Wet dog.

Wet dog.

The rain has been relentless. I make silent promises to myself, as a farmer, to never complain about the rain. I’m a stone’s throw away from breaking that little promise. Rain is good, especially in the high desert, and Dog knows we can always use it in our narrow valley. So I won’t go there….yet.

New haircut...strangely resembling my husband's haircut.

New haircut…strangely resembling my husband’s haircut.

This past week has also been interesting for personal reasons. Apparently, due to my new haircut, the weird guy at the liquor store now refers to me as ‘that dude’ that buys the gluten free beer. Well…I have to admit, this isn’t the first time someone has called me Dude, it sort of used to be my nickname. Mostly because I had no patience for knitting or makeup or deodorant. Oh well, what’s a dude to do?

Sissy-ninny bruising machine.

Sissy-ninny bruising machine.

Most exciting has been getting back into the routine of milking my sweet Luxie-Loo. I like to feel my hands regain their strength after a season off from regular, concentrated work. Plus, my dude hands are slightly larger than my husband’s…which is kind of embarrassing…for both of us. I mostly love the intimacy of hand milking a cow. I usually hand milk for the first week exclusively because of all the edema and soreness that can accompany birth and the sudden influx of milk. It is one of the few quiet times throughout my day that I genuinely look forward to…except for that time yesterday when Deluxe barreled right through me to escape the stanchion and bruised my sissy-ninny on the corner of the milk table…or that time today where she liquid-shat on the stand and it splattered up into my eye with the force of well-timed, close-range fart…quiet times, not so much. Surely it will get better as we get back into the swing of things. And, now that I think about it, someone should go tell that weird guy at the liquor store that dudes don’t have sissy-ninnies….


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