Part One of "You Know You're the Wife of a Cattleman If..." was just so much fun that I'm giving you round two:
You know you're the wife of a cattleman if:
#12: The word "chicken", when pertaining to being eaten, is a swear word. Yes, I occasionally serve chicken, usually in a casserole or something similar in which it can be drowned (hidden) with sauces and gravies or wrapped in bacon (mmmmm, bacon!) But despite gravies, sauces and bacon, it is still eaten by my cowboy grudgingly. (And yet, even though I know it's far beyond his favorite, he never complains. He's a great guy! And I love him!)
#13: The word "turkey", when pertaining to being eaten, is more of a four letter word than "chicken". You just can't hide turkey, no matter how much bacon it has in, on or around it!
#14: Continuing the theme of eating, "meat" is always beef. Any other variances of the word "meat" must be clarified by naming the animal from whence it came. Pork is a close second. All others fall far, far, far down the rank of okay-ness.
And salad does not exist.
#15: A ham sandwich should always have roast beef on it. Doesn't always happen, but... that's life.
Let's move beyond people food.... let's talk moo food: hay!
#16: Haying season is life in the summer. Everything we do is scheduled around haying. There is no getting around it, hay is life. First cutting, second cutting, third cutting, maybe fourth cutting, oats, triticale, sorghum (if you've got it)... all gets chopped and put up for winter feed. When one field is done, the next one is ready. And by the time we've made it through all the fields (or sometimes even before!), it's time to start another field for the next go-round. Early mornings, late nights, and non-stop days often with meals on the go. Not complaining though! We've been through years of drought where we didn't have what we needed and had to supplement with other sources, so the long, hard days are definitely a blessing not to be murmured about!
If you want a look at some of the process for haying, you can go here:
#17: Speaking of haying, it all has to be done per certain weather conditions. They always have an eye on the sky. So a cowboy's woman must not take it to heart when she finally realizes that her man has probably seen more of the meteorologist LADIES in the past six days (rest on Sunday!) than he has seen of her. It's okay. He's not checking her out, he's only interested in her map. ;-)
#18: As a MOTHER of a future cowboy, one always beams with pride that, while other little boys are proudly telling of their baseball achievements of the summer, or their latest venture to or stunt at the local pool, or whatever it is that typical little boys do in the summer, YOUR (my) little one is proudly announcing to anyone who will listen how much (and how well) he drove the chopper this past week. Even using the clutch. All by himself. He may not have home runs to boast about, but my little man is proud of what he does and his mama is prouder of who he is becoming!
#19: And speaking of choppers... You know you're a cattleman's wife if you understand what your cowboy is talking about pertaining to every breakdown or repair and understand exactly what is needed for a parts run or an online order for each piece of haying equipment being used. Choppers, wagons, bags and bagger, blowers, blower pipes, balers... you name it. And bonus points if you can say which tractor is used with each piece of equipment. (I can't.)
By the way, a cute little side note story: You know you the future wife of a cattleman if, on your second date, you're taken out to dinner and then driven past John Deere in Ottumwa to see all the haying equipment they make. I loved him even then :-)
Enough about that. Moooooooo-ving on (get it?):
#20: What is totally innocent to most children is a potential educational service from my kids to yours. We recently attended a library program at which a young man showed the kids in attendance several science experiments. Many of those experiments used liquid nitrogen. When we walked in, the tank of liquid nitrogen was just sitting there. Caleb wondered if we were going to be AI'ing because we keep our AI'ing, um.... specimens.... frozen in just such a tank until ready to knock up a heifer.... er, breed her.... er, artificially inseminate her. I held my breath when the young man brought out the tank, hoping Caleb wouldn't introduce the idea of frozen semen straws to the dozens of innocent children around him.
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| Got semen? This will soon be a whole 'nother post on it's own. Can't wait... can ya? You're just giddy with excitement and curiosity, aren't ya? |
#21: Speaking of AI'ing: You know you're a cattleman's wife if you can't drive past the feed lot without slowing down to see if one of the young gals is in heat and "has a following" of young gentlemen calves willing to get the deed done. (The boys don't realize they've been castrated, I guess. Out of sight, out of mind. Haha... that's a good one!) Likewise, a good cattleman's wife will understand the feeling of accomplishment her cowboy has at his sharing of how many heifers he bred that day, last week, this month....
#22: Going hand and hand with the breeding conversation: when a woman is offered a "date" to go get the new bulls two hours away, said woman doesn't hesitate! Even if it means having one (or both, but in this case, one) child with us in a farm truck with no air on a ninety+ degree day. Beggars can't be choosers! (And I got Subway! And a sunburn from having my arm out the winder. My right arm is still a darker tan than my left.)
A few miscellaneous:
#23: Vacation? What IS that? Crops can't be tended and cattle can't be fed on vacation.
#24: Need a table? A lick-its tub will do just fine!
#25: A cowboy's girl learns to hold her breath when greeting each other with a kiss... you just don't know where that face has been since you last saw him. And now matter how good lookin' your rugged, hunk-o-man is...
...all attraction kinda falls by the wayside when you find out he's been on the back side of who knows how many cows since you last saw him! Thank goodness for indoor plumbing and hot showers with lots of soap!
#26: And last, but not least, for this round of fun is a touchy subject, BUT.... you know you're a true cattleman's wife if you wouldn't touch an ethanol pump with a ten foot pool, for the pure principle of what it's done to the livestock market and community. No amount of cents per gallon saved is worth supporting them in the least.
Stay tuned for more....
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Part One, for those who missed it:
You know you're the wife of a cattleman if....
(the beginning of my own personal collection)
#1: We blood-pregnancy tested several "iffy" cows yesterday. I took the vials, all boxed up, to town this morning to mail to the lab to get the testing done. How excited/anxious can I get to get the results back before it becomes weird? It's close to the same feeling as if I peed on a little stick myself!
#2: I think nothing of carrying a boxful of vials full of cow blood to town. Yep, right there riding along on the passenger seat.
#3: During testing, I got fresh cow blood (which is like, WAY different than blood from a steak!) all over my hands and didn't freak. Or even ask for soap and water. Or an antibacterial wipe. Nothing. I've become immune to the yuck factor.
#4: I was told... um, er... asked at lunch to be the vial label-er, arranger and record keeper. Twenty minutes later, blood... See #3.
#5: Watching my husband stick his hands up bovine unmentionables doesn't phase me a bit. (But if you want to read about the hows and the whats of the unmentionables, go here Unmentionables Explained to a past post.)
#6: Neither does having an in depth conversation over lunch (which was, ironically, a beef T-bone steak grilled to perfection!) about cow cervix size verses heifer cervix size and which one should the first for me to try to learn on phase me. Not a bit.
#7: Having my Honey take my hand and inspect my arm, just to be seriously told that my freakishly long, slender-like arms would be perfect for preg-checking and AI'ing is a compliment of sincerest form. And I take it as such... it's either laugh or cry, right?
#8: Bull sperm donor names are talked about in conversation as if they are old friends and no explanation is needed when a name is mentioned. "Yeah, I gotta go get more Long Distance this afternoon. You and the kids wanna take a Jeep ride?"
#9: I have a favorites folder on my computer labeled "Little Swimmers".
#10: I have to gently explain to my children that not every child needs to know the cattle related definition/nickname of "banding", "boys", "balls", "ding-a-lings" or "have they dropped off yet?"; nor do my children need to feel the need to be the one to fill in their peers on the anatomy of the birds and the bees of the cows. I have shhhh'd more than one beginning of what could have been a very interesting conversation among my kids and other lads and lasses. (If you need an explanation, go here Why ding-a-lings have to go bye-bye, caption of seventh picture.)
#11: Having "jug-o-lube" on the errand list for Friday town day is completely normal: Fareway, post office, bank, Jaarmsma and... "jug-o-lube". (I dropped my errand list at Bible study one day a couple of years ago and thankfully, oh so thankfully, the sweet lady who found my list didn't read it! If you need explanation,click on the link. What does she mean, "Jug-o-Lube"? Fifth paragraph will tell you what you need to know.)
There are many more reasons, but these are just the eleven I thought of real quick that has come up in the last 24 hours. Well, all but #8. That was last week.
It's been fun. I'll have to keep adding to it.
(the beginning of my own personal collection)
#1: We blood-pregnancy tested several "iffy" cows yesterday. I took the vials, all boxed up, to town this morning to mail to the lab to get the testing done. How excited/anxious can I get to get the results back before it becomes weird? It's close to the same feeling as if I peed on a little stick myself!
#2: I think nothing of carrying a boxful of vials full of cow blood to town. Yep, right there riding along on the passenger seat.
#3: During testing, I got fresh cow blood (which is like, WAY different than blood from a steak!) all over my hands and didn't freak. Or even ask for soap and water. Or an antibacterial wipe. Nothing. I've become immune to the yuck factor.
#4: I was told... um, er... asked at lunch to be the vial label-er, arranger and record keeper. Twenty minutes later, blood... See #3.
#5: Watching my husband stick his hands up bovine unmentionables doesn't phase me a bit. (But if you want to read about the hows and the whats of the unmentionables, go here Unmentionables Explained to a past post.)
#6: Neither does having an in depth conversation over lunch (which was, ironically, a beef T-bone steak grilled to perfection!) about cow cervix size verses heifer cervix size and which one should the first for me to try to learn on phase me. Not a bit.
#7: Having my Honey take my hand and inspect my arm, just to be seriously told that my freakishly long, slender-like arms would be perfect for preg-checking and AI'ing is a compliment of sincerest form. And I take it as such... it's either laugh or cry, right?
#8: Bull sperm donor names are talked about in conversation as if they are old friends and no explanation is needed when a name is mentioned. "Yeah, I gotta go get more Long Distance this afternoon. You and the kids wanna take a Jeep ride?"
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| Got semen? This will soon be a whole 'nother post on it's own. Can't wait... can ya? You're just giddy with excitement and curiosity, aren't ya? |
#10: I have to gently explain to my children that not every child needs to know the cattle related definition/nickname of "banding", "boys", "balls", "ding-a-lings" or "have they dropped off yet?"; nor do my children need to feel the need to be the one to fill in their peers on the anatomy of the birds and the bees of the cows. I have shhhh'd more than one beginning of what could have been a very interesting conversation among my kids and other lads and lasses. (If you need an explanation, go here Why ding-a-lings have to go bye-bye, caption of seventh picture.)
#11: Having "jug-o-lube" on the errand list for Friday town day is completely normal: Fareway, post office, bank, Jaarmsma and... "jug-o-lube". (I dropped my errand list at Bible study one day a couple of years ago and thankfully, oh so thankfully, the sweet lady who found my list didn't read it! If you need explanation,click on the link. What does she mean, "Jug-o-Lube"? Fifth paragraph will tell you what you need to know.)
There are many more reasons, but these are just the eleven I thought of real quick that has come up in the last 24 hours. Well, all but #8. That was last week.
It's been fun. I'll have to keep adding to it.
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| Moo. |
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