Originally Posted by il Padrino Ute (Post 250345)

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.

Originally Posted by Runner Coug (Post 250356)

It did have it's small perks, though. My Grandma used to skim cream off the top of the tank for our oatmeal in the morning. Tasty.

Originally Posted by Runner Coug (Post 250340)

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.