What's Love Got To Do With It?

Ahh, Valentine's Day.

When I was young, Valentine's Day meant two hours away from school work to exchange paper valentines and feast on cupcakes with red icing that left our entire class looking like blood hungry vampires. 

In high school I went on a first date on Valentine's Day. The shy boy from across the county brought me a dozen roses. Poor kid - he was so obligated. 

In college, Valentine's Day was more of a girls' night (as though we didn't have enough) than a sappy date night. Flowers from out west sat on my vanity while with my girlfriends I toasted another February 14 farewell. 
Really, we could have found anything to toast to that night....passing Chemistry, our senior year, getting that job interview...

February 14, 2007

Last year on February 14 I spent the day emailing back and forth with a guy a met in Denver (his name is Cody) and my girlfriends, analyzing every flower picture posted, taken with a stapler in the background. 
Every predicted proposal. 
Every mention of "hubby", "man of my dreams" and...."love."

But really, what's love got to do with it?

Definition of love from old Mr. Webster:

¹love

 noun \ˈləv\

Definition of LOVE

1

a (1) : strong affection for another arising out of kinship or personal ties <maternal love for a child> (2) : attraction based on sexual desire : affection and tenderness felt bylovers (3) : affection based on admiration, benevolence, or common interests 

_________________________________________

And this is how a few of my Facebook friends define love:

• Just love the busy season! Keeps me sane!! LOL
• Michelle's dress: I LOVE IT!
• Got your invite to Caleb's party today - I love them :)
• Luv my baby boy> No mater wat! (this accompanied a photo of a steer)
• Love getting RSVPs for our wedding!!! Hope I get a bunch more soon so I don't have to stalk people lol! 

All of the sudden, we love (or worse, luv) every one and everything. We love songs and television shows and new cars and clothes. We are so guilty of saturating our language with "love" that it holds little value anymore. 

Don't get me started The Bachelor. I tuned in for an hour this week (guilty) and heard the "L" word something like 6 times. You love him? You LOVE him?! You have never had to wash his dried up toothpaste off the side of the sink. You haven't experienced him drunk with his best friends. You've never even met his father to have some sort of gauge as to what you may be getting into. 

It is so, so special to tell someone you love them for the first time. What a moment to remember. But how exciting can telling them you love them be, if you've already used the word three times earlier in the evening?

6:30: PM: That's my favorite shirt you own; I love it. 

7:15 PM: I love their bleu cheese dressing. 

8:40 PM: I loved her when she played in Everybody Loves Raymond. 

10:30 PM: Oh, and I love you. 

Really?

I remember playing in my Grandma Bowman's yard when I was pretty young. During our playing and gallivanting around, one of us kids had promised another something and then broke the contract. The disappointed one did what any kid would: reported the lack of follow through to Momma. I remember we all got scolded that Sunday afternoon. Momma told us that a promise was a very serious thing, and none of us, not Laura, Luke or Lindsay, were mature enough to make a promise to anyone else. At that point in time, we simply didn't understand the commitment that a  promise entailed. 

Then and there, a promise became a pretty serious thing. 

And love is, too.

Sure, there are different types of love, but I consider all of them powerful. Right now, I'm committing to not throw the "L" word around. I used to be pretty good at watching my usage. In fact, I recall one summer night when I told a guy I was, "completely in......like.....with you". Good way to promptly end a date. I just wasn't there yet. 

I believe a thing as powerful as love deserves a correct context.

"I just love Valentine's candy. It's so good," remarked Cody one day a couple weeks ago as he chomped away on a package of sweet tarts. 

"You use that love word a lot," I responded, smiling at him. 
A few second passed. Cody was chewing. 

"Linds, please just know that the love I have for sweet tarts is a totally different kind of love that I have for you. Just, trust me. Two different loves."

That brief exchange inspired this entry. 

And, I rest my case.  

Keeping Time

When I was a young girl I was lucky enough to have my best friend also be my cousin. With less than three months separating us in age, Kathleen and I spent our fall and spring breaks at Grandma and Granddad's farm. In the summer we'd spend a week during the Preble County Fair. 

We ate pizza for breakfast, popsicles for lunch and cheeseburgers for dinner. 

We'd sit on the markers at the end of the driveway and wait for Mikey Dare to drive by. When we finally saw a Dare truck coming down the road, we were too shy to even wave. We'd usually jump off the concrete land marker and hide behind it. But that is a blog for another day...

Then time passed. We got involved in other things (Kathleen successfully pursued music while I attempted toe touches in a purple and gold uniform) and sadly our time at that farm in Ohio seemed less and less. 

But, before we grew up and forgot what it was like to be 10 years old, we buried a time capsule. 

After finishing a pale of ice cream (with the help of Granddad), we filled it with pieces of our young lives. The good news is I can only recall a few things that Kathleen and I put in that time capsule, which is so exciting. The opening will be even more telling of our childhood.  I know that we put popsicle wrappers and a newspaper from the weekend we were there. 

We buried the capsule right next to the milk parlor. I remember having a hard time determining the year that we would open it: either in 2033 or when we turn 33. We settled on opening it at the age of 33, since we were unsure if we would have enough memory left when we're 49-years-old in 2033. Oh, perception. 

Now, 33 seems just around the corner and I anxiously await finding that capsule again with Kathleen. 

I think I get an appreciation for those types of ideas from Momma. When she and Dad remodeled our home in the '80's, Momma left notes in the walls that they built. Notes about our family, the price of groceries and gas. Notes about life as we knew it. 

This summer I plan on burying another. It will be a summer of change for myself; time to close one chapter and blaze a glorious trail into another. At no other point in my life will things be just as they are today. 
And that is the case for everyday. 
For everyone.
Each sunrise opens new doors, new opportunities. 
Each day changes life. 
How will we remember it? 

Bowman Superior Genetics

Greens Fork, Indiana

So what should I put in a time capsule at 28? 

Current events. What is making news in the United States? What is our president doing? What are the popular television shows or musicians? 

Numbers. The price of milk, bread, gas and hairspray. 28 or 88, I will always go through hairspray more quickly than I do milk. 

Letters to myself. What makes me happy? What do I worry about? What do I look forward to? Who do I wish I knew better? Where do I want to visit? 

Art. I'd love to have Marlee and Harrison draw pictures for me so they can see their works of art years later. I'd also love for one of them to become famous so Aunt Lindsay's time capsule will pay for her funeral. 

Newspapers. Just one or two. Maybe the real estate section to see what houses sold for. Maybe the comics. 

Photos. Lots of them. Photos of my home, interior and exterior. Photos of Bowman Superior Genetics. Family photos. Photos of my vehicle. My workplace. Components of my life. 

My goals. Where do I think I'll be in 10, 25 or 45 years? Much more importantly, where do I want to be?

My boots. Just one pair. One that I can obviously live without for a few...decades. A pair with a story to tell. 

Burying a time capsule is an easy way of keeping and remembering time. 

I'm no expert, but I  recommend putting in things that don't mold or breathe. Those popsicle wrappers may be problematic in a few years and cats tend to put up a fight. 

What will you put in your time capsule?

Lessons From The Dressing Room

If you need a confidence check, squeeze into a wedding dress that you hate, surround yourself with floor length mirrors and stand on a pedestal in front of complete strangers. 

I did it approximately 15 times last Saturday. It was worth it. I found the dress that I'll show my daughter one day - many, many years from now. 

But it was a journey to find "the dress". 

We were in Indianapolis where I had one of those encounters worth passing on. Once I barreled out of the dressing room, I didn't take time to explain to Momma or my bridesmaids what had just happened. I simply held my hands in the air, grabbed my coat from the coat rack and said, "BLOG!"
They didn't ask questions. We had been in the store a total of twenty minutes. 

You know that saying, if you want to hear God laugh, tell him your plans? 
I believe that. 
I also believe if you want to hear a bridal consultant laugh, tell her your budget. 

I was skimming the window displays when a gal approached me and introduced herself as Shonda, my "personal bridal consultant". 
I should have known then that I was in over my head. The only personal consultants I've ever had were two older siblings, and they've both lead me astray more than once in this life. 

Shonda gave me a tour of the entire store then turned to me, head down, pen and card out. "Give me ya number." 
"My phone number?" I asked. 
"Amount you wanna spend on the dress."
Why do I always assume people need my phone number?
"Ohh, ha! Sorry," I apologized, then I gave her a number. 
She looked at me over her bifocals. "Girl, you serious?....You flexible?" Shonda's response worried me. 
"Well, no, not really. I mean, I'll go less....of course. But that's a pretty hard budget I'm trying to stick to," I uncomfortably told her. In a moment of awkwardness, I reached out and grabbed one of the dresses beside us while she wrote notes on the card. I grabbed the price tag: 4x my budget. I was crushed. But I knew how much I thought my wedding dress should cost and I was sticking to that.  

Shonda grabbed my arm and guided me to the discount racks. Fair enough. 

In a rush around the set of discount racks, Shonda grabbed two dresses and asked if I saw anything I liked. If I would have had time to let my eye focus I guess I could have found something, but she didn't give me an opportunity to search for a dress that fit my budget and my guidelines. Probably because Shonda knew better. 

She grabbed the two dresses and told me to follow her - into the dressing room. Momma, Laura and Betsy each followed this madness until Shonda stopped them, hand up. "You girls sit here. I got Lizzy (I didn't feel the need to correct her at this point) here in the dressing room." 

Until now, I hadn't tried on a dress that my sister hadn't zipped, buttoned or tucked. I was a bit concerned. I turned around and gave Laura a little wave. So long, sister. I followed Shonda into a land of white lights and mirrors.

"Miss Lizzy you just strip down and let me know when you ready. I stand out here 'til you ready."
"Got it," I replied as I closed the curtain behind me, set my purse down and unclipped my necklace. 

Approximately 13 seconds passed.

"You ready?"
"Not...quite....yet....." I responded while thinking, Ok, listen lady, I'm still trying to pry this second damn boot off. 

One minute later and Shonda was in the tiny dressing room with me, holding the first dress. 
This was the step-in kind. 
One leg at a time.
Shimmy it up. 
I had the routine down. 

Then, it was stuck. 
Right around my hips. 
Shocking. 

I tugged. 
Shonda pulled. 
The dress didn't move. 

"What size is this?!" I asked, bending my knees back and forth, trying to get the thing to move a centimeter. 
"Six. Can you believe they'd put a six on the clearance rack?"

Game over. 

Together, we worked in silence, shimmying, shaking, everything short of jumping up and down to get the dress past my Shafer hips. 
I started laughing. Out loud. 
Is this really happening? 
Is she really trying to stuff me - literally - into a size six wedding dress?
Why?

Shonda started laughing, too. Loudly, from the belly, deep down inside, laughing uncontrollably. 
"Girrrrrlllll, there is one thing we know....you ain't no siiize six! Pull it down. We ain't doing this."

And before I could even prepare myself, dear Shonda yanked the dress right down. 
To my ankles.
And the hook on the back of the dress get snagged on my underwear. 
And...you can only imagine. 
That's all I'm going to say about that. 

"I ain't seen nothing, girl, I ain't seen nothing!" Shonda said as she tried to unhook the dress from me and back herself out of the dressing room, head down. 

I was mortified, but still laughing. It all happened so quickly. 

In a rush to adjust myself, I tried to make small talk with the stranger who just had arguably the worst experience of her personal bridal consultant career. 
"Two things learned today, I'm not a size 6 and you don't get paid enough," I told her through the curtain. 

"Ha! .......I tell ya what. You found any dresses you like so far?" she asked.
"Oh, yeah, at a store this morning I found two that I really adore."
"Great. 'Cause we ain't even gonna try to stuff you into that other size 6. No way, no how!" she continued to talk as she left the dressing room, carrying both dresses. "And as for that number, good luck giiirl, Ha!" she laughed to herself. 

I laughed, too. Some crazy lady in Indianapolis just saw more of me than the law allows, she's thinks I live in a fairyland because of my frugal ways, and Momma, Laura and Betsy are sitting on the other side of this wall confused and awaiting my fashion show. Did that really just happen?

I learned a few things that afternoon in the dressing room. 

1. Stick to the budget. As with any big purchase, you know what you want, what you can afford and what is right for you. Don't let anyone talk you up or down. You'll find it. 
2. Self confidence is a great thing that fluctuates. Some days I have it, some days I don't. Luckily, I had it with Shonda. 
3. If you can't laugh at yourself, someone else will. Trust me.
4. Twenty minutes can last forever.

I did find the dress - under my budget, thank you very much. It is beautiful, so me and perfect for the day I marry Cody.

In fact, of the dresses below, can you guess which one I chose to wear August 10th?

 

You're right. None of them. 

Twelve Degrees of Separation

The pilot came over the loud speaker and told us we'd be landing approximately 5 minutes ahead of schedule. "Current temperature in Indianapolis: twelve degrees."

I slept during 80% of my flight home from Denver. I was fading in and out of consciousness when the pilot made that announcement, but the man's reaction beside me woke me up quickly. I wiped the drool from my chin.

"I don't know how you people do it," he looked at me, then back out the window.
"What's that?" I asked, trying to pull myself together after my tiger snooze over four fly-over states.
"Live here. Twelve degrees. Twelve degrees? How do you survive?"

How do we survive twelve degree temperatures? Pretty easily, I thought to myself.
We wear coats, heavy ones.
We keep blankets in our cars and ice melt just inside our business entrances.
We let our pets inside and we check our stock.

Especially the babies. 

We start our cars at least ten minutes before we drive anywhere.
We eat meals that "stick to our ribs" like beef stew and corn bread.
We plug in our tractors, buses and trucks over night.
We drink extra coffee.
We wear socks.
We survive.

The man continued. "I'm from San Diego and if it hits fifty-five, I don't go outside."

Really?!

I realized twelve degrees certainly separated my row mate and I. If he lived in Indiana with the "fifty-five degree rule", he would miss October through April. He wouldn't see a high school football game or go sledding. No snowmen would live and no snow angles would fly. Sad existence.

I looked over at the man as he wrung his hands over and over while looking out the window. He was sincerely nervous about the climate outside. I was looking forward to the piercing cold air after a stuffy plane ride.
I couldn't imagine what was going through his head.
But then again, I didn't have to try to.
I had watched it last week on Kimmel:

Acts of Leontien

Do you remember when I posted about Leontien?
The post was brief, optimistic and upbeat.
Much like Leontien's own life.
Today would have been her 34th birthday.
But her smile left us just last week on January 10th.

To honor this farm girl's spirit, love for life and contagious optimism, today Jean's Boots is dedicated to acts of kindness for Leontien.

Go out, face the day and be kind.

Double your recipe and give the second helping to an ailing neighbor. Discarding a shoddy recipe does not count!

Call a friend you've neglected.

Visit with your parents.

Write a letter to someone who isn't expecting it. Your recipient choices are unlimited - who does expect letters these days?

Give back to an organization you believe in.

Buy lunch for the guy in the drive through behind you. But don't roll your eyes when his total is $9.85 and your's was $3.45.

Hold the door for someone.

High five the trash man. He does great work!

You know that person at work that you're supposed to manage but you can hardly stand? Encourage them today.

Pick up litter. We all share this tiny piece of land we call Earth.

Don't turn on the light until you've warned your husband and have allowed him to pull the comforter over his eyes.

Pick up sticks in your neighbor's yard.

Hug a kid.

Once you've done your act of kindness in honor of Leontien, make sure you leave a comment below to share it with the rest of the great big world. You can also post your act on the Love for Leontien Facebook page.

Pass kindness on!

Efficient

ef·fi·cient  

/iˈfiSHənt/

Adjective (esp. of a system or machine) Achieving maximum productivity with minimum wasted effort or expense. (of a person) Working in a well-organized and competent way.

One of those buzz words like sustainable and green that seem to be everywhere. 
Business results show that we need to improve upon efficiencies. 
High efficiency washing machines. 
And Light bulbs. 
We're going to start keeping metrics so we can track efficiencies. 

I've tried to work on my efficiency lately. I usually just re-start the dryer for a third time to avoid taking the time to iron.

I was on the phone with a phonebook salesman a while back, completely unimpressed with anything he had to say. For a week I let him know that we weren't interested in spending marketing dollars in his phonebook.

Creepy phonebook guy, Teddy: Here's what I'm telling you, Miss Bowsman...."
Jean: It's Bowman. No "S"
Teddy: Yes! I knew that, it's here in my notes. 
Jean: Yes, because I corrected you last week. 
Teddy: Right, right, right. But here's what I'm telling you. Phones, websites, apps, they will never replace the phonebook. It has been around forever. People still use the phonebook every single day. 
Jean: You know what, Teddy?
Teddy: Yes, Miss Bowman?
Jean: You're right. I use the phonebook everyday. 
(Teddy, under his breath: Yes, yes, yes)
Jean: It's in my dining room. Under the table leg on the right side. Keeps the table from rocking. 
SILENCE - it was beautiful. 

Teddy: Miss Bowman, I will go ahead and cancel your advertising with GoldenPages, but you'll need to go through a confirmation that will be recorded. I will give you the verification code and you just repeat it after me. Do you have a pen and paper ready?
Jean: Yup. 
Teddy: T as in table, D as in David, V as in victory, 1, 5, G as in giant, M as in Mary, 7. Now, please confirm that code. 

How efficient, I thought. He paired every letter with a word so that I didn't immediately ask if he said B or T. I loved it. It saved time. And questions. 

And, it presented a challenge: an instant, on-the-spot, word game. I had just seconds to find the best letter/word matches before anyone asked for clarification.

Two days later I was on the phone with Priceline with a travel inquiry. They asked for my confirmation number. 

BINGO: A chance to use my new, efficient communication tactic. 

"Ok," I told the gal. "I found my number: G as in good job, B as in bumble, 1 as in one-way street, V as in very good, 3 little pigs, 3 more, and 7."

Silence. 

I had to repeat it, no "efficiencies" attached. Realizing how thoroughly I had confused the gal, we concluded the conversation with a $100 flight change fee. Bummer. 

Nearly a month passed before I could use the word game/clarification efficiency again, this time with AAA. 

Jean: "Tempooorrrraary membership coooode....." I drug the words on as I searched the mailer for my code. "Ah! Found it. Ready?" I asked. 
Kind, patient AAA man: I'm ready. 
Jean: P as in pine tree, R as in real, K as in the jeweler that every kiss begins with, 7...deadly sins? Then C as in Chrissie Cartmell, Chrissie Cartmell again, 8 maids-a-milking, 4 square, T as in Tommy Boy, B as in boy and P. Like, Purdue.

Silence. 

I had failed. 

A New Year resolution of mine is to work smarter. That's why I gave the gal at Fidelity my social security number this afternoon, rather than my client code. Until I master the word game Creepy Teddy taught me, I'll find other ways to improve my efficiency. Like...deleting my Pinterest account. 

Forgive Me

While Tuesday nights are usually designated for writing, I find myself enjoying the company of family and I can't pull myself away! Forgive me, but I have to skip blogging this week and go about enjoying my Christmas night back home in Greens Fork. I hope you each had a wonderful, memorable Christmas - may it be the kind you recall while laughing out loud!

Jean

Second Annual Jean's Boots Holiday Letter

Dear friends I talk to/text once a year and family I only see at the county fair - 

The end of 2012 is approaching more quickly than my milk expired last week. I just....thought I had more time. 

Again this year my Christmas cards only come in the form of good intentions (I never sent any, so don't be offended that you didn't receive one) and I have yet to go to the grocery for the foods I've been assigned to prepare. I say with confidence - paying no mind to the Mayan calendar - there is always tomorrow. 

The only way to describe 2012 in my book: WINNING!!

In January I made the annual vacation to Denver to attend the National Western Stock Show. Always a great adventure, this time I got a little more out of the trip than a few good photos and a head cold. 

I met someone. 

And in February Cody and I went on our first date. 

According to my iCalendar, Patrick Wall, Director of Genetic Improvement for the American Shorthorn Association,  came to Bowman Superior Genetics in March. Apparently, that was the highlight of that month as it is in caps lock on my calendar and highlighted. I sure hope we made his trip to Greens Fork worth while!

In 2012 I photographed three weddings, two in Indiana and one in Alberta, Canada. All three were beautiful and true - the kind of wedding I was simply glad to be a part of because it reminded me how powerful love is. 

I parted with my dearly beloved, Fannie the Focus, in August. Not because I wanted to, but because some wild man   (who was better at texting than he was at observing stop signs) plowed into me. He was the kind of gem that changed his license plates on his Jeep before the police  showed up. True story. Rest In Piece, Fannie, who traveled from Nebraska to Washington, DC and a million little roads in between. You went out in a blaze of glory and will be missed, even if we  affectionately called you the "death rocket clown car" for the last three years of your life. 

I traveled a lot in 2012, mostly with Cody. From Reno to Kansas and Mackinac Island to Las Vegas. But the trip of a lifetime was to Alaska where Cody judged the "stock" at the Kenai Peninsula State Fair.  While in Alaska we saw many different creatures such as bears, whales, snow hippies, reindeer and other things that don't rome in Indiana. We also saw mass amounts of seafood on our plates. We lasted 4 days before we found a steak house. 

Cody judging the reindeer. And probably his life decisions that lead him to that point. 

You can see many more Alaska Adventure photos from my August blogs!

In September I celebrated 1 year with Wilt PR. I couldn't be happier in the decision to join this team and work with Harvest Land Co-op every single day. Both companies challenge me, encourage me and support my passions. And, my coworkers are creative, funny and unique. I'm lucky. 

On November 6th I woke and took out my trash, per my (kind of) usual Tuesday morning routine. 

Over my lunch break I tried like hell to do the same thing at the polls. 

Mitt didn't win. 

But, I did. 

Cody asked me to marry him the evening of November 6th, 2012 at sunset in the pasture - under this tree. 

I said yes :)

I don't remember much of December. It has honestly been the busiest month of my entire life. Between work projects, year-end events, training, community obligations, family promises, travel and life in general, I feel like I've missed a lot of the holidays this year. That is a sad feeling. 

So, I'm going to sleep on the couch from here until Dec. 25th and stare at the Christmas tree until I fall asleep. I'm also going to start my Christmas shopping. Tomorrow. 

I hope that each of you have a wonderful Christmas with family, friends and maybe even the occasional angel. May you take the time to hold your babies, pet your pups, count your blessings and call that friend you may have neglected. 

May you also have the complete self-control to avoid overindulging in buckeyes, eggnog/rum and pecan pie. 

And if you do, you're a way - waaaaayyyy - better person than I. 

Merry Christmas, 

Jean

A Question For You

Every Once In A While, I Promise

To my readers, family and friends:  

I promise to not blog consistently about Cody and I's wedding planning. I was the single gal for a looooong time before Cody. I know what it's like to have drinks with the happily-in-love and want to slyly ask the waitress if she can toss a double shot of bleach into your next gin and tonic just to ease the pain.

That being said, you all know I enjoy a good story worth passing on, and every once in a while you'll read those wedding planning experiences here. Every once in a while, I promise. 

The (incredible) ring wasn't on my hand for three days before I had my first laugh-out-loud encounter. A dear family friend and I were discussing dress shopping. I relayed that I never was one that enjoyed shopping. Shopping for me usually consists of three bad dressing room experiences before I'm so depressed that  I want to eat. After a trip to the food court I'm just tired enough to take a nap rather than battle the bulge. 

The dear friend assured me that wedding dress shopping is fun...for everyone. "You'll find something you love, I just know it. I've seen several pretty dresses for older brides like you."

World. Stopped. Turning. 

Room. Began. Spinning. 

Older bride? 

I may be on the back side of thirty, but I had a lot of living to do before I let some Kansan sweep me off my boots. 

A plus of being an "older bride"? 
My Ultimate Fear, discussed relentlessly with college best friends, has dissolved. 
No longer am I afraid of marrying the wrong person. 

My sweet niece Marlee may be the most fun out of this planning thus far. And when I mean planning, I mean securing a date, a church and a leafing through bridal magazines. Cody and I are both scared to go "ROUND II" on the invite list. 

Cody asked me to be his wife on November 6th. 

On November 7th my beautiful (see below) niece had her orange party dress and three headbands laid out for the wedding. She needed three to transition through the evening. 

On December 1st Marlee had her Momma's (Matron-of-Honor) and my dress picked out. 

I was relieved - 

No trying on!

No zipping up!

No taking off my boots 45 times!

Until I saw what Marlee chose for the Bride and Matron-of-Honor...

Bride.

Matron-of-Honor

I asked Marlee why Aunt Lindsay doesn't get to wear the gown on her wedding day. Marlee replied, quite confused, "Because Mommy is the princess?"

Marlee's wedding planning privileges have since been revoked. 

The rest of the details are slowly falling in to place. We have the date, the church, the reception site, the photographer and of course, the Groom. He only took me 28 years to find. Let's hope it's all down hill from there. 

I called the tent rental place last week and have been in conversations with them. It is the same group that sets up for our production sale annually. They have a hard time wrapping their mind around an event like this south of Greens Fork. It isn't the location or even the estimated size that has these guys thrown off. 

With strong and convincing words, I had to thoroughly explain to them that a group this size is coming to Bowman Superior Genetics for an event that has absolutely nothing to do with cattle. 

Ah, who am I kidding...we met at a stock show.