Texts between a Dairy Man and his wife:
Dairy Man (9:31 am): Hey, I’m going to Indiana. Might stay overnight. Ok?
Modern (9:32 am): What?!
DM (9:34 am): Is that ok?
MFW (9:37 am): Uuuuh when are you going?
DM (9:39 am): Now.
MFW picks up phone and dials.
DM: Hello?
MFW: (incredulous) You’re doing what!?
DM: Brant and I were talking about visiting his uncle’s dairy in Indiana and we decided this was the best day to do it. So we’re leaving in like 10 minutes.
MFW: Um, ok. And you’re staying overnight?
DM: Yeah. We want to stop in Shipshewana tomorrow to look at some heifers and machinery. Is that ok?
MFW: I guess. It must be nice to be a farmer, eh? It’s all loosey goosey over there. “Sure, I’ll leave the state today.”
DM: Yup! Living the dream. Are we good? I’m already late.
So, um, apparently the Dairy Man is gone for two days. Only in farm life do you wake up in the morning with a husband who isn’t going to Indiana and, by 9:30 a.m., it can all change. To be fair, I should mention that my particular farmer is always a fly-by-the-seat-of-his-pants kind of guy. It drives me mad. I’m organized, deliberate, and decisive. The Dairy Man is spontaneous, impulsive, and flexible. Our marriage works because we are able to meet somewhere in the middle. I would spend days on a trip to Indiana: packing a suitcase, Mapquesting the best possible route, grocery shopping so that the Dairy Man wouldn’t starve, doing laundry, making lists. The Dairy Man spent 10 minutes: he threw some things into a bag and hit the road.
Farm life is all of the things I am not. It can change in an instant. One minute you’re making a milk production spreadsheet, the next, you’re in a truck on the way to visit a dairy in Indiana.
Baffling, really. I just hope he brings me back a souvenir. And not the mooing kind.
Modern Farm Wife 
Jess, you are amazing. I love it! Keep these wonderful posts coming. I had my out loud laugh at the computer for the day. Love you both!
Sounds a lot like the Navy. Only there was no request for permission. 😉
I’m cracking up, this is exactly what happened to me, except it was WI and he did bring back mooing souveniers…I am always a planner and he loves to fly by the seat of his pants.
Yes! Isn’t it aggravating, Chelsey? But I suppose that’s what makes a marriage work – different ways of doing things. Thanks for stopping by!
Hi Jessica! Just stumbled across your blog. Love this post especially. I\’m originally from Glen Arbor, MI, became a farmer\’s wife and transplanted to Fremont, MI. My dairy man is also a fly-by-the-seat-of-his-pants kinda guy – so I can sympathize . Hope he brought you back a souvenir. Take care.
Hi Alysa! I’m glad you can relate! The dairy man did bring me back a tote bag from a grain distributor, so I suppose that counts as a souvenir? We LOVE Glen Arbor, btw. One of my favorite places in Michigan!