We live on a farm.  Have we ever farmed? No.  Well take that back, about 15 years ago we had a small head of cattle we thought we would try our hands out on.  These cows were fine until they got bigger and decided to get out one Sunday.  I left for church leaving my husband behind.  The last I saw of him as I was pulling out was him scaling the fence in his suit.  When he eventually showed up to church he was wearing something different.  I didn’t want to know what happened because he was already mad, but I was stupid enough to ask anyway.  He had split out his pants climbing  the fence.  We sold the cows and and partied hard on the money we got for them.

That has been the extent of farming.  We have either let someone else use the land for farming or else did nothing with it.  We have sworn off renting to anyone with animals.

Cowboys and roundups are synonymous.  Roundups involves getting on a horse and herding the animals from one grazing area to another.  This usually takes more than one cowboy to accomplish this task.  Many times we will have a road shut down for a bunch of cows.

Some cowboys are on the trails for days or even weeks.  But, not my husband.  He tried his hand today at rounding up cattle that perhaps cowboys might want to take a lesson from.

My husband’s car is the butt of many jokes in this house.  We call it the “Grandma Car” because it is the kind old people drive. He uses it for work and it truly is a piece of carp.  It has a huge dent in one side with the paint scraped off.  We have gotten our $500 out of it though. None of the kids want to ride in it and my son had to take it for his driver’s test because my truck’s air compressor went out.  He was dying, in fact he apologized to the cop for him having to ride in it.

I came home from school today and noticed there were tire marks going across the lawn and into the field.  I came in to the house and asked my husband who had been driving through the field.  He told me he went on a cattle drive.   He had come home and found a few cows in the yard.  Instead of getting out of the car and chasing them home, he decided that “grandma” would be more effective.

Knowing my husband, this would  not have been a quiet drive through the country.  He is a fairly patient individual, but even patient people have their moments of aggrevation. I am sure there are huge patches of earth torn up from “grandma’s”  acceleration abilities.   We have a few acres of land and I am not entirely sure how many of those acres were covered by him and “grandma” today, the tire marks disappear after a point.  I really quit asking questions after awhile because I figure what I don’t know I don’t have to confess to.  The next step is to buy my husband a cowboy hat, a pair of boots, some chaps and a new oil pan.

My kids better NEVER say anything to me again about “herding” with the BB gun.  Oh, and by the way….Grandma isn’t for sale, so don’t call the number.  I am not exactly sure who the number belongs to.

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