anatomy of a nickname: farmer ike

I've mentioned before that Y and I rarely have anything to talk about anymore -- he practically speaks another language and my days are so dull they're not worth mentioning. Our conversations these days are either duets about Ike or made up nonsense (see: pretzel romance, plus we once seamlessly transitioned into a 5 minute sports commentator bit while we watched Ike chase and catch a tennis ball. True story.)

Congratulations, Farmer's Insurance -- your jingle has been our go-to duet recently. And the inspiration for our latest nonsense conversation. Truly an honor.




This morning I woke up to Ike's nose pressed against mine, and naturally the first thing I thought to say...or sing... was Ike is a farmer!


Naturally, from the other room I heard Y call BUM BA DUM DUM DUM DUM.

And we were off. Still half asleep, I asked the obvious question: Ike, what kind of crops do you grow?

Ike -- or maybe it was Y in a high voice, it was too early for me to be sure -- replied, SUNSHINE, HAPPINESS, AND JELLY BEANS!

I call shenanigans, I told Ike, who at this point was licking my face and wagging his tail. Everyone knows jellybeans and happiness don't grow in the same climate.

I INVENTED A HYBRID CROP THAT ALLOWS THEM TO GROW IN THE SAME PLACE, Ike Y retorted. Oh, right. I should have known.

Scholarly Ike says, "it wuz a piece of cake, guys"


Later, at work, proof landed in my inbox:


Well. I guess I lose this argument.


What, you didn't think I was smart enough?