Don’t Tell Her I Told You This

Y’all, my mom is so cool.  They arrived at Mack’s yesterday and it took her approximately 2.5 seconds to have his kids checking out the trailer, learning all the secret cubby holes, and eating licorice.  Nogg was totally ready to trade my parents the trailer for their house one night.

I always think of my dad as the outgoing one, but I think it’s my mom’s ability to get along with anyone and make them feel like something weird or wonderful is just about to happen that is really cool.

My dad, the Butcher, and Mack played three-handed cribbage last night.  Mack won.  I think it’s because he had a knife, but I can’t be sure, since I don’t know all the rules of the game.  I was a little concerned because, not only is Mack one of the sorest losers I’ve ever met, he’s by far the sorest winner.

When Coble and I played him and Ivy at euchre, even though he won, he still trash talked his partner (Ivy) and thrusted his pelvis in an alarming way at Coble.  I shudder to imagine what happens when he wins at Monopoly.

Luckily, he won with grace and dignity at cribbage.

It tickles me. I think my dad really wants Mack to think he’s cool, because the only time in my dad’s life that he’s felt consistently and unproblematically cool was when he was in college and he was whipping out the old college stories last night like they were going out of style.

Anyway, my mom’s all excited about the cabin.  When we got there, she was all “We could sit on the porch with our shot guns and spit tobacco like the Clampetts!”

“Well, Mack could probably dig you up some shotguns but you’re on your own for the chewing tobacco.”

“Hmm.  That would be cool…”

I think we ought to at least get a picture of them on the porch, even if it’s without the firearms.  I need to remember to grab the camera.

9 thoughts on “Don’t Tell Her I Told You This

  1. Can your mom verify that Mack has bought cows? He’s refusing to comment over on his blog, but I like to think of him, the lonely coyote/vaquero, out on the range with them.

  2. Oh, sorry NM, I must have missed your question. What do you need verification for? I suppose you could have me scan a receipt, and send it to you, or, better, you could just take my word for it. They are actually steers, for beef, and they will be here when the man swings up here from Georgia.

  3. Oh, your word is enough for me. But several people said stuff like, “dude, for real, you bought cows?” and you never answered. So I wasn’t sure you weren’t kidding.

    Are you going to move them from summer pasture to winter pasture and back every year?

  4. They won’t be around that long, NM. These cows are to eat. I will put them in the pen and bulk them up slightly but by Fall they will be meat. I’m not fenced yet for livestock.

  5. And since they’re steers you won’t even need a milkmaid. All my cattle stereotypes are being punctured here. Sigh. Wait, after you fatten them up you’ll be droving them along to the railhead, right?

  6. Success!

    Actually, it’s not so much that I want to do this stuff as that I want to watch you do it. I’m lazy, and sensitive to sun. I’ll be glad to advise on a kitchen garden, though, and can give you many tasty recipes for putting food up.

  7. Flattered, but you’re right. I’m pretty stuck here right now. After I finish my indenture to higher education, I’m probably bound back to the homestead in Kentucky to set the old family farm back to rights. Nothing wrong with it that twenty years of backbreaking labor and hundreds of thousands of dollars couldn’t fix.

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