of his car and motions for me to roll down the window --
At which point he tells me that he's realized the map is wrong, and that we are lost.
I'm half blind with a hangover, and my ears are still ringing from Sevendust -- but I managed to get myself assembled and ready and in the spot I needed to arrive at in plenty of time, but somehow it's taken this long for the guy in the fake drill sergeant hat and all the patches on his shirt to realize that he's not on the right road to go to the same place he went to last year?

Anyways, we all turn around -- get on back on the highway, go this way and that and finally end up at this cool little spot in the middle of nowhere featuring an enormous pumpkin patch sitting in front of a good-sized cornfield.

My great grandparents raised corn on their farm (among other things), but I was really too young at the time to experience a lot of things involved with it. I remember running through it a few times, and my great-grandfather showing me how to pick the ears off of it, but I never really had the chance to do a corn maze as a kid. I've done my share of hayrides and stuff, but this was gonna be a chance to cross something off my list that I had never really realized was on my list in the first place.

The place was sort of a family farm that had been turned into kind of a mini-amusement park. A place where city kids could dip their feet in the country lifestyle and see what it was like. So in addition to the corn maze, there were games where you had to hand-pump water from a well to fill a bucket, a little place where you could feed chickens and goats (Curren loved that), and a hayride that ended up in a spot where people had a chance to feed actual cows, which was pretty wild considering they were the big black Angus variety. Gentle and quiet like the cows you normally think of, just like 3 times bigger.

There were all these things to do, but at some point it became clear that the Scout Group wasn't really doing all of them. I'm not sure what all that was about -- but no one was telling us we couldn't, so we broke formation and fed ourselves some effing chickens.
Punk Rock Scouting.
When we finally met back up with the group we got some weird looks, but no one really said anything to us. So we ate a little lunch (homemade ice cream ftw), and then took our second run at the corn maze. The whole time we were in there Curren kept changing directions, and I kept doing quotes from Children of the Corn -- which of course flew right over his head.
Good times.
The final thing we did though, was the most fun -- but also kind of the most weird. It was called the cow train, and essentially it was this series of little barrels with wheels on them, painted up to look like cows that were all hooked up a four-wheel ATV that pulled them all around, train-style.
Lots of bumps and bounces, and just fast enough to be thrilling to a bunch of little kids.
Each of the little cow cars had a wooden cow head attached to the front of them and a name painted on the side of them. The names were all sort of standard cow names -- Bessy, Bossy, Daisy, T-Bone, etc. -- but there were a couple of names that didn’t immediately ring a bell, or really make a lot of sense.

Now maybe I just haven't had enough direct exposure to farm folk in my largely suburban life to understand some of the things they do or like, but can someone please explain to me if there is an other meaning to this name that I'm not aware of?
Because the one that I know can't be right ..right?

[Listening To:  Sevendust"Face to Face" ]


Satorical said…
No. No. No. Ain't ridin' in that one. Not no way, not no how.
Heff said…
Try and clear your calendar every once and awhile or you'll go insane. Sometimes it's just nice to have NOTHING to do.
Werdna said…
That is not real. That is not a real picture.

You photoshopped that over Bossy, or Flossie or something.


If not I'm sure there is some honest explanation... I just can't think of any right now.
Dorian said…
Werdna said…
I don't think Hex will get that one Dorian, but I do ;)
Hex said…
Satorical -- The second I saw it, the banjo theme from Deliverance sorta played in my mind. I'm still amazed they got away with it.

Heff -- I totally agree. But sometimes it all stacks up, you know?

Werdna -- I really wish it wasn't real, but it was right there in front of me. Scary, scary stuff.

Dorian and Wernda -= Something you two want to share with the rest of the class, hmmm?
JerseySjov said…
can't trust those country folk
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