Bull stud service.
I can’t believe I actually typed that in my Google search window. It felt wrong. It seemed so crass. So disturbing. But really, what did I expect? It’s not like the cows can go meet a nice bull at a speed dating seminar.
Too much information. Too little information. The more I learn, the more I need to learn.
Is Limousin a good meat?…”Sam spell place”… Is Limousin cross bred to Angus better?…”Sam spell please”… Should we sell the girls and get Angus females?…“Sam spell keep”.
I’m trying to decipher animal husbandry via the internet, all while helping my 7-year-old study for his spelling test.
They don’t teach you how to multi-task like this in college.
Is it any wonder I can’t sleep? And when I do sleep, I have a recurring nightmare that I can’t get the cows into the trailer….
The concrete floor for the basement was poured yesterday. It was fabulous. Andy, Ian and I sat and watched the manly men sweat while smoothing our floor. I’m sure they were frustrated by our gawking, but we’re paying good money to gawk.  Plus one of the sweaty ones was none other than the bobcat driver that inspired the manly man rant.
Andy is crawling out of his skin to live at the farm. If I didn’t demand he return home every night I am quite certain he would camp there. If this building process drags on I am going to have to bring my A game. Dinner tonight? Ravioli with Crab and Shrimp Cream Sauce accompanied by a Cesar salad. And I cleaned the bathrooms. And I did the laundry. Admittedly my B+ game, but we can’t afford the A game calories right now.