Well. I did it. Something I swore I would never do again. Something that I know is so wrong, so dumb, so completely... wrong-and-dumb. Yep. I did it.
No. Not that.
No, not that either.
And no! Definitely not THAT!
Geez! What's wrong with you people and your DIRTY MINDS???
What I'm trying to say is that I acquired a GOAT.
Just a small one. A very, very small one. ('Cause I can CONTROL this! Like Fran and his crack!)
Don't ask how it happened. Please. Don't ask how I can somehow passively acquire a goat. Just, just... believe that if a goat can be passively acquired, I would be the woman to passively acquire a goat. A very small goat.
Sierra named him Lucifer.
Of course she did. Because she wants to stand out on the porch and call for her goat, "Lucifer! Lucifer! Come here, Lucifer! That's a good Lucifer! Come here!" Because she's thinking there's still a little bit of room to increase the utter HATRED my neighbors feel for us.
But before I go any further, let me give total props to the amazing Goat Barn Witch who generously provided after-hours goat tech support. She rocks! She's a woman who knows her goats! I just wish she lived closer because I am currently obsessed with cheese.
But anyway. We have a five-week old Nigerian Dwarf goat. A little buck. Black with white ears and nose. As cute as the summer is hot in Texas. And I swear, he looks at me with his beautifully demonic little goat eyes and goes, "Maaaa! Maaaaa! Mama, I love you, I love you, I love you, Maaaa!"
Seriously. That's exactly what he says.
My heart, it is melted.
The little goat, little Lucifer, is currently asleep in bed with Trinity. (I know, I know... my daughter is sleeping with a goat.) Sierra had to leave to go on an emergency boating trip. Where she will be cruelly forced to ride an inner tube as it is pulled behind a boat. Much laughter and fun will ensue. It will devastate her to miss the day of non-stop chores I'd planned around here.
Oh tangent: I was combining driving Sierra to her friend Tora-chan's house last evening with my trip into so-called town (not my town; my town has no stores), to buy emergency goat milk and a baby bottle, and as we were driving, as is so often the case, we passed numerous road-kill animals. It always makes us sad to see so many animals killed and left to rot on the roads. In just a short area, we passed a dead kitty and then a dead dog. Sierra goes, "Did you see that? Some poor dog and cat killed together. It's like... Milo and Otis - The Alternate Ending."
Sierra's funny. Hilarious. She's like... a mo' funny, mo' smart, mo' kind and mo' compassionate ME.
Though I'm still taller.
/tangent.
Anyway. We have a goat. And I think this means I need another goat. So Lucifer won't get lonely.
And so... wait for it... I can go into the Cheese Biz.
Because, think about it, a Nigerian Dwarf doe can produce, like, two quarts of milk a day and I can... I can... I can make cheese? Or... soap? Or... yogurt? Something? Something useful? Because while I was all a-Google last night, trying to find info on my new, passively-acquired goat, I realized, much to my surprise and gratification, that I have already GONE GREEN.
Yes! Yes I have! Gone Green! With my chickens and so-called garden! And now, with some goats, I can... wait for it... GO MORE GREEN.
I can GO GREENER.
Yay me.
But I've got to go. I'll be back later, because I had a long answer kinda planned out in my head for Mike and his Women's Studies/why not law school question. (Law school??? Lawyer? Lawyers are the devil! And not in the good goat way, either.) (Heh. Mike's probably a lawyer. He kinda has that lawyer vibe.) (And a funny thing: I shared Mike's comment n my PowerPoint with my professor, on accounta no one in the class had any even half-way relative criticisms of my projects, and my professor's all, "I have to agree with your anonymous commenter that your thesis is more a social commentary than a literary analysis." HAH. And my professor only gave me a 95 on my thesis! HAH! My bad! Sharing Mike's comment! My very bad! Getting a 95! But it's funny! Blog meeting real life! And affecting my damned GRADE.)
Be back later.
No. Not that.
No, not that either.
And no! Definitely not THAT!
Geez! What's wrong with you people and your DIRTY MINDS???
What I'm trying to say is that I acquired a GOAT.
Just a small one. A very, very small one. ('Cause I can CONTROL this! Like Fran and his crack!)
Don't ask how it happened. Please. Don't ask how I can somehow passively acquire a goat. Just, just... believe that if a goat can be passively acquired, I would be the woman to passively acquire a goat. A very small goat.
Sierra named him Lucifer.
Of course she did. Because she wants to stand out on the porch and call for her goat, "Lucifer! Lucifer! Come here, Lucifer! That's a good Lucifer! Come here!" Because she's thinking there's still a little bit of room to increase the utter HATRED my neighbors feel for us.
But before I go any further, let me give total props to the amazing Goat Barn Witch who generously provided after-hours goat tech support. She rocks! She's a woman who knows her goats! I just wish she lived closer because I am currently obsessed with cheese.
But anyway. We have a five-week old Nigerian Dwarf goat. A little buck. Black with white ears and nose. As cute as the summer is hot in Texas. And I swear, he looks at me with his beautifully demonic little goat eyes and goes, "Maaaa! Maaaaa! Mama, I love you, I love you, I love you, Maaaa!"
Seriously. That's exactly what he says.
My heart, it is melted.
The little goat, little Lucifer, is currently asleep in bed with Trinity. (I know, I know... my daughter is sleeping with a goat.) Sierra had to leave to go on an emergency boating trip. Where she will be cruelly forced to ride an inner tube as it is pulled behind a boat. Much laughter and fun will ensue. It will devastate her to miss the day of non-stop chores I'd planned around here.
Oh tangent: I was combining driving Sierra to her friend Tora-chan's house last evening with my trip into so-called town (not my town; my town has no stores), to buy emergency goat milk and a baby bottle, and as we were driving, as is so often the case, we passed numerous road-kill animals. It always makes us sad to see so many animals killed and left to rot on the roads. In just a short area, we passed a dead kitty and then a dead dog. Sierra goes, "Did you see that? Some poor dog and cat killed together. It's like... Milo and Otis - The Alternate Ending."
Sierra's funny. Hilarious. She's like... a mo' funny, mo' smart, mo' kind and mo' compassionate ME.
Though I'm still taller.
/tangent.
Anyway. We have a goat. And I think this means I need another goat. So Lucifer won't get lonely.
And so... wait for it... I can go into the Cheese Biz.
Because, think about it, a Nigerian Dwarf doe can produce, like, two quarts of milk a day and I can... I can... I can make cheese? Or... soap? Or... yogurt? Something? Something useful? Because while I was all a-Google last night, trying to find info on my new, passively-acquired goat, I realized, much to my surprise and gratification, that I have already GONE GREEN.
Yes! Yes I have! Gone Green! With my chickens and so-called garden! And now, with some goats, I can... wait for it... GO MORE GREEN.
I can GO GREENER.
Yay me.
But I've got to go. I'll be back later, because I had a long answer kinda planned out in my head for Mike and his Women's Studies/why not law school question. (Law school??? Lawyer? Lawyers are the devil! And not in the good goat way, either.) (Heh. Mike's probably a lawyer. He kinda has that lawyer vibe.) (And a funny thing: I shared Mike's comment n my PowerPoint with my professor, on accounta no one in the class had any even half-way relative criticisms of my projects, and my professor's all, "I have to agree with your anonymous commenter that your thesis is more a social commentary than a literary analysis." HAH. And my professor only gave me a 95 on my thesis! HAH! My bad! Sharing Mike's comment! My very bad! Getting a 95! But it's funny! Blog meeting real life! And affecting my damned GRADE.)
Be back later.
No, Mike is not a lawyer.
(Although, sadly, Mike often finds himself required to interact with lawyers in his professional capacity - a requirement that he finds personally distasteful.)
Many people who know Mike, on either a professional or personal basis, would howl with laughter at this suggestion, and subject poor Mike to a barrage of undeserved abuse.
Mike is often many different things... This being the 21st century, Mike is whatever he needs to be, but a lawyer is not one of them.
N.B.- Don’t be alarmed. Mike is not in the habit of writing about himself in the third person, but in this case it seemed appropriate.)
Dare I ask how you got the goat home?
I have often thought that you would make a great lawyer. Except for that social phobia thing!
I had the funniest picture of you buying a baby bottle! I could hear you walking around the store saying "this is for a baby GOAT, not for my baby. No bottles for my babies. Only for the goat."