Word of the day...

When rain hits the earth mud is formed. When rain hits manure, something else is formed – groop (gross poop).

I added this vocabulary word to my bank after a stinky situation.

Let me first preface the situation by saying there has been an abnormal amount of rain back home and that means an abnormal amount of mud. Cattle are belly deep in the sloppy goo, and that adds stress. To reduce some of the stress dad decided to kick them out onto pasture, but before we did that we had to build a fence.

That part was simple. Until dad ran over the line and it snapped. It was at that point the day started to take a sharp turn toward really crappy – literally.

In order to reach the main power source I had to go through the lot. I realized this wasn’t going to be easy when the mud, that resembled thick hot chocolate, seeped up over my irrigating boots. I managed to slosh down to the shed and cut the power, waited until I got the wave that the fence was spliced, and then kicked it back on.

Then came the trek back up to the truck.

I almost made it. My boot got stuck, I lost my balance, and I fell into the fence. I’m happy the fence was there because only one knee went down into the slop. Crisis averted. It wasn’t that bad.

We had to go after three baby calves that did not come out with the rest of the herd. Dad hollered and we hopped the pasture fence and started rounding them up.

There was so much slop, wet hay, mud, cow crap and a variety of other liquids just pooled across the lot. I was trying really hard not to think about it. If you kept moving the boots didn’t get stuck, but I paused to plan a route around a really sloppy area and it happened. My boot was sucked into the mess and I was paralyzed.

“I’m stuck!” I hollered and as I went to pull my boot out I lost my balance and splashed.

That’s right, I fell right into the muck and groop. “Oh my god, oh my god,” I started to whine. “Aaaaahhhh, aaaahhhhh,” I started to panic because I was sitting in poop.

“For God’s sake,” I heard dad (he was more concerned the calves would get away if I was immobilized). I couldn’t move and then my sister came over to try and help me – but that only made it worse because we were laughing really hard. I managed to get out of the quicksand like muck, I used muscles I didn't know I had.

I looked down at my clothes that were now green. I was green from boot to hip, and one arm was covered. It was freezing cold. I was miserable. Then I realized that I was a walking turd – a wet turd. Dad cleaned me off by hosing me down at the tank, which is equivalent to a power washer.

It is a blessing I couldn’t smell, because I would have puked. Then I really would have been up a crick – a puke crick, with a turd for a paddle.