Maybe the third time will be the charm on this post.
Kathy, the blog mama, has gotten involved in another meme. This time though, I volunteered. She has posed 5 questions that I will be answering below. But first, I must impart the rules of said meme.
The rules, according to the blog mama, are as follows:
Leave me a comment saying “interview me”. The first five commenters will be the participants. I will respond by asking you five questions.
You will update your blog/site with the answers to the questions.
You will include this explanation and an offer to interview someone else in the same post.
When others comment asking to be interviewed, you will ask them five questions. (Write your own questions or borrow some.)
That bit of business being done, I will now attempt to answer these questions for the third time. Don't ask.
K: You, Phoenix, are a midwestern girl. Born and bred in the heartland. Explain for the folks on the coasts (and around the world) what it's like to live here. Detail the pros and cons for them.
No softball questions, I see.
Living in the Midwest is fantastic! "Flyover country" as it is often called, has much to recommend it. Personally, I like the fact that it isn't completely paved over, that there are wide expanses of green. You can see the stars at night, as they are not obscured by city lights. The air is clean and the people are friendly. Traffic is not usually a big issue, in many locales you can drive miles without meeting another car on the highway. The people do not live one on top of another, crammed in like sardines. There is plenty of elbow room to be found. The people of the Midwest are... real. They tend to be honest hard-working sorts who will tell you what they think. There is a real sense of community in the Midwest too. If a farmer dies, his neighbors will come together to get the widow's crops in, oftentimes before they attend to their own. If there is a prairie fire, farmers and ranchers from miles around come together to fight the fire. It is just the way it is. They don't stand and gawk, they work to fix the problem. The Midwest is home. I can be at home in any small town in the Midwest because the people are generally accepting and want to be neighborly. It is a place where you know your neighbors and their children. It is a place where we watch over our neighborhoods with the pride of a mother lion.
There are drawbacks to living here in Mid-America, I suppose. Where I am from, you have to drive 4 hours (and two states away) to get to the mall. Think about that for a minute. The nearest convenience mart is 25 miles and the nearest decent grocery store is 1 hour away. It is something you learn to deal with early on. There is no popping out to pick something up. You have to plan your trips. You spend a lot of time in the car, but this leads to good discussions and lots of reading. You also have to suffer the imperfect supply of specialty items. For example, the grocery store is not likely to have every possible ingredient for some ethnic dishes, unless of course it is a prominent local ethnicity. It means I have to call Marshall Field's to order my Chanel makeup instead of just picking it up after work. I do a great deal of shopping online and this helps the issue immensely. All in all, I have to say I much prefer living in the Midwest where the traffic and the crime rates are usually lesser.
K: Your work has something to do with Agribusiness, which some people consider to be a dirty word. Give me an example of one common misconception you run up against in regard to the field you work in. Lavish us with the details of what you would say to these people if you didn't have to worry about being rude.
The most common misconception that a woman in Agriculture faces daily is that, if she's a woman in Ag...she must be same-sex oriented. It has always been a good ol' boy's club. As such, it can be tough to be the new girl on the block. I've been asked "Who did you sleep with to get that new truck?" by a co-worker. I've heard it all. You are either a lesbian or too dumb and too young to actually know anything. These good ol' boys are resistant to change and some react defensively when pushed into accepting a female as an equal. You'd think we were past this, but oh, no. One time I left a client a message on his home answering machine. His girlfriend threw such a hissy fit over a woman calling his home (however legitimate and professionally motivated) that she called my boss and requested that I not call anymore. I, of course, had to explain that I needed spray records. My boss agreed to call them from then on. Ridiculous! And all because I don't have that other equipment. Furthermore, because my name is somewhat gender-vague, I am often mistaken for my own secretary. A woman is answering the phone: it must be a secretary.
Were I to have the chance to speak candidly to these good ol' boys, sans ramifications, I would say something like this:
Look, Honey, I may not have a pe%is, but that doesn't mean I don't have a brain. As a matter of fact, statistics would suggest that my mind is on my job more often than my male counterparts can claim. It must be so pesky thinking about sex all the time. My breasts do not get in the way of me doing my job. You may not be able to see past them, but I assure you, I have absolutely no problem doing so. Furthermore, you trust your wife with aspects of your business; are you just playing fast and loose with your business health, or are you willing to submit to the idea that a woman can do this job? I realize Agronomy is in large part about Math and Science, but I assure you that lack of a dangling sexual organ will not impede me. As a matter of fact, I passed the CCA exams in my first sitting, something very few men (the predominant test takers) can claim. I will not be stereotyped to fit into your box of expectations. Either give me a chance to prove myself, or go live out your fantasies with your cows and goats.
K: You enjoy baking. What has been your most spectacular success in this field, and conversely, what didn't work out so well?
I love to bake! Actually, I enjoy all cooking. My cookies are my greatest success. They are loved by many and have earned me a bit of acclaim. As a matter of fact, my extra large Christmas Cookie Tins, I’ve been told, are worth $60 on the retail gourmet cookie market. I am really good at all desserts, with my pies coming in a close second to my cookies.
The biggest failure I ever had was when my Prince and I first started cohabitating. I wanted to make him this potato dish that is baked in a cream sauce. I followed the recipe faithfully and labored over the sauce lovingly. Despite the fact that the recipe called for 45 minutes of bake time, two hours in the oven still left those potatoes hard and crunchy, not at all soft as you would expect them to be. Then I tried to microwave them. 20 minutes of that was equally fruitless. What else could I do? I cried. My Prince was naturally confused. He didn’t understand what the big deal was. So, the dish failed. In my mind though, it spoke of my future failings as a wife and mother. In the end, he agreed to be more sensitive, I agreed to not take cooking so seriously, and we both agreed that that recipe would never be attempted again. The Amazing Un-cook-able Potato hit the trash can. I never looked back.
K: You're an anonymous blogger. Why did you choose to blog anonymously? Do you feel it gives you more leeway to write certain things than if you attached your name to your work? Do you ever feel the compulsion to fib to your readers, knowing full well that they'd have no idea if you were telling the truth or not?
I blog anonymously for one reason and one reason alone: SAFETY. You see, in real life I have been stalked by one psycho and nearly raped by another. I don’t want to be the first victim of a google search, hence my anonymity. As a “citizen journalist” I lack the bodyguard and the ability to pay one. My personal protection comes down to me and my Walther PPK. So, I don’t put my name on my blog.
Anonymity does lend an amazing amount of freedom. It allows me to call ‘em like I see ‘em. I can be free to say whatever I like without the self-censoring worries about ramifications. Anonymity allows me to be very honest. I would not ever consider fibbing to my readers. I don’t want to lose the credibility, or get caught in some stupid lie. Now, that doesn’t mean that I always tell the whole truth either. I withhold some things as a way to preserve my anonymity and because there are private things that I don’t want to share. I think this is my prerogative.
K: How did Prince Charming propose?
Prince Charming and I had been dating long distance for 5 years in a haphazard manner. He wasn’t very attentive and I was getting sick of us never making any time for each other. One day I delivered an ultimatum: make an effort, or I’m outa here.
About three months later, I noticed a marked change in his behavior. He made the effort to call several times each week and we started seeing each other more often. Six months into this new leaf, he called me up late one night and said, “I’m in trouble.”
I, Miss Fixit that I was, wanted to help in anyway that I could. But every woman out there knows what conclusion I jumped to when he claimed to be in trouble. He was insistent, so I agreed to meet him last minute for the coming weekend. But until we actually got together, I had a nonstop four-day headache. I was dreading whatever the news was, sure it was going to put an end to my happiness.
When I arrived in the hotel room, he was asleep so I took some Tylenol before waking him. I asked him to tell me what was up. I felt very fragile, expecting the coming end of our relationship.
He said, “This isn’t really working anymore. What would you think of us living together? You can move to Madison or I can move down there, either way.”
“Umm…okay,” I said. I’m still holding my breath waiting for the bad news.
“Well,” he said, “if you think that is a good idea, what would you think of us getting married?” He whipped out the ring.
I’m still waiting for the other shoe to drop, right? “Okay. Yes.”
“You don’t seem very excited.”
“I want you to tell me the bad news already! It doesn’t matter what it is, just tell me.”
“There isn’t any bad news.”
“You said you were in trouble,” I said.
“Well, it wasn’t something bad. I’ve just had this on my mind.”
“Oh,…okay.”
So, eventually I got over the anxiety and realized that he was just an idiot. I swear, to this day, that has been the most nervous I’ve ever been. The proposal was a complete surprise. I didn’t cry, mostly because I was annoyed. I thought he was confusing the issue and just wanted him to spill the news already. I have a real knack for working myself into a state, I guess.
That’s it. If you want to be interviewed next, leave a comment.
Labels: Meme Time
