Tag Archives: cows

An Update on the Cows


Sorry I wasn’t here yesterday.  I was spending the day being told I have cavities and getting my hip popped back into place.  JOY.

So basically I was filling up my gas tank and I saw Craig’s mom.  I did not hesitate to tell her about the time that I took pictures of Craig’s ass.  She howled.  🙂

And about my weekend–

I hate doctors.  HATE.  We’ve gone over this.  And I had 3 appointments yesterday.  So in other words, my blood pressure was sky high and I was freaked out.

Had an awesome weekend with Baker.

I do not care about the Superbowl.

And I promise to put a better post up tomorrow.  It’s been a darn busy mornin’!


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Posted by on February 8, 2011 in Daily Happenings



I Got Cows: Part 2

Click here for Part 1.

Indeed, I was in Craig’s blue Ford, driving down Township Road 15 to a place I couldn’t locate now if you forced me.  I wasn’t paying attention to the turns or the signs–just watching Craig’s hand shift confidently from one gear to the next.  The big tires made for a bouncy, noisy ride, but I didn’t care.

“I didn’t think you were coming,” I yelled above everything.

“I know where you live.  Figured I’d just stop by.  Had a busy morning,” he smiled.

“Works for me.”  I settled back, tried to watch the farmland go by, but caught myself sneaking glances at his hands.  I must have been staring adoringly when we bounced off the road and into a field.  I put my hand to the ceiling to balance myself, and Craig laughed.

We stepped out, me into a giant pile of mud, and walked through the fence connected to a big red barn.  There were brown and white cows everywhere.

Now, I’m kind of afraid of cows.  I don’t know why, and I’m not sure why I forgot this when I agreed to shoot photographs of said cows, but it hit me.  I was standing back pretty far, snapping pictures while Craig kicked dirt clods, and he looked at me and said, “You can get closer.  They won’t hurt you.”

“Only to the baby ones.  I’m not going near the big ones.”

“Ok.  Let me try to get the little ones to look at you.  So Craig jogged over in his Wranglers and yellow sweatshirt, and I knew I had an opportunity that I couldn’t pass up.  I had to do it.

He bent over to turn the tiny cows toward me, so that I might take an adorable picture, and I obliged.  But at the last second, I shifted away from the cow’s face to focus on the Wrangler patch on Craig’s back pocket.  I snapped picture after picture when he wasn’t looking, and then I shot the cows when he was.  I couldn’t stop myself.

When it was over, we got back into the truck, Craig took me home, told me he’d see me Monday in class, and then he disappeared.


That Monday, it just so happened that Craig and I were selected to go into the darkroom together to develop our pictures.  We were only preparing the negatives, and I must have used a whole roll.  Craig, on the other hand, must not have.  He finished developing his and went back to the classroom.

When I finished mine, I was thinking of anything I could say to him so I didn’t feel so giddy about the weekend.  When I got back into the classroom, I sat down next to him, threw my sleeve of negatives on the table in front of him, and asked, “Wanna see your cows?”

Craig smiled and nodded.  I looked at his stubble as he held the negatives up to the light and scanned through each square.  He smirked and handed them back to me and said, “Those are nice.  But I couldn’t help but notice something…”

“What?” I asked.

“There’s an awful lot of my ass on there!” he said so loud that our entire class heard.

I’m sure I turned 300 shades of red, but I smiled.  “Well, you were, you know, trying to get the little cow to turn around.”

“Uh huh.  Right,” he smiled even bigger and shook his head.  “Gonna blow one up into an 8 by 10?”

“What would I do with an 8 by 10 of your ass?” I asked.

“I don’t know!  You took the pictures.”

But I did make an 8 by 10, and I hung it on my closet door all the way through college, and somewhere in my basement, that photo still exists.

To Alicia, Craig’s lovely wife:  I apologize for my silly crush.  🙂  He’s a lucky man to have you!


Posted by on February 3, 2011 in When I Was Young


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I Got Cows: Part 1

This is not Craig...

It was a light blue Ford truck, and it was in my drive way.  Its pipes–glass busted out–rang loud and shook the air.  It was his truck.  I kept thinking to myself, “He’s really here.  I can’t believe he’s really here.”  I grabbed my camera and my jacket, slipped on my boots, and pushed the screen door open.  It screeched and slammed closed just in time for me to get to the truck, to put my fingers on the cold silver handle of the door, and fling open the passenger side before I climbed it.


My senior year of high school, I had photography first thing in the morning.  I loved the darkroom, and I loved the picture taking process, and I loved the fact that I sat next to Craig–a down-to-earth farm boy who wore Wranglers to school every day (God bless him) and who was voted most attractive in the Senior Best competition.

This was back during the time that I was still bashful, when boys made me nervous, and I could hardly sit still in my seat when Craig walked in every morning.  The white t-shirt crumpled up around his arms, the dirt that was woven into his skin, the blonde hairs cascading over those white t-shirted tanned arms.  The blue eyes, the short hair, and the Wranglers.  Oh, the Wranglers.

When our photography teacher, Mrs. Williams, assigned us to shoot photos of animals the day before, my head dropped.  I’d never had a pet, aside from my dead goldfish Suzy, and I certainly didn’t have any animals to take pictures of.  I was already trying to figure out if ants and worms would be a good enough photography project.  “What if we don’t have animals?” I asked.

“Find some,” Mrs. Williams said, never lifting her head from the photos on her desk.

“I got cows,” Craig smiled.


“I have cows that I take care of.  You can take pictures of those.  Here, give me your phone number, and I’ll call you tomorrow and we’ll go take pictures of cows,” Craig said.  He slid me a piece of paper ripped from his notebook and continued rubber cementing pictures to cardboard.

“Really?” I asked.  I scribbled the number down, thought about how the next day was Saturday.  How I was going to spend an afternoon with Craig.  How he didn’t have to waste his weekend on me.

“Sure.  I’ll call ya tomorrow,” he said, his fingers touching mine as I handed him the paper–the paper that went directly into the pocket of his Wranglers.

The rest of the day, I was stoned on farmer.  I don’t remember anything except wanting to get home.

Saturday came.  THE Saturday.  I woke up early, curled my hair, then messed it up again, because I didn’t want it to seem like I was trying too hard.  I wore the jeans that made my butt look good, the make-up that made my eyes look bigger.  I tried on every shirt I owned.  And then I stared at the phone–the phone that never rang.  Lunch time left me without an appetite, and I stared some more at the phone-the phone that never rang.  My mom looked at me and told me he probably forgot.

I told myself it was okay.  I prepared the plan to sneak up on birds for my animal photography assignment.  Which of my friends had dogs?  Did my brother count as an animal?

And then I heard the glass pipes ringing, heard the tires on gravel in my driveway, heard the truck turn off before it was in park.

I stood in the hallway bracing myself on either side.  But he hadn’t called… 

“He’s here,” Mom said, her worn hands pushing the curtain aside.  “He’s here.”


Click here for part II.


Posted by on February 2, 2011 in When I Was Young


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