There' s nothing like being Mrs. Kahle. When I say that name out loud, I always think of John's Mama. But officially, as of yesterday and the Social Security Administration of the United States, I am Mrs. Kahle. My driver's liscence says so too. Strangly, I changed my name on my liscence but my renewal date is the same. They didn't harge me for it though.

My first duties as wife to a tenant farmer was to tend to cows. Yes, cows. Calfs actually. We had a dead calf on the farm yesterday morning. They sometime contract a disease called black leg. They get it from the dirt. Cows, as it turns out, don't just eat grass. Sometimes they eat dirt on purpose. It has minerals in it that they need to stay healthy. However, for the calfs, it is life threatening when not vacinated. Thus, dead calf. The cows, when they lose a calf, holler. They don't holler when the calf dies. So it is hard to know when one is dead until they are gross. So this morning, the other calfs recieved shots for black leg. We are not sure that is what the other calf died of, but it is better safe than sorry. Eight calfs, eight shots. Papa Bud and John rounded up the herd and seperated out the calves. I rounded up the vaccine and syringes. I also handled the dogs otherwise they like to play with the calfs. Finally the calfs are caroused into the chute. I hand the loaded syringes to John, who shot the calf and painted it. You paint the calf so you don't shoot it twice.

Now I know it seems like I didn't do much. I sure didn't break a sweat or wade through cow manure. My husband was DISGUSTING when he finally got done and let the calfs out. He had sweat, dirt, manure all over him. Bleck. So he trapsed in and immediately took a shower. I sat down to blog and then, I could smell it. I smelled like cow. I smelled like icky, sticky gross cow. It was in my hair, a thin layer on my skin. whew. It was aweful. So I was next in the shower. I would have to say, I am officially Mrs. Kahle via the United States and the farm.