Tuesday, February 2, 2010

Day 31/365

I got up Sunday morning and was so happy to see Shawn. He'd been gone for 2 days and while he'd made it home at 2 AM, I wasn't feeling particulary chatty. And I must not have been particulary coherent because I remember asking him a question, him grinning and saying, "I'll tell you about it in the morning."

When he made it into the kitchen for breakfast, he said very enthusiatically, "Today, we're going to do something as a family!" I immediately ran over and embraced him and said, "We're going to catch up on hugs!" While that was something I really did want to do, it's been at the front of my mind recently that February is his favorite month to fish. He says that's when the crappie fishing is best. As much as my little fingers and toes and every goosebump producing hair folicle in my body wish to protest, I have to admit February crappie fishing always leaves everyone limiting out on fishing trips. I can usually find some sort of busy work that cannot wait so I "miss out" on the fishing trip. But I had nothing Sunday and I didn't want to have to admit I'm a weenie and don't like the cold. I was really grasping at anything we were going to do as a family that had nothing to do with a boat and ice on the lake.


calf eye surgery copy
Shawn said, "We're going to remove a calf's eye!" Then he looked at me and said, "The whole family." At that moment, I had the urge to suggest going fishing. (I promise no gross photos follow so proceed with your mind at ease!)

In my mind, I began a rapid-fire review of our lives together. It goes something like this:

"Kendra, I want you to go to the vet's office and visit the sick puppy that lady didn't vaccinate and returned to us. The new doctor is taking care of it."
"That's weird that you want me to go. But OK."
Blah. Blah. Blah. Visit puppy every day. Blah. Blah. Blah.
"I think you should date the new vet."
"He's out of college so he's got to be at least 25! He's not going to date a girl in high school"!

Blah. Blah. Blah. Puppy dies. Blah. Blah. Blah. Move on with summer plans of hanging out at the beach every day. Blah. Blah. Blah.
"You've always planned to be a vet. You're going to start watching surgeries."
"No I'm not.
"You are."

Blah. Blah. Blah. Ignore my mom. Blah. Blah. Blah.
(Dragging me through the door of the vet's office by my arm a few days later.)
"She wants to be a vet. She wants to watch surgeries. And she wants to watch that new, young vet do them."
Die. Die. Die. Die. Die. Die.
"Do you want to go to lunch after I finish surgeries?"
"Sure."

Blah. Blah. Blah. Go to lunch every day after surgeries. Blah. Blah. Blah.
"I'm going to remove this cat's eye."
"OK. That sounds painful. The cat is still growling."
"It's the sedative we give cats. They hallucinate but he can't feel anything."
Cut. Cut. Cut. Twist. Twist. Twist. Twist. Twist. Twist. Twist. Twist. Twist. Will he ever stop twisting? Cat growl. Cat growl. Cat growl. Twist. Twist. Twist. Hot. Hot. Hot. Sweat. Sweat. Sweat. Twist. Twist. Twist. Room spin. Room spin. Room spin.
"I don't feel so good. I didn't eat breakfast. I think I need to go outside."
"You didn't eat breakfast, huh?"
Grin.
Blah. Blah. Blah. Blah. Blah. Blah. Realize I can never be a vet. Blah. Blah. Blah. Finish high school. Blah. Blah. Blah.
"After watching you remove that cat's eye, I don't think I can be a vet."
"How about you just marry me and have my babies and we'll live on a farm one day and raise free-range cattle and chickens and grow a big organic garden and can what we grow and you can home school our kids into freaks of society and you can dance with them in the kitchen and dissect owl pellets with them and . . . "
Blah. Blah. Blah.



calf eye surgery 2
OK, so that isn't really what he said. But that's how it worked out in the end and, in spite of the owl pellet dissection, it's a much more romantic retelling of the story than sharing the part about my immature behavior over the next 5 years before he reluctantly decided I was ready to be married.



calf eye surgery 3
Fortunately, things change over time. I changed in more ways than one. Not only did I develop into a pretty OK wife, I've grown into a strong, brave woman who can assist with the removal of a calf's eye without batting an eyelash. Sorry. Bad pun.



calf eye surgery 4
I'll spare you the sight of the before and after photos of the calf's eye. As terrible as it sounds for her, she's better off with one eye than she was with one eye and a ruptured eye. She's up and running around, hanging out at the hay bale with the other calves. And I didn't have to go fishing! I just love a story with a happy ending.

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3 comments:

momma_arch said...

I am not sure what to say, except EWWWWW

Kristi Smith said...

Cooool. lol

Why is one of the pics missing? I want to see it.

I like your life in review. :)

LollyChops said...

HOLEY MOLEY!!!!!

Yikes.

You are stronger than me. Now my sister on the other hand... would have been right there holding open the eye flap or something equally as faintful as that. Yow. Not me. I watch from a far.

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