Tuesday, October 11, 2011


This weekend Charlie and I were sitting at the kitchen island having a snack when he was rattling off some words.

Combus.  Combos.  Columbus.  Compass.

Usually, I am the lead translator when it comes to Charlie-speak, but this time I was completely stumped.  What in the heck was this kid saying?!

My mother-in-law was also in the kitchen and started repeating the same nonsense.  When she turned around she must have scene the state of confusion upon my face and she asked me if I didn’t know what “combus” was.  I asked her if she was saying one word or two.  She said two.  Then it finally clicked…sort of.

I asked her if she was saying “come boss,” and she said yes.  I then must have had the same look of confusion on my face, because she asked me if I didn’t know what that meant.  I said no.  I thought maybe she was whipping out some mafia slang or something.  She is not “The Godfather” movie watching type, so again, this was confusing.

This was the mafia she was talking about.


When she goes to feed the cows food scraps (potato and apple peelings, etc.) she says, “Come Boss!”  Apparently, this is a relatively common term when feeding cows to get them to come and eat.

"Tina, you fat lard, come get some DINNER!... Tina, eat. Food. Eat the FOOD!"

Oh wait, that was a llama.  Never mind.

Anyways, these are the cows on the farm.  They are not our cows, but it is our pasture.  We rent it out to a neighbor who is a distant relative (aren't they all in North Dakota).

I have to admit it has been kind of nice having the cows there.  We don’t have to take care of them, but Charlie has some animals to look at…besides cats.

However, we have had one break-out.  Back in August one of the cows decided to trip the electric fence and go for a leisurely stroll throughout the yard and left many presents along the way.

Nothing like needing a gigantic size pooper-scooper.

She eventually went back into the pasture and our neighbor fixed the fence.

Things have been fairly quiet with the cows since then.  It was sort of surreal listening to them moo in the distance evenings this summer.

I’m just happy we don’t have to take care of them.

Who you calling bossy?


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