Ten Sweaty Days

 

It has been ten days since the "spider" incident, and I feel like it's been a month. Time really flies when all you do is sweat all day, try to disassociate, then go back and do it again. Since I mentioned the spider, I'll go ahead and tell you what I did about that...

Shortly after I hit "post", I took the front-end loader down the road to trim a very tall, very proud blade of Johnson grass that was incessantly waving in front of one of my hunting cameras. If wind catches a stem of Johnson grass at night, does it really move? Yes, it does. I have approximately 500 pictures of that, thanks. Anyway, I ended up moving the camera, during which I somehow hit/scared/offended a skunk who sprayed directly under the cab of the tractor, after which I headed back down the road telling myself, "I'm not going to stop, I'm not going to stop, I'm not going to stop" and stopped at Arkies. The thought was that I was going to do something about this spider before I have to encounter it again the next morning. I got to the gate and took inventory of what was in the tractor that I could "use". A crowbar, 47 empty water bottles, a chain, 2 empty tic-tac containers, 15 gloves with no mate, and a can of penetration oil. Let's be very clear, some farms credit their longevity to strict equipment maintenance protocols, doing everything "by the book", clear goals and divine intuition. Our farm runs on ratchet straps, bungee cords, zip ties and penetration oil. Facts. So, I grabbed the penetration oil, hopped out of the tractor, and soaked the wooden fence post down. I don't know what my goal was, but I thought I wouldn't want to live in a house that smelled like that. Do spiders smell? Long-er story short, I haven't seen the spider since. Follow me for more tips and tricks. Luckily that was nipped in the bud right before chopping started!

We hire a custom chopper to take care of chopping our corn silage for us, it makes way more sense to do it this way than try and accomplish it ourselves. He has the best equipment and manpower to get done in 3 days what would take us over a month (I'm lying, it would take us longer). He chopped 3,100 tons of corn silage in about 3 days. The moisture level was right so it should ferment really well and be ready to feed in a few months. We are milking just under 120 cows, with around 35 dry cows, and that amount of corn silage will last us a year and change. That was from 170 acres, for any inquiring minds. For anyone who doesn't know, corn silage makes up the bulk of the cows' daily ration, so if you put up great corn silage then your additives (commodities and minerals) should be less, and your output (milk, health, reproduction) greater. Got into the weeds there, sorry not sorry. Chopping is done and nobody got mad and quit. Win win. 

Another thing that happened is that this little boy...

(I mean come on! The sweet smile, the red dinosaur shirt he wore EVERY day! I die.)

Started 3rd grade...

and I am unwell.

I am well aware that the chalkboard thing (as well as doctor aspirations) went right out the window. Some of us are just doing our best ok? He has changed a lot since pre-k and is now set on being a NASCAR driver. Pray for me. Although he has the right instincts, he will take a 90-degree turn on the side-by-side without allowing the gas pedal to become liberated from the floorboard. I'm doing my best Susan. He did say that he would live with me forever, and that we could buy a house and, "just put cats in it"...say no more my darling, say no more. "Cats?" you say? Yeah, my name is Rachael and I have a 

cat problem. More on that next time!

Your Favorite CowLady,

Rachael

Rachael Can't Come to the Phone Right Now

 ...because she's dead.

One thing about me, I don't like bugs. Of any kind. I regularly donate the contents of my garden to birds, rabbits and whatever creature comes along, just because I don't want to come into contact with the crazy insects that tomatoes attract. Will I venture out to harvest a few items when I believe the atmosphere is optimal? Yes. Am I always chased off by some weird black transformer-looking thing with wings? Also, yes.  You might be thinking, Rachael, you work outside! How does that work? Alot of internal dialogue, long sighs, holding my breath and I get stung a lot. Boy if I had a dollar for every time I've been stung...

Anyway, it's very important that you know that about me before I tell you what happened this morning. It was about 4:15, I was already finished cleaning the barn and fetching cows, so it was time to grab the front-end loader and do the farm tour, where I take grain to all the groups of heifers scattered about.  I was on my 4th stop, Arkies, when I pulled up to the gate and saw a HUGE brown spider on the wooden fence post right above where the chain slips over a nail. Now, that same (I'm assuming) spider was in the SAME exact spot yesterday morning when I got there. Yesterday I did what any normal person would do, and I had a 5-minute debate with myself about options and eventually held my breath while I streeeetched my arm out and slowly slipped the chain off the nail directly beneath the death star. The spider never moved. Whew. I got them fed and went on about my way. So obviously the spider knew I would be there today again and was waiting on me. Harassment at this point. I briefly debated saying goodbye forever to the heifers due to the fact that the spider obviously owns this property now and I'm trespassing but ultimately decided to stand my ground. Standing my ground consisted of sloooowly grabbing my 5-gallon bucket and inching closer to the fence post. Spider still there, hasn't moved or grabbed its bucket. We're doing good. I reared that bucket back and a millisecond before I whacked the post the spider JUMPED. It jumped. It jumped at the speed of light. It jumped and I died. No, it jumped and I screamed maybe peed a little and scared every heifer out of that corral. I look down, is it ON ME????? I CAN'T TELL BECAUSE I'M WEARING CAMOUFLAGE PANTS! Now what 43-year-old mother is wearing camouflage pants? Who am I? Team Realtree? No, a 43-year-old mother who, at a moment of weakness, was influenced by Temu and thought, "now those are some cute pants", well they're not but they are great for wearing in the wee hours of the morning when no one sees me. Except now that I am going to possibly have a medical episode because there may or may not be a spider IN MY POCKET, whoever finds me is going to think this was a hunting accident. You ever see me in camouflage pants? No, you didn't. So, I frantically do something resembling the moves that the 'tube man' you see in front of car dealerships does, and short of disrobing and/or setting everything on fire, I decide that I don't think it's on me. 

Covered in goosebumps and a little nauseous I grab my bucket only to find that I have blown a big hole in the side during the whacking. Great. Now there's a leeetle trail of grain everywhere I go. I get the heifers fed and get back in the tractor perched on the edge of the seat, convinced that monster is crawling up my back the whole way to Brooks.

You know what? It's going to be there tomorrow and I have no plan. NO PLAN. I know one thing; I won't be wearing camouflage pants.  

And that was my morning. How was yours?

-Rachael

Oh, hey!

Oh, hey!

Long time no see. Like 12 years no see...yikes. Let's not even begin to try to recap the last twelve years, shall we? Suffice it to say, I had a baby (9 years ago), there's been some weight lost...some gained, lots of gray hairs have sprouted, crows have tread, wherewithal has diminished...but patience? Lordy, patience has grown exponentially, about 9 times over to be exact (directly related to wherewithal). Still proudly dairy farming and a little over two years into milking cows with our Lely A5 robots.  

This was the first girl through the robots, a jersey *would* be the first, iykyk. Transitioning to robots was one of the hardest things I've ever done, but I would do it all over again. The cows love the robots almost as much as me. The robots have improved every aspect of the herd, from health and wellbeing to reproduction, to production and feed efficiency. If Lely would hire me part-time, I'm certain I could sell these things. 

As far as every other aspect of the farm goes, it's still pretty much just the Angry Dutchman and I doing most things. You know how some people resemble their pets? Well, although the AD is twenty years my senior, we are basically the same size (I think his feet are smaller than mine donttellhimthat), sometimes his hair gets as long as mine, his crows stepped in quicksand along the way, and basically what I'm saying is he could be my pet. My older, geriatric pet. Who can't hear and bites first. We need a warning sign. But we definitely don’t look alike. Definitely. He's also an enneagram 8, like me. Finding that tidbit of information out involved him making me help him put a roof on a house and I ran out of things to talk about. Anyway, that's enough talk about that for now. 

I have thought so many times about bringing this back, because I really do have very unique daily experiences that offer a different perspective to this crazy world we all share. Every day is different with the underlying theme of "do your best and leave things better than you found them and try not to do anything stupid". I hope to take some of you along for the ride. 

Dairy farming is never easy, rarely ever fun, but so worth it at the end of the day. 

Talk to you soon,

Rachael

Dear Mom and Dad..

Dear Mom and Dad,

Yesterday you finished the race.  You crossed the finish line, FINALLY watching all of your children graduate from high school.  Wow. You should take it east now, sit back and relax because there are NO more sports games to attend.  Can I get an 'Amen'?
It only took...well, let's just say a reeeaallly long time.  Let's see, Malinda graduated from high school in 1999, which means she started in....you know what it doesn't matter :).  I'm not here to make you feel old, or tired.  I'm here to give you a little piece of mind.  That's right.  In case you have ever wondered if we are truly "ready" for life outside the comforting walls of our adolescence, I'm here to tell you "we are", and I can prove it.

 (Malinda's medical school graduation)

 (Mack's high school graduation)

Mom and Dad, you raised us right.  We are very fortunate in that we grew up on a farm, but also benefited from receiving a fine education.  Sure, we may have been the only kids in middle school to go home and mulch/weedeat/mow/pull weeds/rake leaves/feed calves but that helped shape us.  We know the value of hard work, and not being the last one out the door.  I am an expert at quickly assessing ANY situation, and coming out in roses while my counterpart tries to accomplish a more tedious task.  Cuz I'm good like that, see?  That's just ONE of the many life lessons we have made it to the other side with, there are many more.
One, we are experts at herding cattle on foot.  This may seem like a "so what" kind of skill to the average person, but go to the grocery store on senior citizen day and see how you fare.  With my perfectly honed skills of getting close but not TOO close, and staying out of their blind spots, I can get in and out in record time.  NO! You're motorized shopping cart will not come between me and my butter.  Occasionally having my paddle handy would be advantageous, but I just focus on their cart and stay loose, remembering that sudden movements may spook them. 

Another life skill that we have taken on the road I touched on earlier.  The 'don't be the last one out the door' lesson.  It's really more for survival.  In a family of 5 kids you don't want to be the last one to anything, be it work or supper.  You know what happens when you're the last one?  You end up with clay mud stains on your ballet tights because you had to go get the horse in the dark, who was on the opposite side of the world.  It was muddy, you were shaking you're trusty feed bucket, yelling "Panchooooo!" at the top of your lungs WHILE trying to navigate mud puddles.  In the dark.  With one hand on a barbed wire fence.  With holes in your hand-me-down boots, and plastic bags on your feet that your Mom swore would "work".  Well they didn't and the disappointed look you got from Miss Amy at dance class was just icing on the cake.  Now not only did you not only have the most "quality" thighs in dance class, but they now resembled giraffe spots.  This is merely an example though...you know, not "real".  Lesson here?  If you're slow everywhere else that's fine, but you must be lightning quick in the common sense department.

Mom and Dad, the last lesson I'm going to talk about is one that I am most appreciative of.  You might not have said it but it was always there, understood like your love for us.  That lesson is that, you can always go home.  No matter what.  Home never changed.  The place you brought us as newborns, is the same place we left when we thought we knew it all.  Home was where we never wanted to be.  It was boring.  It meant work, and hard lessons.  It wasn't always fun.  But it's where we all came from.  It's the tie that binds us all.  When were home, standing in the kitchen with the SAME dishwasher that has ALWAYS been there, we're family.  We're your 5 children, with pieces of you in all of us.  Suddenly the place we tried so hard to leave, is the place we all gravitate toward.

We were created by God for a purpose, and you have worked so hard to help us realize what that is.  Your lessons, some harder than others, we will carry forever. There is really no way to thank you enough for raising us, and loving us like you do.  I think I can speak for the 5 of us and say, without doubt, that we only want to make you proud...and maybe we can get you a new dishwasher one day.  No promises!

Love,
YourCowLady

40 Years Ago

40 years ago today this man was born...

Just seeing him in a picture gives me goosebumps :).  For real, I've got it bad.
That picture was from his birthday in 2010 :).

When friends who haven't me him ask me about him, my favorite thing to say is, "he's the best man I know".  There is not a more "complete" way of describing him.

He had an interview a while back, and in preparation for it we came up with 3 words to describe him...really because I figured they would ask, which they DID (yay me!).
Those 3 words were; consistent, dedicated and experienced.
Honestly, if you want to know ANYthing about him professionally, those 3 words are all you need.  If anyone has an issue they need an opinion on, he is THE best decision-maker I have ever met.  EXCEPT when it comes to food...seriously people, stop taking him to eat bbq!

These 3 words also apply to his role as a dad.  Watching Caden grow up, and seeing him go from child to young man, is truly an experience.  He has such a innate sense of "right" and "wrong" that there is simply no question whose child he is.  Chuck doesn't miss anything.  He might not be the one who is always doing the "fun" stuff, but he is always there.  Whether it's pushing Caden to get his reading done for the week, or telling Caden how proud he is of his attitude, Chuck is consistently there for him. 

Plus they tend to favor each other a bit :).  Seriously, those eyes will have all the little girls swooning...his daddy's are what got me ;).

It's funny, as a husband I wouldn't use those same 3 words.  I think, loyal, loving and attentive are probably the 3 I would pick.
I don't believe that "perfect" marriages exist, I think marriage is hard work and what is perfect for one isn't perfect for another.  As a wife, I know I don't do everything right, but I try real hard :).  We make each other better, I think that is the key.  He's my man, and talking to him is absolutely what I look forward to every morning.  I wouldn't trade what we have for all of the money in the world.

So Chuck, or Charles as I tend to call you, thank you for your love.  Thank you for being my rock, and the highlight of every day.  I can't wait to celebrate so many more of your birthdays, but let's just take it real slow, ok?

Love,
YourForeverCowLady

It Takes Two

To make a thing go riiiight!
Am I right?
I am.

Today marks our two year wedding anniversary!
Two years might not sound like much, but to me it's everything.  Trust me, I don't think I know anywhere near as much as I will need to for the long haul...but I'm learning every day.
I mean, the Mr. America thing was a total surprise.  I never knew I had married a celeb.  Now that I look at it, the blacked out windows make total sense.
...er...hmmm...

I do know one thing for sure, communication is the MOST important ingredient when making a happy, healthy marriage.
Don't even care what you say....

Nothing, not one thing, can change my mind about this.

Yes, I love this man, with all of my heart and soul I love this man.
He's my happy beginning and end of each day.
He is my rock, the place I come when I'm sad, discouraged, or lost.
He finds me.
I absolutely adore him for all that he is.
I'm inspired by all that he pushes me to be.
Talking to him...occasionally at him...completes my day.

If I wasn't able to talk to him, tell him everything, this wouldn't work.
We could have all of the love in the world, the attraction, and the common interests, but if we didn't share our thoughts...we wouldn't connect.

Now, maybe you're relationship is different. No two couples are alike. But for us, we can lose touch quickly if we don't tell each other what is on our mind.  Maybe I can't help, but I can listen.  At least then I know what's bothering him....and vice versa.

It's us, and it works :).

But there's not just 2 of us, there are 3, and we are celebrating our second 'Fammiversary'.
Yes, I did that;).

Caden is just as much a part of the last 2 years as we are, and I thought it would be neat to take a look back and compare pictures! (Come on, it will be...)

 

Here are our engagement pictures!

2010

Caden was so small!

...and so were my weenie-arms, yeesh...

I was curling 5's then....nickels that is......

So two years following, we were doing this on March 13th, 2012

Charles couldn't wait for his salt n' peppa to come in....

Just kidding, that's my dad ;).

We made it official..

He wore the cow tie and all.

Wuv, sweet wuv!

Then, the day after we shot these...

Look how young...
(I don't think Tye-dye was ever "in".)



Here I am, taller than him...

2 years later, here he is...

Handsome as ever.

Here we are, he's taller than me now..

 

But I still out-weigh him...heh:)

There they were...

a hero and his min-me.

Here they are, thick as thieves.

And the two most special people I know.

My heart can't hold much more, I'm afraid.

There we were.

Here we are:)

Two fammiversaries down, the rest of our lives to go.

Maybe it doesn't take two...maybe it's 3.

Yes, I think that's it.

Love,

CowLady

That's Makes Me Mrs. America, By Default

A few weeks ago, I began noticing a trend.  It was a Saturday, and Chuck and I were working out together.  Yeah, together.
This is something I really never thought would happen, seeing as he says, "you do all the un-fun stuff..like abs...lunges..", all the time.  And he's right, I'm an un-fun gym rat who sweats a lot and doesn't talk to anyone.  Guilty!  However, to force myself to do the chest and arms(the muscle groups I find to be the MOST boring), he has agreed to let me work in with him on the weekends.  He's a sweetie like that. 
Anyway, a few Saturdays ago, in the midst of bench-pressing, I started noticing him taking a weird resemblance to someone.  He knows everyone, and because of that he is constantly throwing up a hand, or saying, "hey!" with a grin.  It took me a few moments but then I had it!

 

True Life: I workout with Miss America.
But without the flowers.
Or a crown.
OR annoying sash.
And I can't say that those sleeves would allow for mighty flexing.

SO what I'm sayin' is... I workout with Mr. America, and by default, that makes me Mrs. America.
Go ahead.  Take it all in.

I must say, since this discovery was made, some things have changed around here.....
-I think about ironing his shirts.
(But I'm certain Mrs. America would have someone do this for her, and so do I. Mr. America.)
-I wipe the sweat off of the gym equipment before he uses it.
(Technically it's my sweat, and I generally just rub my entire body across it and the problem seems to take care of itself.)
-I no longer wait impatiently as someone(no doubt an admirer) strikes up a conversation with Mr. America DURING a set.  I mean, I can't blame them.
(I smile off into space, counting the beads of sweat rolling down my back, and imagine that 'this is how Jackie O must have felt'.)
- I accept the fact that people of Mr. America's popularity cannot be expected to offer a good "spot", and in return I don't do much dumbbell work on chest/arm days.
(I still can't remember how many times I rep'd 65lb pullovers that day, but it did mess up a perky ponytail.)

All games aside, I'm proud to be married to such a good man :).

Love,
StillNotIroningCowLady