That's part of the reason I couldn't resist showering her with affections, but now, unfortunately we both have the flu.
Actually, she's almost through the worst of it. I'm just getting started. If you came to our house today, and I was to take you on a guided tour, you may mistake our bedroom for a pharmacy. There's everything from anti-inflammatory creams for my shoulders so I can lift my arms above my head, to flu medicines, to hippy oils that are somehow supposed to make you better by rubbing them into your feet.
We have nasal decongestants that you squirt up your nose, ranging from mild, that sort of feels like you're breathing in a blast of cool ocean mist, to the industrial strength variety. Which tend to feel more like a gang of rogue oompa loompas have invaded your nasal cavity and are scrubbing out everything from your sinuses to the backs of your eyeballs with a mixture of battery acid and the ebola virus.
We have pills to keep you unstuffed and alert during the day, so you can safely operate heavy machinery. And pills that you take at night, with a mild amount of sedative, so you can sleep peacefully through a natural disaster. But those make it a little hard to get up at 3:00 AM to check cows, so I've been avoiding them.
Also, we each have a partially used roll of toilet paper going, because eventually you get to a point where you can no longer be bothered to pluck tissues from the box, one at a time to blow you nose, and it's easier and more efficient to make use of a continuous roll. If it's good enough for bear's asses, it's good enough for my nose.
The time of year is upon us where I'm getting quite a bit busier, as we move into spring, and with the snow now mostly all gone, there's plenty of work to be done outside. Because I'm outdoors, and one couldn't possibly carry enough kleenex to last through the day while I have the flu, I get to employ one of the less graceful maneuvers, that I learned from my Dad. The farmer's blow.
The farmer's blow is achieved by holding a thumb over one nostril, aiming the uncovered nostril slightly to the side, and blowing with enough force to blast out any snot you may have lodged up there, away and onto the ground. Then you repeat it with the other nostril in the opposite direction.
I realize this is a little disturbing, but consider, before there were tissues, almost every farmer used to pack a handkerchief to blow his nose into. I'm talking way back here, before handkerchiefs were hats. Now, I've glanced into the bit of nastiness that comes out of my head when I have a cold, mostly to make sure I haven't lost any valuable grey matter in the blow, and I think it may be better to leave that mess on the ground as opposed to folded nicely into a piece of cloth, tucked away in your pocket, to deal with at some later time?
I try to be discreet about it though. It's not like I'm aiming up tin cans on the fence or blasting one out onto the pavement at the CO-OP, if I stop for coffee.
This takes place mostly in the barnyard. And I usually try to not let loose until I'm alone. That's not so bad is it? I mean it IS the barnyard,
............frankly, there's usually much larger and disgusting things out there to avoid stepping in.
Linking up this week with the I Don't Like Mondays blog hop. Stop by and read a few awesome blogs!
Oh yes. The Farmer's Blow. I try not to be judgmental. But to me it ranks right down there with The Hawk and Spit. What can I say? I'm a delicate little flower.ReplyDelete
Sorry to upset your tender sensibilities. Feel free to imagine that I have a snot encrusted hanky stashed in my pocket. :)
I guess it depends on where you live. I grew up in the inner city and it was called the ghetto blow and people were not nearly as discreet as you are about it. Makes me gag just thinking about it.ReplyDelete
I think I might start calling it the ghetto blow as well. Makes me sound more dope, down in my hood. :)
This was written really well, despite - or BECAUSE of - its subject matter.ReplyDelete
I don't know whether to say I loved it or hated it.
I'll just say it's the best thing about snot I've ever read.
Thank you! I'm certainly glad that I could be decisively confusing. I think? :)
Ken, you are such a "guy". Bill would enjoy you...I do. Bill has carried a bandana & worn cowboys boots his whole life. His dad was a good old boy, & so is he. I love your posts. You are a real pleasure to read. Thanks.ReplyDelete
Feel better soon!
Hi McGuffy Ann,Delete
Thanks so much! Any day that somebody defers to me as "such a guy" is a good day.
I didn't know THAT was called a farmer's blow. I hope you get over this bug real soon. Take care.ReplyDelete
Apparently, from reading through the comments, everybody has their own name for it, even if the results are all the same.
I thought that was called the pro athlete's blow? Great post as always, Ken! I hope you feel better soon!ReplyDelete
It might only be the Pro Athlete's blow if you do it in front of a stadium full of people and on national television. :)
I do believe you are referring to a good old fashioned snot rocket, my friend. I do not envy you having to check on the cows at 3am, especially when you're sick. But I do give you kudos for it. I'm sorry to hear you're both sick, but at least you don't have to suffer alone. Feel better!ReplyDelete
The worst part of the whole thing is that it's absolutely beautiful outside here right now. And we're wandering about hacking and snotting.
You cutie, you...kissing on your sick wife :) But darn that both of you are sick!ReplyDelete
Honestly, the farmer's blow doesn't bother me. Anyone that would willing get up at 3am when he is sick with the flu to check on his cows is allowed to blow his nose anywhere he pleases!
Get better, Ken!
Thanks for being so understanding Kianwi.Delete
Next time I'm out in the middle of the night, letting loose with my farmers blow, I'm going to think, "Kianwi would approve!" :)
That's what you get for being such a dirty doggie.ReplyDelete
Is it still dirty if she asked me to do it?
I'm with Linda, it's called a snot rocket here too. I'm bad for that, and my wife hates it. I've tried to explain how much more effective it is but it falls on deaf ears.ReplyDelete
Hope you get to feeling better.
That's 2 for the snot rocket. There will always be those things in life, that no matter how much explaining you do to justify it, will alway be frowned upon. Especially be our wives.
I feel you. My back is still messed up, so right now my house is filled with heating pads, bottles of aspirin in different strengths, every muscle rub ever, and bags of mixed vegetables I've been using for ice packs.ReplyDelete
So it kinda looks like a corner store exploded in my office right now.
I have some exceptional little pills that the doctor gave me for my back that are shaped like a little house. One of those puppies, and BAM, no more back pain! There's drool, but still, no more back pain.
Hope you get this straightened out soon. :)
"Which tend to feel more like a gang of rogue oompa loompas have invaded your nasal cavity and are scrubbing out everything from your sinuses to the backs of your eyeballs with a mixture of battery acid and the ebola virus." That quote made me subscribe to your blog.ReplyDelete
PS: Snot rockets are icky.
Thanks so much for the follow, I will do my best not to let you down. :)
And I'll tone down on the shot rockets. (3 for the snot rockets, that may be the generic term?)
Ya gotta do what ya gotta do.ReplyDelete
That's why I also pack a roll of toilet paper with me when I go out driving the tractor all day. But that may be an entirely different post?Delete
Maybe farmer's blow makes good fertilizer. You'll have to monitor the treated areas to see if crop yields increase. Then, next year, you can recruit flu victims to blow all over your fields.ReplyDelete
That is such a bummer that you both are sick, but I hope by the time I am responding to this, you're on the mend! You are just too funny! Your wife is a trooper too, because when I am sick, there's nothing of the three B's that I am interested in having touched, rubbed or otherwise! Ha ha! (The three B's are what we tell our young gals to keep covered - boobs, belly, butt...by the way :)
You know, reading all about your 'adventures' as a farmer makes me realize there really are difficult things about any job, no matter what it is. I would venture to guess that even my dream job - a travel writer, would have its down sides. When I am up at 2 a.m. grading the umpteenth paper or portfolio, and ready to launch myself off the back deck from the sheer tedium of it, I will think of you checking cows at 3 a.m. all mucous-y and sick and say, 'If Ken can do it, I can do this!'
Get well, my friend!