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