"The Hard Hat Diaries" Chapter One

The cat's out of the bag. I work for a trade magazine publishing house to pay my bills. (I look fabulous doing it, mind you. But that VISA ain't paying for itself. Just like I need a solid supply of Sauvignon Blanc and the pups need to eat...) But I am pushing my limits in ways I never thought possible. I mentioned in my post about #montgomerymove2012 that I would be going on a business trip to the backwoods of Mississippi...well welcome to the first installment of "The Hard Hat Diaries."

Woods Barbie in all her glory!

 A few weeks ago I was fortunate enough to accompany Jennifer, a freelance-work-from-home fellow HB editor on a trip to Mississippi. In three days we visited four loggers. I have a thing for shoes. Specifically, high heeled shoes, the more beautiful the better. Ever since I was a little girl, I’ve been what my family calls a Barbie doll. I’m the epitome of a girly girl. Spiders scare me. So, putting on some work boots, jeans, a neon orange vest I was told to wear in order to not die, and a hard hat was a little…hard to believe. Never one to shy away from an adventure, I went in with an open mind. I’m proud to report I did not die. There were no close calls, at logging operations anyway! Jennifer and I did have a moment or two where we couldn’t exactly pinpoint where we were… I actually got some pretty good pictures as well as some successful interviews.

The loggers were all extremely sweet and very understanding. Each went out of their way to explain the equipment to me and push aside my fears. What I didn’t expect to happen was one trying to set me up on a date with both his son and/or his grandson. The sweet older logger pegged me for a little younger than I am, detailing all of his grandson’s high school football accomplishments from the last year. When I kindly informed him, I was out of high school, in fact out of college; he quickly changed gears and starting talking up his son! Fresh from a divorce, the son, who I am sure, would die if he knew about his father’s antics, was healing and needed a good, fine woman. A good, fine woman, according to the father, like me. Poor guy.

I’m sure my first solo trip will be another adventure filled with all sorts of silliness, drive thrus and Comfort Inns, and I can’t wait! These trips were one of the reasons I both loved my job during the interview process and was horrified by it. I mean, a machine with a blade that cuts down one ton trees? AHHHHHHH! 

A Tracked Feller Buncher aka a machine with a blade that cuts down one ton trees