Smells Like Money

Since marrying the Dairy Man almost three years ago, I routinely find myself privy to conversations that shock, horrify, and traumatize me.

A spirited discussion about artificial insemination at the dinner table? Why not? An impassioned debate about the best kind of teat dip in the church narthex?  Makes sense. A detailed description of manure management relayed to friends at a fancy restaurant? Totally normal.

These farm-induced out-of-body experiences often  cause me to ask, “Is this really my life?” Last night, dear friends, was one of those nights.

DM and I were sitting on the couch, working on our respective laptops. Out of the blue:

DM: (sniffs his hand) You know, I really like the smell of manure.

MFW: What!?

DM: I’m serious. Smell this (thrusts hand under MFW’s nose; MFW recoils and nearly falls off the couch trying to get away).

MFW: Umm, no thank you!

DM: (sniffs hand again) Good stuff. They should make candles that smell like this.

My husband is not normal. But Yankee Candles, I hope you’re listening. This is my life.

manure pit

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7 thoughts on “Smells Like Money

  1. Not saying I love the smell of cow manure, but I can tolerate it better than other animal’s (or human’s) manure!

  2. The random conversations are so true! I’m used to them now but our friends are not so used to it. I’ll still see shocked reactions when Paul casually talks about artificial insemination and many other dairyman topics. The most funny, though, was an in-depth discussion with my sister (who had recently delivered her first baby) about lactation. Very strange – yet somehow totally normal!

  3. Just found your blog!! I bet its been so exciting transforming into a farmers wife..! Can’t wait to keep reading! … xo…WRG wildrosegypsy.wordpress.com

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