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Wednesday, March 12, 2008

This would be me, being proud of myself

For the last two nights, I have been away from home during the milking hour. The night before last I took my oldest to boy scouts, my husband milked and he got very little. Lat night I had PTC with the middle son's teacher, and when I got home, my husband was still out in the barn. He got a total of 3 squirts out of Mama. Here is where I get confused. My husband milked cows as a kid, he was the one that showed me how to do it. My technique changed however as I watched Uma, the calf, nursing. I had to show my husband how it was done.

After Edie was done with her routine, I called Mama back in. I asked darling husband what he was doing when he went to milk her. Awww got it, he is skipping the brush down. I tried to explain to her that a little foreplay was necessary to get Mama in the mood. She is still a little tense about the process, but now knows what is expected of her. I should husband how to brush her as it really doesn't take long. Then we wash her with the warm fuzzy rag, ain't no gently about it, and dry. Then we get to the milking. Even after my husband's attempts, I was able to get the usual amount. It isn't much as I am competing with a calf, but there is a little more each time. Funny, I guess you can take the country out of the kid.

Tired of cow talk yet? Not me.

But I know that it is coming up on gardening season, so feel free to interrupt me with your questions or topic suggestions. Tomorrow I will go on and on about carrots. I was asked a question in comments, where I did answer it, but thought an entire post on it might help others just starting out on their gardens.

And Tim, I spoke to soon. Yesterday morning my hands did start hurting. Maybe I should blame you for putting that thought in my head. ha!

5 comments:

Tim Appleton (Applehead) said...

Thanks for the link love! You are going to have forearms the size of Popeye when you're through!

Phelan said...

shhh...so the other day my forarm was hurting, and this was just before the cows mind you. And I told my husband something was wrong, my muscle was sore and had a rock hard knot in it. He laughed at me, and that's when I sighed. Great, I am going to have popeye arms. This wasn't the deal.

Given55 said...

strong and mighty woman

alrescate said...

So instead of a dancing queen you are a milking queen!

Stephanie said...

Sometimes it just takes a woman's touch! :)

Good for you!

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