Me, The "Real" Writer

I made the intention to write more on ye ole little blog, and what did I do, not write at all last week. Forgive me Father, for I am a Sinner.

Yesterday, as part of my "day job" we had our annual meeting of the minds, planning for the upcoming year ahead as well as look to the two approaching. As part of that annual review, my Editor-In-Chief gives the round up of byline articles. (A byline article in our publishing house is considering a full-length feature, so about 3,000 words, with photos.) I came in with 27: the most of any of our writers. By kind of a lot. (Six to be exact.) If one where to use editorial math, that's about one full-length college term paper every ten days.

Last year was really challenging at work in all the ways I never saw coming. But I wrote 27 features. I did 27 interviews, countless nights in Hampton Inns, and a few hundred thousand typos. I proved something to my superiors. Most importantly, I proved something to myself.

See, when you are a real writer—nothing against the bloggers out there hustling for a few hundred bucks in sponsored posts or freelance gigs, but when you are a writer whose family has health insurance because of your ability to tickle the keys, after years of schooling and seemingly insurmountable debt, it's a little different. There's something to prove not because you're out there hustlin', but because you sit in a space in a bullpen with taped up photos of your family and your favorite pen for jotting down notes.

There's always something to prove because you get to do this wonderful thing, you can be this super creative and undefined mess on a daily basis that’s a little bit magic, a little bit insane and a whole lot of nothingness.

But you have to prove your worth. I feel like I have to prove my worth, every single day. Prove every penny spent to put you in a coffee shop waiting for a 7:58 a.m. flight to nowhere is worth it. Inherently, I feel pressure attached to that.

Perhaps it's because I am a working mother now, and life as a writer and a mother isn’t how I saw it going in my mind. There are too many days where I am half a to-do list short or up too late drinking wine and watching television because I haven’t seen my husband, aside from a passing glance over morning coffee, in weeks.

Maybe my feelings of inadequacy at work stem from feelings of inadequacy at home. Lord knows I wouldn’t be the first working mother in that position, nor would I be the last.

Yet, when my boss and de facto mentor, read the totals yesterday morning everything came together. I belonged at the table I was sitting at. I felt a sense of pride in myself and my work that was almost selfish.

I had my "Hell yea mother fuckers, I volunteer, and mother twins, my husband doesn't abhor me most of the time, and I still cranked out more than you and they all did not affirmatively suck!!" moment. It felt so, so good.

Then it didn't. Then the doubt crept in and I was back in that CHOA-Egleston hospital room looking at my tiny son with all his wires and tubes and cords and I was so lost and unsure.

That's what being a real writer is. It's not the fun columns about breaking glass ceilings or finding clever ways to use hunting analogies in letters from the editor; it's realizing your shit can sometimes not stink, but only fleetingly. Luckily, in my case at least, the same fleeting confidence is what pushes me to write more, better, clearer, from the heart.

I'm not a poet; I'm not an essayist. I'm not a mommy blogger or a lifestyle blogger. I'm an English and Communications grad with a job in publishing I have no clue what I am doing with. And I'm just going to be okay. It will all work itself out because ten years ago I was going to be Rick Bragg or Elin Hilderbrand. Today I am Jessica Johnson and that means something. I've already turned in my first byline feature.

The Hard Hat Diaries: Feeling Punchy

Yesterday, someone told me they admired my ability to cope and juggle my life. That really struck a cord—because half the time I feel like I am not coping or juggling anything.

Do you ever see those instagrams from people with a picture of coffee and say they have completely dominated the day? That's never me. I am usually warming up my coffee five hundred times before 10 a.m. and I never am on top of emails or the to-do list. And to have a Starbucks is a real treat.

But I do stay busy, and because of that busy-ness, and constant travel, and constant terrible juggling act, sometimes I go a week without remembering I need to double check the drafts of my little online space and hit publish on the very best cookie recipe I've ever made. So I promise, even though it was written in my planner to share that recipe last week—it's happening this week. I hope. 

Life lately has been dominated by a week long conference and expo my company produces in Atlanta, Ga. at the OMNI Hotel at CNN Center. Being a tourist in my hometown is weird. Like super weird. Anyway, I worked five 16-hour in a row days in five-inch heels and a set of black pencil skirts, so I've been a little punchy.

How punchy, you ask? 

Well, there are four new videos of me on the internet, punchy.

Great screen cap, youtube. Really appreciate that one.

I have a stack of paperwork and story notes to swim through about seven feet high, so if you need me I'll be practicing how to not bob and weave while a handheld camcorder is six feet away from me—because clearly I need the practice. #thisiswhyiwriteandnotbroadcast

...KILLING ME WITH THE SCREEN CAP FREEZE FRAMES YOUTUBE KILLING ME....

'Timber Processing' Man of the Year

My job is unlike most. I'm not just a writer, I'm a cool writer. Being a trade magazine writer concentrating on the forest products industry means I have a lot of useless knowledge of supply chains, a working understanding of lots of heavy machinery, and perhaps most importantly, a realization that I am not like the rest in this field. A feeling of otherness I have never experienced before.

As a upper-middle class white girl from Atlanta that went to the right schools and ended up in a sorority at Alabama, I've never felt "otherness." Then I became Jessica Johnson, Associate Editor with Hatton-Brown Publishers. Since I began the Woods Barbie journey, things sure have changed—but the otherness never went away. If anything, it was amplified.

I remember as clear as a bell meeting old Tommy Battle in Wadley, Ga. in the meaty part of a Southern summer seven months pregnant with Fitz and Alex. It was hell. He stared at my belly for a good five minutes before speaking. Then he was unsure he wanted me to poke around his hardwood sawmill; I ignored him and walked right on in, asking the questions I needed to, showing him I wasn't some shrinking violet. When we finished, I got in the car, drove to a Hampton Inn, promptly took off my maternity work gear and laid on the bed with the air on 50° trying to cool off. I was not shrinking violet but I was hot as hell. I felt like I had something to prove. I feel like I have something to prove.

The otherness changed drastically though in late 2015. My boss announced that for the first time in 28 years, the annual Timber Processing Man of the Year award, an award that recognizes a figure in the sawmill business that is involved in their community, runs an excellent and high producing mill, and is involved in furthering the positive face of the lumber business, was going to be Jill Snider Brewer.

As the only woman on the editorial staff I was tasked with writing the story on Jill, her mill and why she was worthy of the award. It was a huge honor for her and for me. The following is an excerpt of the editorial I wrote for the Man of the Year issue, which hits mailboxes around the world this week. It was my "I am woman hear me roar" moment. It was the definitive point where I decided to stop noticing my otherness and just do my damn job. Stop acting like I have something to prove and realize I've proved it. I deserve what I've gotten and everything I have coming because I haven't stopped working hard. I now just have to keep the path.

From One Woman To Another

 I’m really proud of what came about from just two girls at two very different points of their sawmill exposure having a conversation. Above all else, Jill Snider Brewer inspired me. I’m a twentysomething young mother with a lot to learn about life and about sawmilling. She told me repeatedly she didn’t have all the answers, but the more I listened, the more I realized how much her comments about running a sawmill actually apply to real life.

When I spoke with Jill about the importance, and perhaps greater ineptitude of certain folks (read: fathers) on details she laughed it off. We then wound the conversation back to the topic of the day. I noticed how she was shy at first to tell me about her accomplishments and overall signature on Snider Industries. She told me at first she wasn’t so sure she wanted to accept the award at all. Throughout the interview she kept attempting to deflect the spotlight. Defaulting to her employees and her father as the real face of Snider Industries. “I’m always happy to be in the background, hopefully making everything successful,” she told me. 

That’s when it all came full circle. A real leader whether, in the home, in the front office or in the filing room, doesn’t try to be in the spotlight, they only care about setting everyone up for success.

I’ve read nearly all 28 Man of the Year stories, and that’s one thing they all have in common: a desire to set their mill, its employees, their communities and the lumber industry as a whole up for success.

It just took 28 years, and a woman, to articulate it.

The Hard Hat Diaries: Appalachian Psychics

A few weeks ago I made my third trip of the year to North Carolina, and even though I haven't had the most successful of trips in the past, each time I visited this year I actually almost forgot all about that little ER trip in Raleigh, which is probably 100% thanks to the amount of CookOut I consume on each trip. #gimmemilkshakes

North Carolina really has something for everyone, and since I usually traverse the state during my week long trips, I can say with confidence I really love it. In fact, I’m dying to head back to Little Washington now that the leaves are changing.

Or spend a long weekend around Appalachia. I mean seriously, doesn't it get any more beautiful than this?

Probably not. Unless of course I'm back on that sidewalk in Boone when a "psychic" was telling me I am going to get fired in March and my husband is going to leave me. That only took me a solid 36 hours of freaking out before I realized it wasn't true. Glad I didn't give her the $75 she wanted to reorder my chakra and aura color. Also, what's with all the Subarus? It seemed like every time I turned around in that area there was another damn Subaru.

Besides being able to temporarily escape the still blistering heat of Alabama, this last trip was for the Mid-Atlantic Logging & Biomass Expo…which means another edition of Woods Barbie: The Erin Andrews of the Forest.

Did I miss the class in college where you learned how to do live shots in the sun without squinting? Maybe I was just absent that day?

Day Trip: Little Washington, NC

A few weeks ago, on a recent Woods Barbie adventure, I found myself with an unexpected half day off. Instead of going for a long run or catching up on sleep, on a total whim I decided to head into Washington, NC, which looked like a "nice exit" off the highway. Boy, am I glad I did. I stumbled into an awesome little town, rich with history and plenty of things to do! Washington, about an hour and 45 minutes from Raleigh, would be the perfect weekend getaway!

When I think about the towns described in Nicholas Sparks novels, I think about Washington. This waterfront town is quaint, historic, and not without it's Southern charm.

 

 When I first got into the town I headed for the Chamber of Commerce. I was able to pick up quite a few helpful pamphlets and talk with a local on where to eat and what to see. I grabbed the information for the walking tour of Washington, and definitely hit a few of the spots, but I did not walk the full tour.

 

As early as 1585, the first English explorers visited the area that would become Washington. The town took shape in the 1770s and was named in honor of General George Washington. During the War for Independence, with Wilmington, Charleston and Savannah under British control, the Continental Army relied on Washington as a supply port. During the War Between the States, Washington fell early to the Federal troops and a fire destroyed the town. However, on the walking tour, and even just looking around, you can see many plaques, old buildings and points of historical interest. It was such a fun place to explore! 

I stopped for lunch at Down on Main Street, a local café with a view of the river. I enjoyed a chicken philly sandwich (amazing!) and grit cakes with some sort of spice I couldn't exactly place.

 The grit cakes were good, but that little bit of heat confused me a touch. I was expecting creamy and got a punch. I washed it down with a golden ale from a North Carolina brewery.

  After lunch I walked around the town and hit South Market Antiques & Little Shoppes, which boasts over 5000 sq. ft. of pretty much anything and everything you could think of. It was precious and had a good variety of items. I ended up bumping into one booth owner and chatted with him about my love for vintage jewelry.

I was able to pick up quite a bit of pieces, all very affordable. After my little shopping excursion I hit Rachel K's Bakery, another local favorite for a cookie the size of a manhole cover. Crispy edges and a gooey center, I can see why the women at the Chamber of Commerce recommended it. I grabbed a second cookie for the road and headed inland back to my hotel and, sadly, back to some writing.

 I don't often find myself able to have these little experiences while I'm gathering stories and I was so glad I made the time. I got back to my hotel actually feeling relaxed.

The Hardhat Diaries: The Great White North

As I don't always love to admit, I can be a little stubborn. So when I walked into my boss's office around Christmas and said I wanted to go to Maine in the beginning of February to get stories for our magazines, he told me I was nuts.

I of course ignored him and began gathering leads and setting appointments: Ready to head north.

It was an adventure from start to finish—including that quick day I spent in NYC during an ice storm!

But once I finally got to Maine, I couldn't have been happier, or frankly colder. I mean it was a different in that it was easily the most breathtaking thing I've ever seen. Remarkably, your body just adjusts, and instead of becoming an actual human icicle, as long as you are dressed correctly, -24° doesn't feel like you're shoved naked into a snow pile. I mean, it’s really, really, really, cold, but you can actually move your fingers around.

I will admit I was TERRIFIED to drive in four feet of snow, because I mean, FOUR FEET OF SNOW, WTF. Instead, I quickly learned that in Maine, snow is just a regular thing, and the plows, salt trucks, snow-throwers and other various winter-weather management machines handle the roads so it's actually quite nice to drive on. It was easier to drive on I-95 in Maine with four feet of snow on the ground than it is to drive on I-85 in Alabama during a regular rainstorm.

On the story trip front, there was nothing really out of the ordinary. I had great meetings, and saw wonderful scenery. I mean, seriously, beautiful.

 

Meeting with Chris and Jason Brochu at a coffee shop directly between their eastern white pine mill in Ellsworth, Me. and their corporate headquarters, and spruce mill, in Dover-Foxcroft, Me. reminded me of what I thought writing human-interest stories would be like. We had a great conversation and I was able to head from our meeting place, down the coast of Maine to their eastern white pine mill, right before it began shutting down for the day.

Once I wrapped up with the mill manager, I asked for a restaurant recommendation, as I hadn't eaten in about a day and a half.

 He recommended Finn's to me, an out of this world, traditional Irish pub. It reminded me of the pub from The Holiday, cozy, full of energy and great food.

So, of course, when on the coast of Maine, and you're told to go to an out of this world restaurant, the only thing you can do after your work is done is have some amazing freshly caught, wild-Haddock and a cider with the most incredible tomato-mac and cheese. #treatyoself

On my second to last day in Maine, I was fortunate enough to visit the continental U.S.'s northern most point: Fort Kent, a beautiful, vibrant small town. It is crazy to think that while I was stomping around in snow in front of the First Mile sign on Route 1, more than a few were probably sweating to death in front of a similar sign, in Key West, at the end of Route 1.

Logger Sherbey Morris and I had a great visit and I was able to see some equipment in action I never had before. As a wrap to our interview, he treated me to an authentic Maine red hot dog, at the best diner in northern Maine, one that’s been open since 1945, Rock's. It was delicious.

Sherbey's story has already been written, edited and printed, but my trip to Rock’s with him reminds me why it is I love this industry: Because when a writer from Alabama calls and says she wants to visit your operation, loggers not only say yes, but go out of their way to show how wonderful their slice of the world really is. 

The Hardhat Diaries: Bright Lights, Big City

So when I said I wanted to go to Maine in the dead of the craziest winter ever, I knew I was insane. But that's just how I roll.

I knew in my head that while my mother thought it was a huge deal, what with all the snow and all, that it shouldn’t be a big deal actually getting there. MAAAAANNNN, was I wrong.

Of course, I picked the worst day of the week to fly north, as a big snow and ice storm hit NYC RIGHT as I landed, leaving me, but shockingly somehow not my luggage, unable to get to Bangor. That's right, I was left with NYC for a day and night, while my bag traveled from NYC to Detroit, Detroit to Boston, Boston to Bangor.

Once it finally registered that I was actually alone in NYC for a day and night and staying in the heart of Times Square, with nothing but my camera bag, a totebag from the flight up and my fur coat, I think I actually started to cry.

See, I was dressed for a day of traveling, not a day of romping about the city. Nevertheless, I made it work. I bought a subway pass, charged up my phone (only to have it die on me) grabbed some cash and headed to "experience" New York.

Since I was on my per diem, and hadn't budgeted for an NYC experience, I tried to "do it" fairly inexpensively. At lunchtime, I found myself in Little Italy having one of the most phenomenal meals of my life. For $9.95, I had a three course Italian meal that literally warmed me to the core.

 Honestly, why have I never thought to dust my pasta gravy with cayenne AND crushed red pepper? And, I won't even talk about toasted sesame seeds on an Italian loaf…needless to say, this hole-in-the-wall is highly recommended.

After my adventure to Little Italy, still full and happy from my two red wine glasses and pasta arabiatta, I meandered around Chinatown, trying not to vomit into the snow at the various items for sale.

I wandered over to the Public Library and enjoyed a few open exhibits, which is sadly where my phone decided to stop working, leaving me alone with my thoughts in the city that never sleeps. It was incredible. I moved at my own pace, I fantasized about a life I'll never live, and only sang "Welcome to New York" to myself once. Okay, twice.

I headed back to my room before dinner, I had been up since 4 a.m. for my flight, and needed to decide about a dinner plan of attack. I ended up choosing the Heartland Brewery around the corner from Times Square, where my meal was "fine." Some of the best restaurants in the world, and I have a "fine" dinner. Alas, I was plumb worn out and already stressed about a week of interviews, my lost bag and knowing that I would once again have to get up around 4 a.m. to make my flight.

Thankfully, after one last late night stroll to Times Square, and a request of a friend back home to selfie with the fur, I said goodnight and goodbye to the busiest place on Earth

 

…only to be caught up in a "Stop, Don't Shoot" protest.

God, I love my life. Even if I spent a solid hour staring at the New York times Building, willing myself to go inside and demand to speak to HR: #thehardhatdiaries aren't too shabby. 

The Hardhat Diaries: Woods Re-entry

I told myself that nothing would change when I had kids. God how laughable that is. I barely have time to breathe and be what the internet says is a good mother and do my job and everything else. Let's not even talk about the state of my house on daily basis. I'm fairly confident we could build a fifth dog out of the fur in my living room.

Momma, you're so embarrassing.

BUT ANYWAY, since I do still have my job that means going back to the woods. How wonderful it felt. If 2011 me read this she would have an absolute fit: kids and the logging woods? So let's pretend I just took this trip, instead of the reality that this trip was nearly three weeks ago.

My woods re-entry was a gradual process: I first went on a day trip to middle Georgia to grab a quick story. Man, it felt good. The weather was perfect, the equipment was new and my interview went great. Two weeks later I left on my first official trip since August, heading to Arkansas and Louisiana, places Woods Barbie knows well.

Much to my relief, my now much longer hair still fits up under my hardhat in a nice braided bun, my real denim, high waited work pants still fit, and even though I had to do an emergency steel toes purchase, I can still clomp around in them.

On the story gathering front, there was nothing Earth shattering to report. The stories were all good, lots of young guys in the mix. Fun equipment to watch in action, if you're into that sort of thing. I also got to sort of trespass to get some photos of a biomass plant being built. I saw a coyote trying to find it, which is worth reporting. Obviously, my boss was super supportive as per usual on these endeavors.

I spent the bulk of my nights in Monticello, Ark. and Monroe, La. Monticello is a great town and any time I am in southeast Arkansas, I prefer to stay there. The food is just out of this world. I make a point to go to local favorite Ray's each time, but this last time I also went to Bubbie's, another favorite with the locals. Monticello-ians are serious about their onion rings! These things were impressive to say the least.

Ray's double with rings

Bubbie's double cheese add lettuce with rings

I had an absolute blast playing around Natchitoches, La. after my last two appointments before heading home. As Louisiana’s oldest city, it has all the charm of New Orleans without the grubby meth feel.

Cobblestone streets, two story balconies and river front views, made this charming Louisiana city a wonderful pit stop.

The ironwork was beautiful!

If it wasn't so far away, I would love to come spend a weekend at one of the B&Bs. I had lunch at Mama's Oyster House and can see why both of my loggers that day told me I just HAD to have lunch there. My fish po boy was delicious. Made me wish it wasn't the middle of the day and I could enjoy a large hurricane and some blues.

#9to5TotalSocial

Is it just me, or do you hear Dolly Parton's voice singing, "workin' nine to five," every time someone asks you about your 9 to 5 life? No? Just me? Okay, moooooving on.

Today I am linking up with Sarah for the #9to5TotalSocial to talk about one of my favorite things: the glam life of #WoodsBarbie.

If you're new around here, you might not know what I do for a living. I'm a writer and magazine editor, sometimes crappy photographer and social media poster. I work for a small trade magazine publishing firm that puts out seven different magazines in the forest products industry. What does that mean, exactly? 

That's me down in the center, but I bet you figured that out.

I'm responsible for contributing feature articles, photos and columns to all seven magazines. I also "shepherd" one of the magazines, which means I am responsible for culling the entire thing together every month. So I read every page about three million times over, write the editorial at the front, check the pictures and hassle the other writers and PR people to get their stuff in on time. Along with a few others, I contribute to each magazines' blog, Facebook and Twitter. I also run a Facebook and Twitter just for #thehardhatdiaries related adventures. Each month I also put out an e-newsletter relating to two of the magazines. Holy crap, written out like this, little #WoodsBarbie has quite the list of responsibilities. Did I mention I was the only girl in the department? And one of the few women in the industry? I am. 

 HOWEVER, thanks to this job, I get to travel. A lot. All over the world. It's actually sometimes awesome. Sometimes it isn’t, but sometimes, it really is. Setting my own schedule, traveling the backwoods of this country (and spreading my wings all the way to Finland) has given me a lot of opportunities that others can only dream of. While I might complain about my job, I am very fortunate to not have to sit in a cubicle all day, every day, 52 weeks a year. 

In the past three years I've been… 

All over the South and learned that we are in fact, living stereotypes sometimes.

This is a real place in Mississippi.

 To Michigan to discover that while you need a jacket no matter the time of year, it definitely does not suck up there.

I just couldn't get over the gorgeous blue sky!

Operated countless pieces of heavy machinery and power equipment, to further solidify the personal belief that I am in fact, a total badass.

There is also video, if you need more proof.

On the trip of a lifetime to Finland, where I realized sometimes a charmed life isn’t what you thought it might be, but that doesn’t make it any less charmed. I also realized I would like to move to Europe pretty much as soon as possible.

Literally on top of the world

My "9 to 5" isn't like most peoples, in fact on the road, it can sometimes be 6 to 3! I love what I do, even if it means doing something I never thought I would. Because what little aspiring writer from Atlanta dreams of being around this all the time?

The Hardhat Diaries: Bacterial Infection Edition

I've been a little MIA on the internets. Mainly because I've been off living the glam life of getting a terrible bacterial infection and then flying (literally) all around the world for work... More on Finland later, I SWEAR.

I spent nearly two weeks, both of which I was sick as a dog, up in North Carolina and New York in late September/early October. There were really no highlights to the trip. ZERO. (Unless you count getting tested for malaria at an Urgent Care facility in rural North Carolina...)

Except of course these two videos...

Bear in mind, I was battling strep throat (days like 8 & 9), had a 102 degree fever, it was raining, and it literally pained me to talk. Oh, and my hair? Yeas, let's not go there.

Sometimes I forgot how decidedly NOT glamorous my job is.

The Hard Hat Diaries: Time to Spread My Wings

Coming off my week long "Loop" trip, I had 48 hours at home before heading to Atlanta and catching a plane for Flint, Mich. My quick one day stop over in Atlanta yielded some delicious home cooking I had desperately been craving, and as a bonus, a girl date as well. One of my best friends lived with my parents in August as she finished up an internship at the Georgia Aquarium (I KNOW HOW COOL!?!?!) so during my stop over, we were able to hang out for the first time in a long time. Too bad she wasn't as excited as I was.

I love you too, Little Shelby Fish Guts.

I flew out nice and early to Flint, my first work trip where I actually took a plane. This was huge for me. I still drove clear across the state of Michigan, and accidentally to Indiana once, but to actually fly to my destination and not drive was such a relief. Especially since it would have been a like bazillion hours in the car just to get to Michigan from Montgomery. Nevermind the added mileage to get to my interviews!

I don't go anywhere without my trusty atlas!

Just like when I am in points South, in Michigan I was story gathering. Though, I spent two days attending an equipment manufacturer's new equipment demonstration and anniversary celebration. (Say that three times fast.)
 
I met some interesting people, including hanging out with Bobby and Lori Goodson of Swamp Loggers, which is like hanging out with the Ben Affleck and Jennifer Garner of the logging world. Saw some pretty cool equipment, like this bad boy, and came to the realization that Michigan might be one of the most beautiful states I’ve been too...If only it wasn't so damn cold. I mean COME ON I was wearing a sweater. In August. And I still ended up with some cold/flu like nasty virus. Yuck.

I know your college football is subpar, but can your weather be better? Please? By midday Wednesday I had a pretty bad cold, and by my flight home Friday I was ready to crawl in bed and never leave. I will also never, ever, ever fly with a cold again. I was literally crying during take off and landing. I'm pretty sure it took days for my ears to recover.

The Hard Hat Diaries: God Bless Whataburger

Holy crap! It's...September? Already? Where'd August go? Heck, where'd July go? I keep telling myself I'm going to make time for this little personal slice of internet, and then I go home and find Netflix. Sad truth. I know I can't be the only one. {Speaking of which, it only took me one month to rewatch every episode of Greek. Remember how awesome that show was? CAPPIE&CASEY4EVA}

July was a blur of basically nothing....August on the other hand...

Well I went on not one, but two Woods Barbie adventures, received my first Influenster box and my first Cara Box, as well as began year two as Miss Jessica. So I have plenty of material. Guess it's time to start writing...

August has been by far the craziest month of travel I've had in a long while. First up was what I like to call a week long "Loop" trip, hitting Mississippi, Arkansas and Louisiana for stories. This time, however, I added Texas to my list. I'd only been to Texas once before, to Fort Worth, so I was excited to expand my horizons. AKA add another state to my every growing list of states I've gotten lost in.  Texas has LOTS of Whataburgers, which is basically the best food ever. Happy little me didn’t mind Texas one damn bit! Gone are the days of surviving on Sonic. THANK GOD. I don't think I could eat another bite of Sonic if my life depended on it. Seriously. 

This stack is one day going to be toilet paper!

The week was basically a blur between accidentally making my phone think it was March 2011, remembering to take real time marketing photos, actually getting to drive one of the giant pieces of machinery I write about, and seeing a bear.

Yes, you read that correctly: I saw a bear. I was piloting a Chevy 200, which is a wanna be Chevy 300 which is a wanna be Bentley{don't I get the best rental cars?}, so I was NOT confident that the bear couldn't paw it's way in. Hence no photographic evidence. I was lost on some backwoods Arkansas state highway, trying to find Louisiana, when out pops a damn bear. BEAR! During the bear debacle, my boss starts texting me about the movie Deliverance. Again. I really don’t think I ever want to see that movie. Ever. 

Sadly, those were the major highlights of the week. Compared to most trips, I laid low. Though I went from boots and jeans Friday morning to a black tie fundraiser Friday night. Ahhh, the beautiful dichotomy of my life. 

Woods Barbie Reflects: Year One

Lately I have been a little "distracted." Lots of things have been happening, both good and bad, and I'm just not sure what the hell I'm doing with myself. While I sort that out…or try to at least, I had the opportunity to write my first editorial for Southern Loggin' Times. A serious reflection on the last year of my life. My first year in the woods.

And it was way harder than I ever thought it would be.

 See, my entire world changed when I joined the editorial team at Hatton-Brown. I traded in my high heels for Wolverine men's work boots. My sundresses for good ole fashioned Levi 501's.

One of my favorite parts of this editorial was coming up with the following list: the twelve most important things the forestry industry (& my job) has taught me.

One: In the most simple of terms, the smell of pine mixed with diesel is wonderful. It reminds me why I love my job and I am grateful to have the chance to spend some time outside. It does some good for the soul.

Two: Loggers are some of the best people in the world. As a Louisiana logger once told me, there are many misconceptions about this industry, but the biggest one is what loggers are really like. We need to fight to change these misconceptions.

Three: Some words are interchangeable and commonly accepted to stand for other things. Some don't.

Four: There are some companies that really are the embodiment of everything I hate: greed, stupidity and stepping on the little guys to get ahead.

Five: I'm never going to not get lost. As a Mississippi logger put it, "you need to brush up on your left and your right."

Six: Faith is a wonderful thing. In the last year my faith has been revealed to me in ways I never thought possible.

 

Seven: I love the sound of a chain flail delimbinator. (Pictured above for you nonheavy machinery people.)

Eight: Sonic Drive-Thru is in fact delicious, but a small person such as myself should not eat it for eight out of eleven meals and not expect to get sick. Try out the meat and three place. It's worth it every single time.

Nine: This industry, unlike any I've been around before, is a family. People look out for each other.

Ten: The EPA needs to slow their F'n roll.

Eleven: My interviews are fun. I love getting to know this extended family I find myself a part of, and sharing their stories with me is an honor. But I also like to laugh a little in the process. And it is always, always okay to laugh at me. I’m still getting the hang of the woods and I’m bound to make a fool out of myself.

Twelve: Riding in a giant piece of equipment over a bunch of trees in seven feet deep water, sitting on the lap of the operator can make for an interesting conversation and can get you some great pictures. It can be a little awkward though, when climbing out.   

I don't know what year two will bring for little Woods Barbie, but I can honestly say I can't wait to find out... and getting to this point, it's been a helluva ride.

The Hard Hat Diaries: To Pee or Not to Pee?

It's funny how I have begun to measure my Woods Barbie trips. Not by the hours I spend in the car, or the miles I drive. But in the amount of drive thru meals I consume. How many Hampton versus Holiday Inns I lay my head in.

Which is just sad.

But, frankly, it's the reality of "traveling for work," at least when it comes to my job. I'm sure the glamorous people of the world that work glamorous jobs travel a little different than I do. Good for them. I wear work boots, a hard hat and never forget to pack my sense of adventure. Or GPS.

Florida is one of those states I really haven't (at least prior to last week) had a chance to explore. While I'm sure south Florida is lovely, and God knows the Keys are where it's freaking at, north and central Florida, well you kinda reminded me of Talladega, Ala.

I did get to spend one afternoon at the hotel's pool, soaking in some Florida sun. So, win? This pool mind you, was at a Hampton Inn in Lake City, Fla., and I could literally see I-75 from my lounger. We shared a parking lot with a RV dealership.  It wasn't quite as trailer park as your wild imagination might make it seem. But close. VERY close. 

Big highlights of this trip: I got lost, big time. (Surprise, surprise.) I didn't get a single marriage proposal. (Depressing.) I spent six hours with the same logger. He had so much to say, and I was grateful that the interview was so in depth. But around hour four of being in the woods, I literally had to think about which was worse: peeing in the woods without toilet paper or wetting my pants.

I'll let you draw your own conclusions as to what I selected. 

The Hardhat Diaries: YouTube Sensation!

Just call me Erin...Andrews that is. Because I am well on my way.

I can file this under "things I've always wanted to do: become a broadcast reporter."

The Hardhat Diaries: Watching TV in Spanish...in Louisiana.

Each time I go out into the woods I find myself in interesting situations. I think that might just be the nature of my existence. Growing up, I was a bit of a Murphy's Law type kid. If it could go wrong, it would.  As an adult, I've shaken that to an extent (…though not really at all. who am I kidding?) But out on the road, no matter how many times I look at a map, consult the atlas or listen to my GPS, I get lost. I rationalized that in 2503 miles (the final total of this last story gathering trip) a wrong turn every now and then isn't the worst thing in the world. 

It does always make me feel a little stupid. Especially when it makes me late. AND I AM ALWAYS LATE. But at the end of the day the loggers are always ready and willing to help me find them. I think that is one of the reasons I love this business I fell into so much. One of the reasons I find myself pushing my own limits, because these guys are good guys. They are helpful. Smart. Caring. Hardworking. I'm lucky to go on these adventures and meet them, have them show me a little about themselves, how they work and what their lives are like. It's an eye opening experience and I am lucky to have it. Even if it means eating Sonic for five meals in a row, no lie, or having to watch one of my favorite television shows in Spanish because I couldn't find the English channel. 

Yes, you read that correctly, I watched The Bachelor this past week in Spanish. In Winnfield, Louisiana. No I don't understand why I couldn't find the English version of ABC. No, I didn't really put that much effort into finding the English version of ABC. Yes, it did in fact make that complete buffonary of that television show better. No, I didn't understand a lick of what they were saying. But just as well, I was never really sold on Sean as a Bachelor and even in Spanish all those girls seemed BACHSHITCRAY.

As the fire of industry burns...Al Gore gets pissed.

Life could be worse, and lord knows I bitch my friends' ears off about my job/life/Montgomery, but really. I do what I love. What's so bad about that? How freakin' cool is it that I am around all this big equipment that literally helps make thousands of items we use every day?

The Boobie Bungalow

Originally I wanted this to be up Saturday but "life" got in the way…and by life I mean sleeping for like 17 hours straight and then dragging my butt to work.

For my job I travel, a lot, to seemingly random locales. (Why can’t people log in places like New York City or Southern California?) I find myself in the swamp land of south Georgia, the hills of Mississippi, the flat land of Arkansas. Discovering dear ole Dixie has really been a high point for me and my sense of adventure just seems to keep growing. Then I went to a place called Louisville, Ky. for a lawn and garden tradeshow…and woof.

The four days I spent in Louisville were something straight out of a movie. First example, the eight hour car ride there: did you know there is a strip joint south of Nashville called the Boobie Bungalow. No? Me neither. But google it, I promise you won’t be disappointed. Myself, the house’s web guru (a 23 year old Baptist youth minister) and my beloved be-moustached coworker in his mid fourties with a love of all things ironic and creepy found it hilarious. Not only did a twenty-minute conversation, inside of a rented Dodge minivan, ensue about the Boobie Bungalow but for the remainder of the trip the Boobie Bungalow was discussed. As in, “Oh wow, that chick looks like a reject from the Boobie Bungalow.” 

German "booth babe,"  definitely a loaner from TBB.

The tradeshow had sponsored concerts each night. Of course for the open bar concert Kansas played. I had to DD. For the big concert with Eli Young Band we still had press seats but not an open bar. This was the night I chose to drink…to the complete jerk that took my credit card from the Hard Rock Louisville: you really suck. I hope an entire army got completely blitzkrieged on the $250+ you spent in one night at a bar, where wells were like $4.50. Assclown.

Enjoying while he could. 

In my line of work I write about some pretty heavy machinery. Machinery that costs upwards of $250,000 a piece. I’m not usually allowed to touch said machinery. See also: said machinery cuts down trees and I would rather not be responsible for that kind of thing. I can see the news item now, “Little logging reporter causes fatal accident killing herself and three others in El Dorado, Ark.”

 BUT, I also write about machinery that is a little more run of the mill consumer friendly. For example, this MSRP $599 Lithium Ion battery powered Oregon self-sharpening chainsaw. I got to run it while Dan my be-mustached coworker, the VP of Oregon, and the product manager for Oregon chainsaws watched me. I liked it…a lot.

Please notice this awk part of my hair.

Oh and then there was the riding commercial grade lawnmower. This puppy sure is a beaut. MSRP $7,999. (Why did they let me drive that thing I’ll never know.) I got her to top out at about 3 MPH. My friend riding along is the product manager for the Ariens family of companies ZTR riders. (Yes, all this power equipment jargon is…well, it is what it is. But as my dear friend Brian always says, fake it til ya make it. Even I don’t really understand fully what the jargon all means.) This, y’all, is living.

I can honestly say that pure elation on my face is not faked. I had a damn good time.