Yesterday Dustin, Spork, and I took the trash down to the dump after taking 250 pounds of meat to our customer in Fayetteville and taking Penelope and Lamont, along with another pig, to the processor. After coming back from the dump, I stopped to get the mail. I always stop and get the mail, especially if Dustin is in the car with me. You see, we all share a common mailbox and Dustin, while being extremely intelligent and somewhat anal about a lot of things, isn’t quite as diligent about getting his mail. Something I remind him of every chance I get. (He’s kept me from killing myself from being stupid multiple times before, so I have to have something to hold over him). So I grab the mail, his and mine, and sort out his to give to him. He immediately starts laughing and says, “You’re on the cover!”
So it’s a tall guy, with brown hair (way more hair than I have), a scruffy beard, and wearing Duluth pants and a Duluth shirt. Yep, that’s pretty much my daily uniform here on the farm. The guy is being chased by what looks to be an angry pig, which I’ve also unfortunately done. And they are talking about their Lucky SOB series which I have written into to. I told the story of being bitten by a pig and how my Duluth pants saved my leg from needing stitches or worse.
I’m thinking to myself, surely that’s not my story being depicted on the cover. This pig looks like a wild boar, not my pissed off domesticated pig. A quick flip through the catalog confirmed that I was indeed not famous and can go back to my life of piggy and bovine craziness without paparazzi running around. It was an exciting moment though.