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I bought this painting today because Bree Merryn clearly understands goaty goodness.
*Yogi Goaty Goodness*
I’m not making this up.
It’s something that exists in the world now.
Just….LOOK!!
Nosowitz, D. (August 29, 2016). Goat Yoga: It’s Yoga with Goats. Modern Farmer. Online
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Dear Friends,
Happy Holidays!
This treasure showed up in my in-box today and I must pass it along so you too can enjoy holiday happiness in the form of goats dancing to Jingle Bells:
Every year for a long time now I’ve been asking Santa to bring me Goaty Goodness. The ducks have a new pen, which means we finally have goat space! Now I just need the goat.
Can’t get enough goats? Me either!! Check out the goaty goodies below for more pictures and videos:
Goaty Goodness Christmas Campaign I
Dreams of Goaty Goodness
Spring is around the corner and Goaty Goodness is afoot. I can feel it. My kids are out there somewhere.
El Diablo has in his head that we’re getting a pygmy goat. It’s so cute how he comes up with these wild ideas. He thinks a pygmy will be “less trouble.” He came to this conclusion after listening to tales told one wintery eve by a fellow traveler who had bought goats during what she described as a mid-life crisis. In an attempt to dissuade me from following in her missteps, she told a succession of horror stories about her experiences with her goats. The moral of her story was: get sheep, not goats, because sheep are a lot less trouble.
While I would consider sheep in addition to goats, I can’t consider them a replacement. A mid-life goat crisis is not something that can be lived vicariously. I want to have my own. There is no substitute for Goaty Goodness.
So, I’ve been reading up on goats lately trying to figure out which kind would be the best addition to the farm. I keep coming back to Angora goats. I have an elaborate fantasy of sitting at the spindle and spinning their fur into mohair yarn to dye and knit. Yeah, I know someone has been watching too much Once Upon a Time lately. You can call me Briar Rose. If you’re going to dream, dream big.
Operation Panda Rescue
In other news, Moon Pie is a freakin’ genius. We have been playing a fun new game in which her favorite toy, Panda, is in peril and only she can rescue it. It took her five trials to figure out how to break Panda out of jail. I’ve posted two videos (Trial 2 and Trial 5) of her training below. Trial 2 was an unsuccessful attempt to get Panda free, but it features her stealthy army crawl technique.
Trial 5 demonstrates her brilliance and bravery. Mission accomplished!
The Duck Report
The baby ducks are going through an awkward phase. They are growing all long necked and legged, but they are still too short to scale the pool walls on their own. So yesterday as I was changing their water I had this bright idea: Wouldn’t it be great fun to catch a baby duck and let it go for a swim?
“Fun” is not quite the right word to describe what happened next. Baby ducks run remarkably fast for having such little legs. After chasing ducks all over the pen for a good five minutes, I finally managed to catch Mistletoes. Mistletoes went from cute little peep-peep-peeps to frantic cries of “PEEP! PEEP! PEEP! PEEP!”
And that’s when P. Recious Rainbow Queen Mother stopped running away and went all “momma bear” on me.
She came barreling at me with lightning in her eyes and malice in her squawking. I guess she called on her pterodactyl ancestry because she somehow transformed herself into a huge winged monster. I stood deer-in-the-headlights frozen by the sight of her as she grabbed a hold of my boot with her ferocious bill and viciously yanked at it. All the while she was flapping and hissing. I was screaming and flailing. Baby duck was PEEP! PEEP! PEEPing.
Moo-moo was out the outside of the pen, going crazy. All of our Panda Rescue Missions had been leading up to this moment. She went barking up a storm, lunging at the pen in an effort to save me from my attacker.
In trying times you learn who has your back…and who does not. While all this was going on, El Diablo was standing outside the pen laughing and fumbling for his iPhone in an effort to video the spectacle. (This is exactly the sort of behavior that earned him the name “The Devil.”) Lucky for me, he didn’t have his phone on him.
Mistletoes did not get to swim in the pool. He was returned to Moma Duck and I got the hell out of there. Getting your ass handed to you by a duck is a humbling experience.
When you get to the end of all the light you know and it’s time to step into the darkness of the unknown, faith is knowing that one of two things shall happen: either you will be given something solid to stand on, or you will be taught how to fly.
–Edward Teller
In the past two months I have…
- Sold a house
- Bought a house and found Peace. Love. Home.
- Moved the contents of the old house to the new house
- Made weekly trips to the Goodwill, Salvation Army, and recycle center to get rid of the stuff the former owner left behind (we’re talking a lot of stuff here)
- Spent countless hours in the yard feeding the mosquitoes
- Talked to grasshoppers and tree frogs
- Bowed submissively to bumblebees
- Chased butterflies
- Acquired the limbs of a nine year old tomboy, adorned with scabs, scrapes, scratches, and stings
- Made mud pies
- Bled over the ferocious rose bushes
- Engaged in warfare with wasps
- Ran from a mouse
- Pulled an odd assortment of things from the dog’s mouth (including a dead mouse)
- Pondered the meaning of the closet witch the former owner left behind
- Reveled in the Goaty Goodness the former owner left behind
- Resigned from my out-of-state professor gig – it was just too impossible to go back to all that after all this.
- Moved the contents of the out-of-state apartment and office to the new house
- Began taking steps to integrate my worklife into my life’s work
- Found myself overtaken by tearful fits of gratitude and joy