Weather Reports

My grandfather kind of gets hung up on the weather report. Now, where we are, we don't have our own local station. Our "local" channels come from towns about 3 hours in any given direction. And all of them are somewhat messed up. At least, for our part of the country. Or so PD thinks. It's not like the weather guys get it right all the time every where else anyway.

This morning I went over to help feed, just like every other day.  There's a cool north breeze blowing making it a very nice morning. Although you still break a sweat pitching hay and the re-loading the hay truck with bales of hay. But there's still a promise of it being a warm day.

After feeding the horses, I climbed onto the back of the feed truck so we could go feed our weaned calves. On our way, he says to that it looks like it will be another warm day. I agreed. Then this conversation ensued:

PD: Did you see the weather report last night or this morning?

Me: No, I haven't.

PD: Well, you know that the reports we get aren't quite right.

Me: Yeah, I know.

PD: I was asking if you saw it to see if the report you saw was any different than what we saw.

Me: (trying not to laugh) Oh, um, I doubt it would be.

I had to turn my head away from the side mirror so that he didn't see me laughing. I just thought it was hilarious that he actually thought the weather report at my house was any different than the report at their house.

It just tickled my funny bone.

Half-Assed Weekend



I'm moving my Half-Assed Weekend posts here - which of course was started by the all powerful Simple Dude.

I'm a little pooped to blog, but I'll give it a shot. Hence the whole half-assed thing. I know that ranching is an every day job. But on top of the ranching, I help my grandparents with their publication. And on top of that, I now work 4 days a week for the local vet. Granted it's only about 20-ish hours, but that's 20-ish hours a week I'm can't be on the ranch or working on the publication. I'm fucking exhausted. I swear I nearly fell asleep at the desk today at the clinic. No amount of caffeine helped.

My grandmother is generally very nice and gives me a day off now and then so I can just rest. My grandfather always says the same thing, "Well, we don't get days off". My grandfather wouldn't know what to do with a day off. The man has worked every day of his life since high school. Even when he married K, they ran to Reno, got married, and drove back to calving season. No honeymoon. No vacations. If I won the lottery and presented him and K with an all-expenses-paid trip to Tahiti, my grandfather would look at me like I was an alien. K, however, wouldn't even need to pack, she'd be running to meet that plane.

And now that the weather is nicer, we've been able to get dirty ranch work done. Heavy lifting, irrigating, and the grossest water troughs to clean ever. *shudders* I'm not afraid of the work, I would just love the opportunity to sleep 12 hours and spend the day in my pj's watching movies.

But, since my grandfather's gout has flared up making it nearly impossible for him to do any work, I doubt I'll be getting any real time off.

The term "just keep swimming" enters my head . . .