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Wednesday, Dec. 11, 2013
My husband's new galPosted Wednesday, January 23, 2013, at 4:09 PM
I had the opportunity to attend the ninth annual Women in Denim conference over the weekend. It is always great to pay tribute to those women that get right out there and help their husbands run their family farms.
Always there are awesome keynote speakers invited to talk; most often they have farming backgrounds as well.
This year was no different. I laughed and laughed with Susie O as she told of her experiences on the farm.
I can't help re-sharing this column I wrote when I was a young farm wife.
Auctions are fascinating. I love to hear the jumbled words roll off the auctioneer's tongue; the action is so quick that it is almost makes the spectator dizzy.
I went to a few with my husband in our early marriage days. This is an account of one of our visits. It was just as I had expected.
There were females everywhere. All of them were long and lean with lots of brown silky hair that any women would dream of and of course all the men ogle over.
Their legs were also long and lean and as they fluttered their long lashes, it was enough to melt any man's heart.
Each man began bidding as the first female was escorted into the center ring, each hoping he would be the lucky one - the one with the right bid - the one that would be taking HER home.
I saw my husband winking at the auctioneer, his indication that he was interested in her. What really did he need her for? He already had me. I thought when we said our vows that I would be the only one in his life.
How nervous I got as he continued to make gestures, unaware of me watching. I was surprised he had brought me to such a show, allowed me to witness the procedure, humiliating me in front of everyone.
The process moved quickly. The auctioneer was slick as he caught each bid and moved the price up as he continued on.
He had many gals just like the one front and center to bring out for the anxious men to see, so he couldn't skip a beat. Before I knew it, the auctioneering was yelling, "sold" and pointing to my husband as the new lucky owner.
"You're getting yourself a fine gal," the auctioneer said as the other men looked at my husband with envy. Their only hopes were that the auctioneer would bring out another beauty for them to ogle over and perhaps go home with.
Just what would I do? I was devastated at the thought of there being another gal in my husband's life. He must have seen the tear well up in my eyes.
"I couldn't pass her up. Did you see that frame she has?" he said to me.
He was taking me for a complete idiot, a naive women. A dumb blonde.
We left the area after my husband doled out a good portion of hard-earned money for the gal who probably would come between us because I wasn't woman enough to move her aside.
He made room for the new gal in the truck, just as he had for me. My husband joked all the way home, as if what he'd just done didn't matter.
Once arriving home, he helped his new gal out of the truck. I helped myself out. He then prepared a nice meal for her. I hadn't eaten for hours - he didn't bother offering me a meal.
I left the two of them alone while I tried to sort out my feelings.
It was then that I came to the decision that the first cattle auction I'd just attended would have to be the last. I'd let my husband go alone and bid on the "gals" in the center ring with all the other beef-raising hungry farmers.
But I was still relieved that the new gal would be outside and I'd be inside and that she wouldn't be around long enough to matter much more.
* Lorri Glawe is a member of the Pilot news staff. Reach the columnist at email@example.com
Lorri Glawe is a reporter for the Pilot Tribune in Storm Lake.