I am not a farmwife. No, I am a farmer's wife. Is there a difference? Yes, to me anyway. A farmwife cooks, sews and cans. She raises a large garden filled with squash, tomatoes and black-eyed peas. She cans pickles, tomatoes and whatever else you can. She puts herself last to make sure her family has baked goods, keeps her home spotless and clips coupons to save every last penny. She prides herself on never having a stain that won't come. And, she works tirelessly alongside her husband, dropping everything at the drop of a hat to haul water to cows or wherever else she is needed for. No, I am not a farmwife. I am a farmer's wife. I married a farmer. I had a former life and career. I traveled, spent money unwisely and built a career in television. I ate out all the time - mostly Italian and Chinese food. I sent my laundry out sometimes, and when I did do it myself, the clothes ended up in a wrinkled pile on the floor of my studio apartment on the upper West Side of Manhattan that I paid too much for. My husband says that in our first year of marriage, he had eaten more pasta than in his entire life. I cook a few "OK" dishes. I don't often bake, can or sew. My husband wears black socks so the ground-in dirt doesn't show. And I am hopefully building a career as a writer, and learning some farming along the way. Over the past 10 years, I have put forth great effort to learn about farming. I have worked ground, planted and harvested milo and wheat, driven trucks to the elevator in town, and fed and watered the cows. There also were a few mishaps, one in particular being a 1,600-gallon nurse tank that crashed to the ground splitting in two, gushing water and forcing me to recognize I didn't listen to instructions very well. I have also run for parts, researched deeds, been Johnny-on-the-spot with phone calls and Internet searches, and moved vehicles from field to field - grain cart, trucks, combines and tractors. And I have enjoyed almost all of it. No, I didn't enjoy the water tank fiasco. And to this day, unless the road to the cows is completely flat, I will not - not - haul water to them! I have attempted some gardening, canning and baking, a little anyway. A couple years ago, I planted three rows of peas, watered them faithfully and ended up with two servings worth. I was never so grateful for Green Giant. I canned some peaches, sort of. Do Ziploc bags count? And I baked some delicious bread that won reserve grand champion in the county fair several years ago. It was Challah bread - pronounced "KHalla," but you can't get the right noise in your throat to say that, so "Halla" works. Did I learn this skill in Queens, N.Y., amongst some of the best Russian Jew Challah bread makers? No! I learned it from a farmwife in southwestern Kansas. While I have witnessed the ideal wife a farmer would like, and I have goals to aspire to, I am not a farmwife. I bring other things to the marriage that make our life wonderful. I bring a strong faith that keeps my husband filled up when drought or hail hurts our crops. And we have a great team mentality with good communication and a willingness to look at our flaws and laugh. My lack of discipline also provides fun, spontaneity and creativity. For instance, every year I try to enter something different in the county fair. My 2014 entry is going to be a quilt. I have bought the material: bandannas. I'm sure this will be great fodder for another column. When I looked up the categories I could enter, I saw professional. I said to my husband, "Oh yeah! I can get a professional to sew my quilt." He shook his head and said, "I'm sure that's what you think it is." But he must have faith in me and my writing because he believes my book will be a bestseller. As any good farmer would want, the money will enable him to buy a new combine. I don't have the heart to say that a bestselling book won't bring in that much. Most importantly, my husband is happy, generally, for the most part. I'm pretty sure he would enjoy a pie or something, though. Maybe in 2015?