And already recuperated. I actually took a nap. Two days in a row! It may be hell to get old but a little rest is heavenly. Before you get too judgmental I am over fifty. You know, old? As a certified hayseed a nap is not anathema. It’s highly recommended. Call it a power nap if you must to satisfy the illusion of a work ethic. Call it siesta if your Mediterranean. I’m calling it over now that I’ve woken up.

Now, on to cattle. Or more specifically away with cattle. If it’s a bull it’s time to pull. The same with cull. Hamburger calls. Which brings up something I’ve wanted to talk about ever since I heard on the news about it. A-1 Steak Sauce. According to the report A1 Steak Sauce is dropping the word Steak from their name. From now on they will simply be A1 Sauce, like they were when they first came out. A1 Original Sauce. Beats the heck out of ketchup. And a notch or two above the lowly salsa. For your steak burrito. Or was that burrow steak?

The company is trying to put a positive spin on the decision to drop the word steak. They will play it like the sauce is good on everything. They’re expanding their market reach. That America has this divergent amalgam of exotic foods and they must extend their appeal to the variance of tastes. Not the true reality that the sauce makes the dogfood poor Americans can afford palatable and they’re sensitive to the customer’s feelings of downward mobility. They may be shooting themselves in the foot though. Having that word steak on the bottle may have been some sort of ghetto status symbol around the hoods. Many may have thought the sauce was made out of steak, it was steak brown in color.

Fifty years ago they had added the word steak to appeal to an American market back when America was affluent enough to afford to eat steak. Back when I was a child. Back when a country’s wealth was measured in protein units available to eat. No wait, it still is. According to what they are writing about China and other developing nations. Today they are becoming more affluent. Today we are not. Today Americans are considered fortunate if they can afford hamburger. Let alone expensive cuts of butcher’s beef. A chicken in every pot is all you can aspire to here in the land of former opportunity. Maybe a crawdad or a catfish if you have the skill. Devolution. We have once again become the tired and hungry. We have reverted to the huddled masses yearning to breath free. We thought we were change but the spots have leoparded back on. The steady decline of the American Reich. Fries with that?

In a word, Done.

Then, there …….




All Time High

Sounds like a personal problem.

Familiarity has it’s advantages. My old blog, CoCreator’s Blog, was dashboarded here at WordPress. Cocreator’s New Blog is made 100% road ready as a unit here at WordPress. Free and turnkey on. I simply settled in and started typing like the old days. Ah the old days. These are those before we know it. The list of things to do becomes two lists. The list of things done and the list of things that may never get done. How did old Froadie used to say that before he called it a day? “Don’t do today what you can put off until tomorrow, ’cause if you die tonight you won’t have to do it tomorrow.” Then we’d go have a beer. Guilt free.

I thought of old Froad today as I was hauling six bull calves off to the sale barn. He got a much undeserved ass chewing and was run clean off the farm of a brother of mine as we were sorting cattle. Actually before those cattle were even in the catch pen. All he did was tell my brother to calm down after the herd had done an end run around Froad and me. I don’t know if he ever made it right with Froad, or if one ever really could but me an’ Froad became com-padres that day and I look forward to having a beer with him in heaven some day. Without the “boss”. Calves are at an all time high so I guess I’ll be buying.

The great thing was I have learned a thing or two since that time so long ago. These six calves I was marketing today were self sorters. That is they separated themselves from the herd. I had a heifer in heat and all the bulls were dogging her for a chance to mate. She was looking for anywhere to get away from them. When I opened the gate on the catch pen she was very easy to steer (no pun intended) into it. A trailer load of the bulls eagerly bulldozed their way into it right after. (Again no pun intended) When I offered her a quick trip round the pen and right back out the bulls were so busy fighting, jockeying for the best position behind her they never even noticed she was gone until this morning I think. I had quickly fed them some shelled corn and some supremo hay on the ground inside the catch pen. Also known as something else to fight over.

To add the cherries to the top of this whole sundae (or was it Thursday? Wednesday? Both?) I flipped a coin (figuratively speaking) as to where they would be sold. I have three major sale barns about an equidistant trip from my farm gate. All of them have their regular sale on a different day of the week. I had decided that the one I was going to was the one that had the soonest sale. Which I had thought was Saturday. That would give me a few days to try to “sort” some more. As it turned out when I came wheeling up to the sale barn it was surrounded by pickups with stock trailers and nearly full of calves to sell at one of their special feeder calf sales. When fortune’s on your side you kind of have to run with it. One load is enough if that’s the case. There were no more bulls “riding” when I got home from the sale barn anyway.

Did I mention feeder cattle are at an all time high?