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

Wedge Salad

Are you familiar with 'Modern Family'?  You know, the TV series on all the time...or at least the reruns are.  Charles and I frequently(as in every night) watch this show, and are thoroughly entertained. 
It was not until the "Wedge Salad" episode, that I realized I belong in the Dunphy household.
OK, here's the rundown...Phil and Claire Dunphy are married with 3 children.  He is a realtor, she is a stay-at-home mom.  Claire is a control-freak, Phil was a college cheerleader who thinks his memories of riding on the back of his buddies scooter were "some of the best times".  Claire tries to live everyone's lives for them, while Phil is in the front yard practicing tight-rope walking.  Phil's a dreamer, Claire doesn't have much imagination.  Phil is laid back, while Claire has.to.win..
Get the picture?
If not, you should watch it, it's probably on right now.

In the "Wedge Salad" episode, Phil comes home from the grocery store and proudly displays the bag of broccoli to Claire, because he remembered she wanted it!!
But! She! Wanted! Cauliflower!
Then, she loses it.
Here's a clip of that....

I can't watch it...the mess she makes in that kitchen makes me cringe...Cuz I know who'd be cleaning it up.
For the rest of the episode Phil is trying to figure out why Claire is SO mad.  Cauliflower isn't a big deal! Near the end, Phil orders a wedge salad and tells Claire how much, "she really needs to try one!".  This is when she REALLY loses it.  You see, Claire had been telling Phil to try a wedge salad, but he never listened until one of his buddies told him, "how great they were!".
Phil doesn't listen.
This is my life.
I spit new information at my husband every.day....but not until either he READS it on The Facebook, OR hears it from someone at the office, does he believe it to be true.

Exhibit A:  I drink over a gallon of water every day, and we have ALL heard about how it helps to drink a glass of water before you eat for a number of reasons...right????
Do YOU think I failed to mention this to my husband??? noIdidn't.
He called me one day to tell me he, "just heard that you should drink a glass of water before every meal to help you feel fuller faster".
*Wedge salad*

Exhibit B:  He was lying on the couch one night and hollered at me in the kitchen, "Hey! Did you know that cinnamon actually boosts your metabolism AND is really good for you?!".
People, I buy the BIG container of cinnamon...not because I like apple pie.
*Wedge salad*

TODAY: I was on the phone with my darling sweet thang, and he says, "Hey! Are you ready? I'm about to wedge salad you.....".
THEN he told me all about the health benefits of Metamucil. 
Yesterday I told him all about how I was going to buy some(and did) because of the information I had recently been reading about it.  I tried to convince him that he should take it and he just sighed.
*WEDGE SALAD*

At least he recognizes.
I think I'll keep him ;).

Maybe someone will put something on The Facebook about the health benefits of folding laundry....

Love,
ClaireCowLady

P.s. THIS little fella just turned 3!!!
Happy Birthday Jackson!!

Ice Queen

Well, wouldn't you know it?  Right after, no...probably during the last post about "how much I love my babies..." I had to put my money where my mouth is.
siiiiigh.
Funny how things work like that, huh?

This is how it went down:

Last Friday morning I was immersed in my usual work routine, which now consists of feeding obnoxious amounts of hay every.day.. Seeing as it was a balmy 8 degrees (with sun shining!!), I had to feed awholebunch everywhere.

But first!

 

This is what we do, we take pictures of fearless felines doing phenomenal stunts!
...I wish phenomenal stated with an 'f'.

Back to the story:
I finished feeding Prospero, one of the finishing herds, and headed to my cow/calf haven at Sheets Hollow.  It is a haven, you would agree if you saw it.  Sent from above.
Now, when the sun is shining, especially in the morning, I pull into SH and they come a'runnin'.  Big old pregnant black cows, little Piney Woods, red, black and white, you name it.  Tails UP and hammered down!
That good old sunshine brings out the best in them :).
Anyway, (I got lost in the moment) I headed to the top of a hill to drop a round bale and let it unroll itself(really the easiest way), and upon dropping it turned to spot a teeny,tiny black dot in the middle of a great big pond.
A frozen pond.
A frozen mudandcowpoopfilled pond.  Sorry.  It's true.
It took me exactly .375 seconds to get to the edge of that pond, get out and say, "well crap".
I did.

(you can't see him because I took this after...fyi.)

 

Poor little fella, I assumed fella because...I mean really...
Anyway, the poor little calf was all splayed out, in the middle of the frozen slab of what used to be their favorite swimming hole.  Mama, #5, was standing at the edge, and I knew it was her by her constant "calling" to him with the unmistakable sound of distress.  Like The Heat did that time we got chased by a Jersey bull, Oh Rachael! I can't do this!!!.
I looked at him, looked at the ice, took into account the sun and his body heat(what little of it there was), and decided if I didn't get him off of it quickly he would fall through and would be lost.
I made a miserable attempt at crafting a rope with a loop in the end out of a ratchet strap I had.  Every time I threw it his way he would scootch a little further, never mind that the rope never made it actually to him.  Way to go me.
So, being the dingy I am, I started stepping onto the ice....step...step...ste...WAIT!  Well this is stupid, I'm going to fall!
Back to the shore.
I decided I would kneel down, yeah yeah! This will work! I crawled a few feet then, like straight out of a movie, a big crack erupted from between my knees and extended through my hands and all the way to him.  Panic!!!! Scootchscoothscootch all the way back.
Plan D.  It's always good when you get to D.
From the frozen shore where I knelt, I decided that I weigh entirely too much.
No, that's not it!
I decided that if I was going to get him I needed to lay down, spreading my abundance of weight out, and slide my body to him that way.
At this point there was NO second thought.  It was all you got this! Just go real fast! You might get wet, but hey it will take a little while for the moisture to make it through all those clothes! Rah rah rah!
And so I did, I slide out there, grabbed his little hoof and made like a bandit for shore.
This is him with mama....

He couldn't bring his legs together very well, due to the fact that he was very new to this world, and had probably been on the ice for some time.  I worried about him. A lot.

This was the little feller today.

He has his tongue out for ya :).

Now, you can't tell me he wasn't worth the effort.  

Anyway, the story of the Ice Queen ended like it should have; the baby was reunited with his loving mother, and as for the Queen, let's just say if this happens again the Ice King won't be the first person she calls ;).

My "normal" routine has changed from 'check the cattle', to 'check every square inch of the field because strange things happen after you blog'.  Amen.

Love and  icicles,
CowLady

P.s. THIS is what I have to look forward to tomorrow....
 

 

The forecast makes me sad.

 

Proud Mama

Ok, so there are a few things that really get under my skin.  Reaaallllyyy get in there, ya know?
Wait. I'm sorry. How rude of me.

How are you?
Cold? Gettin there?
Oh, I'm fine...other than the fact that I got YELLED at in the Wal-Mart parking lot yesterday.
Yeah, let's not talk about it.

Back to the matter at hand...things that make me go, "ugh".
1.  Men being men when they're around men but being men around women who can do stuff.
2.  The silent treatment.
3.  Being told, "you'll understand when YOU have kids".
There are more I'm sure, but those are probably my top picks.

We will not be addressing numeros uno or dos today because;
-I'm sure I will address number one later (because it's sooo true) and to be honest,I gave Caden the run-down last Friday when I had a fresh wound and it still stings.There.
Poor Caden.
  Number 2 is not very exciting. Just talk to me and don't be weird. K?

Number three it is!!!

Let me preface this by acknowledging the fact that yes, I'm dirty 30, and no, I have not birthed a child...even though everyone I went to high school with evidently has so I pretty much feel like I have had at least 2.
Thanks for the bm updates, guys.

Anyway, it may sound silly, and actually probably does to 90% of the people who might stumble upon this, but I consider my calves(not the ones on my legs, come on) to be my babies.
No, I don't coddle them, or play with them, but I watch over them and take care of them when they are sick.  They are mine.

Yes, I realize they don't need me to feed them(beef biz now peeps), burp them, or empty their potty, but they need me.

Last week I happened upon a calf who was in the beginning stages of pneumonia.  4 months old, just laying in the field all alone. Was mama around? Nope.  So I got the calf, with a temp of 107, up and treated her.  She's fine now, thank goodness.
She's my baby.  They all are.

This past Sunday I got called-out in Church by Pastor Brad. I didn't breathe for 5 minutes.
Like, during Church.  Like, remember when the teacher was totally not looking at you, then calls YOUR name to answer a question?  And you're all like, "uh, I carried a watermelon".  Likethat.
Thankfully the Good Lord was paying attention at this very moment and I didn't have to say anything. whew!
Anyway, Pastor Brad used our little family as an example in his sermon, and do you know what tiny, fragment of those mere seconds I remember like my birthday???  The words, "you're son".
He called Caden, my stepson, my "son".
And he is.

He is a beautiful, smart, big-hearted boy who encompasses all that any mother would dream of, and he's mine.
No, I did not birth him.
There are zero of my genes in his entire body.
I never saw his first steps, teeth or skinned knee.
BUT, I am here every night when he is.
I make him snacks for school.
I pick him up, talk to him, help him, and I dare say how I would react if anything ever happened to him.
I love him.
He's mine and the fact that he claims any part of me means more than any blessing I could receive.

So, here's the thing and the thing about the stuff I just said.
I understand.

Not because I have been there necessarily, but because I am a caring, compassionate person.

I don't know how you felt going through labor, but I can show you compassion. 
I don't know what you have to juggle to get to where you're going, but I can listen, and I do respect you.

So, maybe the next time you assume someone has to have a child in order to obtain a certain level of understanding, think about how they feel.
I dare say any of my friends know exactly how it feels to be feeding round bales in an open bobcat on the coldest day of the year, but I think they could probably understand that it's a bit chilly.
Ya know?

I so dearly love Caden and could bot be prouder of my son.

Love, respect and compassion,
CowLady

P.s. We'll get to the "Wal-Mart" ordeal in good time.

Pulling the Trigger

I have written 9 posts since the last one I published, and have just not been able to pull the trigger.
don'tbemad.
It's not you, it's me.
I have problems.

I think about posting every single day, for real, but the problem is one day I feel convicted to talk about Jesus and the next?  I want to talk about how much I despise the word, "skinny".
Ew.
And 'bikini bridge'???? Don't even get me started.

I have decided to just get over it, over myself and.just.post.
Ta-da!

Since we last talked I have continued working on the same grass-fed, grass-finished beef farm, and LOVE it. Just do. Can't help it. Would totally do it for free if I didn't need the money. don'ttellmyboss. ormyhusband.

I feel like during the last 6 months I have evolved into a different, but better, version of myself.  Still working on it though;).

My morning walks to check the cattle are my time to give thanks, and to breathe in all He has given me.  I tell you, sometimes I cannot seem to breathe deeply enough.  

Working out daily is still a non-negotiable for me.  It is my happy place.  My honey goes with me almost every morning, and my fitness approach continues to evolve. 
I have really gotten into eating...without apology. Sound weird?
Back when I competed for the first time I immersed myself in self-education on food, food as fuel, and fitness. 
I worked hard, trained hard and got the results I wanted. Good, right? Eh, kinda.

I had very, very low body fat, a six-pack and a couple of trophies.  Woot.
Problem is, my relaltionship with food became very strained.  I started to look at food as just fuel to get me through my day.  No fun involved.  I ate clean, didn't "deprive" myself of an abundant amount of it, and gave myself a hard time if I splurged.

Just last week I was talking with my good friend K, and we shared stories about "allowing ourselves sodium" and not eating every 2-3 hours on.the.dot..
Those things were mental hurdles for us. 
As were "eating carbs after 5 pm" and not running 5 miles after a piece of cheesecake.
^^^^^^^^^These things?!  These things aren't healthy!
Sure they get results, duh!  But, no one should have a negative relationship with food.
I love food. Food+me=TL4E.

Things have changed.  Food and I have reconciled and so has my body fat. sigggghhhh.
Don't get me wrong, I still eat clean and healthy, but I love every second of it.  Every breakfast, lunch, dinner, dessert.  No remorse.  No sweating over cheesecake.
I also stopped doing cardio and have replaced it with heavy weight-lifting.  Guess what?
I have less body fat than before I quit cardio.  Yep.
I have a butt too...whaaaaaa????

Now, this recipe for success is only for me.  I have a physically demanding job, and I know my body.
That's not the point of this.  The point is you have to give yourself a break, listen to your body and EDUCATE yourself on what you are eating.
None of this, "what's a carb?" garbage.  No, "is a potato good for you?", "how much is a serving?".
People, you can Google these things on your phone.  There's no excuse.  Don't be lazy.

When I began educating myself I had ZERO dollars to my name.  Like, zero. I could only afford a gym membership, no diet coach or health training. 
I used all my savings to buy Clean Eating books, fitness magazines, and I scoured the internets daily.   You can do this!
Figure out your body, what makes it tick and how it responds to food.  Then, repair your relationship with food.

Now, before you go 'calling me out' and such, I am getting ready to start doing cardio again...gasp!!!
But, only a little after I lift.I think I'm ready.  So there.

And, for the record, I totally meant to talk about Jesus...I'm not sure what happened!  I have a lot to say, and I reckon this has been on my mind as well...new years resolutions and all....;).
This is EXACTLY why I have so many unpublished posts..ugh!
Needless to say, you'll be hearing from me again soon...hey, I walked to the front at Church today, anything is possible ;).

Love,
CowLady

This Picture

I don't know what it is about this picture, but it stirs something inside of me.
I took it when I got to work the other morning, just like every other picture I take, but for some reason it hits me differently.
Each time I look at it, like when someone "likes" it on The Facebook, it literally takes my breath and almost brings tears to my eyes.

Is it hope? 
It certainly has something to do with hope.
Maybe it reminds me that each morning, each sunrise, is truly a gift.  Something we aren't guaranteed, something we often take for granted, something simple like a sunrise.

To be honest?
If I could dedicate this picture to anyone, it would be to those who lost their cattle in the blizzard in South Dakota.  Sounds a bit cheesy, but it's the truth.

To me it's like they are walking in Heaven, surrounded by light and a promise.
Maybe cattle don't make it to Heaven, but they certainly bring it to me.
Love,
CowLady

My Walk

 

A few years back, I went through a very dark period in my life.  Have you ever heard the saying, "Satan manifests himself in everything you want and desire"?   There is nothing closer to the truth.  If I could rewind to the time before this dark period, I could safely say that I didn't know what I wanted.  I didn't know who I was, because all I really wanted was to be somebody else.  Somebody different but just like everyone else...you follow?  I had no inner voice that I listened to, instead I turned to everyone and everything else to define me.  Things defined me.  People defined me.  When you won't let yourself be yourself you can very easily become lost.  And so I was.  

It was not until I could fall no further, find a place no darker than the one I was in, that I broke.  You know how Law Enforcement is often described as being the, "thin blue line"?  People have a thin blue line as well.  It's that point where you have to make a choice between sides.  You choose between darkness and light.  During my breaking, I alienated myself from everyone.  The phone scared me.  The television was my worst enemy.  I did not know where to go, had nowhere to go, so I delved inward.  I have always been a thinker, but never felt confident in my skin much less thoughts.  The only problem was, when I sat inside and thought I only worried.  I only wept.  That's when I began walking.

The fields behind my mother and father's home are seemingly never ending.  There are hills, valleys, ponds and very few fences.  I can remember the first day I went out.  No destination, no time constraints, I just knew I needed air.  As I walked I pondered until I eventually wore myself out, only to return home and fall fast asleep on my little brother's spare bed.  I quickly learned that when I was inside I felt trapped, like I needed someone to be close by to be there and accept me.  Every day I would walk the fields, noticing the trees, the directions of the wind, and though no one was with me, I was at peace.  

During these walks I retraced footsteps, remembered childhood moments, and thought about how I felt.  Deep down inside, behind the locked doors, I pulled out feelings that I hadn't realized were there.  My thoughts turned into prayers, and questions that would go unanswered until maybe the next day.  I was OK with that, I didn't have plans.  

I would be skipping the greatest part if I didn't tell you I became closer to God.  Even though I was alone, I could feel Him inside of me.  I could feel the broken pieces coming together in a whole new way.  With each step a part of me became new again.  Sometimes I would just stop and gaze up toward the sky, other times all I could do was kneel.  As the wind pushed me forward, so did His courage.  The courage He gave me.  It was because He believed in me, that I believed in myself.  I began to accept myself and all of my faults, and started praying to find my voice.  

This blog is so many things to me.  It's my place to share pictures of my animals, to tell stories about work, and to be myself.  Maybe my posts can get further apart than I like, but I get lost in my head sometimes.  I'm a thinker through and through.  In a way this is part of my voice.  I still walk every day out checking my cattle, fences, grass, etc.  But you see, I have to.  The time spent out in the field is the closest I ever feel to Him.  I can feel the Spirit move me during worship, but I can feel Him walking with me each morning.  

As hard as it is for me to talk about certain parts of my life, there is a larger part of me who wants to share these things, hoping someone who needs to walk with Him will find a way.  I was broken and He made me even better than before.  

With Love,

CowLady

A Good Woman

Charles and I have been married for over a year now and I have begun noticing things.
Odd things.
Strange things I do or say that I DEFinitely did NOT do before we got married.
Sorry for yelling.

If you know me then you know that I am no stranger to child labor, and parental overuse of it.  (Please allow exhibit A: Raking leaves intheSNOW, for review).  Because of this, I would rather pick up and toss 243,000 square bales of hay, onto a flatbed trailer intheSNOW, than mow  Like, ever. 
That may sound extreme, but when you have to mow your parents yard, the various barn lots, the homes for employees AND thesideoftheEVERLOVINroad until.you.move.away, you get burnt out.  Savvy?

And then you get married....
Not having to mow anymore is a fine reason to get married.  Just ask Caden!
Me: I abhor mowing.
Caden: Wait, isn't that why you got married?
Top of his class, that one.

But really, I have mowed twice TWICE in the past two weeks.  Why?  Couldn't tell ya.
I'm chalking it up to "Because I'm a good woman".
Don't laugh.

Other than mowing, I find myself thinking strange thoughts like, we could really use a sideboard in the breakfast area.
A sideboard?!
The 'carefree kid' inside of me dies a little each time I type "SIDEBOARD" into the Craigslist search box.
Here I am looking for decorative furniture pieces to stub my toe on, while Chuck peruses theater seats for the Man Cave.
AND I mowed.
Gahhhhhh.

It's alright, he still kills bugs for me.  I tell ya, I can hear a bug move a-n-y-where in the house.  I also heard a tree fall in the woods last week.  Basically what I am saying is I'm magic.
But only when it's not convenient, like when the grass grows or when I can't find my grocery list and am at the check-out (after buying 34 things I didn't need) and I open my wallet, when out pops the list.

I mow, search endlessly for home decor, cry inside when the men of the house come in the front door and DON'T wipe their feet.
OK, maybe I'm not magic.

Maybe I'm just a good woman.

...but the tree really made a sound.

Love,
CowLady

Peachy-Shortbread Bars

First of all, please forgive the terrible picture. I mean really?
But trust, read the ingredients, and trust.
I created these bars yesterday, quite unexpectedly, and in response to an impromptu grocery store trip. I went in for quinoa, and came out with quinoa, peanut butter(cuz you can NEVER have too much), butter(ditto) and the most beautiful peaches I have ever purchased. For real. They made it into my basket after a drive-by squeezing. Ya know, when you walk through the produce and haphazardly start grabbing fruit to tell if its worthy of purchase. I spotted these glorious bright yellow "South Carolina" peaches first, and gave them a squeeze only to discover that they were hard as a rock. I wrinkled my nose and made a "ugh, figures" face....because I am a food snob like that. Out of the corner of my eye I caught a display, furthest from the produce mind you, exhibiting pretty plums and huge, juicy looking peaches. I buzzed straight over, grabbed one, perfect, and immediately began filling my bag. No clue what I was going to make, but I knew I could figure something out once I got home.
My first thought was pie! Of course! But then I remembered that not only am I a food snob who prefers to make her own crust, I am a brat who didn't feel like waiting for dough to chill. Just the facts. Then my mind wandered to bars! Yes, bars! Chuck loves anything in bar form, brownies, cookie cakes, cheesecake bars, etc. So that's settled, I was making bars. I started perusing recipes from some of my favorite bloggers and didn't find anything that really spoke to me. Ugh. So what's a girl with pounds of peaches to do? Make one up!
They had to have a great crust, so I decided on a thick shortbread recipe. Thick, cuz I love me some crust. I could just eat crust. I don't need any filling, just crust people. I wanted to make the topping more like a crisp, so I came up with a wonderfully nutty cover to accent the beautiful peaches. Enjoy!

Yield: 1 9x13 pan....quite a few servings depending on how you slice it! Not that hungry? Half it and bake it in a 9x9 square pan...or cake pan..whatever you have!

Shortbread Crust:
3 cups all-purpose flour
1 cup granulated sugar
1 teaspoon baking powder
¼ teaspoon salt
1 cup (2 sticks) unsalted butter, cold, cut into tablespoons
1 egg, lightly beaten

Peach Filling:
6 cups diced, peeled peaches.(Mine where really big, and each one made 1 cup when diced.)
1 tablespoon cornstarch
1/2 cup granulated sugar pinch salt
1/2 teaspoon cinnamon
1/2 teaspoon grated nutmeg

Topping:
1/2 cup unsalted butter, softened at room temperature for 1 hour
1 cup old-fashioned oats
1/2 cup flour
1 cup pecans, finely chopped
1/4 teaspoon cinnamon pinch salt
1/4 teaspoon grated nutmeg

Glaze:
3/4 cup powdered sugar
1/2 teaspoon maple extract
1-2 tablespoons milk

Directions:
Preheat oven to 350 degrees Fahrenheit, and coat a 13x9 inch baking dish with cooking spray.
For the crust: In the bowl of a food processor, combine the first 4 crust ingredients. Pulse a few times until everything is mixed. With the food processor on, start dropping the cold butter in, one tablespoon at a time, until the butter has incorporated. Add the egg and pulse until the mixture resembles sand. Pour the crust into the prepared pan, covering the bottom, and press to make it uniform. Place in the fridge to chill about 30 minutes while you prepare the peaches. Note: if you don't have a food processor, you can easily use a pastry cutter, or your fingers.
For the filling: Place peeled, diced peaches in a bowl, and add all other ingredients. Toss to coat. Pour the filling mixture over the crust, and use a spatula to create an even layer. For the topping: If you used a food processor for the crust, simply wipe it out, and use it again for this step. If you did not, then a pastry cutter or your fingers should work fine. In the bowl of the food processor, combine; oats, flour, pecans, cinnamon, salt and nutmeg. Pulse to incorporate. Add the butter, one tablespoon at a time, pulsing after each addition. It should look rather clumpy. Cover the peach filling with the oat topping. Clumps are great! It doesn't have to be perfectly even...it is actually better when it's not:). Place in the oven, middle rack, and cook for 40-45 minutes.
I used a dark, ceramic baking dish, and it took all 45. If you are using metal or glass it may not take as long. Once the top is lightly browned it should be good to go!

Make the glaze:
In a medium mixing bowl, add the maple extract to the powdered sugar and stir it in. Then, working one teaspoon at a time, start whisking in milk until you achieve "drizzle" consistency. Too thin? Add more sugar. Too thick? Add more milk.
Cool on wire rack for an hour, then in the fridge for at least 30 minutes before slicing.
Love,
Me

The Glory of Greenback

Country music lyrics have often described "small town USA" in such vivid ways, that we often long for "simpler", "slower" living.  Ballads about small country towns where there is one main street, high school football games leave no soul at home, and if you're not at the corner diner for lunch, then you're as good as missing. 
I grew up on the outskirts of Greenback, we were more or less considered by the locals to be in a different city to be honest.  Though I did grow up on a farm, my siblings and I didn't attend Greenback high school, nor did we grace the halls of the Church downtown on Sunday.  We were regulars at the Co-op, but never warmed a stool in the diner.  We always joked that the Christmas parade that ran through downtown Greenback, "starts at 9:00am and ends at 9:02am".  Outsiders, really. 
Though I did travel the streets and was familiar with the layout, until I began working in Greenback daily, I hadn't really "discovered" what it had to offer. Since July this small town has become near and dear to my heart.  I have been rolling this post around in my head for quite some time, and I thought it was about time to bring it out.  Be forewarned, after reading you may find yourself staring out the window, looking for a change of pace.

Imagine, if you will, a town so small it doesn't even have a Wal-Mart.  Actually, no grocery either.  The closest you might get to a place like that would be the Co-op.  There you will find anything you need to build a bull-proof fence, feminine gardening gloves, a sturdy pair of overalls and enough house-cleaning supplies to keep the kids busy for a while.  If you're not sold yet, come on down the road into town, but beware the fastest a tractor will go will determine your arrival time.  
When you reach the flashing light, and stop sign, hang a left into the middle of town. The busiest time of day is 7:30-8:00 am.  School time.  You want to be sure to come at this time though, or else you will miss this...

 

At the old train depot, is where you will find this man.  He sits, holding the Bible and a microphone, and preaches aloud for the town and any passers-by to hear.   As the sun is stretching its golden fingers into the middle of town, so is The Word.  He stays until around 8:30, packs his things up and leaves, however in his place you will always find his black metal chair with scripture written on it.  If you really try you can make out the words, "God Has Blessed Greenback" on the sign behind him.  I can only imagine what it's like to wake up and hear The Word outside my window.

It is around this same time, once all of the kids are in school(it's k-12), that you get a whiff of the familiar smell of bacon frying up.  You're in luck, just across the street sits the Greenback Diner with crispy bacon ready and fresh coffee brewing.

On any day but Monday (when they are closed) that's exactly where you will find everyone, if not at breakfast then definitely at lunch. The diner sits beside the Greenback Museum, and across the street from the (always busy) Post Office.
If you are in need of some retail therapy look no further than...

Gently used, "nearly new" children's items as well as home goods can be found here.  On nice days the doors are left open and lovely furniture pieces as well as bicycles are outside for display. 
Proof of stores that have come and gone are hard to miss and sit empty, waiting for a resurgence.

  

Maybe one day.

For now, members of the community will gather at the Community Center for dances, craft shows, Girl Scouts and meetings.  They will attend the game on Friday nights, and caravan to those away.  The cows will still outnumber the people, and the weather, as it relates to the hay crop, will be the hot topic at the Co-op.  

Indeed, God has blessed Greenback.

Love,

CowLady

This is It

It's after 7 and the sun should be up by now, thankfully the heavy fog has kept it tucked away for a bit.  My partners and I are headed to work for the day, and I am reminded of their presence by their anxious panting from the backseat.  They love going with me, running alongside through the fields or riding shotgun, they look at me with "thank you" in their eyes and I smile back.
My route is different this morning, due to tasks which I have given myself the day to complete.  It's my time to use as I like, but always wisely.  "You reap what you sew" they say, and I want to sew nothing but trust between my new employer and I.
Winding through country roads, I head to Prospero, where the steers are kept, hoping to find that my set-up has worked.  The evening before, I loaded the mineral feeders in the corral with extra kelp, a.k.a "candy" as far as bovine are concerned.  As I round the bend, and signal to turn, I let out a soft squeal of delight as I notice the steers indulging in the bait.  I pull up to the curb, the girls whine because they think they are getting out, and I respond with a firm, "stay", which puts rears where they should be.  I quietly hop out, pause to grab my Muck boots from my tool box, and exchange comfy slip-ons for heavy rubber.  The steers don't realize I have arrived, and I proceed to slip through the fence unnoticed and close the gates to the corral.  One down, I think as I get back into the truck. 
The second stop is the most important.  In the cattle business timing is everything, especially when you rely on rotational grazing.  This way of farming is new to me, however cattle are not and I pride myself in knowing them.  Making a habit of watching them has taught me more than any book could.  I can anticipate what they are going to do, and for the most part get it right.  Scars and stories will tell that I am not always 100%, but I own it.
The cattle at Sheets Hollow are my cows and calves.  My mama's and babies.  They have quite a bit of acreage on which to roam, and through extensive fencing paired with strategic planning, I am able to rotate them to fresh pasture regularly.
As I wind through the hollow, my dogs become more anxious, and so do I.  Gosh I hope this works.  I park at the gate, let the girls out who jump and bark in response, and continue on foot.  It's gorgeous out. My favorite part of every day.  The fog is lifting as I make my way through a series of gates, and I notice 6 turkey feverishly running through the field after spotting me.  The dogs are running in front of me, noses to the ground and soaking wet from the dew.  I smile as I walk and close my eyes, drawing in a deep breath until I have no room and think, this is it.
As I come to the top of the hill I see my herd.  Swimming in new grass, babies curled up in nests they have made, and content.  They found their new field, and I am just in time.  I smile, stop, and extend my hands out to my sides and look at the sky, thank you.  Thank you for giving me this.  
The mountains are blue in the distance and the sun is trying its hardest to peek through the clouds, which results in orangeish-pink rays that only make this morning more perfect.  This is it.
The cows spot me, but only long enough to pause, mouths full of grass, before moving on.  I turn to leave, then turn back to snap a picture with my phone.

I love taking pictures and sharing them, because my days don't necessarily look like everyone else s.  I holler at my dogs to follow me, and we head back to close the gates which will prevent the cows from returning to their previous field.  Had I waited another 30 minutes, they would already be heading that way and my efforts would have been for nothing but the experience.  I know my cattle, and I take pride in that.
People often ask me, "What do you do during the day?" and I generally respond with something vague like, "I farm" or "I take care of cattle".  But for me, experiences like the morning I described, are what I do.  I live and I breathe and I farm.  That's it.
Love,
CowLady

In No Particular Order

 I have a guy working for me, I may have mentioned him a time or two.  This guy, we will call him 'Chatty Chip', tells me everything.  I mean everything.  I don't ask questions, I don't stir up conversation, that's not me!  I need him to come to work, and...get ready...work! 

Anyway, Chip tells me whatever is on his mind, whenever it's on his mind.  I believe that silence is golden, but he sees it as an invitation.  The never-ending invitation.
I know everything about Chip.  He knows nothing about me. 
Occasionally I will get an inkling to add to the already electrifying conversation, maybe a personal tidbit or two?  BUT by the time I have made the decision, Chip has plowed right over me, and I am left with my mouth open at which point I usually just say, "well, I gotta go!".  And I do. 
The problem, if you could even imagine there being one, is that he tells me things that stick with me.  Weird things.  Yucky things.  Gruesome things.  Things I need to tell someone!  So here ya go, in no particular order, "The Chronicles of Chip";

1.  Chip tore his ACL in high school, and a couple of weeks after surgery his knee was really throbbing.  He decided to take his brace off (which was apparently a no-no), and take a shower.  While in the shower he thought that bending his knee in a 'squatting' position was the best thing to do, and when he did the stitches busted open and what he described as, "off-white, blood covered infection" splattered all over the shower.  "It looked like someone blew up!!!", he enthusiastically told me as the blood drained from my body...
P.s. This jewel has been with me for TWO weeks.

2.  One time Chip was headed to the barn and had to stop to put his boots on.  He felt something 'pinch' his ankle as he pulled them on, however it stopped so he didn't think anything of it.  That evening he took his boots of and discovered a big knot on his ankle.  The next morning the "knot" had turned black and his foot was twice it's normal size.  "I thought that was pretty weird, so I went to the hospital" he said. 
That "pinch" was a Brown Recluse, which "after they dug it all out" required a skin graft from his upper thigh and fifty-two stitches.
Crocs it is!

3.  Chip had to stop going to his best friends' house recently.  He told  me that the last time he went over there, he "sat on the couch and 3 cockroaches crawled across my lap".  "Heck, you could move a picture on the wall, and under it would be filled with roaches", he elaborated as I threw up onmyfeet.
I.would.burn.it.down.

4.  During a brief stint as a groundskeeper at a high quality apartment complex, part of his duties were checking smoke detectors and changing air filters.  "Some people hated me coming into their apartment, a few older ladies would always bake cookies or brownies, and the stripper always came to the door naked...she didn't have cookies though", he stated matter-of-factly.

I really don't know how Chip has made it this far, but thanks to his willingness to tell-all, I am putting the puzzle together nicely.

Oh, don't worry you can thank me later for ALLLLL of those mental images....I no longer sleep at night.

Love and cookies!
UncomfortableCowLady

P.p.s We got kittens!  I'll tell you about them later, promise!

The 'Switch'

We have this heifer, and she's...um, how do I say this?  Bat-poo crazy.  Yeah, that's it.
Anyway, this heifer has won an all-expense paid trip to...um, here I am again...meet the FDA!  Yeah, sure!
Now, don't get all sad, grumpy cat on me.  She has earned this trip fair and square. 
Back when I began managing the farm, I inquired as to why there was a random heifer hanging out in the bull field?  Hard breeder?  Freemartin?  No, my boss told me that she was "wild".  Pffffftttt, I thought.  She's never met me, I'm the Queen crazy heifer around here! Our relationship has bloomed ever since the first time she ran wildly through the barbed wire fence....for NO reason.  Nottomention she has followers.  Some of the others think she's all cool and want to be just like her.  Not gonna fly girlie.  You see, I have built corrals, carefully constructed traps, jumped like a maniac screaming my head off from behind so many inanimate objects, and for what?  To end up in a head-to-head(literally) stand-off where, the craziest strongest female always comes out the winner.
It's like standing in an alley, alone, sweaty, and deliriously waiting to play chicken with the Mack truck at the other end.
Thetrucksgoingtowin!  I mean, I've got heart all the way down to my toes, but she's got that other thing.  The 'switch'.  The "I don't care if I die, lose an eye, never reproduce OR eat another Sonic onion ring" switch.  I enjoy living...with both eyes...while having the option to reproduce...and drive to Sonic anytime I want.  Maybe I'm just selfish.
This morning I expertly derived a plan.  A GOOD plan!  I had feeders positioned, gates precariously placed, and alllllll the bulls were eagerly chomping away at the delicious grain I offered.  This is going to work, I convinced myself.  While flossy was making her way, VERY cautiously toward her impending doom, I slipped away and tiptoe-ran (you know how you do when your wearing really heavy rubber boots, and they kind of get ahead of you, so you're kinda leaning back trying not to breath for fear of a strange throat-noise coming out? No? Me either...) to the big green tractor beside the fence.  I could feel the excitement welling up inside of me, as I held my breath, as not to be exposed behind the tractor tire I was hiding behind.  (D-r-a-m-a).  I saw her slide into the corral, Now's my chance!  I SPRANG from behind the tire, climbed flawlessly through the fence, and RAN to shut the gate!  She saw me...inmybrightorangeshirt (I'msostupid)....spun around, but before she could take a step there we were...mano y mano.  She was facing me with her front feet spread, and her head almost to the ground...looking for a gap.  I, on the other hand, was wildly waving my hands and screaming HEYYYYY! HEYHEYHEYHEYHEY! HEEEEYYYYYYYY! She went left, so did I.  She went slight right, then left...I matched her pace.  (Basketball playa from JV right hea...oh yeah).  Then she stopped, I screamed cuz I was kinda scared to be honest, and that's when she saw it.  Her freedom.  There's really not much to me, you know, other than talk.  Suffice it to say that my wingspan doesn't really cover a 10-foot gap, hence the waving hellloooo! I saw her intent in her eyes.  She was going to go straight.  Here cheeken, cheeken, cheeken....  I had a thought.  It was brief, I was going to call her bluff.  But my dad paid for a lot of edumacation see, and I figure I'd rather waste it on grammatically incorrect blog posts, thanks.  So, as she dove straight ahead, her aim betwixt my legs, I jumped out of the way.
And now she's eating grass.
The End.

For the record, I'm giving her the next 2 days off to think about her actions, and then we will see if her attitude has changed come Monday.
Until then, if you want to loan me a tranquilizer gun, I can assure you I will return it in mint condition.

Love,
QueenCrazyCowlady

Moments

I have been doing a lot of thinking lately..ya know, cuz that's what us farmers do.
We think.

Checking cattle, building fence, mowing a field...thinkthinkthink.

Anyway, I have been thinking about the reason I am here now.  As in managing this farm now.
Not like, sitting at the kitchen table now.
Glad we cleared that up.

I'm back to me.  The 'enjoying all of God's creation' me.  The 'taking care of beautiful(and often sneaky) cattle' me.  The me that has more time to be thankful.  Just me.

That's not why we're here today....youcanbreathenow.
BUT, if can answer that quandary I would be delighted.

We're here, at the kitchen table, because I have been thinking a lot about moments.
Ever since Malinda's friend (and mine) Jaclyn gave me her "before wedding" advice I have thought about moments differently.

Jaclyn told me to take mental pictures of moments during my wedding day, and the days leading up to it.  I am so thankful she did.  There is no way a photographer could catch each and every special moment that took place, much less do it from my eyes. 
Her advice was to, "take a step back, and watch every detail with the intent to revisit later".
I did, and continue to do so every day since.

Sometimes if I really concentrate I can remember special times from my childhood with such clarity, it's almost as if I was taking a mental picture.

I mean, a real picture is nice and all, but to be able to go back and feel something is irreplaceable.

...standing on the beach, just before sunset, trying not to cry...but crying..while holding Chuck's hands in mine, and looking into his eyes while reciting our vows...

These moments hit me while I'm driving to the COOP,

...my dad pulling poem, clipped from a newspaper, out of his suit pocket to use in his toast to us after the ceremony.  A toast he spent more time secretly preparing for, than I spent worrying about him doing...

While I'm measuring a field, on foot, for fence posts,

...sitting at the tiny kitchen table at Granny and Granddaddys house, across from Granny Smith, while she tears open pink packets of Sweet'n'low...

Walking through the cows and calves while they relax in the shade,making sure everyone is there,

...standing at the top of the dairy barn, eyes closed, smelling cows and silage, while the fans blow, listening to the steady 'clank' of the headlocks, and feeling so full of love for each one of those animals...

Filling up mineral feeders,

...at Church with my two greatest blessings, when we stand to sing and MY SONG!  MY ANTHEM, is the first one they play and I could just cry I'm so happy...

Checking fence in a new field,

...the last time I saw my mother, and how much more beautiful and happy she is each time I see her..

Driving to work,

...the last time I Face-Timed with Jackson, and he said 'I love you aunt Rachael'...

These moments are just a few I revisit each day.  Memory is such a gift, and it only takes a second to make one.  A second that could so easily be forgotten. 

Thanks to Jaclyn I make a conscious effort to stop and look around me, take a deep breath and remember how if feels to be there.  Sometimes it's hard to go back, sometimes it hurts but that's why those moments are in the past. 
Maybe that's why I'm here now?

Love,
CowLady