That’s my theme this week!
Diva Ma, Sex Diaries of a Mom, Lori of I’m No Supermom, Bobbi of Mom2dm, and Jen of Keep it Classy tagged me for the 7 Random Things meme. While I’ve already completed this, there are certainly MORE than enough random things about me to fulfill the requirements.
But, I didn’t want to another list. I wanted to fully explore my randomness, my eccentricities, the little quirks that have made my life interesting (or at least made for a good story). So, for each day this week, you’ll get to read some of the crazier things that have happened to me.
For example. . . .
(random story number one)
Did you know that I once had my arm stuck up a cow’s derriere?????
It’s true. I was fifteen years old, helping my (then) farmer-dad give Pregnancy Tests to a herd of cows. Now, for those city-folk reading this, giving a preg. test to a cow is no easy feat. It’s not a matter of finding “the best technology you’ll a cow will ever pee on.” No, unfortunately for this story, there is no little plastic pee stick involved in this process. The only equipment involved is one, solitary, long plastic SLEEVE! That’s right, I wrote sleeve . . .as in a long glove that completely covers your fingers, hands, arms, and shoulders.
Yes, your shoulders. You need that much protection when you are going to be touching a cow’s uterus.
GROSS! I knew it — that’s your reaction, right? That was mine too. I watched my dad test cow after cow, feeling around for the bovine fetus. If it was there, then the test was positive. If no little calf could be felt, then this preg. test was negative. Better luck next time, Bessie.
Cow after cow was brought into the squeeze chute (jail-like device meant to hold cattle in place while they receive meds or human arms, whatever the case may be). I didn’t want to watch, but I couldn’t stop. You know those times — where everything in your brain is telling you to look away but YOU JUST CAN’T!! This was that time. I was totally and completely disgusted by what I was seeing, especially given the condition of the sleeve when my dad’s arm would come out. OH MY GOSH — excuse me while I have a momentary flashback.
As the process went on, something insane took place in my head. I began to wonder what that little calf would feel like: “How small would it be” and “Would I be able to feel the sac” were questions that began floating through my head. Maybe it was the heat of the day, or the fact that I had been standing for hours, or maybe the methane being released by the cows was getting to me. Whatever it was, I heard my voice ask an absolutely ridiculous question . . .
“Dad – can I try?”
Later, I would wonder why he said yes — I think he could foresee the potential outcome and knew, from his perspective, this was going to be GOOD. With a smile on his face, he handed me a fresh glove. As I carefully, with a little trepidation, put the glove on, Dad tried to explain how to navigate my way through the cow. I’ll admit, I didn’t really pay attention — I was too busy focusing on the end result (ha ha . . .”END” result).
I stood before the cow (no, make that BEHIND the cow), my arm encased in a looooooong plastic glove. I was ready and I was too stubborn and proud to back out of it. (ha ha — back out).
I went in. Farther and farther, I made my way through . . . hmm, was I technically in her intestines? I’m not sure on cow anatomy — which, is probably what resulted in the crisis.
Yes, there was a crisis. I didn’t know what I was doing and whatever it was that I WAS doing, apparently, was NOT RIGHT because the cow (that poor cow) did not appreciate my efforts. Have you see those Discovery specials on boa constrictors? Just like one of those snakes, the cow’s muscles began to constrict, tightening around my skinny (this was back in my thin, stick-figure days) arm. I ignored her obvious displeasure and continued my journey, trying to find my calf.
With all of her might (which was a lot — cows are big, you know), she used her muscles to put a lock-down on my efforts. Panic, on my part, set in.
My. Arm. Was. STUCK!
That’s right — STUCK. There was nothing I could do. That cow was now the boss of me, keeping a tight hold on my arm, while my face was next to her rump. (which wasn’t a pleasant addition to my problem)
“Help me!!!!” Frantically, I screamed for Dad’s help, who was laughing so hard he could barely stand up. He came over, and like any good Dad would do, pulled my arm out of the cow’s body.
Only, the worst wasn’t over. I’m not sure how it happened — maybe it was the force of the cow’s squeezing down on my arm — maybe it was just my luck that day. As I began to see my elbow emerge again, I saw the NASTIEST sight I had ever seen. Everything that you can imagine would be in a cow’s intestine was covering my plastic glove. Green, brown, stinky, thick, gloopy, WARM sludge.
Finally, my arm was free! I backed away from the cow, wanting to be as far away from her as possible. I looked my arm, still in the glove. Wait — no it wasn’t. THE GLOVE’S SEAM HAD SPLIT!!!!!! My plastic protector was only covering half of my bony limb. The other half was completely smothered in the aforementioned sludge.
OH, THE HORROR! COW POOP ON MY BARE SKIN!!!!!!!!!!!!
It was the tragedy of tragedies, especially for a 15 year old girl. And, as you can tell, one I’m still fighting to get over.
And, if you were wondering . . . I never did feel the fetus. Altogether, a completely wasted random adventure.
