Farm Town — You Are The Devil

For three months, I was clean — free from my addiction to a simple little Facebook application.

No plowing.

No planting.

No late night rendezvous with my sister to dish over our crops.

Instead, I was busy with a newborn. I had no time to spend wasting on computer games or virtual realities.

Then I heard that the Facebook version of Farm Town had a ton of new features, and I thought “What’s the harm in checking things out?”. Sigh — oh, there was harm. DEFINITE harm Within minutes, seconds really, I was completely and irrevocably sucked back in and glued to my computer screen.

Wait — what’s Farm Town, you ask? Oh, me . . . oh, MY! How can you NOT know about Farm Town? How have you lived without the excitement of being able to plant pumpkins, onions, or blueberries? How have you gone this long without the anticipation of knowing you’ll soon be able to afford the white house, or a new barn, or the big seeder? WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN? ? ? ?

That’s me (the little, itty bitty gray headed avatar) standing in the middle of a recently planted crop.

Yes, I’m a Farm Town Junkie. One of those freaks who gets excited when new crops are released and who begs her Facebook Farmer Friends to send specific gifts for her little cyber farm. (by the way, I’m still accepting fall trees, you Farmer Friends O’ Mine)

Hmmm — that whole farm shot just doesn’t do justice to my sweet little plot. Here’s a better one:

See me standing there? (Wave to little Avatar Rachel, why don’tcha?) That’s my little house, flowers, and backyard — even some play equipment for the kiddos (and a fence to safely block them from the pond).

OH? You want to see a better picture of the pond? SOOO glad you mentioned it. Here ya go:

There’s the pretty little pond. And my relaxing hammock. And my recently acquired garden gnomes. How can you have a garden without garden gnomes? Makes me kind of wish I had real ones for my real yard.

Ahhhhhh. Look at that idyllic setting. I can almost feel the perfectly warm autumnal sun shining down, can’t you? Of course you can.

What? You want MORE? Why, I am more than happy to oblige!

Here’s the entrance to “Ye Old Homestead,” complete with the mill and my caretaker’s lodge. Yes, I have an imaginary caretaker. And, no, he doesn’t do a good job since I arrived back from the holiday weekend to find all of my flowers and crops dead. Gone. Wasted. (sigh)

Finally (finally . . .I know), here is my work zone — my barn, water tower, chicken coup, work truck, and seeder.

Do you understand my addiction now? No? You can’t understand why I stay up — late into the wee hours of the morning — waiting for crops to ripen? You don’t get why I forgo much needed sleep just to rearrange trees and flowers? You don’t see the POINT of all this madness?

Truth be told, I don’t either. I have no clue why I find this stupid game as fascinating as I do. No. Idea.

And, I don’t know why I chose gray hair for my little Rachel.

But, God help me, I just like the game.

My name is Rachel and I’m a gray-headed farmer. Don’t judge.