I did something that I have never done before.  I voted in an online forum for the show LAMB of the year.  I voted for a sheep that has NOT won a major show.  But I have seen this sheep and I would have used him to win a major show.  He is a speck wether (he’s a speck, at least in color, anyways).  I don’t care what color he is, he is good livestock.  They call him “Moo”.  I love the way the animal props up, he has plenty of muscle and he always looks wicked awesome on the move.  Great livestock!  Moo has won shows, a reserve grand at the OK state fair EYO show.  And like 19 breed champions.  Now, there was some racist head-up-his-own-ass that put him 4th in class at KC.  And of course, struggled with giving a good reason why.  I like looking at good livestock and Moo fits the bill.  You goaters need to go to championdrive.com and vote for Moo for man of the year.  This is a bad ass piece of livestock.

There is only one thing that I would change about Moo.  I wish that Clayton Washmon was the one that owned him.  Moo wasn’t cheap when he sold online.  I don’t know the family that has Moo but I have watched them work together at shows.  This is what they do and they are getting their money’s worth out of this animal.  And making lifelong memories.

Speaking of weird things, I stood in the kitchen as Tammy finished supper.  She had Alexa playing Christmas tunes.  We both like Christmas songs.  Bob Seger’s version of “Little Drummer Boy” is one that I will listen to year round.  And I really enjoy the video/song of Mariah Carey’s “All I want for Christmas”.  Monkey wrench video.  Ooohhh!!   I digress.  A Jackson 5 song came on.  I don’t care if you liked him or not, one has to recognize the talent that Michael Jackson possessed.  I know he got weird later in life, but dang that dude was sooooo talented.

On a fairly regular occasion, I get asked if I miss working at Western Equipment.  For sure!  I miss a lot of the people and I dang sure miss some of the employee stories.

I had parts guy that I could write a book about.  I mean stories that you cannot make up.  He was late to work one day.  When he got there, the parts manager and I pulled him aside to talk to him about his tardiness.  He was noticeably moving stiff.  Kind of like that dang good barrow that has yet to have his Banamine shot on show day.  I asked him why he was late.

He looked me square in the eye and said, “I got my ass beat by Ursula (his wife) this morning.”

Me—“What?!   RUSM?!”

Him–“Yeah boss.  She was pissed.  I told her that I didn’t want to listen to any of her shit this morning.  She left the room and came back with a milk crate and beat my ass.  I’m sorry but you don’t know how bad a swinging milk crate can hurt until you’ve been hit by one.”

Me–shaking my head, how, what—“A milk crate? Seriously?”

Him–He then turned his back towards me and pulled up his shirt.

Oh snap!!   There was ZERO doubt that he had been hit by a plastic milk crate at a high speed.  All of the little Xs were embedded right across the small of his back.   OOOOOOWWWWWW!!!!!!

Eric, the parts manager, looked at me and said, “The only thing that is missing is for it to say Hiland Dairy just like all of the milk crates stacked in the lunch room when I was in school.”

Today is a good day.  Just be glad that you’ve never been beat with a milk crate.”