Saturday, April 9, 2011

My OwN PriVatE SpA TreAtmeNt

You might have seen pictures, shows, or even personally experienced those spa treatments that entail ladies all covered in brown/green muck.  They say that it softens the skin, giving it a rejuvenated, refreshed look.  Or you see them in their swimsuits sitting in a tub of mud, soaking up the.... well, I am not sure what they are soaking up.  I have always wondered how glamorous it must feel to have special treatment like that.  After washing off the plaster of gunk, looking in the mirror and seeing a renewed you.  Well, I finally got to try it.  It wasn't all that glamorous.

It was about 4:30 in the morning and I was headed to check the cows.  Why not, I couldn't sleep very good due to a little bit of back trouble.  So, I headed out into the somewhat warm, dark morning.  The moon was nowhere to be seen, and it was darker than a well digger's sit down.  (I am trying to set the mood here).  I grab my big mag-lite flashlight and start slopping through the foot deep muck to see if anything was going on.  It didn't take long for me to find a calf planked out in the wet mud, shivering and a shaking.  I knew I needed to spring into action, so I grabbed the be nice stick, the sled, and kept a tight hold of my flashlight. 
I was able to pull the sled right up to the big ol' calf and gave the not so happy momma a warning tap with my be nice stick to let her know I wasn't wanting her breathing down my backside.  I bent over this helpless lug of a calf and began to try and wrestle the slimy, wet, slick 80 pounds into the sled.  Not wanting to put my influencing stick down, it was quite the sight to see me flop around with this poor calf.  Eventually, I succeeded with minimal amounts of grunting, huffing and slipping.  I grabbed hold of the rope, wrapped it around my shoulder, and gave it the "ol' heave ho"...  Wow, the sled was sinking into the slop, and it was not wanting to budge.  Another big umph, and off we went.  I was making tracks, and the momma was following close behind.  It was going just as I planned, the light from the shed was welcoming me like a beacon, and I was almost to the door.  .....
Of course, it wasn't going to be so easy....  There was a patch of ice under the deep muck and i slipped.  The weight of the sled won out, and the fact my hands were full with flashlight and stick, I went down hard.  IT splatters.  I was covered from head to toe.  It was soaking through my pants, under my shirt, it was on my gloves, in my face, and my hair was not safe either.  Well, there is no stopping here and "wallowing" in pity.  I had to get up fast cause there was a mamma on my tail and she wasn't happy with me stealing her baby.  At least since I smelled like her she wasn't so wary of me.  I got the calf back into the shed, dumped it out in a nice pile of straw, reunited the big black cow with it's baby, and hobbled away, no pride in tact.
As I drove back to the house, feeling the "stuff" saturate through to skin, smelling like crap (literally) I was trying to decide whether I should cry or laugh.  My sleeping husband heard me hobble (did not help my already hurting back, nor my knee) into the bathroom, and needless to say, he might have got a chuckle out of the sight I was. 
I was able to peel my slop soaked clothes off, and then sat and thought, how long do I let this set before it softens my skin, gives it  added nutrients, and renews me.  A shower never felt so good.  I was a new woman after the experience, no denying it.
This is the said sled, not the same momma, and I only wish it would have been snow and not deep shtuff...

2 comments:

whitey said...

And to think I have been paying big bucks for such treatments, I should just come and hang out with you!

Schoenfelds said...

That is awesome! No, I feel your pain as I have had some fun cow stuff on me at times. You still feel like you smell like it for awhile. Glad you worked in a spa treatment for yourself though.


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Ranch born and raised, we love the lifestyle that ranching offers. We also enjoy the oppurtunity of passing on the tradition to our four children.