I am married to a cowboy.
While this does have its advantages (i.e. white cowboy hat), it also has its downsides (cue barnyard smells).
But this past weekend, when the mister rolled out of bed to go feed the university’s cows far earlier than anyone wants to be up on a Saturday, I was struck by an inexplicable desire to go with him.
For some reason completely foreign to me, this semi-city girl wanted to go see the cows.
Sort of like a small child wanting to meet the Muppets.
So I went. And I hung out the Dodge window and took pictures of the cows thundering past on their way to the feed trough. And I felt like I was on the set of the Lion King when the buffalo stampede. And I loved every minute of it.
I wasn’t allowed to get out of the truck while the boys fed, partly because I was way too interested in taking pictures to pay attention to not being run over, and partly because I probably would have stolen the tiny baby calf named Minnie Pearl.
The mister’s farm buddy, J, kept looking over at me like he thought I was crazy. I wonder why.
I don’t know what it was about watching the boys walk through the sixty-six massive steers waiting at the feed trough like children, or watching the sheep run along the fence in single file waiting for the boys to bring their food, or hearing the goats bellow from their barn stall that made me feel like I was in another world.
Probably because I was.
My world is full of air conditioned offices, comfy computer chairs and gossipy secretaries. In my world I type documents and research product costs. I give presentations to high-ranking administrators and plan promotional campaigns.
I don’t wade through herds of living animals three times my size like they are a flock of chickens. I don’t pat enormous angus bulls on the head and treat them like puppies. Needless to say, I was impressed by the mister’s and J’s lack of nervousness around such giant creatures.
Our worlds are almost as far apart as they could get, but somehow that separation helps the mister and I get along as well as we do. I don’t necessarily understand all the things he deals with every day, but I don’t have to. Just like he doesn’t have to understand what a SWOT analysis is or when to apply the ROSIE method. We just have to know when to nod our heads and make approving gestures at appropriate times.
However, my great barnyard adventure did give me a bit more perspective on what the mister’s life is like on a daily basis.
“Playing” with the cows was fun for an hour, but it’s not something I would want to do every day. Even from the truck. . . in the air conditioning. . . not loading and unloading heavy feed buckets. . .
But then again, he wouldn’t want to stand in front of a conference room of executives and pitch campaign plans either. So I guess that makes us even.
The second picture is of Minnie Pearl, the tiniest of the babies, who reminds me a bit of Bambi for some reason.