Geez, couldn't you have just sent me a link?

No, no I couldn't of.

So, your good Grandfather farmed dirt, I see. A true salt of the earth kind of guy.

He was more of a hobby dirt farmer, raising a little hay for his horses. His day job was in the oil patch.

Ok, oil is in your blood. I like to see family traditions carried on.

My grandpa had a lot of alfalfa and a lot of dirt. And lots and lots of milk.

Big Boobs Grandma, huh? As my dad likes to say, "A milky a day keeps the doctor away."

Funny, but no.

Grandpa had 400 cows.

Yowza, dairy farming is back breaking work today. I can't imagine what it was like back when you didn't just hook them up to the vacuums.

I knew I liked you for some reason, il Pad. My Gramps had 300 head. He died from accidentally stabbing himself in the thigh and being too stubborn to go to the doc. A blood clot got loose and killed him.

Grandma died at 3 AM one day, on her way to milk the cows for the 1,678,584th time in her life.

Although I do have to admit, I thank God daily that my Dad moved away from that place. I spent summers helping Granny milk the cows, and hated every minute of it. Mostly because I always got stuck shoveling the cow crap out of the holding pen twice a day.

Yes, it's the hardest I've ever worked in my life. Hooking the cows to the vacuums was bad enough, but making sure the grain bins were full for the cows to eat and cleaning out the holding pens sucked.

My parents would send me to work on the farm for disciplinary reasons as a teenager. Getting up at 3:00 AM was bad enough, but Grandpa's way of waking me up was just awful - the house was heated by a coal furnace and he'd just bang on the pipes with a wrench.

One thing it did do was make me appreciate just what my Grandpa did for a living. That is hard work - and he did it until he was too old to work, which was about 88 years of age. I never knew until he passed away that he had an MBA, but chose to do that kind of work. Remembering all this reminds me of just how much I suck.