After a hefty day of Netflixin’ on Saturday, my watch history was looking like a sci-fi nerd’s dream (episodes of Stargate Atlantis and Firefly, plus the movies Serenity and Star Trek). So, on Sunday I decided to shake things up with a little Iowa-based American Pickers. In two episodes, my heart was aching for Iowa and the good old days on my family’s farms. I can remember chopping wood, catching bugs next to the corn crib, picking vegetables behind the barn, and–my favorite–trying to break foot-long chunks of ice off the buildings that had snow drifts large enough to climb to the roof. I remember being terrified of a rabid raccoon in a beat-down barn, stepping through bat poop in the attic of the “Mc Mansion” and climbing through hay and mounds of feed corn. These days it doesn’t quite trip my trigger, but the bug-dirt-outdoor-loving little Kristina couldn’t get enough.
Except when it came time to unload the wood when we got home. I hated that–no other 10-year-old in my school was subjected to that cruel labor.