Gettin' to Know J-Dawg

After visiting his dairy, J-Dawg and I decided it wouldn't be such a bad idea to have a couple more meet-and-greets. (Actually, neither of us could wait to see each other again!) He decided he'd come out my way, but trying to find something to do in dry, arid, southern New Mexico isn't incredibly easy. Luckily, the thought of White Sands excited him.

I decided to meet him in a town about an hour away from my house, so it would cut his drive down. I was so concerned with getting done up that I  was late meeting him. I felt horrible! This was an interview of sorts, and my actions would leave him to believe I was unconcerned about punctuality. I'm always on time though! (*cough* Bull! *cough*). Not only was I running late, but my stomach was in knots, nervous to see him again. Once I finally arrived, after leaving J-Dawg to sit at the Chili's parking lot all by his lonesome, we had a huge reunion hug and smiled warmly at one another.

We went inside, were seated, and the waitress came to take our drink orders. Suddenly, I heard him reply "a glass of milk please." This may not sound like a shocker that a dairy kid orders milk, right? Yes, its really not, but for me, it had a whole different meaning. I have been teased my whole life for ordering milk with dinner while out at a restaurant. It used to embarrass my brothers and they'd ask me to "please order a grown-up drink" when we went out. Then each time, whether it be from my brothers, the waitress/waiter, or someone sitting at the table next to me, I'd hear cracks such as "would you like it in a sippy cup?", or "that's cute, you and my 3-year-old are drinking the same thing!"

Then, when I started dating S, he wasn't okay will me having a glass of milk with dinner either. But for different reasons... "Do you realize you can buy an entire gallon of milk for what you're paying for that one glass!? Get water, its free!" 'Fine, fine' I thought all the while wondering when someone would just let me be me, and not give me grief for it.

The waitress came back with our two large chilled glasses of milk. We each took big chugs and smiled at one another with milk mustaches. I must admit, I kept thinking "Milk really has done his body good." : ) We began eating our meals, and my my nerves had finally settled. We sat and chatted for about an hour and half and finished our meals. Feeling fat, dumb, and happy, we hit the road.

When we got back to my house, I poured us each a glass of wine and struck up conversation. I pulled some questions out of the 'get to know him better' file, and was excited about his responses. "Did he study beforehand?" I thought to myself. 'How could someone be so down-to-earth and handsome?'  The conversation went on and on and there was never a dull nor awkward moment. Before I knew it, it was 4 am, yet it felt like no time had passed by at all.Then, in an intensely romantic instant, our eyes had locked and I felt a first kiss coming on. I waited patiently, gazing into those steel blue-grey eyes of his. Time passed and nothing. My impatience caught up with me and I blurted out "Are you gonna kiss me or not?!" He had a huge grin and ignoring his shyness, leaned in for the sweetest, most passionate kiss I had ever experienced.

At 5am, sleep was a necessity before we'd even consider heading to White Sands. We snuck in numerous zzzz's and hit the snooze button like clockwork (hahaha). At about noon, we grabbed some lunch and rolled out. It was actually a really nice day to go check out the mountainous desert land made of gypsum. We parked his truck and found a spot with the least amount of tourists. We ran up and down the mountains, enjoyed the cool sand on our feet, and appreciated the cloud cover that brought cooler temps. It was a very relaxing and simple trip, making J-Dawg and I feel at complete ease with one another.



We decided it was time to head back to the house after a long day of playing in the sand. After cleaning up and removing all the gypsum from places it never should have been, we decided to lay low for the evening, and discuss what to do the following day--- Easter Sunday. I tried convincing J-Dawg all week that we could see each other another weekend, so that he could spend Easter with his family.  He said, "No, honestly it's fine. We can hang out on Friday and Saturday and I'll head back early Sunday morning. My parents won't mind, promise."

All the while feeling incredibly guilty that J-Dawg wasn't spending all of the Easter weekend with his family, I came up with a great plan. I was heading north to see my folks and grandparents, so I figured we could just leave super early in the morning and he could get on the road from Abq, because it would shorten his drive (this has become customary  - trying to figure out how to make the 5 hour drive shorter for one another).

Sunday morning rolled around, and neither of us were in the bright-eyed and bushy-tailed type mood. Instead we were feelin' quite content with the idea of time freezing and the world standing still, all to allow us to stay cuddled up on the couch together, in pj's, with ours cups of coffee. Although we were soaking up every minute of that moment, Easter was my favorite holiday and I was more than excited to share it with my family and ..... then *BAM*!!! the thought hit me... 'we're already late getting on the road, and I'm not gonna let J-Dawg leave without eating'.

I looked to him and asked "What time were your folks expecting you? Do we need to get you on the road?"
"No," he replied, in his sweet calm voice. "I told them I'd probably be home this afternoon or night. Why, what's up?" With fear in my voice, as it was only the second date, I asked "Would you like to have Easter dinner with my family?" Although I was scared, he replied with "Sure!" and was enthusiastic. Did he know what he had just signed up for?

I called my mother to let her know I was on my way and non-nonchalantly asked if she or the grandparents would mind if I brought a "guest". She knew exactly who I was speaking of, and immediately call my grandpa and said "Set the table for one more please".

We drove up to the folks, and I prepared myself for this first interaction between boy-who-I'm-sure-hung-the-moon-and-stars and retired-parents-who-play-with-dogs-for-a-living. My parents are very sweet and kind people, but are also skeptical about my choice in men (rightfully so- Exhibit A: Butthead, Exhibit B: S.). We sat down in the living room, and chatted for awhile, trying to warm everyone up to another. Mom was tense, worried she say the wrong thing. Dad's guard was up and was havin' a semi-"fuzzy brain" day (a story to be explained later).

J-Dawg was sweet and kind as ever, and never once changed into the "Ope, I need to impress the parents" mode. (I love that about him, what you see is what you get. He's straight up and honest, and although he is considerate of others' feelings, he is not obsessed with impressing everyone. He is who is he is.) He told my parents about the dairy, about growing up in Friesland, and was thoroughly excited that Dad was flipping back and forth between the History Channel and the Military Channel.

Mom said it was time to head up to Abq for Easter dinner. J-Dawg and Dad said their goodbyes and it was nice to meet you's.We got to the grandparents and introduced J-Dawg to them. It began to feel redundant, so I could imagine how he felt. Something I forgot to mention but you may have already suspected... J-Dawg has this beautiful European accent. But because of this, when he introduces himself and says his name in Frisian, people have a hard time understanding him. Especially my gun-deaf father and elderly grandparents.

After numerous attempts were made, my grandparents learned J-Dawg's name. We said prayer and then sat down to eat. Once again J-Dawg had to explain his life story to my family, yet everyone was very interested, and he didn't mind answering their questions. All was going well until my uncle, the car oil salesman, started to talk to J-Dawg about this oil he could sell J-Dawg for his tractors. Then the biggest no-no word of all hit J-Dawg's ears like a loud GONG! .... "organic".

Oh no, did my uncle really just try and sell the guy I'm trying to impress organic motor oil?!?!? Insert hand pressed to forehead in embarrassment. 

As a farmer who has always believed in doing things right, and only giving his cows the best, J-Dawg knows that 'organic' is just a word that's stamped on products to give them marketing and media hype. The USDA only recently came out with a "USDA Organic" label, to assure that products are actually organic. But whatever the case, I side right along J-Dawg, some farmers, ranchers and other agriculturalists who turn their nose to the new marketing blitz of labeling products "organic".



Anyway, back on topic. J-Dawg politely told my uncle "no, thank you but thanks". There was an odd, long awkward silence following, so I asked my grandmother (who suffers from dementia) how she was. She was doing pretty well that day and wanted to tell me about something my mom did, but forgot my mother's name. She pointed and said, "Yeah, her!" Yet, to all of our surprise, my grandma was right on the ball when she talked about "Traci's boyfriend" moments later. My mom wasn't offended at all, and thought J-Dawg was pretty dang special for my grandmother to remember who he was, and his name.

We finished dinner and had to get J-Dawg on the road. I walked him out, stood at his dark blue F-150, and questioned him on his current state. "Well that wasn't too terrible, was it? How are you?" Rubbing his stomach, and smiling, he replied "Full. And your family is very nice. I had a good time." Although I knew his sentiments were sincere, I wasn't understanding J-Dawg's adjectives- 'good' and 'nice'? To an American, these words mean 'mediocre'.  I worried he had reservations about me and my family.

Deciding to discuss it later, I walked to his door, hinting that he needed to get on the road. I didn't want him to leave and he didn't want to go, but I cared about his safety and wanted him to get home at a reasonable hour. The practical and considerate side of me told me to let go of his hand and let him leave, while the selfish and attached part of me would have stayed outside with him all night. He offered to take me back home with him and telling him no was like telling Charlie Sheen to stop being socially retarded-- very difficult. He said he would text me along the way  call me when he got home.

Little did either of us know, these difficult goodbyes would continue for the next three months, and would never get easier. These blogs will continue to chronicle my and J-Dawg's crazy weekend adventures, until one day (hopefully), we will no longer be 300 miles apart.

Meet - and - Greet with Dutchman

I was seeing everything from a new perspective and was no longer out to find "the one". I was actually looking forward to the idea of having my goat farm, and getting to keep my apple green KitchenAid mixer (whereas in previous times, I wouldn't have necessarily been allowed to keep my entire kitchen full of green kitchenware). As I enjoyed my new found freedom (and green toaster), I decided it was time to meet the man who had helped me receive my fourteen credits to graduate, (not to mention, the idea of visiting a dairy full of fresh milk and baby calves excited me). The only thing on my mind was finding a job doing advertising/ marketing with the dairy industry, so I was on a mission to learn as much as I could about the dairy process, however I could.

Sir Dutchman and I had made plans to meet at the gas station near his dairy, and 'Traci who gets lost in a paper sack' went to the wrong one (imagine that!). He drove to meet me at the incorrect location, and as his dark blue F-150 farm truck pulled up, my nerves began to do backflips. Everything that could possibly go wrong crossed my mind: he's a serial killer, he's a womanizer, he's only 5'1, he collects dolls. I began to sweat. Then, out stepped this incredibly handsome young man, 6'2, wearing Cinches (that fit incredibly well, I might add), and a ball cap with longer dark blonde curls coming out from under it. Then with a crooked smile, and deep steel blue-grey eyes smiling at me, I was putty. At that instant, I was very angry. I had just learned to accept being alone and had decided that being boy crazy was a waste of time, then out of the blue he shows up.

We drove back to his dairy and I was overwhelmed with excitement. The smells, the landscape, the pens filled with Holsteins, everything was just right. Growing up across from a dairy that was then converted into a feed yard, I loved the smell of agriculture. Cows and crops are a sure sign of being in a rural area, taking back roads to get where you're going, and enjoying the sunset while sitting on a tailgate with a cold beer. In my mind, this life was the picture of perfection. I couldn't help but wonder when (or if) I'd get to come back.

Intensely curious, I asked question after question about the milking process, crop rotation, yogurt-making, tractor pulls, pretty much any random question that could possibly be asked. I expected him to become irritated (as most people do when asked too many dumb questions), but instead he looked at me with appreciation. He was very patient, and not only would tell me about it, but show me. "This is the calf ranch, where the calves are being weaned." My heart melted at that exact instant when I saw the most adorable calf look up with its mouth and nose covered in frothy milk.

I loved being shown around the dairy. J-Dawg had so much pride, passion, and excitement for his job and for the dairy overall. Just listening to him explain how it all worked, and his parents' and siblings' roles, made me realize this was a family dairy of the highest caliber. If one portion of the dairy suffers, it hurts the rest of it, therefore they each watch out for the other and there's no "I" in this business, its all "we". Also, learning how patriotic J-Dawg is fascinated me. He explained his family's move to the States, and what a process becoming a legal citizen is. He  loves being in the U.S. and appreciates the freedoms and options it offers its people. He understands the principles of running a business, and is grateful for how much his family's dairy has been able to flourish since leaving the Netherlands.

After only a few hours with J-Dawg, I knew there was something very special about him. He was different than most all boys I had known. He sees the bigger picture of things, is appreciative of what he has, cares about others and himself, is very educated and well-read, and is very loyal to his friends and family. The next day of the "tour", I had met his family. I could tell a good upbringing played a pivotal role in his personality and stature. His family was incredibly kind to me, and I felt welcome and comfortable with them. It was time to head home, so I loaded up the car and we said our goodbyes. There was one of those awkward side hugs, unsure of what was appropriate. I drove off, unsure where all this was going, but was grateful for having met J-Dawg. I felt content and realized that there are still good people out there with good intentions. And I also breathed a sigh of relief knowing he didn't collect dolls.

Leaving Europe

J-Dawg continued to help me with my Dutch lessons for the remainder of the month while I was in Belgium. Although I thoroughly enjoyed my time there, I was ready to get back home to speak English, drive my own car, and say 'please' and 'thank you'. I prepared for the 13 hour flight from Brussels to Atlanta and didn't sleep the night before, thinking it would cause me to sleep on the plane. After a 70 Euro (Yikes!) cab ride  to the airport, I went through security and waited at my gate.

As the plane pulled in, I couldn't help but be completely overwhelmed with excitement as I was going home to see my parents, friends, pups, and then graduate! Things really felt as if they were falling into place. On the lengthy flight, I sat next to a rather odd young man who wasn't much of one to talk to strangers. In fact, he seemed afraid of me (ouch). Trying to find things to stay entertained, I read my Nook, looked at magazines, and then decided to begin journaling. With all the new-found smarts I had being a 'world traveler' and all, I thought it best to put pen to paper and do a recap of my trip.

I began writing furiously with thoughts just pouring from my pen. I realized while gone, that although I had missed family, friends and my dogs, that living alone wasn't so bad. Spending time by myself, traveling without someone, and getting to call all my own shots was incredibly comforting. While going to school in Oklahoma, I had similar experiences, but didn't have the same optimism about being alone. Living alone in OK really prepared me for being in a foreign country by myself, and although I've done nothing by the book, I would have done it again all the same.

In the midst of my writing, I had an epiphany!------- I don't need anyone! After being somewhat alone (my sis, her friend, and S were there with me for a part of the time), I realized that I enjoyed my time spent alone, and didn't need a boyfriend or best friend to always be there with me. I could be self-sufficient, and not be attached. It was at that point I decided the split between S and I needed to come sooner rather than later. If I'm gonna stay with someone for a long period of time, I should be able to see myself at the end of the aisle saying "I do" to him. But I didn't.

Upon returning back to the States, I had called it off with S. It was quick and pretty abrupt, but a quick break heals much faster than slow, painful, tearing. It was rocky in the beginning, but I had my mind made up. I knew we were done. It was time to situate my life, graduate and leave the heartbreak town I had outgrown. And besides, S was smart and would be much better off without me so I knew it would all work out for us both in the long run.

And then he text...

After dinner with my instructors, I returned back to my room at the bed and breakfast and saw the blinking red light on my horrible global phone rented through our phone company. And there it was..... a text message that read "Is this Traci?" Finally, mystery Dutchman had contacted me! I had no idea what he looked like (other than a very vague Facebook picture), what his story was, or even if he really was a good guy or if J.S. was just saying that. I was taking a total shot in the dark here.

I replied and began explaining my situation. Although I knew I needed to tell him why I was requesting his help, I was more so curious about his Dutch dairy and his story. We text a good amount that night, but because of the time difference our schedules tended to conflict. At the time of J-Dawg's first texting me, I had zero interest in boys and had just made the decision to only focus on graduation and finding a job. I was currently seeing S, a guy that I had gotten back together with after a very messy, awful relationship and breakup (Please don't ask why, I have no good reason nor excuses). But I knew I'd need to cut all ties with S, because I just couldn't see a relationship with him outside of college.

This was Our Backyard View

*Some back story: Growing up in a semi-rural background and being a proud member of the FFA and 4-H, agricultural education has always been a passion of mine. Also having one brother in the beef industry, and the other being a team roper, I've always had a picture in my mind of what I wanted my adult life to be like. In my dreams, it always consisted of living in a modest home, married to a small town man who has tons of ambition and shared the same passion and interests as me, and together, raise children and animals  in a small tight-knit community. 

Doesn't seem like too difficult of a request, right? Wrong. No matter how hard they tried, each boyfriend I dated was lacking some crucial attributes, whether it be ambition, warmth, or an understanding of the importance of agriculture. In both relationships with Butthead and S, I stayed as long as I could, but still always had a foot out the door, thinking "there's gotta be something more, gotta be more than this, I need a little less hard time, I need a little more bliss" (which wasn't fair to them).  I probably wasn't EXACTLY what they wanted either, so the fact that neither of those relationships worked out was probably a blessing for us all. 

Both times, both S and Butthead could feel my restlessness. Both relationships were somewhat similar, never mind the fact they shared the exact same birthday and had very similar personalities. On the verge of my and S' breakup, he had said "You are not gonna find your 6'2 Christian cowboy and move onto some huge plot of land. Give it up."  By March 2011, I had completely given up one the thought of finding "the one" and began to come to terms with the fact that I'd be living as an old lady with a goat farm. One by one I started naming my goats.. Sheila, Jo, Chester...

Each night, I continued talking to J-Dawg about my Dutch lessons and he helped me with my homework. The most fun part was sending him text messages in Dutch, and trying not to make any mistakes. He was also aware I was seeing S, and our talks remained completely platonic. We covered topics anywhere from the government and regulations in the Netherlands, to Charlie Sheen, to eating veal, to leadership skills, and everything in between. Although I didn't know too much about Sir Dutchman at this point, I knew he was very easy to talk to, and I realized I may have found a lifelong friend...

Found 6'2 Dutch Dairyman...

How'd I do it, you ask? Shear talent. Nope, just kidding. It's the grand 'ol saying of "It's not what you know, but who you know". J-Dawg (as my 6'2 Dutch dairyman has become known as thanks to my brother) and I have a mutual friend named... lets call just him J.S. (yup, that'll work). J.S. and I have known each other since we started college in the Fall of 06, and coincidentally enough, he was suite mates with my ex-boyfriend, Butthead (that's also a story for a later day). But through Butthead, J.S. and I became pretty good friends and he'd always stop by to say howdy and was always a blast to talk to.

Then in the Fall of 08, I was accepted to attend another university through the National Student Exchange (NSE) program, and was told I'd be going to OSU with another student from State. Before packing up my bags and waiving goodbye to home, I met with the NSE adviser to finalize the paperwork, payments, and situate all last minute things. During our meeting, I asked who the other "exchange" was... and damned if it wasn't J.S.! I was ecstatic to be in a new town with not only someone I knew, but someone I liked! I contacted J.S. and discussed our attending OSU together. Once there, we hung out a lot, went to lunch at some of the yummiest places in Stillwater, and got pretty rowdy goin' to the Tumbleweed all too often (especially the Calf Fry).

I came back to NMSU after only one semester there (still another story for a later time) while J.S. stayed for the entire year. He and I stayed in contact and hung out some once he got back. After I learned of my needing a second language and decided on Dutch, I talked with J.S. about it over dinner. He casually mentioned a buddy he had from back home that spoke Dutch. Then the details starting spewing out, "His family has a dairy", "he's such a good guy", "everybody loves him...". Immediately, the only thing I could think was, 'sign me up!'.

J.S. said he'd tell his buddy about me learning Dutch and see if he could get him to help me some (mind you this was the in the summer of 10 and I would be doing my semester abroad in Spring 11).  I was extremely excited, but more so grateful that someone my age in NM could speak Dutch! Suh-weet. A couple of weeks rolled by, and still hadn't heard anything. I took a leap and sent J-Dawg a message on Facebook, describing my situation. No reply for weeks. So, me being the persistent little booger I am, sent him another message. Not even taking into account that some people in production agriculture spend their time WORKING and not playing on Facebook, I was sad I wouldn't hear from Sir Dutchman.

I finally found the best study abroad program and got the finances situated. By this time I had given up on receiving help from J-Dawg, and began studying on my own before leaving for Belgium in March of this year. (See below posts). While in Europe, I got to visit the Netherlands and fell even more in love with it. The green grass, the cows, the chocolate, the Delft pottery, the windmills, everything about it was just beautiful, just as I had imagined. After sightseeing for a week, it was time to begin my Dutch courses, but little did I know, it wasn't Dutch, but Flemish (in Belgium, they speak a Dutch that has somewhat of a French influence and it much less guttural).

I struggled the first week there but was able to focus and think of only the Dutch language. J.S. had text me to ask how I was doing and I explained about being in Belgium and that my plans to learn Dutch had actually come through! Then, I thought I try ONE more time... "J.S., think you can ask your buddy again if he'd mind helping me?" Ding ding, third times a charm. My phone vibrated, the message from J.S. read "he's busy now but he said he'll text you later when he gets a chance..."