The drive to the Boring farm was lovely- rolling hills and tall tall trees. It was 7:00 in the morning and the yellow sun shone low through the branches like a kaleidoscope of light on a long dirt road. It felt like Boone Hall and I loved that very much.
I was the first on the scene. I met the farm owner and the farm manager and they showed me all around the grounds and the barns. The owner had a gorgeous, rambling house on the property that he very casually invited me into if I should need something. "Help yourself to snacks and there's bug spray on the kitchen table."
I was very nervous about playing in the sun for a day. It was about 85˚ and it's been so long since my last day of Sun Labor that I just don't know my tolerance. I clutched a bottle of water and smiled confidently and was promptly sent to a patch of tomatillo plants. The weeds came up to my knees.
More and more folks showed up throughout the morning. Random people. Like, not farm-worker people. People like me. There were a couple college guys and an older man dressed for a rock concert. There was one other girl and a young, goofy freelance photographer who was so desperate for cash that he was considering taking a job as a child photographer in a mall. "But I don't want to be that guy!" he shrieked.
I really liked all of these random folks (except for the older guy. He was a horn-tooter). They were silly and excited about "farming" as it was new to all of them except for the other girl. She and I were proud to be more proficient weeders than our male co-workers and the patch we worked together outshone all other weeded patches.
We took our lunch break early and crowded around under a small square of shade in the field. It was here, after my polite "what are you random, poorly dressed for farming, people doing here" kind of questions that I was informed that this was a one day gig. Pardon?
They don't know what ad I saw but they had all responded to a call for willing weeders for a day or two. Just to pick up some cash and help this random farm with their weeding. "You mean y'all aren't here for jobs?" I asked, slightly embarrassed.
Nope. Just a day's work and a day's pay. Apparently the ad I saw was run by someone who didn't know that the farm manager already had someone for the job.
So I embraced my one day of farm work and I happily weeded alongside other city folks who were suddenly struck by what a great thing farms are. It was fun to watch.
Also, the heat didn't bother me too much and I was thrilled by this. "I'm back, baby!" I shouted, accompanied with a high-kick as I walked to my car. I gave the other girl weeder a ride back into Portland and we were great friends by the time I dumped her out at her place.
Now for an update.
Much has changed since this day of farming. I am still in Portland as I've had a few revelations and am, in many ways, stranded until I overcome some of my more detrimental personality flaws or find someone to drive me home. I'll explain later.
Since my day of farming, I had a heat blackout in a convenience store. It was a concert actually... in a convince store. Omar made some musical friends while I was away and though they are actually well known around town and play in many fancy venues, I guess they thought it would be fun and ironic to play in a run down hut that sells Hostess snacks and stale popcorn. (Portland freaks.)
The place was filled with so many people with grotesque body odor and piercings. It was SO hot in there and after about 20 minutes I got lightheaded. I ran to get water but I started seeing spots and I really didn't want to faint in front this crowd. "Dude, she must be wasted." they would sneer. "Way to go man!" they would tell Omar. All the while I'm entirely sober and unconscious on the sticky laminate floor of the Belmont Bodega. All of this shot through my mind as I ran to "the bar" and instead I clawed into Omar's arm, told him I was going to faint, and then I scampered off past the restricted area and the employee kitchen, and I finally came to, sitting on a broken chair next to the dumpster outside.
So I guess I'm not better.
Also, I'll tell you that I've kept in contact with my great weeding friend. We've texted and laughed and finally picked a place to meet and got all excited about it and when we got together, the awkward silence could be heard for miles. We had nothing to say to each other. I cringed for myself. I felt like I was watching a terrible first date except that I WAS the date. "How could this happen?" I thought throughout the duration of our blinking contest. Things had started off so well.
I'm feeling a bit hostile lately.
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