Goat Philosophy 101

Goatilocks and the Three Bores (Part II)

2012-02-09T08:15:00.000-08:00

Now then, if you are just joining us, what the hay is wrong with you, anyway? You can't just start in the middle of a story. What were you thinking? You will just have to go back and read Part 1 like everybody else. Then you can read Part II. Would you eat dessert first?

Now then, you may recall that the Three Bores had just discovered that their breakfast had been violated during their absence. Deadly began sniffing the air, Mammoth looked around and then grabbed Alittle by the ear before he took off out the window after the chicken. "I smell something", said Deadly. "So do I", echoed Mammoth. Alittle just said, "Ouch!", since Mammoth still had hold of his ear. Then they turned, as one, and looked up the stairs. "Fee Fi Fo Foat, I smell the odor of a stinky old goat!", cried Deadly. (This is a highly unlikely scenario because everyone knows that goats do not smell. Unless, perhaps you are talking about smelly old bucks, but then the Bores would have figured that out somewhere in the neighborhood of 14 miles away. Thus I feel it necessary to point out that even though Goatilocks is most certainly not a smelly old buck, the Three Bores simply had to have some way to figure out she was upstairs. Literary license.) Up the stairs stomped the Three Bores. When they reached the top, Deadly peered at his bed. "Interesting. Everything looks fine and no one seems to have disturbed my poster of Sarah Palin." "And my bed is still just as saggy as it always was", replied Mammoth. But Alittle took one look at his bed and cried, "Where the heck is my chicken?!"

Goatilocks woke up with a start and saw the Three Bores staring at her. She jumped up and ran out of the house, into the woods and all the way to the river. As she stopped to catch her breath, she was grateful she had remembered to grab the basket of Peanuts for GrannyGoat. She thought about eating one, just to settle her nerves, but with some things it's just better not to go there in the first place. So Goatilocks looked up and realized she was at the bridge over troubled water, for beneath the bridge lived a hideous creature - the creature, Goatmother. (What?! So she managed to crawl up out of the abyss and ask for a new part. What was I supposed to do? Just think of it as recycling.)

As Goatilocks stepped out onto the bridge, the hideous creature, Goatmother, hollered from below. "Those who cross must pay the toll. Twenty Peanuts in my bowl." After the debacle at MoorDoors, the Goatmother had embraced poetry and set about trying to find a venue from which she might be 'discovered'. She was dressed all in black with a jaunty little black beret, and she kept trying to grow a goatee but her hormones weren't far enough gone yet. "Twenty Peanuts or the jig is up. Twenty Peanuts or I'll eat you up!", spouted the creature. But though she was totally put off by the bad poetry, Goatilocks refused to pay the toll.

Suddenly the creature, Goatmother, leaped from beneath the bridge and ran straight at Goatilocks. As luck would have it (Forget skill. Luck is definitely where it's at.), the Three Bores had followed her to the river. Deadly saw the repulsive creature and jumped in front of Goatilocks uttering mind-boggling campaign stratagems for Newt Gingrich. The creature, Goatmother, began backing up, a look of abject horror overtook her features, and she disintegrated before their very eyes. True to his name, Deadly was. Goatilocks began backing up, too, because she thought the Three Bores would turn on her next. Instead, Deadly and Mammoth came forward and said, "We only wanted to know if you thought the meal was good enough to write a 5 star review and post it on Yelp." "Oy," said Goatilocks. "Is that all? Well, it was very good, although perhaps a few chopped Peanuts over the top might give it a bit more panache - that certain je ne sais quoi."

And with that, Goatlocks was on her way to GrannyGoat's again, the coattails of her fashion-forward red cloak flapping behind in the breeze. Upon finally reaching her destination, she knocked repeatedly at the barn door of GrannyGoat's dwelling. From inside she heard a faint, "Come in." The voice sounded rather odd - not at all as she remembered. On top of that, the voice had replied 'come in' when anytime before, GrannyGoat, being Nubian, would have said something more like 'What the hay was that noise anyway?' So Goatilocks slowly pushed the door open and stepped hesitantly inside. GrannyGoat looked oddly taller. And thinner. And her ears, though scrunched beneath her night cap, looked strangely less pendulous. "My, GrannyGoat, what long legs you have." said Goatilocks. "All the better to reach the best hay with, my dear.", replied GrannyGoat. "And GrannyGoat, how thin you have become.", declared Goatilocks. "I signed up for Weight Watchers last month.", answered GrannyGoat. "And your ears, Granny Goat. Your ears seem to be sticking out instead of hanging down." "Probably just a result of my new Miracle Ear hearing aids. Can't even see them, can you?", queried GrannyGoat.

Something was definitely wrong here. GrannyGoat would have entirely forgotten anyone had come to visit by now, looked at her, and asked 'Who the hay are you and how the hay did you get in here anyway?' So Goatilocks, with suspicion in her tone, remarked, "GrannyGoat, what a large forehead you have." With that GrannyGoat jumped up, threw off her shawl and night cap and cried, "All the better to BUTT you with, my dear Goatilocks! MwaaaaHaaaaHa and Ha!" In reality, the evil Alpine, Ella, had taken GrannyGoat's place. Ella hurtled forward in an attempt to T-bone Goatilocks, knock her across the room, and steal all the precious Peanuts. Then her diabolical plan was to eat as many as she could, and slobber all over the rest so no one else would possibly want them. Lo and behold, from out of nowhere came a blinding blur of feathers and fluff. The enraged enigma descended on the head of the evil impostor like a Cloud Nine high loft triple chamber ball of power plumage. It pecked and spurred for all it was worth until the dastardly would-be Peanut pilferer had fled in cowardice. "Who are you?", asked Goatilocks, her voice dripping with admiration. " I am ... THE CHICKEN!", came the answer.

Goatilocks and the Peanuts were saved. The chicken returned to the house of the Three Bores in order to prove to Deadly and Mammoth that Alittle was not actually in need of Ritalin. The creature, Goatmother, did not really disintegrate, but was, instead, merely practicing for yet another new career, this time in magic as The Great Goatmotherini. It doesn't pay as well as poetry, but it is much more effective at getting you out of the house. Besides, you don't have to try to grow a beard because no one will remember what you looked like when you disappear anyway. And GrannyGoat? Well, GrannyGoat wandered out of the other half of the barn wondering what had really happened, who had come to visit, what she had been doing when they had come to visit, and what she had been going to do when who she didn't know was coming had showed the hay up and caused whatever she didn't know had really happened. And Goatilocks? Well, Goatilocks, having experienced so much trauma, yet having remained astute enough to realize something just wasn't right, decided to reward herself and ate all the Peanuts. Kind of a no-brainer, that one. Would you expect anything less from such an exceptional goat? I thought not.

Finis.
Again.

An Award?

2012-02-08T11:52:00.000-08:00

Well, my Goatness! Gold over at In a Goat's Shoes has decided to pass along an award to me! Thank you, Gold (and Uhura because I know you were in on it too). I hope that your person will give you lots of Peanuts to thank you for me!

Now then, apparently there are rules, and everyone knows that with great award power comes great responsibility. (I learned that from Spiderman.) So what are these rules?

Copy and paste the award to your blog.
Link back to the blogger that gave you the award.
Pick your 5 favorite blogs with less than 200 followers and leave a comment on their blog telling them about their awesomeness and that you have rewarded them for that fact.
Hope that they will pass on the award to 5 more awesome blogs.

No. 1 - Check.
No. 2 - Check.
No. 3 - Oh! Well let me see now ... in no particular order ...

1. - Eden Hills - This is the home of Millie, a very beautiful Saanen goat, her lady and all her friends.
2. - The Goat Borrower - This is the home of MiMi, Yellow Dog and Darla, the Linda Evangelista of the goat world.
3. - This Goat's Life - This is the blog of Millie Belles, a/k/a Baby Belle Jr., and the farm Peanut (the goat, not the nut) and I were born on.
4. - Beyond The Sidewalks - This is the home of CoraBelle and Filbert, Peanuts Champion sister and candy packing brother.
5. - Mainely Ewes Farm - This is the home of some wonderful goats, plus many other critters waaaay down east.

Let me just say that I have no idea how many followers each of these blogs has. And I'd also like to say that it's too bad I could only pick five, because every blog in my link list is great! So please do check those out as well! Thanks again to In A Goat's Shoes for passing on this award. I'd like to think it was because I write such fabulous stories, but I suspect it's really all about the Peanuts. It usually is.

Goatilocks and the Three Bores (Part 1)

2012-02-07T20:28:00.000-08:00

Once upon a time ... (What does that mean, anyway? How does one do anything 'upon' a time? I suppose if you get upon a time once, you certainly might not want to do it again.) Anyway, once upon a time there lived an extremely intelligent and lovely young goat named Goatilocks. She was black and white and had marvelous and stylish brown stripes on her face and legs. She had wattles too. How stylish is that? So one day Goatilocks decided she needed to take a basket of Peanuts to her sainted and elderly grandmother who lived a couple of farms over. GrannyGoat didn't get out much. She was a Nubian and likely forgot where the door was. Or maybe what day it was. Come to think of it, she might have forgotten she was actually a goat, but then I suppose that is really irrelevant to the story.

Anyhow, Goatilocks donned her fashion-forward red coat, and set out on a beautiful morning, basket in hoof. Now in order to reach GrannyGoat's farm, Goatilocks had to pass through the woods. In fact, she had to pass through a couple of woods. (This was necessary in order to make the story come out right.) She even had to trot across a cute little wooden bridge over a quaint little river. It was the perfect day to make such a picturesque jaunt.

Now it happened, that deep in the forest lived Three Bores, Deadly Bore, Mammoth Bore and Alittle Bore. Deadly was the leader of the group and was aptly named because anytime he began waxing poetic about things like politics, peoples' eyes began glazing over and they were soon overcome by a lethal dose of ostentatious opinionated postulation and speculation, a/k/a the dreaded OOPS. Mammoth Bore was so named for the simple reason that she was, well, rather a large Bore. She was nice enough, but everywhere she went people would look her in the eye and say things like, "Wow. You are a big Bore, aren't you?" Alittle Bore was the smallest of the Bores. He didn't have a very long attention span, so he tended to skip around a lot when he talked. He would say things like, "Hey! Look over there at the ... My goodness! I can't believe that it is going to ... This is such a delicious ... Is that your real hair color?" People tended to get a little tired of trying to figure out what he was actually trying to say.

Now on this particular fated day, The Three Bores decided to go out for a walk in the woods. Deadly thought he would look for someone new to proselytize, Mammoth thought she needed some elbow room, and Alittle thought he saw a chicken crossing the road. (What?! You never saw a chicken in the woods?). Besides Mammoth had fixed a, well, mammoth breakfast, and it was much too hot to eat right away. It needed time to cool. So, out the door they went, over the river and through the woods.

In the meantime, Goatilocks had been hopping through the forest, scooping up all the field mice and bopping them on the head. (Oh. Wait. I think that was The Hoppit.) Anyway, soon she came upon (there's that word again) the house of the Three Bores. She was awfully tired and hungry, and those Peanuts were starting to look so very tempting, and it would never do to reach GrannyGoat's with an empty basket. So Goatilocks knocked at the door, but of course, no one answered because the Three Bores had gone out. Soon Goatilocks decided to try the door, and since this is a fantasy, the door was unlocked. She poked her charming head in the door and called out, "Is anyone at home? May I come in?" Since no one answered, and knowing full well that silence presumes consent, she shrugged her delicate shoulders and went on in.

The first thing she saw was, of course, breakfast set out on the table. It is such a shame to waste food, so she went to the first plate and tasted it. Oh! Way too hot. Next she tried the middle plate. Yuck! Too cold. So she tried the third plate and, wouldn't you know it, it was just right. She consumed the entire repast.

By this time, Goatilocks was very tired, so she burped daintily and went upstairs to look for a place to take a twenty-two and a half minute nap. First she came to a really big bed and tried it, but it had campaign stickers all over it. And though it looked promising, she just didn't want to make an OOPS. So she went on to the next bed. This bed sagged in the middle. Oy. At last Goatilocks came to a small bed that seemed just right and she lay down and fell fast asleep. (Or was it that she lay down and fell asleep fast?).

As luck would have it, the Three Bores chose this time to return from their constitutional. Deadly walked in, looked at his plate and said, "Somebody has had their fingers in my pie!" Mammoth looked and cried, "And somebody has tasted my breakfast! I better check my Dove bars!" Alittle looked at his plate and announced, "Somebody ... Oh, look! My chair is bro... My breakfast is all go ... Out the window! There goes that chicken!!!!!"

(Please stay tuned for Part II of Goatilocks and the Three Bores. Unless, of course, you are bored, in which case, you shall be forced to join the Three Bores, which will subsequently become the Four or More Bores, and you will absolutely ruin the whole story. So stay tuned.)

I'm Not Really Very Cheerful But ...

2012-02-02T13:19:00.000-08:00

Yes, that is right. I am not really very cheerful this week. I mean I missed being cheerful last week entirely. Of course that was my fault because I was so busy trying to conclude my Lord of the Wings trilogy, but this week it is just not my fault. The Goatmother is obsessing about cameras and has had the computer tied up. I suppose I'm going to have to demand one for the barn, but you would think with four computers in the house, plus a smart phone, they would let me use at least one. Oy.

Anyway, I've been thinking I might write a new story, but we shall see. In the meantime, I thought I better get back to linking up with Planet Penny, here, so, just in case you are struggling with cheerfulness this week, you can go and see what is making others happy this week. I did find a few meager things that tickled my cheerfulness bone this week. I have to say, it was rather difficult, though, seeing as how that stupid Punxsutawney Phil saw his shadow and now we are doomed to six more weeks of winter. Ground Hogs. Oy.

So, cheerfulness ... here goes:

The sun! The sun! It is supposed to shine clear until next Tuesday! (Please note that the Mighty Quinn is seeing his shadow though. Who needs a Ground Hog anyway?)

Buds on the Indian Plum! They are the fist things to come out in the SPRING!

Yarrow blooming in February? What's up with that? It usually doesn't bloom until the middle of summer, for Goats' Sake.

A bud on the Lilac bush!

And last, but not least :

A lovely green head. Why is it the guys always have the beautiful hair and the long lashes?

This Is What Happens If You Are Evil

2012-01-31T09:04:00.000-08:00

You may recall that at the conclusion of The Lord of the Wings - The Return of the Thing, the Dark Lord Ellaron, and everything connected with her, was destroyed. One can liken it to the end of Star Wars where Darth Vadar spins off into space in his out-of-control TIE fighter. Well guess what?

The Eye of Ellaron

(Source)

NASA believes this to be a Nebula ... but we know the truth of it, now don't we?

Lord of the Wings - The Return of the Thing

2012-01-28T16:23:00.000-08:00

I know you have all been anxiously awaiting the third, and final, installment of the Lord of the Wings trilogy. And, I would feel just horrible if I thought I was actually responsible for anyone's bated breath. So, Hi-Ho Silver!, and on with the story!

Finally having reached the Highly UnWhite Gate, entrance to MoorDoors, Frodigold, WatWise and the creature, Goatmother, realized that it was far too heavily guarded by the repulsive and ravenous Urduck-hai. So the creature, Goatmother, informed the pair that she knew of a secret entrance. In reality, the tricksy Goatmother planned to lead Frodigold to Fluffy, a beastly giant Woolly Booger whose penchant was to feed on the fluids of its prey, mostly incompetent weathermen. Once Frodigold had been dispatched and WatWise had fainted from fright, the cherrr-ishhh-ed would again be hers. In the meantime, the eye of Ellaron searched unceasingly for THE ONE PEANUT. (Probably both eyes searched, but with an evil Alpine, who can tell.)

It came to pass after the fall of HerdnGuard, that a lone Nigerian, having traveled and fought alongside BooBeard and the band of itinerant Nubians, came forward to claim that Frodigold and WatWise GoshOgee could only be successful in their quest if the eye of Ellaron was drawn away from its relentless search for THE ONE PEANUT. The Nigerian's name was PeanutsRGorn, and he was actually the one true heir to the throne of Equidistant-Earth. Why any intelligent Nigerian, let alone an aristocrat, should heretofore have been traveling with a band of itinerant Nubians, no one could say. But Cabrarwen UnderFoot and Goatfather, the Grey, were mightily impressed by his prowess, for single-headedly he had butted back many of the fierce Urduck-hai. So it was decided that Cabrarwen, Goatfather, the Grey, PeanutsRGorn, BooBeard, the band of itinerant Nubians, and anyone else remaining unscathed by the efforts of Ellaron and her minions, would march on the Highly UnWhite Gate.

Meanwhile, Frodigold, WatWise and the creature, Goatmother, had reached the secret entrance. The Goatmother pointed to the entrance and pushed Frodigold forward. Suddenly Fluffy appeared. But the Goatmother got more than she bargained for because WatWise was made of sterner stuff than she had anticipated. Years of fainting had given him the muscles of Atlas and he stilted forth ramming his head into Fluffy. Fluffy was not killed (rated G for 'general' audiences), but ran away to Florida where the weather is much more predictable. Frodigold was saved by the courage of her friend. The creature, Goatmother, realizing she was now in deep goat berries, skulked away silently into the shadows. Having lost their guide, Frodigold and WatWise were now on their own and the weight of THE PEANUT grew ever more burdensome. Still they struggled on, and soon the depths of the barn at MoorDoors lay within their reach.

Back at the Highly UnWhite gate, a battle was about to begin. Seeing his former friends in peril, Quinnurman, the Brown and White, threw aside his allegiance to the Dark Lord Ellaron, and joined the fray. The eye of Ellaron swung to the gate and the repulsive host of Urduck-hai were ordered forward.

Unbeknownst to anyone, PeanutsRGorn had fulfilled an age-old prophecy by entering the Quacks of Doom and calling forth a ghostly army of ducks ( ancestors of the loathsome Urduck-hai ) who had long ago run, flapping and quacking, from battle. As a result, they had been cursed to remain in the Quacks until such time as their oaths had been fulfilled. As heir to the throne of Equidistant-Earth, PeanutsRGorn called them forth to fight.

"Will you fight for the heir?!!!"
" < silence > "
"Will. You. Fight???!!!!! What say you???!!!!!"
" Quack! "

By now (Isn't this exciting?), THE ONE PEANUT had taken control of Frodigold.

"It is mine!, my cherrr-ishhh-ed!"

Suddenly the creature, Goatmother, appeared from the gloom and jumped on Frodigold.

"Noooooo! The cherrr-ishhh-ed is MINE!!!"

They fought. The creature, Goatmother, grabbed THE PEANUT, tripped (Because she always was such a klutz.), and fell into the abyss that was the barn at MoorDoors.

All that was Ellaron disappeared with the destruction of THE ONE PEANUT. PeanutsRGorn was crowned and took the throne, which looked strangely like a gold-encrusted and bejeweled hoof-trimming stand. Cabrarwen and Quinnurman got together because they had always really liked each other, and Cabrarwen had been absolutely devastated when Quinnurman had gone to the dark side. BooBeard and the herd of itinerant Nubians wandered off wondering what had really happened, where they were going, and what they were going to do when they go to where they didn't know they were going. The ghostly ducks from the Quacks of Doom, were released from their oaths and wandered back to the pond to begin eating ghostly corn - which in the long run was a lot cheaper. WatWise GoshOgee returned to the pasture, a hero in every sense of the word, and set about writing his memoirs. But Frodigold - Frodigold was forever changed, wounded inwardly, beyond repair, by the weight she had borne. In the end, she sailed west, over the fence, to the Green Havens filled with alfalfa. And, in case you were wondering, Goatfather, the Grey, formed a startup computer business and lived to a ripe old age, in front of his computer, until he became Goatfather, the White and could type no more.

Finis.

The Lord of the Wings - The Two Terrors

2012-01-24T16:06:00.000-08:00

So if you are just now tuning in, you will be hopelessly lost. Just kidding. You'll just have to go back and read Part I. So, then, on with our story ...

Now it happened that simply everyone in Equidistant-Earth began searching for The Partnership - even American Idol (What?! How many times have you seen obscure people on that show?). There were those whose allegiance to the evil Ellaron forced them into unwavering resolve. They would find THE ONE PEANUT. Frodigold and WatWise stuck to the shadows. (And believe me, it was really difficult getting unstuck.) But each time an enemy drew near, THE PEANUT called to them (much like Wheat Chex call to the Goatfather in the dead of night.) Ever onward trudged the valiant pair, though the weight Frodigold bore began to take a toll on her delicate countenance.

As ill luck would have it, the leader of the wizardly sect to which Goatfather, the Grey, belonged, Quinnurman, the Brown and White, was corrupted by the evil Ellaron. She offered him a position herding all the unsuspecting goats of Equidistant-Earth, and in his lust for power, he was lost. He began building an unholy, unbeatable army, terrible in sheer number alone. These were no ordinary warriors, but the most elite eating force on earth, the Urduck-hai. Fierce they were, yet sadly lacking in intelligence and driven by a wantonness for corn heretofore unknown. Quinnurman had only to offer them Iowa and they were unquestioningly in his thrall.

Frodigold and WatWise GoshOgee now feared from two fronts, that of Ellaron in MoorDoors and Quinnurman at HerdnGuard.

"Wat, ... "
"What?"
"No, Wat ..."
"What?!"
"Oy. Never mind. Where are we? Wait! Did you hear that?"

Suddenly a grizzly form appeared from the shadows. Frodigold and WatWise froze. It was the creature, Goatmother. In reality, she was drawn there by the deep need for her cherrr-ishhh-ed, but it would never do to let these purloiners know. After all, had they not stolen the cherrr-ishhh-ed from her? Instead she feigned friendship and told the pair she would show them the way to MoorDoors. An unholy alliance was struck.

In the meantime, deep in the forest outside HerdnGuard, an unlikely ally appeared in the form of a tannish ball of fuzz with legs - Cabrarwen Underfoot. Cabrarwen, having heard of Quinnurman's fall to the dark side, set about trying to persuade the vacuous BooBeard to launch an attack on HerdnGuard. BooBeard, long having given up piracy in favor of leading an itinerant band of Nubians, had long dwelled within the shelter of NoHorn forest. Spurred to action by Cabrarwen's persuasive and eloquent pleas, BooBeard and her minions started fervently toward HerdnGuard and promptly forgot where exactly they were going and what exactly they were supposed to do when they got to where they didn't know they were going. Cabrarwen redoubled her efforts and set about redirecting the hapless horde. Much repetition and rolling of the eyes was involved, but eventually the band reached HerdnGuard and managed, somehow, to bring the citadel to its knees. The fact that sheer bulk was involved goes without saying. Einstein was right. The energy of the material IS indeed equal to the MASS of that material times the speed of light squared. ( E = mc² ) (Although nothing remotely approaching the speed of light occurred in this case.)

Meanwhile, Frodigold, WatWise and the creature, Goatmother, unaware of all that was being done to ensure their progress, continued their arduous journey ...

Please stay tuned for Part III, Lord of the Wings - The Return of the Thing

The Lord of the Wings (Part 1)

2012-01-22T16:13:00.000-08:00

Thanks to my friend, Mrs. Micawber (whom I bet didn't know she was really a Muse), and due to not being able to leave the barn (because even though they said it was supposed to rain, it is snowing again), I have decided to turn my hoof to writing something a little different. I shall spare you the explanations and simply cut to the chase as I present to you:

The Lord of the Wings

We begin our story eons and eons, and just skads of years, ago in a land known as Equidistant-Earth. The Dark Lord Ellaron has come upon THE ONE PEANUT, a five-to-a-sheller (What?! This is a work of fiction.) to rule over all Peanuts. The ONE to rule them ALL. But the evil, dark Ellaron, fascinated one day by her own reflection, managed to lose THE ONE PEANUT.

Time passed and it came to be that an innocent-looking woman, walking along one day, looked down and noticed something. Little did she know that THE ONE PEANUT wanted only to use her to find the way back to its vile master. The woman placed the found object into her pocket, but its dastardly influence began to change her unnaturally. Soon she was turned into a twisted creature known only as The Goatmother. She was a slave to THE ONE PEANUT, calling it her cherrr-ishhh-ed. But THE ONE PEANUT was not to be denied, and one day the creature, Goatmother, also lost the cherrr-ishhh-ed.

Eventually, THE ONE PEANUT came into the possession of Frodigold, a lovely, highly intelligent, and exceedingly courageous young goat, dwelling happily in a beautiful part of Equidistant-Earth. Frodigold was informed by her wizened computer-wizard friend, Goatfather, the Grey, that THE ONE PEANUT was evil and must be destroyed. But THE ONE PEANUT could only be destroyed by throwing it into the depths of the barn at MoreDoors, where it would be consumed by odious Orcmice and subsequently 'eliminated'. Soon, Frodigold was joined by her loyal friend, WatWise GoshOgee, and the Partnership of the Peanut was formed. Thus began their fateful journey.

Please be sure to stay tuned for part II, Lord of the Wings - The Two Terrors.

Cheerful In Spite Of It All

2012-01-20T13:04:00.000-08:00

Since Wednesday's Words of Wisdom occurred on Thursday this week, it only makes sense that being cheerful has to come on Friday. I may be late, but at least I'm systematic. So, what to be cheerful about amidst all this white. Let's see now. Though there have been some who were obviously quite confused by the weather ...

... and some that wanted in where it was warm ...

(I do apologize for the blur, but at least you can tell it is a bird. This little fellow went around to each window in the house.)

And though our beloved goat toys are buried ...

... I grudgingly admit it is beautiful ...

Of course there are some who seem to manage cheerfulness, despite the cold. Like this Fox Sparrow ...

... and this Spotted Towhee ...

... and the Varied Thrush taking full advantage of those apples still left on the tree ...

But the Few and the Faithful aren't too thrilled at having to navigate the deep snow ...

... and then, exhausted, sit like frozen decoys ...

I suppose we can be cheerful and thankful that 40 degree temperatures are supposedly on the way ...

And there is a bit of happiness in seeing the warm glow of light as frigid night envelops the world ...

... and we are safe and warm within. But even though I am supposed to be cheerful, I'll leave you with this metaphor for my mood ...

Now, be sure to get on over to Planet Penny, here, and see what others are managing to be cheerful about this week! And do try not to trip in the snow.

Thursday Words of Wisdom

2012-01-19T11:07:00.000-08:00

What?! Thursday Words of Wisdom? I do have an excuse:

This is sort of what it looks like now - minus the blue sky. Because, actually, this picture was taken two days ago. And though we didn't get the huge amounts that Olympia did yesterday, we still got snow. And we had a head start. Last night the weathermen said the snow had stopped, but freezing rain was on its way. NOAA said, 'mostly cloudy'. Guess what? Across the sound they are getting freezing rain. Here? More snow. I guess you could say that it is 'mostly cloudy'. It just happens to be mixed with white flakes. Sort of like Boo is black, but if you look closely she's 'mostly black' with dandruff.

Since they said the snow had stopped, the Goatmother decided to laboriously shovel out a place for Cabra. Why, you ask? Well ...

... and ...

How does one pee in this?

Veeery carefully.

Of course the Mighty Quinn has longer legs and magic hair. For whatever reason, the snow just doesn't stick to him.

What?! The snow doesn't stick to me? All-rightey then!

Woo hoo!

Oyy-kay. Definitely not on my list of priorities. So here's the thing, and Thursday's late Words of Wisdom. No matter how short or tall you are. No matter how magic your hair, DO NOT go out in the snow. Never EVER trust it. After all, who knows where it's been?

Marigold! Come on out here! This snow is just so beautiful!

Put a sock in it, Goatmother!

The Few, The Faithful ...

2012-01-17T13:43:00.000-08:00

Twelve out of sixty? Not bad. Those others? I wouldn't show my face either if I had caused all this. Come to think of it, I wouldn't show my face in this, period.

Guess What?

2012-01-15T13:32:00.000-08:00

Yes, I am in there. Somewhere. I am NOT, however, coming out to prove it. This was *supposed* to be 'one-half inch possible', but ever since those Woolly Boogers quit NOAA, it is my belief that NOAA has been reduced to looking out the window. Obviously they had not looked out the window in awhile.

Nonetheless, though we goats are not enamored with the snow, there are those who are.

Which, after deciding that she could actually move with that brown thing on her body, resulted in many of these:

Doggie crop circles.

After awhile the sun came out - after all, this is Sequim - and things looked pretty nice. (And I say *looked* because you don't think I was actually going to step outside to get a better look, do you?)

This morning when the Goatmother came out to the barn, we only had a trace of the white stuff on the ground. The Goatmother decided it was a good time to trim Ella's hooves. Only the Goatmother would decide such a thing. I mean, there was only a trace of snow out there, so of course it was a perfect time. Oy. The boys were unceremoniously thrown out of the barn so as not to interfere. The project took a bit longer than expected because for once, Ella, usually Miss Goody-Two-Hooves about getting her feet trimmed, was NOT, it would seem, in a cooperative mood. By the time the Goatmother was finished, she looked up to see that it was snowing. Heavily. The boys now sported a thick layer of snowy insulation.

So, do I blame it on Ella or do I blame it on the Goatmother? Decisions, decisions. I choose ... the ducks!

Reasons To Be Cheerful (When Everything is SO Dull.)

2012-01-12T09:11:00.000-08:00

I don't know about you, but I think La Niña should've stayed in Mexico, or Spain, or Brazil, or wherever she came from. This is the most boring weather I've ever encountered. Not that I've encountered that much weather, I guess. I am only five. Nonetheless, weather here, B-O-R-I-N-G.

So, with that in mind, it seems doubly important to find something to be cheerful about this week. Be sure to pop on over to Planet Penny, here, to see how others are dealing this week. Hmmm ... I see that Penny is on No. 11. I think I'm only on 8, and I was cheerful at least twice through the holidays when she wasn't, so I must've slept through a couple somewhere. Or maybe it was alien abduction. Yes, that's probably it. Please excuse me while I check for any extra holes.

All-rightey then! Reason No. 1 to be cheerful this week:

... and ...

These are the Snow Jars. That would be because that is almost literally what they are. The lady who made them, used old glass jars and then used a sponge with white paint to dab the outside. She then painted the cute faces, filled them with miniature lights, and topped them with little hats. The first one's hat is actually a knitted wine bottle bag, and the second one's hat is a red sock. Aren't they cute? And since there is nothing inherently 'Christmas' about a snowman, they get to stay out to cheer the place up. I wanted one in the barn, but the Goatmother said nothin' doin'. I really don't understand why not. She has two.

Anyway, on to reason No. 2 (or is that 3?):

This is the Goatmother's fish tank. Let me ask you, have you ever tried to take a picture of fish in an aquarium? Seems like the camera wants to focus on everything but the fish. Anyway, the Goatmother got the aquarium for Christmas last year, and it has been making everyone feel all tropical ever since. Tropical comes in really handy right now. I want one of these in the barn, too, but do you think she will let me have one? Oy.

So, that leaves us with reason No. 3 (or 4, depending on how you choose to count them):

No, this is not an invasion of the aliens who probably abducted me and then erased my memory with that flashy-thingy. At least we get to participate in this bit of cheerfulness, although I am not really sure we want to. These are some of the wild ducks that follow the Goatmother around so she will feed them. It started out when one pair of ducks had ducklings in the pond. The Goatmother decided she ought to give them a little grain. You know, just to help them grow. They grew up all right, and came back with all their relatives in tow. I suppose I don't mind too much. Watching their waddling antics is rather cheerful, albeit sometimes a bit noisy. I do wish some of that grain would fall over on our side of the fence once in awhile, though. Oh, well. The Goatmother enjoys them, and anything that keeps the Goatmother sane and in a good mood really is a good thing in the long run. I do wish, however, the ducks had that same affect on Ella. She could use a good mood once in awhile.

Oh, well, as I said, be sure to visit Planet Penny! May your week be of the most cheerful variety possible and Alpine free!

Wednesday Words of Wisdom - Sage Recommendations Continued

2012-01-11T08:31:00.000-08:00

So, then, it is time for me to continue with my sage recommendations for the New Year. You may recall that I presented No.s 1 and 2 last Wednesday. And if you missed it, well, then I guess you will be hopelessly lost. Just kidding.

Now then,
No. 3 - Stop putting your own needs on the back burner. – (Well, Goat Grief! No self-respecting goat would ever do this. Certainly no Alpine would. Come to think of it, it is possible a Nubian might, though. Mostly because they forgot what their needs were and exactly where they put them.) The most painful thing is losing yourself in the process of loving someone too much, and forgetting that you are special too. (Okay. I already know I'm special. As far as losing one's self, well, I'm always quite sure where I am. However, I am not so sure about Nubians. Nubians never know where they are. For them, it is kind of a moot point. And, the only one an Alpine could love too much would be themselves. So if you aren't one of the above, I guess this bit of advice could be useful.) Yes, help others; but help yourself too. ( You know what is coming here, right? I always help myself to whatever I can. It is The Way, Grasshopper. ) If there was ever a moment to follow your passion and do something that matters to you, that moment is now. (This is correct. Peanuts. NOW!)

No. 4 - Stop trying to be someone you’re not. – (Okay, now just who else would I be? Cleopatra? No, wait. I've got it! Meryl Streep! That woman can be anyone!) One of the greatest challenges in life is being yourself in a world that’s trying to make you like everyone else. (Really? I didn't realize I was supposed to be like anyone else. Why would anyone want to be like someone else? Especially an Alpine. Who'd want to be like an Alpine? Having all kinds of picky snits and pushing everybody around. No, I can't say I think that would be a very good idea at all.) Someone will always be prettier (Kind of goes without saying, doesn't it?), someone will always be smarter (Well, I don't know. I might have to draw the line at this one.), someone will always be younger (This one is kind of stupid. How many babies are born in the world every minute? Oy.), but they will never be you (Well, D-U-H.). Don’t change so people will like you. (Wouldn't dream of it.) Be yourself and the right people will love the real you. (Wow. That's convenient. Who knew?)

No. 5 - Stop trying to hold onto the past. – You can’t start the next chapter of your life if you keep re-reading your last one. (Oh, now this is some sound advice! This is like one of those nights when you are trying to read and the goat next to you is chewing their cud so loudly you keep reading and re-reading the same sentence over and over again. Besides, if you stay on the same chapter, how are you ever going to figure out 'who dunit'?)

So there you have it. I did three today, because, really, I wouldn't want to be responsible for you staying on the same chapter and not getting on with your life. I could never live with the guilt. Stay tuned, however. I will finish this ... eventually.

Sunday and This and That

2012-01-08T15:29:00.000-08:00

Hay! It is Sunday and guess what?! I know you are probably on your guard now, much like we are when the Goatmother tromps out to the barn and utters that phrase. Thankfully, it is nothing akin to that. I merely want to tell you that the sun is shining!!!! More or less, anyway. It does duck behind a cloud every once in awhile, but still, the fact remains that the sun is shining. Can you believe it? Western Washington, January, and the sun is shining. Who knew it was possible?

I have to admit I am rather happy about it, though. At least I was. So what happened to mar my enthusiasm, you ask? Well, it is like this. Everything was going along so well when suddenly there was a blinding flash of light. Everyone ran to the barn. What was it? Did an asteroid hit the front yard? Did the Goatfather spontaneously combust from sitting too long in front of the computer? Perhaps it was one of those 'close encounters' and we'll all wake up having lost two or three days. Or maybe even two or three years!

In fact, it was none of those things. It seems the Goatmother looked out, saw the sunshine and decided she needed to take advantage and get as much Vitamin D out of it as possible. After all, just this morning the Goatfather found where a new study had linked depression to a lack of Vitamin D. Striking while the iron was hot, she flew out the door, plopped down on the bench and rolled up her pant legs. Let me repeat that, just in case you missed it. She rolled up her pant legs. "Marigold!", she hollered. "What are you doing in the barn? Come on out here!"

I will, Goatmother. Just as soon as you dim the light.
Perhaps, after all, there is hidden value in leaden skies.
Oy.

The After-Christmas Doldrums and Being Cheerful Anyway

2012-01-06T12:50:00.000-08:00

I know, I know. I'm late. Again. I think it is starting to become a habit. I suppose that's okay. Others look good in habits, like say a nun. Although they don't wear habits anymore ...

Marigold! Stop!

Oh, right. Sorry. I guess I have the after-Christmas doldrums. Do you? You know, that feeling of emptiness. Oh, wait. That's hunger. Okay, that feeling of there being a void in your life? No. That's when there are no Peanuts. Well, shoot. You know that feeling I'm talking about, don't you?

Anyway, it has been so dull and gray here. Rain, wind, more rain, more wind, then just more gray. Harumpff! Well, no matter. I'm going to be cheerful anyway. Besides, Penny over at Planet Penny, here, is finally back to being cheerful, so I simply have to link up and put in my two cents.

So, let's see. What am I cheerful about. Well, even though the weather has been so grumpy, it has been unseasonably warm and all the plants are becoming confused. At least they are trying to lend a little color to the surroundings:

and:

And with all the wet weather, there are strange, alien-like plants springing forth. They are kind of cheery:

And, of course, the Goatmother is cheerful because of this:

I know. Why get excited about a little run-of-the-mill pine tree, right? I have to say, though, that the Goatmother is so stoked because this is, in fact, a Sugar Pine (Pinus lambertiana), sent to her by her friend in Oregon. This pine bears the longest cones of any conifer and is rarely seen outside its native range because they are notoriously difficult to transplant. But the Goatmother has three that have actually survived and are finally beginning to thrive! Go little pine trees!

And lastly, I am cheerful because of this:

Lovely apples still clinging to the tree like forgotten Christmas ornaments. Soon they shall be mine. Oh, yes!

So even though the Goatmother took down our decoration. And even though we ate it. There is still a lot to be cheerful about. Be sure to hop on over to Planet Penny and see how others are dealing with those nasty doldrums!

Wednesday Words of Wisdom

2012-01-04T15:49:00.000-08:00

Halloooo! Here it is Wednesday again! And a new year to boot! So I've been standing out on my stump and considering what wise thing I could come up with to start off 2012. Obviously I am going to have to do something to keep up with the Goatmother and the Goatfather. Anyway, as I stood mid-rumination, I began to think about a list of sage recommendations for life recently sent to me by a friend. This would be the perfect platform - well, actually the perfect platform is my stump, but that is rather hard to wax wisely upon. So I began to consider that I might take a couple of these each Wednesday and sort of present them with a little Caprine acumen. You know, kind of a goatly spin.

Now, the first recommendation is this: Stop spending time with the wrong people. – Life is too short to spend time with people who suck the happiness out of you. (Grant you this may be, and is quite likely true. Still I can't help but note that sometimes one simply does not have a choice. Take my situation for example. Here I am stuck in the same pasture, pen, what-have-you, with Ella. Now I can't say that Ella really sucks the happiness out of you. It's really more akin to knocking the happiness out of you. There you are, minding your own business, happily going for a Peanut or a nice blade of grass and WHAM! At best you find yourself a few feet away from where you started, at worst, and especially if you happen to be Watson, you find yourself looking at the world upside down.) If someone wants you in their life, they’ll make room for you. (Nor can I say that this is strictly true. They might not want you in their life, or you might just be standing next to Boo and there quite simply is no room. For anyone. Or anything.) You shouldn’t have to fight for a spot. (Now this I will agree with wholeheartedly. I think I ought to be able to just stand there and let the Peanuts come to me without anyone getting in my way. Without anyone else getting any Peanuts either, come to think of it.) Never, ever insist yourself to someone who continuously overlooks your worth. And remember, it’s not the people that stand by your side when you’re at your best, but the ones who stand beside you when you’re at your worst that are your true friends. (And that means that should you happen to figure out how to escape over the fence or get through the gate going into the barn, everyone else ought to be right there with you. There is safety in numbers. Besides, no one can really tell who the guilty party is that way.)

Now the second life recommendation is this: Stop running from your problems. – Face them head on. (I can tell you that a goat always follows this rule. Or maybe it should say 'head to head'.) No, it won’t be easy. (Especially if the other goat is bigger than you or has a harder head.) There is no person in the world capable of flawlessly handling every punch thrown at them. (True. Just ask Watson.) We aren’t supposed to be able to instantly solve problems. (Well, I don't know about that, but maybe that is why it is important to have a stump.) That’s not how we’re made. (Of course not. Only God knows that. Or perhaps cloners. They might know.) In fact, we’re made to get upset, sad, hurt, stumble and fall. ( Just ask Watson or any other fainting goat. Or somebody who has lived with an Alpine.) Because that’s the whole purpose of living (Wait! I thought is was to eat Peanuts.) – to face problems, learn, adapt, and solve them over the course of time. This is what ultimately molds us into the person we become. ( I suppose this is true, although I don't think I've ever seen a moldy goat. Oh, wait! I think there is one from Oregon over at Herron Hill Farm where I was born.)

So, there you have this week's installment. What a nice way to begin 2012. Don't you feel better? As Maria Robinson once said, “Nobody can go back and start a new beginning, but anyone can start today and make a new ending.” I rather like that idea.

And So It Begins ...

2012-01-02T14:58:00.000-08:00

Yesterday was the 1st day of 2012. Can you believe it? Anyway, the Goatmother and Goatfather decided to start the new year out right. Enter what you see below ...

You may remember (or maybe you don't) that the Goatmother, Goatfather, and that sickly Little green UnDead visited their favorite restaurant in Port Townsend last Halloween - all dressed up. Well, the Goatmother was dressed up. The Goatfather was *sort* of dressed up. In case you have slept since then, you can refresh your memory here. Anyway, as you can see above, On New Year's day, Sweet Laurette's hosted their annual Pajama Brunch. Come in your jammies and don't forget your slippers. So, naturally, the Goatmother and Goatfather thought this would be the perfect way to start off a new year. Make a complete fool of yourself and be sure to have lots of witnesses. You really have to wonder about some folks.

So, New Year's day dawned not so bright, and the Goatmother trotted out to the barn earlier than normal. We knew something was up right away when she said, "Guess what?", because if you know the Goatmother, you know that she is rarely in any shape to mutter anything at that time of the morning, let alone ask a question. We all came to immediate attention because an alert Goatmother at daybreak has to be some kind of omen. "I'm going to breakfast in my pajamas!!", she announced. Hokaaay ... So shortly after returning to the house, this is how she looked:

As you can see, even the Mighty Quinn looks a bit embarrassed. I mean just look at those ladybug slippers. (Excuse me while I interject a question here to my friends Mimi and Darla ... Do you recognize the material in that nightgown?) At any rate, you can tell just how contrived this all was because I'm here to tell you the Goatmother's hair NEVER looks like that when she gets up.

Anyway, not to be outdone, the Goatfather actually entered into the spirit of things. Maybe it was just a wee bit to the extreme, but I'll let you be the judge. Here is a shot of him getting into the truck in uptown Port Townsend:

Legs. Who knew he had any?

Now here is the really unfortunate part of this whole affair. As the Goatmother and Goatfather walked into the restaurant and were waiting to be seated, these lovely ladies (also in their pajamas) ...

... caught sight of the Goatfather and broke into applause. Must've been the legs, but there will certainly be no living with him now. I suppose it does need to be said that he was the only male present with enough nerve to come in his PJ's.

Soon the Goatmother and Goatfather were seated, and owner and Chef extraordinaire, Laurette, (seen in the pajamas with the bright green top, below), set about walking through the tables handing out freshly made Beignets. (Why, oh why, do I not wear pajamas?)

After a wonderful brunch, the Goatmother and Goatfather walked out and down the street, only to turn and find another adventurous PJ-clad soul hollering, "Wait! I want to take your picture!" Since turn about is fair play :

Hay! She had little New Year's champagne glasses all over her PJ top!

I've said it before, and I'll say it again. You just gotta' love Port Townsend.

I hope your new year is off to an adventurous start. But I gotta' tell you, if this is the beginning, what in the world is the rest of the year going to be like? Oy.

I Am Wisely Cheerful ... and LATE!

2011-12-30T14:22:00.000-08:00

You are probably wondering about my title. Well, I missed Wednesday. Whoosh! It just passed right on by. And then it was Thursday, and I really was cheerful. I just forgot to tell you about it. Okay, maybe I didn't really forget, but sheesh!, it's the holidays and there are just so many Peanuts to eat. I suppose I got a little carried away. Anyway, I figured I better get back on track. After all, the New Year is upon us and I don't want to start it out on a bad hoof.

So then, what the hay is that picture of down below? Well, that, my friends, is (or maybe I should say 'was' ... let us all bow our heads ...) the lid to the cookie jar.

So what happened to it? And before you start accusing me, let it be known that no goat has top teeth in the front (unless they are mutants) and are incapable of wreaking such destruction. Now just take a good long look at that. A perfect circle of air all the way around except for a few lingering shards of plastic. That fact is why the Goatfather's fingers can fit between the top and the rim. Who could do this? Ah, 'tis a mystery to be sure. Enter Marigold Holmes and her ever faithful assistant, Watson for one last case to ponder before 2011 comes to an end.

I have to say that even though we were all in the barn at the time the dastardly crime occurred, the munching was so loud no one heard a thing. I'm sure you are saying to yourself, 'That is simply ridiculous, Marigold. Look at that destruction. Someone had to have heard something.' But I assure you, if you had ever spent even one night in a barn with Boo, you would understand. Really you would.

The Goatmother came out the next morning to find what you see above. Now the 'live' trap has been set ever since the last 'visitor' took the taxi, but no one has bothered it. The Goatmother did note, however, that the trap had been tripped on this particular morning. Watson and I have been hard at work trying to determine just who the culprit might be. As long as that door gets closed at night, though, this one might just have to be relegated to the realm of the cold case.

The cookie jar has since gone to live inside the 'inner sanctum', the grain room. All access to it is lined with either wood or hardware cloth. I would be seriously worried if anyone managed to make it inside there. Come to think of it, I'd be seriously interested in exactly how they did it too. I mean you never know when one might find that kind of information useful, eh?

So there you have it. The 'live' trap has remained untouched despite the fact that the Goatmother grabbed a literal handful of Peanuts and shoved them in there. (What a waste. Oy.) We may never know who was responsible, but that leads me to my late words of wisdom. Never, Never, NEVER trust that your cookies are mature enough to be left alone. A sitter is always preferable. A goat is a good choice. Trust me.

And where is the 'cheerful' in all of this? Well, first of all I'm exceedingly cheerful that the mystery miscreant did not, in fact, make it to the actual cookies. Secondly, I am even more cheerful that it wasn't the Peanut jar that was so savagely attacked. And third, well, I am cheerful that a New Year is about to begin. New beginnings, new adventures, new Peanuts! Happy 2012 to each and every one of you. Thank you for stopping by to read the humble words of a reflective ruminant.

I'm Cheerful! I'm Cheerful!

2011-12-22T12:13:00.000-08:00

Well, everyone seems to be very busy this week, but I thought I'd be cheerful anyway. What can I say? I'm just that kind of a goat.

Naturally, I'm cheerful because it is almost Christmas. I'm being as good as I can, but you know how hard that is for someone so innately ebullient.

Anyway, here goes.

Reason No. 1 to be cheerful:

After all the boring weather we have had, there was finally at least some frost to make it feel like Christmas!

Reason No. 2 to be cheeful:

A swan family that came for Christmas!

Reason No. 3 to be cheerful:

The Peace and Joy of nature.

And the last reason to be cheerful:

I think I hear sleigh bells! Merry Christmas and may you receive many, many Peanuts in your stocking!

Wednesday Words of Wisdom - Wigilia!

2011-12-21T13:52:00.000-08:00

Weird looking word, huh? Well, that, my friends, is Polish, to be exact. You see, when the Goatmother was a little girl, her father's family got together every Christmas eve to celebrate Wigilia (Pronounced Veh - LEE - uh ). It is a custom common to many Poles, though there are apparently differences in exactly how it is celebrated. But this post will be about how the Goatmother remembers it (and we should be thankful she can remember anything, if you ask me.)

Now the Goatmother's paternal family came from the region of Poland which lies against the Carpathian Mountains. Though the Carpathians feature strongly in some Vampire stories, the Goatmother's family contains no Vampires. At least we don't think so ( The Little UnDead does not count, and please do not encourage him). Anyway, back to Wigilia. As previously mentioned, everyone gathered on Christmas eve. Things began with a passing of the oplatek, which in this case, was in the form of 'host' wafers. ( The 'host', being the little flat kind passed out for communion at the old Catholic masses.) Everyone went about the room giving a small bite to a family member, followed by a big hug and a kiss. Oh, and you had to say 'Peace be with you'. This hugging and kissing was good in some cases and a bit overwhelming in others. Plus, can you imagine the difficulty in making one itsy tiny host last through twenty-three or twenty-four people? I can only surmise there were no Ellas in the Goatmother's family.

Nonetheless, when all the PDA's were over, it was time for the meal. There were twelve dishes, to begin with, to symbolize the twelve apostles. Each dish began on a bed of hay (always provided by the Goatmother's family because they were the only ones with livestock) to symbolize the baby Jesus lying in the manger. This part was pretty nice, but there was a catch, especially if you happened to be a kid. For you see, no spices or condiments of any kind were allowed for these twelve dishes, and one 'had' to take at least a bite of each dish passed.

The Goatmother can't remember every dish, but she remembers quite well having to choke down unseasoned boiled barley and peas. Really it doesn't sound too bad to me, but then I guess I'm a purist at heart. Heck the hay would have been delicious, if you ask me. I suppose that's why no goats were ever invited. There would have been nothing left for anyone else. Anyway, the Goatmother remembers the boiled barley, peas, unseasoned pierogis with plain boiled cabbage inside, ones with prunes, and pierogis with dabs of cottage cheese (vegetable, fruit, dairy). The other stuff is pretty much a blur, but then we have to be thankful we got that much out of her.

After a taste of the twelve was over, the good stuff came out. The stuff with seasoning. There were always onions fried in butter and always cooked by 'Uncle Louie'. There was borscht made by Grandma, which oddly enough was made with mushrooms and not cabbage. There was Kapusta, a cabbage dish made with cabbage, sauerkraut and peas, and best of all, there were surprise pierogis filled with mystery ingredients like balloons! And of course there were desserts - fruitcakes, cookies, and Rum balls! Grandma always made 'Hrust', which were pastry rectangles, slit and turned inside out, then deep fried and dipped in powdered sugar. Unfortunately the celebration was devoid of any Peanut dishes. I know, because I asked. What? You knew I would.

And lest we forget, there was always a big bowl of punch dutifully spiked by 'Uncle Mike', who ironically always ended up crying and hugging everyone. No one ever quite understood why 'Uncle Mike' cried, but it may have had something to do with the fact that there were no Vampires in the family. Although, come to think of it, he could have been wrong and that was the reason onions were always fried and there was no garlic. After all isn't tradition and myth always based somewhere in fact? Actually, after further consideration, it may go a long way in explaining just exactly why the Goatmother is NOT a morning person. Hmmm ...

After all the kissing, hugging, eating and crying was over, everyone proceeded to midnight Mass. The Goatmother says it was always really hard to stay awake, but it was worth it to see the altar all decked out with lighted trees and an almost life-sized nativity. Plus the choir was always on key. For once.

Anyhow, that was years and years ago. I wouldn't want to say exactly how many years because I do need to consider just who gives out the Peanuts. The unfortunate part is that after Grandpa passed away, the family seemed to scatter. No one got together for Wigilia anymore because everyone was living somewhere else. Today the Goatmother is a bit more 'eclectic' in her beliefs, but each Christmas she remembers, and sometimes she still makes borscht the way Grandma did.

And that, my friends, leads us to this Wednesday's Christmas Words of Wisdom: Value your traditions. They may not always be with you. Besides, now I'm going to have to share my Peanuts. Oy.

Be sure to tune in tomorrow. I'm sure I can manage to dredge up something to be cheerful about.

A Yule Jewel

2011-12-19T13:39:00.000-08:00

I can't take credit for this, but I sure wish I could. No, my friend Snowcatcher, here, sent me the link. It is priceless and quite possibly the very BEST Christmas story I have ever read. Check it out, here, and I bet you will agree! Happy Yule!

Reasons To Be Cheerful

2011-12-15T15:19:00.000-08:00

Guess what? I'm cheerful again this week! Who knew? Really, I have the Christmas spirit. Which is more than I can say for some Alpines I know. The good news is, however, and a really good reason to be cheerful, is that the Christmas decoration still exists!!!! The Grinch has not been able to reach it, and, shhhh ... , I think she may have actually given up trying. More Christmas miracles.

Okay, so here is Reason 1 to be cheerful this week:

Someone no longer smells like a dog and came back with new teal and black striped ear feathers. As you can see it was exhausting work.

Reason No. 2:

The Goatmother finished her Christmas shopping and got all the packages mailed. The mini-me is ready for Christmas and so am I!

Reason 3 to be cheerful:

The jolly old elf will be here soon with a sack full of Peanuts slung on his back! Just 10 days left to be good. I hope I can manage.

Okay, now, don't forget to go over to Planet Penny, here, and check out what other people are cheerful about this week. Trust me, it will do your heart good.

Wendesday Words of Wisdom

2011-12-14T09:35:00.000-08:00

Wow. That sure was a short week. Too many Christmas Peanuts to wrap. Anyway, here it is Wednesday again. So, I've been thinking a lot this week. By nature I'm prone to that sort of thing. I can tell you this, however. It is not the Nubian half that is so inclined.

Now then, I am an original. Since 2005, when I was born, I have gone my own way, been my own goat. I'm simply not one of those, pardon, *sheep* prone to follow the crowd. I am one-of-a-kind, and like Buffy, there can be only one. Because of this, I find it not at all surprising that there are some who attempt to copy me. Take Ella, for instance. Lately I've noticed her trying to stand on my stump. Naturally she doesn't fit nearly as well as do I, and it certainly hasn't done anything for her intellect. I guess it is nice to share, though, and she does get it all warmed up for me. After all, it's cold out there!

Then there's Peanut. I've seen Peanut attempting my lightening fast, insert-your-mouth-in-front-of-anyone-else's-oncoming-Peanut move. He tries, but of course he fails. For it is only, I, Marigold, esteemed inventor of the move, who is able to accomplish it so adeptly. I have that certain Je ne s'ais qua when it comes to speed. Well, Peanut is no slouch in the speed department, but he's just too young and too small to have developed my finesse - my sheer skill. What can I say? It's a gift and a curse.

Of course there is little to worry about with Boo. I mean she spends most of her time looking around doing things like wondering why the water bucket is leaking up into the sky and then coming down on her head. Or perhaps she spends the entire day trying to figure out why that sticky-out thing is following her everywhere she goes (her tail). Or she might become totally engrossed with trying to figure out what happened to her feet. Clearly Boo has little time for imitation when there are so many other, more important, matters to consider.

And, then there is Watson. When Watson wanders about the premises muttering 'Oy' over every dismaying occurrence, I can but smile. 'Ella butted me. Oy'. 'I fainted. Oy' 'Marigold tried to throw me to the Bob-O-Lynx. Oy.' Why smile? Because, my friends, (and this would be Wednesday's Words of Wisdom) imitation is the sincerest form of flattery. So imitate away. The Peanut or the shell. Which came first? The astute know.

"When with a serious musing I behold
The graceful and obsequious Marigold,
How duly every morning she displays
Her open breast, when Titan spreads his rays."
George Wither—The Marigold.

Reasons To Be Cheerful

2011-12-08T15:27:00.000-08:00

Well, goat gracious! Here it is Thursday again and time to link up to Planet Penny (here) for my Reasons To Be Cheerful this week.

So without further adieu:
Reason No. 1 -

This is the goofy goatdaughter (in Pocahontas pose). We are ever so cheerful this week because the goatdaughter managed to find a new job and will no longer be stuck in the horrible one she has been working in! Way to go goatdaughter! We knew you could do it!!!

Reason No. 2 -

Admittedly, we had to go back to summer for this one. But let's face it, it is worth celebrating and makes one quite cheerful to look at it. This is the Western Tanager we had in the Cherry tree this year. Isn't he lovely? It's the first time we've ever seen one. Believe me, it was a whole lot more cheerful than looking at Ella.

Reason No. 3 -

The Goatmother's lighted Christmas house display!

Now, then, I do have one more Reason To Be Cheerful this week, and it is, in my estimation, the most important one. Our beauteous barn decoration is still hanging! Wonder of Christmas wonders! And, it isn't even missing any more greenery! Of course, someone's nose is a bit out of joint. Oh well, she'll just have to pull up her big girl panties and deal. "He who has not Christmas in his heart will never find it under a tree." - Roy L. Smith. Or under a Christmas decoration in a barn, for that matter. Oy.
Now, make it your b'idness and get ye on over to Planet Penny to see what others are cheerful about this week!

Wednesday Words of Wisdom

2011-12-07T12:36:00.000-08:00

Today, my thought is to present you with a treatise on a well-known word in the English language. You may think you know this word very well. After all, isn't it one of the more common words? However, my friends, there are nuances of meaning here you may not be aware of.

So the word, Marigold. For goats' sake, what is the word?

Oh, well, of course. The word. The word for Wednesday, my friends, is 'business'. Yes, that's it. Just plain old 'business'. Now, I'm sure you think you already know everything there is to know about this word, but do you really? First of all, at this time of year there is a lot of 'that's just none of your business' being bandied about. This usage of the word probably denotes what one normally considers the true meaning. 'Business', that word that says 'this is my knowledge', 'my circumstance'. It is for me to know and for you to find out. But what about that part that means, 'this is what I do'? Like, 'my business is selling Peanuts to good farmers everywhere'. (A highly respected business, too, if you ask me.)

Then there is the shortened version. You know, 'busy'. The Goatmother is 'busy' passing out Peanuts. I'm 'busy' eating hay. The streets are 'busy' at this time of year.

But here is some knowledge you may not have previously been privy to, for you see, in some places this word takes on unexpected nuances. Like, say, in Texas, for example. You have your everyday 'business', but you also have 'b'idness'.
"Mind your own b'idness, and get out of my b'idness."
Suddenly the meaning has taken the less traversed path and morphed into something far more formidable - something far more personal in nature. And believe me, wherever 'b'idness' resides, you better tread lightly because you sure wouldn't want to step on anyone's.

Then, of course, one is likely to also stumble upon 'b'idness's' natural counterpart, 'b'idzy'.
"Excuse me, could you ....?"
"B'idzy."
"Oh, sorry. I didn't realize ... ."
"B'idzy."
"Oh. Of course ..."
This does not imply that one is merely 'busy', but carries with it an air of total absorption. One is absolutely NOT to be bothered. Please go away. Now.

So, there you have it. I bet you never even suspected, did you? So, then, I guess I'll be getting on about this Wednesday's usual b'idness of munching Peanuts. If you need me, don't bother. Believe me, it is wise not to. B'idzy!

The Grinch ...

2011-12-02T11:37:00.000-08:00

... that tried to steal Christmas. How can a 3 foot high goat reach a 7 foot Christmas decoration? Flat footed, with nothing to stand on. It is exactly 7 feet from the floor of the barn to the bottom end of our cherished Christmas decoration. Yet, magically, it is now missing its bottommost greenery. Out came the ladder and the Goatmother moved it just a little bit higher. Despite the fact that it is somewhat cropped now, and the bow is a little askew, it still looks pretty good. Christmas spirit has been preserved. For the moment. The Grinch is still eyeballing it. Oy.

"Those Whos are hard to frazzle, Max. But, we did our worst, and that's all that matters." - The Grinch

Reasons To Be Cheerful

2011-12-01T14:54:00.000-08:00

It's Thursday and goatboy!, am I ever cheerful this week! Why? Well, I have a clean barn, of course! Even the Goatmother is cheerful about it. Mostly because it is done, but that is beside the point. Anyway, be sure to get yourself over to Planet Penny, here, so you can see why other people are cheerful this week. You might even want to join in. Who knows?

I do, however, have a few other reasons to be cheerful this week.
Reason No. 1 -

Help cleaning the barn.
Reason No. 2 -

This reason is most amazing! In all my time here, we have never had a Christmas decoration. Well, we did have one the very first year, but it didn't last. There is a reason for that. One simple word. Ella. Being a long-legged Alpine, Ella feels it is her bounden duty to inspect and remove any object she deems inspectable, and she has the reach to go with it. I guess our first, and until now, only decoration was a little too inspectable and just a little too reachable. Which leads me to ...

... Reason No. 3 -

This has NOT yet noticed the new decoration. Let us hope it remains that way for the sake of all our Christmas cheer.

* Our thanks to Faith, whose cheerfulness about Christmas made the Goatmother feel guilty about we goats not having any Christmas cheer which, in turn, resulted in our lovely decoration. Thank you, Faith! (Or should we say "Diolch yn fawr iawn"?)
You can check out Faith's blog here. Happy week!

Wednesday Words of Wisdom

2011-11-30T08:20:00.000-08:00

There may, or there may not, be any Wednesday Words of Wisdom today. The reason is the Goatmother is going to clean the barn today. I might be so tired, after watching her do all that work, I may not have the energy left to think of anything wise to say - let alone type it.

"If God gives you a watch, are you honoring Him more by asking Him what time it is or by simply consulting the watch? - A.W. Tozer

If you need me, I'll be spending the day honoring the Goatmother.

'Tis the Season

2011-11-26T19:10:00.000-08:00

Thanksgiving is over and you know what that means - Christmas! So, to start things off right, just in case you haven't already seen it, be sure to check out the Goat Carol of the Bells, here, over at Biology of the Goat. I have to say they have the Nubians down pat, popping up and too stupid to realize they have snow on their heads. And, of course the Alpines are right in the center. Figures. Oy. The only thing missing is the Peanuts. Where, oh where are the Peanuts????

*Addendum - Be sure to note that something new has been added this year and the Fainting goat (which is over on the left side toward the top - the spotty one with horns) actually faints at the end. You see his feet stick up after his body goes down. Keep watching. I had to watch it twice before I caught it. Oy.

Reasons To Be Cheerful

2011-11-24T11:57:00.000-08:00

Hallooo! Guess what? It is Thursday and that means Reasons To Be Cheerful day! It also happens to be Thanksgiving here, so that is a reason to be doubly cheerful, don't you think? Anyway, be sure to go over to Planet Penny, here, and check out why others are cheerful this week.

Marigold's Reasons To Be Cheerful:

The neighbor-wiener! (Look, Higgins! A paramour!)

Living in a place of such beauty!

I am very thankful the stick people do NOT like me. (We will not even discuss the mud.)

And last, but certainly not least, I am just SO thankful and happy that I am faster than Boo!
Happy Thanksgiving! May your week be an ever so cheerful one!

Wednesday Words of Wisdom

2011-11-23T13:08:00.000-08:00

My goodness! Here it is Wednesday. Again. How does that keep happening? Oh, well. Tomorrow is Thanksgiving, so I've been thinking about what I have to be thankful about. Really there is quite a lot, I think. It has been raining non-stop here, and last night, during yet another downpour, I was thinking how thankful I am that we have a nice warm barn with plenty of hay. So many animals don't have anyone to love them. I'm really a very lucky goat.

Of course, all the while I was thinking about this, Ella was pushing everyone around to get the best bits of hay for herself. I can't really say I'm thankful for Ella. On the other hand, when she gets into one of her picky snits, where she turns up her nose at the Peanuts, I have to say that I might have to reconsider. For you see, when Ella gets into one of her picky snits, it makes the Goatmother mad, and the end result is that I get more. You will not find me sticking my nose up at any Peanut, and the Goatmother really seems to appreciate my enthusiasm. So I guess I'd have to say I am also very thankful for Ella's picky snits.

Now then, I am also quite thankful for Watson. He has to be one of the very best crime collaborators a goat could ask for. He is always willing to help in any way he can. Besides, he isn't picky, and he isn't greedy like some Alpines I know. I do wish, however, he could learn to master that annoying fainting thing. Oh, well, everyone has their cross to bear, I suppose. Myself, I am quite thankful I don't faint.

Ultimately, though, the thing I am the very most thankful for is, well, Peanuts. What? You thought I was going to say the Goatmother? Oy. No. It is the humble Peanut. The Peanut, who grows in darkness with one thought only - to some day become the object of utmost adoration. (Excluding, of course, from those subject to the picky snit.) To be cherished and savored with gustatory delight. To be honored above all other forms of ingestibles. Who gives its life selflessly for the greater good of goatdom. To ...

Marigold! Stop. Everyone knows you like Peanuts. Get on with the Wednesday Words of Wisdom already. Sheesh.

Well, goat grief. I was coming to that. Wednesday's Words of Wisdom? They are this: Be thankful for the small things in life, (That means be grateful for the one-to-a-shellers as well as the three-to-a-shellers. Heck. Be grateful for the shells!) because if you don't, you may just miss the best part. Happy Thanksgiving! May you have no one suffering from the picky snit at your table this year. Please pass the Peanuts.

Reasons To Be Cheerful

2011-11-17T14:52:00.000-08:00

It is Thursday, and that means time to link to Planet Penny with our Reasons To Be Cheerful for this week! Be sure to pop on over to Planet Penny (here) to see the worlds cutest felt mice, the ever-handsome Higgins, and see what others who have linked to her site are cheerful about this week!!!

Reason to be cheerful No. 1 -

The lovely Trumpeter Swans have returned for the winter. (Or is it Tundra Swans? I can never remember.)
Reason To be cheerful No. 2 -

The first snow of the season.

Reason to be cheerful No. 3 -

Yet another of the most beautiful sunsets!

Reason to be cheerful No. 4 - (Oooo. Four reasons this week!)

Frou frou farm dogs whose fantastic groomers put purple feather extensions in their hair. Can you see them on either ear? How about now?

Wednesday Words of Wisdom

2011-11-16T17:34:00.000-08:00

Well, since we haven't had any new critters show up since the bat, it's been kind of dull around here. Unless, I guess, you count the small winter wren that has been flitting about cleaning up all the summer spiders. So here it is Wednesday and nothing new to report really. In light of that, the Goatmother thought I ought to post a recipe. Naturally, I wanted one with Peanuts, but she said that no one would be interested in a recipe with Peanuts. Imagine that. Nah, the Goatmother has to be wrong about that. At any rate, here's what we came up with.

This recipe is for Macaroni and Cheese, but it isn't just any old Mac 'N' Cheese. Nope. This one has some kick to it. Just the right kind of thing to wake one up from any kind of slump they've been harboring. The Goatmother and the Goatfather took two recipes and came up with their own version. So without further adieu:

Marigold's Mac 'N' Cheese
(Okay. It is my blog. I had to get in the act somewhere.)

8 oz. Cavatappi, Macaroni or other tube-shaped pasta.( The Cavatappi looks cool, in my opinion. Kind of like adding little pig tails. I'm just sayin' ....)
1/2 tsp. coarse salt, plus more for cooking the pasta (Yum. If you are cooking for your goats, they will probably just eat the pasta without salt. Probably without even cooking.)
8 oz. of assorted mushrooms, sliced and sauteed in 1 or 2 Tbsp. olive oil (Mushrooms. Oy. I ate one once and it was not a good thing. Still the Goatmother and the Goatfather seem to like them. Maybe I had one of those psycho-relic ones.)
3 1/2 Tbsp. butter (Look out, Paula Dean!)
1/2 C. finely chopped shallots
2 Tbsp. all-purpose flour
1 1/4 C. dry white wine (Do try to put at least some of it in the mac 'n' cheese. Wine. It's not just for breakfast. I wonder if there is a Peanut-flavored wine out there?)
2/3 C. heavy whipping cream (If you do not like the sound of your arteries hardening, turn up the CD player.)
7 oz. Gruyere, grated (It isn't goat cheese, but it's pretty good nonetheless)
3 oz. aged Gouda, grated (I'm not sure where this one comes from. I've never seen a Gouda, have you?)
2 Tbsp. minced fresh Chives (or Alfalfa if you prefer. Just kidding.)
1 Chipotle in Adobo sauce, chopped (~ 1 Tbsp. with Chipotle and sauce) (Oyle, y'all! This is what really makes this different!)
1 Tbsp. Dijon mustard (This is mustard that has received a 'Di' Jon' letter and is obviously very sad, but still tastes good.)
1/8 tsp. freshly ground Nutmeg (Please do note that though this says it is a nut, it sure doesn't taste like a nut. I'm just sayin' ... )
1/2 C. bread crumbs or Panko (Do not let those stupid ducks near this or you won't have any for the recipe.)

Directions:
1. Preheat the oven to 400 degrees. Cook the pasta according to package directions in a large pot of boiling, salted water until tender to the bite. (Hopefully it won't bite back.) This will take approximately 7 to 12 minutes (So you will have time to hand a few Peanuts to any nearby goats.) Drain the pasta, but don't rinse. (This sounds kind of unhygienic to me, but it makes stuff stick to the pasta better,. It must be like dirt and soap if you don't rinse off after you bathe.)

2. In a large frying pan, over medium-high heat, melt 2 Tbsp. of butter (or you can use Olive oil if you are being health-conscious. Me, I'd use Peanut oil.) Add the shallots and mushrooms and cook until the shallots are light golden in color and the mushrooms are soft. Sprinkle the shallot-mushroom mixture with flour, and cook, stirring often, around 1 minute. Add wine and stir, picking up any browned bits from the bottom of the pan. Add the cream and stir well. Sprinkle in the cheeses, one large handful at a time, stirring until each handful is mostly melted before adding the next. Stir in 2 Tbsp. chives, the Chipotle in Adobo, mustard, 1/4 tsp. salt (Okay. this salt is optional, just in case you are not a saltaholic), and nutmeg. Stir cooked pasta into cheese mixture, then pour all into a 2 qt. baking dish. (You can grease the baking dish before hand, or spray it with a little cooking spray, unless, of course, you like to do dishes and are breathlessly waiting for the moment it is all gone and you can scrub to your heart's content.)

3. Sprinkle bread crumbs or Panko over the casserole, dry, ( if you are boycotting calories), or sprinkle and dot with the remaining 1 1/2 Tbsp. of butter. (I can hear Paula cheering now!). Bake until the top is browned and the cheese is bubbling. This will be approximately 15 to 20 minutes. (Oh. Now you really have time to hand out some Peanuts).

By now you are probably asking yourself, 'Marigold, what in the hay happened to the Words of Wisdom? Well, my friends, I have not forgotten. Wednesday's Words of Wisdom are this: If you don't have anything to say, talk about food. Everyone pays attention to food. Hay! It's food for thought, huh?

The Invasion of the Booty Snatchers

2011-11-12T11:36:00.000-08:00

Oy. What is going on here? First it was the Bob-o-Lynx and I had to watch my body as well as my Peanuts. Then it was the rodent population in the barn, and those Peanuts had to be put under lock and key. Then it was the deer and the big ole' b'ar. So I've got those Peanuts hidden, I can tell you. By now you are probably wondering what the hay I'm babbling about. I can only tell you there is no babbling involved. Not even a little. All of sudden, for reasons beknownst only to those trespassers having appeared, we are absolutely overrun with strange critters. It can only be an invasion and they can only be after my Peanuts.

Anyway, this morning the Goatmother bopped out to the barn. Wait a minute. I forgot. It was morning and the Goatmother is morally opposed to bopping at that hour. Nonetheless, she came out to the barn, opened the outer door and peered in at the live trap to see if the Goatfather had any new cab fares. The trap was empty and even unsprung. Will wonders never cease? So the Goatmother walked across the barn to the door of the Holy Grail of Goatdom, the grain room. Guess what? When she opened the door something plopped onto the floor. In retrospect, I have to say at least it didn't hit her on the head this time. If you want to read about that debacle, you can go here. So what was it?

It was a little brown bat. Now you may not know that bats can not take off from the ground, and if you went back and read about the time the bat fell on the Goatmother's head, you might also have read that, at that time, the Goatmother and the Goatfather tried to launch the little fellow. Since they knew better this time, the Goatmother got the bat onto the launch pad ...

... but had the Goatfather take him straight away to the top shelf in the old chicken coop. I don't think he woke up the whole trip. Well, perhaps he was knocked out. Who can tell with a bat? At any rate, when it gets dark, he'll wake up and be able to take off by dropping from the shelf. No doubt going on about his batly business - which, I sincerely hope, does NOT involve my Peanuts.

Anyway, I'm just wondering. Do bats like Peanuts? The other thing I'm wondering is why, with all the lovely nooks and crannies in the barn, do these guys pick the door to the grain room to roost? Surely anyone with any sense knows that the Goatmother, being the single-minded sort, rarely looks up when she is on a mission. I suppose we'll just have to chalk it up to bat stupidity.

With all these strange critter appearances, though, it makes me wonder if it is some sort of omen. Does this mean we are going to have a lot of snow this year so everybody is stocking up? I mean, already flurries are predicted for the end of next week, and already there have been significant accumulations at higher elevations. Oy. I better ask the Goatmother to go to Costco and stock up on Peanuts. Why not follow the crowd. Just this once.

It's a B'ar!

2011-11-11T11:07:00.000-08:00

The Goatmother and the Goatfather got home when it was rather darkish. That, of course, is because of the time change, which is always an adjustment, to say the least. Anyway, as they rounded the corner, the headlights of the car caught something. It was large and black and fuzzy, and it dashed across the road in front of them and off into the woods. 'What was that?!', they both cried at once. Well, there are apple trees in front of the house. Usually the deer are out there scarfing up the fallen apples, but this was decidedly no deer. We goats were on alert when the Goatmother got down to the barn. It is a bit of a distance to the apple trees, and while my eyesight it quite good, it was rather dark. The Goatmother and the Goatfather both think it was a bear. Me, I'm not so sure. After all, Sasquatches probably like apples just as well as anyone. Whatever. I'm asking that the Peanuts be put under lock and key. Just in case.

Reasons To Be Cheerful

2011-11-10T07:51:00.000-08:00

By golly, here it is Thursday and that means it is Reasons To Be Cheerful day! Now don't forget to go over to Planet Penny and see what she and others have found to be cheerful about this week.

As for me, there's a lot to be cheerful about this week. 1) - The Heron lit in the tree and then went on his merry way, not stopping to look for pretty, shiny goldfish the Goatmother put in our pond.

2) - The Goatmother's weird plant bloomed.

And, saving the best for last. 3) - Looking across the barnyard at the Goatmother's red-neck Hovercraft.

Oy.

Wednesday Words of Wisdom

2011-11-09T12:23:00.000-08:00

Well, guess what? Remember the last post when the Goatmother caught our little furry friend? You know, that one that kept leaving the 'perfectly positioned pile of poops'? That very evening, the Goatmother breezed through our nightly bed 'turn down' and 'Peanut on the pillow' with a reckless feeling of abandon. No longer would she arrive in the morning, throw open the barn door and be greeted by said, now infamous, 'perfectly positioned pile of poops'. Alas, some dreams do come true. Right?

Fast forward. Now, don't blame me. Some of you actually asked for this picture.

Yes, the Goatmother bounced out of bed the next morning. Well, wait a minute. The Goatmother never bounces out of bed. Okay, so the next morning the Goatmother dragged her sorry a .... bum out of bed, eventually came to the barn, threw open the barn door, and VOILA! This is what she saw. Obviously the wrong miscreant had been apprehended and falsely accused. Oy.

Guess what else reappeared?

Can you see some of my peanuts in there? Anyway, good things come to those who wait. The following morning, the 'perfectly positioned pile of poops' was again perfectly positioned in front of the door. Sadly, however, the trap had been sprung, and no evidence could be found of the true perpetrating positioner of poops. The trap was reset because that's how the Goatmother is - p.e.r.s.i.s.t.e.n.t.

Guess what? (I know. I say that a lot, but how else can I build the suspense, I ask you?)
The next morning the Goatmother hit pay dirt - or pay Peanuts! Oh, heck. She caught the stupid rat!

So, Wednesday's Words of Wisdom are this: No matter what the situation, if there is one, always assume there is more. That's really good advice - especially if there are Peanuts involved. And you know what else? Always reset the trap.

A Really Good Cause

2011-11-07T08:44:00.000-08:00

Hallooo! Just wanted to take a moment to tell you all about a lovely young lady. If you go here, to Planet Penny, you can read all about it. Basically, though, Hannah is a 27 year old, beautiful young lady who was diagnosed with a brain tumor. She needs more help than she can get in the UK and her boyfriend has started a campaign to raise the funds needed to send Hannah to the USA where she can get the treatment she so desperately needs. Anyway, if you can help, it is a worthy cause. And if you are unable, then maybe you can spread the word. Many thanks and a bundle of Peanuts to Hannah.

The Case of the Perfectly Positioned Poop

2011-11-06T11:39:00.000-08:00

Such a very long time since my cracker-jack, sleuthing self, Marigold Holmes, and my ever-faithful, not-so-steady-on-his feet-but-capable assistant, Watson, have had a mystery to solve. It started like this. The Goatmother would trod out to the barn every morning to perform her usual round of maid-service, and to distribute corn to those stupid ducks in the pond. And, every morning when she opened the barn door, there would be a perfectly positioned pile of little poops right in front of the door. Now I suppose one might not find this so odd in itself. I mean many a barn is inhabited by freeloaders other than the ones that are actually supposed to be there. (Oh, oops. Did I really just say that?) But the rather remarkable thing in this instance, is that first of all, there was an obvious lack of scurrying into corners when the Goatmother threw open the door and turned on the light. Secondly, and most significant in my savvy opinion, is that no where else in the barn was there any evidence of poop except the one little pile, every morning, right smack dab in the center of the doorway. How very peculiar, yet curiously organized.

So Watson and I hopped right onto the matter. Clue one, there was never a daylight occurrence, so obviously the transgression was happening at night. Now the door between the inner sanctum and our area of the barn is closed at night, making it impossible for us to do any kind of proper surveillance. However, with my superior ear positioning, I could manage to listen rather well. Sadly, when you stand next to Boo, few sounds can be heard above the incessant munching. Obviously Watson was in a much better position to carry out this assignment. Unfortunately, since Peanut is obsessed with bouncing back and forth off the hoof trimming stand to gain, what he sees as, a better position from which to butt Watson, little success came from that front.

Admittedly we were failing. Was it a squirrel? A chipmunk? Why were the poops only in one place and why was that place so resolutely chosen? Was someone trying to send the Goatmother a message? 'Enter Ye not here, for this is my domain, Woman!'? Now, I would like to interject here that most of you would probably like to see a picture of the 'evidence'. But allow me to say that no picture will be forthcoming because, let's face it, how genteel is a picture of a pile of little poops? I ask you, would this be at all proper?

Anyway, the Goatmother got tired of waiting, I'm afraid. After all, this had been going on for almost two weeks. In my defense, I had my mouth fu ... uh ... hooves full with other things. Nonetheless, out came the live trap. I have to complain a bit, here, because guess what she used to bait the live trap? Yep. My Peanuts! Well, I have to say at least the culprit has good taste, because this morning when the Goatmother entered, there was the customary pile of little poops, but across the way, there inside the live trap, sat a little beady-eyed fuzzy. No, it wasn't a fuzzy squirrel or a cute little chipmunk. It was just a plain, garden-variety, rat, albeit not a very old one. The Goatfather, official taxi service to the temporarily imprisoned, was informed he had a fare, and the little blighter was hauled away. We won't say to where, but should you happen to see a small rat running about, it absolutely did not come from here.

Well, mystery solved. Hay, we helped didn't we? We kept watch, as best we could, and offered all the advice my superior intellect has to offer. When the Goatfather got back, he trekked off down to the pasture to burn a large pile of brush collected from the last big wind storm. When he lit the fire, guess what? Rodent-type dwellers scattered to the four winds. Cabra was delighted and carried on like a small bulldozer running to and fro, nose to the ground, pushing aside all the leaves. Don't worry. She didn't catch anything. No, I expect they all ran this way.

Reasons To Be Cheerful

2011-11-03T12:22:00.000-07:00

Hey! It is Thursday and that means Reasons To Be Cheerful day! So, here goes:
Reason To Be Cheerful No. 1 -

Kenny G ??????????????? Oh, goat grief! Get the hay off here, Goatmother! This is my blog! Oy.

Reason To Be Cheerful No. 2 -

It's too cold for slugs.

And Reason To Be Cheerful No. 3 -

Living some place that has some of the best sunsets ever!
Now, be sure to pay a visit to Planet Penny and see what other people have to be cheerful about this week!

Wednesday Words of Widsom

2011-11-02T16:18:00.000-07:00

So, before I impart this Wednesday's Words of Wisdom, I'd like to tell you a story. You see, the other day the Goatfather got a letter in the mail telling him that he had been selected to participate in a study of Flu and the Flu vaccine by the CDC (Center for Disease Control). Well, he laid the letter aside on the table. Of course laying anything on the table is akin to sending it into a Black Hole. You may see it again, and then again, you may not. At any rate, he read it, set it aside, and didn't tell the Goatmother about it.

Well, the Goatmother, being the master cleaner, did sort of notice the letter laying there. She did happen to notice that it said something about the CDC and a survey, and to her credit, she didn't cart it off to the recycle bin. So yesterday, the Goatfather was off doing Goatfather things in the Man Cave, and the Goatmother was bopping about the house doing Goatmother things, when the phone rang. Now, you know, a person can spend a lot of time getting on the 'Do Not Call' list, and trying to convince every mail order place in the world that you really don't want to receive their catalog. Despite this fact, the catalogs still arrive and the phone still rings, usually at dinner time, and usually wanting a donation, a vote, or to let you know that this is absolutely your very last chance to receive that opportunity to raise your credit card limit. So the Goatmother dutifully picked up the phone, and when the guy said he was calling on behalf of the CDC and wished to speak to the Goatfather, the Goatmother said, 'Well, he's not available'.

The survey taker was not daunted in the least and the next question was , "Am I speaking to an adult member of this household?" The Goatmother replied, "Yes, but I'm really NOT interested." This remark stopped the survey taker in his tracks. I mean who exactly tells the Center for Disease Control they're not interested? "Can I ask why not? This is a very important survey and will really help the Center for Disease Control and will only take a few minutes." "Weeellll", said the Goatmother, "How many minutes? I'm really busy." "Fifteen ... and I'll talk really fast." "Okay", replied the Goatmother, "Let's do it."

First off, the Goatmother seemed to recall that the Goatfather had indeed gotten a letter regarding this. So, when the survey taker started firing off questions, the Goatmother made an attempt to give her answer plus the one the Goatfather would have given. Now the survey taker never once told her that he didn't need to know both answers. However, true to his word that man rattled off those questions so fast he probably could've won some sort of gold medal for World's Fastest Utterance of the English Language. "Are you White, Black, Hispanic, Asian, Non-Asian, Asian-American, Native American, Latino, of Latino descent, or are you now or have you ever been a Bovine, Equine, Caprine, Canine or Feline?" Okay, maybe that isn't exactly what he said, but it was so much and so fast that instead of answering the Goatmother just said, "Wow. That was a mouthful." The guy laughed.

More questions followed, many of which left the Goatmother wondering, 'I wonder what that has to do with the flu?' Until, the guy said, "Are you now, or have you been, since July of 2011, pregnant. Without hesitation, or even thought, the next words that came out of the Goatmother's mouth were these: "Heaven forbid." Now if anyone had thought the survey taker laughed before, this time someone likely had to pick him up off the floor after falling from his chair in hysterics. "Well, I'm fifty-nine years old, for Pete's sake."

Needless to say, the survey taker finished his survey really fast, just as he had promised. In the end, he asked the Goatmother if she had any other questions. She said, "Two. One, is this going to subject me to tons of junk mail, and two, since the letter was actually sent to the Goatfather, is he going to get another call to get a chance to give his answers?" "Nope, absolutely NO junk mail", to which the Goatmother thought, 'Yeah. We'll see." And to the second question, the guy answered, "No. One to a household. This is going to go down as one interview with a 59 year old female." "Oh.", said the Goatmother. "Well, too bad for him, I guess." This time the guy nearly busted a gut.

The moral of this story, and Wednesday's Words of Wisdom, are this: Always remember that statistics are only as good as the kinds of questions asked, the people asking those questions, and the people who answer. Heaven forbid.

When I am Old ...

2011-10-30T13:22:00.000-07:00

... I shall wear vampires?????

Okay, my friends, look quick. The Goatmother simply hates to have her picture taken and this may well be the only one you will ever see. It is a Halloween miracle. What? You only thought they happened at Christmas?

Anyway, you may recall the Goatmother simply loves Halloween. So, it all began last night with a dinner of spider eggs and a lovely eyeball casserole. Oh. Yu - um?

Then this morning, out popped the Goatmother with the Little UnDead and the Goatfather in tow, on their way to Sweet Laurette's (Hay! Check out her website.) in Port Townsend. Not only does Sweet Laurette's have the most wonderful food, but it is owned and staffed by the most awesome people. Anyway, patrons were invited to come dressed in costume during brunch yesterday and today, so, you guessed it, this is where our little party was bound. The Goatmother had donned an Irish Renaissance gown (the top of which can be seen in the one and only probably ever picture of her above) for the occasion.

Here you see The Paltry Putrid One sitting in one of the chairs outside Sweet Laurette's. I do not understand how it is that someone so, well, green, gets to go to all these places and I don't.

Anyway, once inside, the group was met by some of the awesome staff people.

Wouldn't you love to be greeted and served by a French maid, Wonder Woman and a Doctor? Or is she a nurse? At any rate, in this next photo you can see a 'normally' dressed young lady on the right. She was supposed to be Willie Nelson, but I guess we missed out on that because her alter ego apparently only comes out on Saturdays. No matter. She stirs up a really mean cup of brew, that one, not to mention being an exceptional person.

Once seated, The Inconsiderable UnInert insisted on having his picture taken again. Hardly anybody noticed. Hardly...

I really think he was trying to get Laurette's cute little painter to come over and brush some of the crumbs off his coat.

Now I wouldn't want you to think that the Goatfather refused to enter into the spirit of things because he certainly did. Sort of.

Even the Zombie guy across the street seemed envious. Well, maybe he was envious. Really it was kind of hard to tell. Maybe he was just scoping out the place for brains. Ewwwwww. Don't be concerned, though. Obviously none of our little party has any. Oh, oops. Did I just say that?

All in all, everyone had a great time. So many places just don't celebrate Halloween anymore. How cool is it that there are still a few around who do? Gotta' love Port Townsend!

Now if I can just get someone to take me trick or treating.

The Halloween Pillow

2011-10-28T17:37:00.000-07:00

Now that the cat is out of the bag - or is it the goat out of the barn? - we can talk about it. Oh, no, it isn't a big, deep, dark family secret, but it is rather interesting just the same. You see, the first thing you need to know is that the goatmother is not much of a seamstress, or so she professes. She spent the first 8 years of her education in Catholic school and somehow missed out on all the home economics classes the public school kids were required to take. Despite this obvious lack in her education, the goatmother decided to try making the goatdaughter a pillow for Halloween. Now the goatdaughter loves Halloween almost as much as the goatmother, but the other thing the goatdaughter loves is fairies. So you can well imagine, when the goatmother found a wonderful old reproduction of a Victorian Halloween card on fabric, she simply had to have it. But what to do with it?

It took a bit of time, because, as I said, the goatmother is sadly lacking in the seamstress department. That is probably the reason I've never gotten a coat. It has to be the reason, because, of course, everyone knows I need one. Anyway, the goatmother planned it out and worked and worked. She picked out complementary fabrics and even added some charms, some bats, some decorative stitching, and a couple of antique buttons. When she was finally finished, she boxed it up and sent it off to the goatdaughter. That is why we can talk about it now. At any rate, I thought you might like to see it. She's kind of proud of it and she's been a little hard to live with. I keep telling her she'd be a lot prouder if it was for me, but so far she hasn't paid any attention. Still, one never knows, and I'm a persistent goat if nothing else.

Anyway, click on the picture for a larger version.

I guess you just never know until you try, right?

"It is through accomplishment that man makes his contribution and contribution is life's greatest reward." - John Portman.

Personally, I feel life's greatest reward comes in a shell.

Reasons To Be Cheerful

2011-10-27T09:00:00.000-07:00

Ah, well, it is Reasons To Be Cheerful day! We simply can not forget that! And be sure to drop on over to Planet Penny to view others' reasons to be cheerful this week, or even add a link of your own! So here we go. My reasons to be cheerful this week

1) Guerrilla Art (Please see this post for explanation)

2) Cute little old men who stop and ask you, 'What the heck are you doing????' when you are out taking ridiculous pictures, and then join in the laughter.

3) Halloween

BOO!

Wednesday Words of Wisdom

2011-10-26T15:19:00.000-07:00

We live very close to Port Townsend. Now Port Townsend touts itself as being an 'old Victorian seaport', and indeed it is just that. It was the original entryway into the Puget Sound when Seattle was just a thought. It is dotted with beautiful old Victorian homes and strives to maintain that ambiance. But Port Townsend is also known for the arts - be that painting, drawing, sculpture, theater or any other form. So really, should it have come as any surprise when the goatmother and goatfather tootled up Sims Way one morning and came upon this:

Photo courtesy the Port Townsend Leader

What the hay????????!

Well, you see the city of Port Townsend, amidst much controversy, recently installed two round-abouts on Sims Way coming into town. This sculpture appeared very early one morning in the center of the second round-about. A city Halloween decoration? Uh, that would be a 'No'. For you see, Port Townsend is also known to be the home of 'Guerilla Art'. Some time, in the dead of night, black-clad ninja-like forms covertly run about setting up random acts of art. One never knows when or where they will appear.

Now the fantastic thing about this piece was the sheer magnitude of it, and the thought that anyone, or any number of someones, could manage to erect something that size without anyone knowing. In case you can't quite make it out, it is a giant spider consuming a full-sized Volkswagen. No kidding. And, if you look to the left, there is an empty pink baby stroller. Oy. Now how cool is that?

The goatmother and goatfather went on to eat breakfast thinking they would take a picture of it when they were finished. The city had other ideas and the whole thing was completely dismantled and taken away by the time they got back. I, for one, really think they should have left it. I mean how many cities do you know that have giant spiders eating Volkswagens on the way into town?

Personally I wish the ninjas would come back and erect some giant form of art there every year. Maybe even two or three times a year. I mean art is to be appreciated and Guerrilla Art, well, that has to be admired simply on the basis of its improbability.

"It's enough for you to do it once for a few men to remember you. But if you do it year after year, then many people remember you and they tell it to their children, and their children and grandchildren remember and, if it concerns books, they can read them. And if it's good enough, it will last as long as there are human beings." - Ernest Hemingway.

Wednesday's Words of Wisdom are this: Support the arts. Well, I guess I've done my part. I think I'll go have a Peanut and figure out how I can get someone to erect a giant goat eating a Peanut.

Practically UnDead (Part 2)

2011-10-23T08:14:00.000-07:00

Well, as promised, we're back again with the conclusion of 2011's Expedition of the UnDead - a foray into the world of 'Practical Magic'. (Oooo. Didn't that sound all professional? I think someone ought to give me a Peanut for that one.) Now, if you are just tuning in and haven't read Part 1 yet, then you better go on down the line and read that one first or you are bound to end up saying 'What the hay?' Anyway, onward and upward!

When last we saw our hero, he had just found the site of Sally's shop on Main street. So, 'Destination 4' is the Ursula building where Officer Hallet (Aidan Quinn) stays when he comes to investigate the disappearance of Nicole Kidman's former boyfriend.

This one proved a bit of a challenge since absolutely nothing seemed to be the same. However, our little tribe managed to find the Ursula building because of the big sign on the top that said, well, 'Ursula'. Duh.

As you can see, the front door is completely different and the big picket-type fence is no longer present. And just where exactly is that UnderSized UnOffed?

Ah, there he is. If you ask me, I think he's smelling that old sailor-guy's armpit. Now I don't want to point any fingers, but the goatmother walked off and left The Little UnDead again at this point. Come to think of it, there might have been a reason. I mean who wants to hang out with somebody who goes around smelling old sailors' armpits? Anyway, they finally set off for 'Destination 5'.

In this scene, Sally is seen running home. This was the most fun one to find because the group got to walk (or fly) up a small bluff with the wharf in the background.

That stupid disembodied hand got into the act on this one. In it's defense, though, The Little Non-Lifer got so excited when they found the spot, that someone had to keep him from flying out of control.

Anyway, that was the end of the 'Destinations' - well for the movie anyway. If you've never seen the movie, 'Practical Magic', then you should. And if you've never been to Coupeville, well, you ought to do that too. It's a pretty magical place.

But we're not quite done. Nope. Our intrepid band of travelers had one more stop to make. Now, anyone that knows the Little UnDead knows that, well, he has a penchant for the red liquid. No. I am not referring to blood, although I can see why you would think that. No, our little friend has a fondness for the fruit of the vine. Let me be clear here. I am not talking about grapes, but what grapes make.

With that in mind, it became necessary to make one last stop to visit one of the goatmother and the goatfather's favorite wineries. Blooms Winery, in Freeland, is home to a Double Gold award winning wine named 'Poetry', and some other pretty awesome wines as well. They just happened to be doing a crush that day. Of course The Diminutive DeadGuy had to get in on the act.

They were crushing Syrah, and our hero was able to get up close and personal with some of those luscious grapes.

Just look at that sappy grin. Oy.

So, my friends, that brings us to the close of this year's Trip of the Light Fanatic. There's just one more photo to leave you with. It is one of those pictures worth a thousand words. Maybe even a few more than that.

Oy.

Practically UnDead (Part 1)

2011-10-22T14:26:00.000-07:00

Perhaps you remember my annoying, life-challenged, little green friend? Don't tell me you have forgotten him? Well, admittedly sometimes I try, but it usually turns out to be a fruitless effort. Anyway, back in 2009, The Little UnDead dude embarked upon a journey to the vampire mecca, Forks, to visit all the sites from 'Twilight'. In case you missed out, you can read all about it starting with the post here, and a few subsequent posts, here and here and here. Then, the following year, The Dinky UnGoner was hosted by the ever-kind Lisa, over at Pink Porches, and treated to a tour of all things Stephen King. You can read about those misadventures here. Well, you guessed it. Another year and another expedition. Besides, it is almost Halloween and what better way to beleaguer us all than with a new adventure?

Last year, Lisa played chaperon. After all, the fact that The Elfin AlmostExtinct got lost in Forks made it quite clear that he doesn't do well on his own. So this year, the goatmother and the goatfather decided to accompany him to .... wait for it ... Coupeville! What is Coupeville, you ask? Well, my friends, Coupeville is a quaint little town on Whidbey Island (in Washington state) where parts of that most excellent movie, Practical Magic, starring Sandra Bullock and Nicole Kidman (among others), was filmed. Now part of it was, of course, done on a set in Los Angeles, and the house itself, was constructed on San Juan Island and then torn down after filming was completed. But the town of Coupeville, was, in fact, the setting for the town of 'Maria's Island'.

So, without further adieu, following is The Undersized InAnimate's photo journal. Certain photos are courtesy of the website Washington Film Locations at this link. These, of course, are for comparison purposes. Please be aware that the stupid disembodied hand simply insisted upon coming along and can be seen in quite a few of the snapshots. Oy. Some people are such prima donnas.

First and foremost, the goatmother and the goatfather insisted on going to their favorite restaurant for breakfast. It is often a wise thing to humor those who have the money.

It wasn't much of a sacrifice to stop at 12 Front Street. Chris and Rita are just the nicest people. Besides, they make THE BEST cinnamon rolls ever! Mind you, when everyone returned home no one offered me any. Still, I am holding out hope since they brought some home with them. Just take a look. It's bigger than that Stupid Little UnResting-In-Peace! No fair. I call foul!

Anyway, after the goatmother and goatfather were satisfactorily satiated, the strange little party headed for the street. The Petite and Pershished One quickly found himself right at home in Coupeville.

Now, here is a shot from the movie. We shall call this 'Destination 1'. This scene is where Sally (Sandra Bullock) and her aunts, Fran (Stockard Channing) and Jet (Dianne West) are walking toward a farmer's market where Sally first sees Michael (Mark Feuerstein), her husband-to-be.

It took a bit of doing, but the gang finally found the location. For the movie, the entire town was painted white. Things have changed a bit since then, but you can see by the windows and the flagpole, the troupe managed to find the right place.

What?! You don't see The Vert UnLifeless One? How about now?

Rather like a chameleon, he's always trying to blend in. Even though the goatmother walked off and left him, they did manage to get on to 'Destination 2'. This scene was shot in the middle of Front street, where Michael is first run over by a bunch of bicyclists and then a delivery truck.

This one was a little tougher to find, however, do notice the square blue building on the right.

Unfortunately no herd of itinerant bicyclists could be found and enticed to run over The Little Short and Stiff. Sometimes serendipity is simply nowhere to be found. Nonetheless, our little band then proceeded in search of 'Destination 3'. It was actually the easiest one to find.

In this scene, Sally can be seen in front of her little shop, "Verbena". The colors have changed and the bench has moved, but it still looks much the same.

I know. You're too busy looking at that pretty little pumpkin to notice The Lilliputian and Liquidated, right?

How about now? Yep, that's our hero right there in the corner of the right hand window. Luckily the woman inside was too busy to run out and try to stake him.

Anyway, I suppose that's about enough for one day. I wouldn't want anyone to be bored to death. They might end up like The Little Intrepid and Inert. One of those is quite enough, don't you think? So stay tuned tomorrow for Part Deux of Practically UnDead. In the meantime, go relax. Have a Peanut and try not to think about it.

Reasons To Be Cheerful

2011-10-20T15:08:00.000-07:00

One of our blogging friends over at Planet Penny, has had a lovely idea! Take a moment each week to list three things that make you happy. It can be a list or it can be pictures. You can be creative. If you'd like to see her post, you can go here. I think it is a lovely idea, even if I am a technologically-challenged goat and can't seem to find her 'linky'. Nonetheless, here is my list for this week:

1) Peanuts (Okay, don't try to tell me you didn't know that was coming.)

2) October apples fresh from the tree.

3) Beautiful yellow and orange leaves, guided gently by a gentle autumn breeze over to my side of the fence.

Ahhhh.... there! So much better than watching the news, now don't you think? Thank you Penny! Now be sure to follow my link above to Penny's blog.

Wednesday Words of Wisdom

2011-10-19T08:10:00.000-07:00

Okay, just look at this article. Time for 'News of the DUH'.

Friday, October 14, 2011

PUEBLO, CO -- Colorado officials have disqualified the grand champion goat from this year's State Fair because they say it tested positive for an unapproved drug.

The Pueblo Chieftain reported Friday that a second goat entered by another child from the same family also was disqualified for the same drug.
Susan Weinroth of Sedalia says the family got a letter from the attorney general's office saying her family's goats tested positive for a feed additive approved for swine but not goats.
She suspects the food may have been tampered with and says the family reported their suspicions to officials. She says the family will appeal.
Disqualification means her daughter and son can't collect their earnings from the sale of the goats, $5,500 for the champion and $1,300 for the other.

You see, being a pig is not a good thing - excuse me, swine. Pay attention, here, Ella. At the very least, someone tampers with your food. But no matter what, you are disqualified and they take away all your profit. Wednesday's Words of Wisdom? It doesn't pay to be a pig. Oy. On second thought, go ahead. That'll leave all the Peanuts for me.

(Now, be sure to stay tuned because our Little Undead friend is going on yet another Halloween adventure this Friday Ooo. I bet you can't wait. I know I can.)

Wednesday Words of Wisdom

2011-10-12T09:11:00.000-07:00

Ah, well, here it is Wednesday. Again. How does the time fly by so quickly? There have been no more Bob-O-Lynx sightings, but ever since the goatmother read that a mere Bobcat can pounce 10 feet and take down a deer, everyone has been grazing with one eye open. Throw the fainting goat to the front and run, I always say.

At any rate, this morning the goatmother had Peanuts on her breath. I think she must've had Peanut Butter for breakfast. She didn't offer me any. Still, I didn't mention it to her. After all, it is better to never look a gift goatmother in the mouth. Besides, she's the only one with opposable thumbs to unscrew the lid on the Peanut jar. Unless, of course, we get a monkey, and you can be sure the goatfather isn't going for that. Come to think of it, the goatmother's grandfather had a monkey. I heard he used to go around unscrewing all the light bulbs dashing them to bits on the ground, and plucking all the clothespins off the line when they were dutifully trying to hold onto clean laundry. Oy. Now that I consider it even further, I remember seeing those pictures of organ grinders with monkeys, and people standing about offering the little devil - what?!!! - PEANUTS! Okay. No monkeys for us. Nope. Ain't gonna' happen.

Note to self (any by the way, Wednesday's Words of Wisdom): Do be careful what you wish for.

Bob-O-Lynx

2011-10-09T11:34:00.000-07:00

Have I ever told you about the Lynx? Well, maybe I did. I've slept a lot since then, and eaten A LOT of Peanuts. Anyway, a few years ago, the goatmother heard our resident murder of crows raising holy hay. Louder even than normal. No, the goatmother did not murder the crows. That is really what you call a group of crows. Really. Would I lie to you? Anyway, the goatmother heard the great cacophonous disturbance and looked out just in time to see a VERY large cinnamon-colored cat running into the yard with the crows hot in pursuit. In the days that followed, the mysterious interloper was seen dashing down the road and into the woods. Even the mulch delivery man saw him. Now the odd part about this was that the wildlife oracles all insist there are no Lynx on the Olympic Peninsula - only Bobcats. Hmmm.

Despite what the oracles say, this cat was much larger than a Bobcat, had huge feet, really long legs, no spots, and most importantly, no white. And to make even more of a point, the goatmother saw a true Bobcat walking on the road in front of the house the very day after. The Bobcat was much smaller, had spots and had white under the tail. Hmmmmm. So the goatmother did a little research and found that Lynx are present in the Cascade Mountains and it is not unknown for them to cross with Bobcats. The goatneighbor knows of a man who once tracked a Mountain Lion, that had been released, 75 miles in just one day. The Cascade Mountains aren't that far, so I don't believe it would be any real stretch of the imagination to believe there might actually be a few Lynx in the Olympic Mountains. Hmmmmm.

At any rate, that was then. The goatneighbor came over yesterday with his John Deere tractor. (Yes, Kelly, his John Deere actually stays running.) He came to put wood shavings into our got pen in preparation for the upcoming repeat La Nina. I mean, let's face it, if you put anything the size of Boo on wet ground, you are going to get mud pretty soon. Prevention. That's the ticket! Anyway, when he was finished, he told the goatmother and the goatfather that he had seen the Lynx around the bend in the road on his way over. Hmmmm.

So this morning the goatmother began dutifully spreading the wood shavings about. Of course Ella was all about helping. Naturally the goatmother needed help pushing the wheelbarrow, and of course those handles were slick and needed some teeth-mark grips, and well, there were roots in the shavings that needed to be removed by someone. The rest of us set about our normal routine. Boo and I wandered off to the 'brushy' part of the pasture. Then Boo began to snort. She was looking off down into the woods. I became alarmed, though I didn't really see anything. Then Cabra heard all the snorting, became alarmed and started barking. The goatmother looked, but she didn't see anything either, so she continued her task of trying to convince Ella she didn't really need any help, but thank you very much. After the goatmother finished, she went into the shop to talk to the goatfather and noticed Ella had begun to snort, too, likewise looking off down into the woods. So the goatmother walked up to the fence and that is when she saw the cat. Both froze. Time stopped. They stared at each other for a full minute. The goatmother yelled for the goatfather, but of course, he didn't hear. He was probably in the bathroom anyway. Hmmmmm.

Now this cat was smaller than the original one the goatmother had seen a few years ago. However, it was larger than the Bobcat she had seen, and had no white. It was cinnamon-colored, too, but darker. So the goatmother concluded that it must be a second generation cat - an offspring of the Lynx and the Bobcat. Hmmmm.

I suppose it doesn't matter one way or the other, but I can tell you that we will all be on alert from now on. You just never know when one of these guys might develop a taste for Chevon. Or duck. Or fuzzy farm dog. Heaven help us all should he develop a taste for Peanuts. Mayhaps we should consider the re-establishment of the Homegoat Security Team. Oh, well. "Security is mostly a superstition. It does not exist in nature, nor do the children of men as a whole experience it. Avoiding danger is no safer in the long run than outright exposure. Life is either a daring adventure, or nothing." - Helen Keller. I vote for the daring adventure. Especially if Peanuts are involved.

Wednesday Words of Wisdom

2011-10-05T17:12:00.000-07:00

Well, gosh. Here it is Wednesday again. I thought it was just Wednesday yesterday. Of course that would make today Thursday, so I guess it is a moot point. Anyway, I have decided that the white Woolly Booger with the heart was an omen. Yes. After all, it is October. Omens are running amok.

So, it is my belief that the heart on the Woolly Booger was his way of letting us know just how sorry he feels for us. And that would be because - remember when I told you about the 37 mph wind and the downed trees and limbs? We've had more wind and more trees, and more limbs. I'm not really complaining since I can hardly move from being so full of leaves, but I have to say this. Ella, you are a pig. When you were born, someone said, 'Oh, what a nice goat.' But they were wrong. You are a pig. Oink. Oink. When the succulent fallen tree limbs come over the fence, you feel you have to be first to get a taste. Nothing and no one can stand in your way lest they be dashed beneath your plundering body. I'm quite tired of it. I am the middle goat. I am entitled to at least a little respect, not to mention a good share of the 'booty'. Arrrrrrrrh! I'm gonna' get a patch to put over one eye and a parrot to ride around on my back. Although all I can probably get is a crow, but that is okay. I will be FEARSOME and you will not cross me! Arrrrrrrrrrrrrrh!

At any rate, Ella-Oink or no, the limbs, once tossed into the goat pen, have all managed to quickly end up looking like the bones of a cow having had the misfortune to fall, only moments before, into a river full of Piranha Still, the Fall/Winter season has just begun, and the next time more of the plunder shall be mine! Oy, yes, matey! And Wednesday's Words of Wisdom? "Life's pretty good, and why wouldn't it be? I'm a pirate, after all." - Johnny Depp.

Wednesday Words of Wisdom

2011-09-28T10:01:00.000-07:00

It's Fall. Finally. The Woolly Boogers were right. We've already had our first storm of the season, complete with 37 mph winds. The yard rather looks like a war zone with tree limbs down and leaves everywhere. The trees look as though someone beat them, which indeed someone did. The goatmother's lovely pots of flowers on the deck were thrown off and most of the plants damaged. The only good thing is that we goats have gotten lots and lots of limbs full of succulent leaves to munch on.

As though the storm weren't a good enough indicator, it has also been very cool at night. Last night it was actually down to 40 degrees. Oh, well, I'm not complaining, mind you. I mean, I don't mind the cold, but someone does. In fact, that is the source of Wednesday's Words of Wisdom. Allow me to tell you a tale.

It was Sunday night. The trash had to be gathered on Sunday because the trash truck comes on Monday morning. Makes sense, right? I was watching from the barn as the goatmother, having dutifully gathered the trash, brought out the bags. Being conscientious goatpeople, the goatmother and the goatfather recycle, and so part of the drill is to sort the recyclables into bins. The goatmother set about placing the glass here, and the mixed paper there, and the cans and plastics there.

No problemo, until the goatmother felt something on her leg. Something that hurt. She glanced down and there on her leg was one of those little ground-dwelling Yellow Jackets. OW,WOW,WOW, WOW, WOW! The goatmother had on a pair of stretchy pants, so she grabbed the violated pant leg and pulled it out away from her skin. At which time, the Yellow Jacket, body looped into war position, continued his ugly 'bidness', pumping venom into the pant leg for all he was worth. The goatmother screeched, swatted the little blighter, and ran for the house. There it was again. The goatmother running. Who knew it was possible? But oh, so entertaining!

Anyway, the goatmother ran into the house, spouting epithets as she moved. The goatfather was in the bathroom. You know, how some people are never around? Most of them say things like, "Oh, I must've slept through that." With the goatfather, it's always, "Oh, I was in the bathroom." Anyway, I digress. The goatmother ran around the kitchen mumbling, grumbling, slamming cabinets, looking for the baking soda with which to make a paste 'cuz that's what she'd always done - make a baking soda paste to draw out the poison. She grabbed the box, poured some into a Dixie cup and proceeded to add a little water. The goatfather emerged from the bathroom asking what happened just as the goatmother dropped her drawers, sat down and started to put the paste on the wound. All of a sudden something zipped by her. Then it zipped by again. Oh. My. Goat! "He's followed me into the house!!!!", she cried and jumped up from the stool. "Run to the bathroom!", yelled the goatfather. "I can't!!!!", cried the goatmother. "He's in my pants!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

Let me just say here that no one has ever shucked a pair of pants so fast. I think it must be an Olympic record. The goatmother made it to the bathroom and the goatfather dispatched the tenacious little beast. In the end, the goatmother ended up with only one major sting on her upper thigh and two small ones on the inside. It could have been much worse.

So, see, not everyone is down with the coming of Fall, and Wednesday's Words of Wisdom are this: Always, ALWAYS wear stretchy pants in the Fall. It just may save your bacon. On the other hand, should you decide to drop them, for whatever reason, by all means make sure you are alone!

Update

2011-09-22T19:24:00.000-07:00

We are seeing Woolly Boogers all over the place. Last year we were nearly inundated with rain, and we never saw even one Woolly Booger. I'm ordering lumber for the ark. And a snow blower. Just in case. And skis. Oy.

Wednesday Words of Wisdom

2011-09-21T08:42:00.000-07:00

Well, gosh darn. Here it is Wednesday again. Time seems to be flying right by me lately. Oh, wait, maybe that was a mosquito. Anyway, this Friday is the official start of Fall, the Autumnal Equinox, and am I ever ready. Enough of this eating grass outside in the heat. Of course we've never really had much heat this year, but it is the principle that is important - and I am a very principled goat. They say we are going to have La Nina again this year, so I've applied for Amazon Prime so I don't have to pay shipping on five sets of floaties. Nine if you count the goatmother, the goatfather and the dogs. Well, come to think of it, it's certainly going to take more than one pair to keep Boo afloat, so better make that an even dozen.

Anyway, a lot has been going on here. In addition to the new roof, the goatfather and the goatneighbor have been digging a really deep ditch around half of the house in order to keep any approaching Fall rainwater from running under the house and creating Lake Marigold, as happened last winter. This ditch is called a curtain drain, but I do not understand how it got this name since I have not see any curtains anywhere. Nevertheless, the deep ditch was lined with plastic, and has a large drainage pipe in it covered by, of all things, a sock. I suppose the goatfather thought the pipe might get cold this winter. Anyhow, the ditch was subsequently covered with 'drain' rock. On reflection, maybe they ought to call it a rock drain instead of a curtain drain. At least it actually has rocks. There is one thing, though, I'm going to have to ponder long and hard. I ask you, just where is the wisdom in bringing rock into a place that manages to manufacture it on its own? Oy.

Of course the creation of the drain has caused two things. One, more rocks. I can tell you the goatmother is simply overjoyed at having more rocks to move. Second, it has created a LOT of dirt. The goatmother has become even more overjoyed as the dirt has found its way onto the dogs and into the house. I find rolling in the dirt quite satisfying myself, but, of course, no one has asked me.

And, naturally, with all this other work going on, it happened to come time for our monthly pedicure. Because, let's face it, work always comes in quantity. It is THE WAY. So, dutifully, the goatmother set about the task with little gusto. When it came time to do Boo, she decided to employ both the goatfather and the calf sling. That went rather well, actually, and then it was my turn. I want you to know that I got right up on that stand of my own accord. No one had to ask me twice. I only kicked once. Okay, twice. OKAY, three times, but I am proud to say that, though I considered it, I did not try to bite the goatmother's bum when she proffered it in my direction while doing my front hooves. I could have, but I didn't. There is one thing I have learned in my insightful years on this plane, and it is my Wednesday Words of Wisdom. It is quite simply this: never, Never, NEVER be so stupid as to bite the butt that feeds you. At least not if you ever want to see a Peanut again. In your lifetime. Oy.

Wednesday Words of Wisdom

2011-09-14T19:35:00.000-07:00

What the hay is this and what's so wise about it, you ask? Well, it isn't that it is exactly *wise*, it is something else entirely. You see, this is the fountain that the goatmother made out of the old stock tank the former owners left here. I mean, why not? Recycling is a good thing, right?

Well, when the goatmother first got the fountain together, she decided to put a couple of goldfish in. You know, just in case the mosquitoes decided to open a nursery ward. The fishy boys did famously - as a matter of fact, even better than expected. Then one day, the goatneighbor asked, "Aren't you worried about the Raccoons? Don't you think you should cover it with wire?" Naturally, the goatmother, ever the optimist, replied, "Oh. It is so close to the house. I don't think any Raccoons will bother it." After all, wire would ruin the aesthetics.

So things went along rather well until finally, while throwing the Frisbee for the Mighty Quinn, the goatmother and goatfather discovered that he was missing. He did reappear, but he was strangely, and quite mysteriously WET. Or was it so mysterious? The next time he disappeared, the goatmother ran through the house and looked out the back doors to find the Mighty Quinn standing in the fountain. Dogs. Oy. So the goatmother conceded a little on the aesthetics, and placed a piece of chicken wire across one half. To be precise, she placed it over the end with the lovely miniature water lily she found on EBay.

Everything was again copacetic. The water lily put out a cute little pink bloom. The fishy boys grew ever larger. Then this morning, the unimaginable happened. The goatmother approached the fountain to find it a muddy mess. The lovely water lily was a shredded, and I do mean shredded, shambles. If you look at the picture above, you will see three bluish-green balls. These are Japanese net bouys. They are heavy glass balls that were used to keep Japanese fishing nets afloat. The three glass balls were gone. They were later found spread out across the back yard as though someone had engaged in an erratic game of croquet. The formerly beautiful little bell-shaped water spout was disquietingly silent. Absolutely dead in the water, so to speak. But worst of all, one of the fishy boys was blaringly absent.

We can only surmise that the fat-a#$ (pardon my goat) Raccoon the Mighty Quinn chased up the Cherry tree awhile back, returned last night to wreak his revenge. Obviously he didn't care that the lovely little fountain was near the house. The rustic little fountain now sports a chicken wire chapeau trimmed with heavy wire 'ribbon' as a tie. The goatmother found a new pump which now peeks jauntily through the chicken wire. The fishy boy will have a new companion soon, and will live without fear of being eaten in the night (or so we hope). So, Wednesday's Words of Wisdom are this: If your neighbor expresses concern about random Raccoons, DO NOT be so quick to discount their words. Wire can be your friend.

"I'm not going to say there won't be one raccoon somewhere in the world that won't eat through it, but it seems to be working great." - Terry Feinberg.

You Gotta' Have Heart

2011-09-07T14:50:00.000-07:00

You will notice that this post is NOT entitled 'Wednesday Words of Wisdom'. This would be because we are so far behind, here, that we have just passed Wednesday entirely. I mean is this last Wednesday, or is this THIS Wednesday. Who knows.

At any rate, I would like to present you with a dilemma. You see, we found this:

It is the time of year of the Woolly Booger. Of course you remember the Woolly Booger? Those fuzzy little fellows who are so darned good at predicting the weather? Well, to be sure we have seen those 'normal' ones that are black and yellow. However, this year look what we found! Notice the heart on his bottom? Or is that his head? Who can be sure. At any rate, first of all this guy is white, and secondly, why in the hay does he have a heart on his bum?

Now anyone with any sense at all knows that when you see a Woolly Booger, or many Woolly Boogers, it is a harbinger of the winter to come. But what can this sighting mean? Are we to 'take heart' because we are in for a rough ride? Are we to surmise that this indicates a mild winter like 'I *heart* the Pacific Northwest'? I just don't know, but to be sure it is most unusual. Perhaps that is what it means. Dear humans, you are in for quite an 'unusual' winter. Which, naturally, leads us to the question of what exactly is 'unusual'? Oy. The possibilities are endless here, but if we get more rain than we got last winter, we're probably going to end up in Nova Scotia. Ya' hear that, Lucky Nickel? Nova Scotia!

Well, no matter. I suppose we'll just have to wait and see. So go on, little guy. Carry on, munch on the flowers, and go forth doing Woolly Booger things.

But I can tell you this, if there any Words of Wisdom to be had today, it is this: I've said it before, and I'll say it again, always, Always, ALWAYS trust a Woolly Booger.

Labor Day

2011-09-03T16:31:00.000-07:00

Happy Labor Day! May you not have to. Labor. May you not have to Labor. Unless, of course, you are having a baby, and then perhaps you better labor whether you want to or not. Anyway, to the rest of us: Happy Rest Day! Except the goatmother, who is still painting. Oy.

Wednesday Words of Wisdom

2011-08-31T11:44:00.000-07:00

Wow. Wednesday Words of Wisdom that are actually on Wednesday. Who'da thunk? Ahem.

Anyway, I am so tired today. Why am I tired? Well, all day yesterday I watched the goatmother paint. That's pretty tiring stuff. It takes a lot out of a goat having to watch all that back and forth, and back and forth, and up and down the ladder. Not to mention having to help out by baaing appropriate encouragement, and holding your tongue just right during the tedious bits (ever watch someone feeding a baby?).

So today I feel pretty old. Oy. Too much activity and not enough Peanuts to sustain me. Doesn't seem to bother Ella or the boys, and Boo, well, no need to even go there. So Wednesday's Words of Wisdom are this: Age, like beauty, is in the eye of the beholder. Plus, it often takes little vacations - to your knees, your shoulders, your back, your feet ...

"Age is not measured by years. Nature does not equally distribute energy. Some people are born old and tired while others are going strong at seventy." - Dorothy Thompson.

Saving the Day

2011-08-29T19:33:00.000-07:00

The Mighty Quinn was biting at his foot. Now what could be the problem?? Well, let me back up a bit. You see, the Mighty Quinn is a herding dog. Therefore, he chases things. He used to chase goats, but our blessed little Peanut (the goat, not the nut) took care of that early on. So now, the Mighty Quinn confines his skills to the herding of things like Frisbees, balls, squirrels, the goatmother, and yes, poop. Oh, my. Does that seem to put the goatmother into the same category with the poop? Well, O.O.P.S. Forgive me all to hay. I never intended for that to happen.

Anyway, the goatmother has taken to 'being civilized', as she calls it. This means that often, in the late afternoon, tea will be served on the front deck. I believe she is a frustrated anglophile, but what do I know? I'm just an AMERICAN goat. But, the Mighty Quinn always sees this as the perfect opportunity. You see the goatfather is still, and not doing ANYTHING else. That means he is quite available for throwing things. The only other time this might occur is when the goatfather is on the toilette, but surely even the Mighty Quinn wouldn't be tasteless enough to take advantage of that.

So, often in the afternoon, the goatmother and the goatfather act civilized, having tea and whatnot, the Cabrarator stalks any squirrels who dare to venture down the birch trees, and the Mighty Quinn chases the Frisbee. Of course this is very hard work because, let's face it, those Frisbees are tricksy. So after awhile, with tongue hanging almost to the ground, the Mighty Quinn takes a rest under the huge Grand Fir tree in the front yard. BIG MISTAKE. Why, you ask? That would be because fir trees exude a sticky resin that people call 'pitch'. It smells very aromatic and 'piney', but let me tell you, if you get that stuff in your fur, well, your kinda' up the proverbial Peanut creek without a digger-inverter. (No kidding. Just look up about how they harvest Peanuts if you don't believe me!)

So, this morning the goatmother happened to notice that the Mighty Quinn was licking excessively at one of his hind feet. Lo and baahold!, the Mighty Quinn had a massive amount of fir pitch embedded between the pads of his foot and even a stick! Ouch. The goatmother tried, in vain, to clip it out, but it was so very close to the skin that she was having a terrible time - even after enlisting the help of the goatfather. After much struggling, some VERY careful clipping, and some colorful language thrown in for effect, the goatmother finally called the vet's office. Would you believe they were not only familiar with the problem (this is the Pacific Northwest, after all), but they had a solution!? The lady told the goatmother if she would rub shortening into the pitch, it would dissolve and loosen. Skeptical, the goatmother tried it, and Wow! It actually WORKED!!!! A miracle of miracles! If the pitch had stayed as it was, it would have eventually tightened enough to tear the Mighty Quinn's flesh. However, the shortening, made (pardon the pun) short work of the situation.

So, my friends, if you have someone who gets into any kind of sticky pitch (DISCLAIMER - 'sticky' applies ONLY to actual physical situations, and not those merely construed to be 'sticky'.) - pine, fir, or what have you, remember this little remedy. You won't be sorry. It probably even works on goats!

"For every mountain there is a miracle." - Robert H. Schuller. Even if it is a mountain of pitch!

At the End of the Rainbow ...

2011-08-26T13:10:00.000-07:00

... is a new roof. No kidding. See?

I hope it isn't too dark to see, but the rainbow does indeed end on the roof. See all those lovely blue bundles of shingles up there? And that repugnant color on the roof - sort of a yucky reddish brown?

So, you've no doubt been wondering where I have been and why there wasn't even a Wednesday Words of Wisdom this week. Well, my friends, it all has to do with the roof. You see, it started back this last winter with all the rain. The roof didn't take anymore kindly to it than we did, and so it decided to leak. Once the weather cleared up, finally, the goatfather and one of the goatneighbors decided to put on a new one - roof that is. This was no small project, and let me tell you, it took awhile.

When it first began, we, down here at the barn, had to endure ceaseless bouts of snorting from Boo. You may recall that Boo is full Nubian, and Nubians just don't do *new*. So you can well imagine what transpired when, all of a sudden, two very out-of-the-ordinary figures appeared atop the roof of the house and just wouldn't go away. Sigh. Yes, we all have our crosses to bear.

Anyway, there were lots of interesting things that went along with the new roof. For example, the goatfather and the goatneighbor had to replace A LOT of the roof boards because the ex-Marine that built the house only thought he knew what he was doing. One entire half was actually put on upside down and many places had absolutely no support. In retrospect, I suppose it is a wonder it didn't do more than just leak. Come to think of it, do you suppose they accept Nubians into the Marine Corps? Anything is possible.

However, somebody must've thought replacing the roof was a good idea because not only did the rainbow fall on the new roof, but two rainbows actually appeared! I hope you can see them in this picture.

The Gods were smiling on us because first there were two, and then there was one that was one of the most intense we have ever seen.

Of course the rainbows were at the beginning of the project and I suspect it was to throw everyone off guard so they wouldn't just throw up their hands and quit when they found out how much of an adventure it was really going to be. Life is like that sometimes. At one point, the goatfather and the goatneighbor lifted one of the soon-to-be-replaced roof sections and woke up a bat. I always knew the goatmother had bats in her belfry. Given her history (see here), there really shouldn't have been any doubt. And then there was the dessicated squirrel. Although, he was actually found under the roof boards of the 'doggie house', so maybe I can't honestly say the goatmother is squirrely too.

But, the real disaster with the whole roofing project came after the actual house roof was finished and the 'doggie house' remained. You see, the first people that lived here (remember 'The Halls of Montezuma'?), also built a kennel because they raised Golden Retrievers. Now, why anyone would want to raise dogs instead of goats, I can't say, but there you have it, and now the goatmother uses it as a potting shed. The problem was that this is where the satellite antenna for the computer sits. So, when the goatfather and the goatneighbor replaced that roof, guess what happened? And THAT should have been Wednesday's Words of Wisdom - never, Never, NEVER, muck about with the antenna if you want to have computer service. However, I could not actually write that, let alone launch it into cyberspace, so I do hope it isn't too late and you haven't already unknowingly mucked about with yours.

Anyway, when all was said and done, I think it turned out pretty nice. I know the view from the barn is much better. What do you think?

There is still some painting to be done and some siding to be put around the chimney, but all things in good time, right?

So that's where I've been. I have to say that we did find that we have lots more time in our day when we don't have computer service. Boring, mind you, but time nonetheless. The goatmother is still behind and may never be caught up. As for me, I'm caught up, unless you count eating Peanuts, and then it is virtually impossible to be caught up. Well, I suppose it might be, but I for one, never want to find out if it is. At any rate, I have plans to tell you lots more stuff. So as they say ...

Bee right back!

Wednesday Words of Wisdom

2011-08-17T18:22:00.000-07:00

Always be on time. Always. Okay. Maybe you can't always be on time. Sometimes things, like eating hay, for example, get in the way. Or Peanuts. Peanuts always get in the way of many things. Always. Okay, well, always try to be on time.

"Old Time, in whose banks we deposit our notes
Is a miser who always wants guineas for groats;
He keeps all his customers still in arrears
By lending them minutes and charging them years."
~Oliver Wendell Holmes

Wednesday Words of Wisdom

2011-08-10T10:00:00.000-07:00

Long ago, in land far, far away, in a quaint little rental house, lived a goatmother. Okay, maybe she wasn't a goatmother back then, but that is irrelevant. Anyway, in this quaint little house was a quaint little bathroom with a shelf over the tub. Now the quaint little house didn't have a lot of storage, so one was required to take advantage of any space available. One day the future goatmother took a bath in the quaint little tub. When she finished, the goatmother, who was really quite blind without her glasses even back then, reached up for the can of spray deodorant. She applied it liberally, finding as she returned the can to the shelf, that it read WD-40.

Now, then. Years prior to this event, the cleanser 'Comet' came on the market. The goatmother's aunt, reading of the product's wondrous cleaning abilities, decided it would be just the thing to get that smile really bright!. She tried it. Let us just say, the results were less than expected. Or more, depending on how you look at it, but the goatmother's aunt was too embarrassed to go to the doctor and tell him what she had done. It did actually turn out all right. Eventually.

So by now you are thinking, what do these two, seemingly unrelated stories, have to do with anything. There is certainly nothing 'wise' in them. But here, my friends, you would be wrong, because these two stories lead me to today's invaluable words of wisdom: Due caution is advised when dealing with anyone even remotely related to the goatmother's gene pool. 'Runs with scissors' comes to mind. Oy.

Wednesday Words of Wisdom

2011-08-02T20:59:00.000-07:00

I am currently so far behind that I am saying hello to my tail. That is pretty hard to do. Come to think of it, I am not at all sure it is my tail. It could be someone else's tail. Or if it is really Boo, it might actually be her head. One can not always be sure. Anyway, all I know is the hurrier I go, the behinder I get. Nothing very wise in that, but it sure explains a lot. Oy.

Wednesday Words of Wisdom

2011-07-27T17:17:00.000-07:00

The goatmother was trying to dig a hole to plant a flower. Let us just say that our soil is considerably opposed to disturbance. Even the rain doesn't penetrate it. As a result, the goatmother pulled a muscle in her back. This makes her quite reluctant to bring the computer out to the barn. Thus, Wednesday's Words of Wisdom are late. Again. Nonetheless, here they are. Please take heed, because the goatmother certainly did not. "The first thing you ought to do when you find yourself in a hole is quit digging ... Instead they are looking for a bigger shovel." - President Bill Clinton.“ Trust me on this. There ain't no shovel big enough.

Wednesday Words of Wisdom

2011-07-20T18:56:00.000-07:00

It's Wednesday. Wednesday's almost over, for goats' sake! I almost forgot. Can you believe it? I must be getting old. Well, Wednesday's words of wisdom are this: Don't forget it is Wednesday.

"The existence of forgetting has never been proved: we only know that some things do not come to our mind when we want them to." - Friedrich Nietzsche.

Now,what was I saying????

No More Complaints

2011-07-16T17:44:00.000-07:00

"Mammy! Mammy! The crops is failin'!!!!!"

Have you ever seen a goat roll their eyes? Gardener Goatmothers. Oy. Such a drama queen.

No more complaints from me, though, about the weather. Not a peep. Not a baaa. I'm keeping my hoof over Boo's mouth too. I just heard on the news that at least 40 states will be 90 degrees or above this week.

Dear Big Guy,
Pay no attention to the little goat behind the screen. She is really quite satisfied not to be frying. Really.
Thank you for listening.

Your friend,
Marigold

Last Night

2011-07-16T11:58:00.000-07:00

Remember yesterday when I said there was a 60% chance of rain and that left 40% for the goatmother to spray the stinky Bobbex? Well, the weather forecasts are rarely very accurate here. I think they might actually be accurate for some place in the northern hemisphere, but not for here. Anyway, that 60% actually turned out to be 100%, and it rained all night. Guess who doesn't mind dining al fresco in the rain?

So this morning, the goatmother put up a section of four foot field fence around the lettuce bed. Yes, the dear deer can still hop into the other part of the garden and stretch her head over to the lettuce while munching the strawberries. Still at least now it will be more difficult. We goats are hoping this is a lazy deer and thus prone to just not bother. You are probably wondering why a goat should even care. I can tell you it has to do with the goatmother's insistence that because we are close to the garden, we should be willing to help. Let's just say I simply refuse to learn to bark. Oy.

The Bloom Is Off the Rose

2011-07-15T15:30:00.000-07:00

You may recall that recently I may have gone on a bit about our bad weather this year. Okay, maybe 'ad nauseum' might fit, but Hay!, I'm a tell-it-like-it-is kind of goat. Anyway, we have had 15.35 inches of rain since the beginning of the year. Our normal for the entire year, is around 17 inches. What does this tell you? It's not that I mean to be critical, but we've only had 4 days this month that we actually made it to 70 degrees. Why should I be upset? I mean we did hit 76 degrees. Once. Back on June 5th.

At any rate, it is affecting everything from goats' coats to vegetation. Blackberries are trying to take over the planet, my friends. This is just the beginning. Today western Washington, tomorrow the world. Mark my words. Naturally, the things one wants to grow, sadly, are not. This year has been a gardener's nightmare. From the slugs ... by the way, what do you think of this baby? :

To the dear deer:

Nothing planted is safe from the onslaught of JAWS. At first the goatmother sprayed the mightily stinking Bobbex, and this worked until all the rain washed most of it away. Then she came up with the ever clever idea of Monsieur Scare-Deer. Well, something seemed to be working because about the only sign we saw of the deer was when she was standing in the drive one day, staring at Boo. I gotta' admit Boo's girth is rather awe inspiring, but anyway, there had been no further damage to the garden. The goatmother planted some really beautiful lettuce that is green with splotches of red called 'Flashy Trout's Back'. Of course, with so little sun, anything planted has pretty much been sitting in the ground sporting little signs reading ,'Solarly-Challenged. Coming Soon To A Garden Near You.' Then last week we got a few days of sun, and BAM!, (Ooo! Just like Emeril!), the lettuce actually reached a semi-ready-to-pick size. Woo Hoo!

My friends, it was not to be. Monsieur Scare-Deer somehow lost his mystique, and last night the dear deer finally realized that guy was NEVER going to the house. She picked the largest heads of lettuce, which are now the smallest heads of lettuce. There is a 60% chance of rain today, but that left 40% for the goatmother to spray some more Bobbex. She even sprayed Monsieur Scare-Deer, who is now Monsieur Le Pue! (Why, oh why, does the garden have to be so close to the barn?)

We'll see. The grand Lavender Festival is this weekend. 30,000 people will be pouring into a town of normally 3 or 4 thousand. We've been taking bets as to how many oblivious sign-ignorers will have to make three-point turns at the end of our drive. The goatmother's going to make popcorn! In the meantime, maybe the deer and the slugs will travel en masse and become hopelessly lost in all the festivities. Like lemmings. It could happen ...

"I have approximate answers and possible beliefs and different degrees of certainty about different things, but I'm not absolutely sure of anything, and many things I don't know anything about, such as whether it means anything to ask why we're here, and what the question might mean. I might think about it a little bit, but if I can't figure it out, then I go on to something else. But I don't have to know an answer.... I don't feel frightened by not knowing things, by being lost in the mysterious universe without having any purpose, which is the way it really is, as far as I can tell, possibly. It doesn't frighten me." ~Richard Phillips Feynman

I think I'll go have a Peanut.

It's Never Too Early

2011-07-15T10:00:00.000-07:00

Thanks to October Farm's blog, I am now officially prepared for Halloween. See? Look over there in the sidebar. Hay! One can never be too early for such things. Now if I could only find one showing a Countdown To Marigold's Next Peanut, my life would be complete.

Wednesday Words of Wisdom

2011-07-12T17:23:00.000-07:00

Okay, well, last week I was late, so this week I'm making up for it by being early. Makes perfect sense to me.

Anyhow, we live at the end of the road. In fact, if you didn't manage to negotiate the turn in the drive, you would end up in the pasture. Visitors are nice, but I'm NOT sharing my Peanuts. Just so you know.

Now, at the top of our road is a sign. A nice yellow sign with black lettering that clearly states, 'Dead End. No Turn Around.' Yet, despite the very conciseness of these words, people inevitably come down our road and then have nowhere to go. I can't tell you how many times this happens, but blatant disregard causes them to have to make a three-point turn in order to go back the way they came. Either that or they are forced to back up all the way. Sometimes it is kind of entertaining because, let's face it, the three-point turn is an art. Still, I often find myself wondering when one of them is going to end up in the pasture with the goats.

So I've been giving this situation some thought. Do you suppose these people are illiterate? Or maybe they have such a curious nature they just can't help themselves. You know, kind of like Alice falling down the rabbit hole? Or maybe they are non-believers convinced that all signage is created by a bourgeois Establishment in an effort to confuse the masses. I don't know, but I'd really be willing to bet a good many of the transgressors are simply those kind of people who look at a sign and think, 'Oh! Look at that. A sign. Well, that doesn't mean me. That's for those other people.' Yep. I think that might just be a possibility.

Whatever the reason, I must admit it does cause one to take pause. We'll be munching along quite contentedly and someone will look up mid-munch and remark, 'Oh. Here comes another one.' Then everybody gives a big sigh and rolls their eyes. Everybody, that is, except Watson, who is sometimes standing too close to the corner of the pasture and ends up fainting. Come to think of it, I suppose he could be rolling his eyes, too, while he's rolling down the hill. Nevertheless, I think the goatmother ought to put up yet another sign. One that reads something like, 'See? Told ya' so, ya' big dummy!' Oy.

So, in light of this, Wednesday's Words of Wisdom are this: If you see a sign that tells you something important, be wise enough to pay attention and don't go there. I mean, supposing the sign at the head of our road read, 'Bridge Out', or 'Beware! Cranky Dragon', or 'Entering Roswell. Beware of Aliens'? Wouldn't it be prudent to trust what the sign is trying to tell you? Oh, well, I guess "It requires wisdom to understand wisdom: the music is nothing if the audience is deaf. - Walter Lippmann. Or stupid, Walt. Don't forget stupid.

Small Town Advantage

2011-07-10T14:07:00.000-07:00

We live in a small town. Now some folks might think that living in a small town presents nothing but a lot of disadvantages. I suppose it is true that you may not have as large a variety of wares to choose from. And perhaps there aren't tons of entertaining things to do. The stores may close early, and the town may more or less fold up for the night.

Still there are advantages. For example, you don't have to sit in traffic jams very often, and you don't usually have to fight crowds of people. People are generally very friendly and most always ready to help. Why even the businesses function on this premise. Take for example the picture you see below.

Or what about this one?

Who knew the local Dairy Queen offered 'doggie cones' at the drive-thru for free? The goatmother and the goatfather didn't. The people working just looked in the car, saw the Mighty Quinn and Cabra sitting in the back, and offered! 'Would your dogs like a doggie cone?' Just like that. See, small towns DO offer some advantages. I'm just wondering what those workers would do if they looked in the backseat and saw a certain black and white goat sitting there. Do you think they'd give me a Peanut Buster Parfait to go?

Wednesday Words of Wisdom

2011-07-06T19:55:00.000-07:00

Okay, I know it is Wednesday. 6:00 PM on Wednesday. I'm late. Deal with it. Sometimes Life happens and gets in the way of the best laid plans. Anyway, I DO indeed have some Words of Wisdom today. Today, the Words of Wisdom involve the seemingly innocent-looking face you see below. You will, perchance, notice I said *seemingly*. There is a reason for that.

You see, *if* one decides to go to breakfast at an absolutely wonderful restaurant run by a charming culinary genius who happens to have a blog here, then there are certain rules one must follow. Foremost among these rules would be to never, and I repeat NEVER leave half of a perfectly delectable omelette (to be savored for breakfast the following day) in the car with the *seemingly* innocent owner of the face above. If you do, you will undoubtedly be left with this:

... a substantial hole in the top of said aforementioned breakfast delight. The second rule one must follow is to never, NEVER assume that because the goatfather is in the vehicle too, the savored delicacy will be safe.

Uh. Huh.

"Assumption is the mother of the screw-up." - Angelo Donghia

Wednesday Words of Wisdom

2011-06-29T08:09:00.000-07:00

Did you ever wonder why 'easy open' features never work? I have. And they are not a convenience designed only for human consumption. Have you ever tried to pull that little string at the top of a feed sack? What about that little pull feature on the package of Peanuts? You know, the one that either won't 'pull' or pulls half way and stops? Yeah, that's the one.

So here is a little food for thought: "The organization controlling the material equipment of our everyday life is such that what in itself would enable us to construct it richly, plunges us instead into a poverty of abundance, making alienation all the more intolerable as each convenience promises liberation and turns out to be only one more burden. We are condemned to slavery to the means of liberation." - Raoul Vaneigem. Which is just a long winded way of saying what the old proverb says - 'Every convenience brings its own inconveniences along with it.'

Besides, in my estimation, if they worked, well, that would just be way too easy,wouldn't it?

Got Summer?

2011-06-25T16:51:00.000-07:00

It's summer.

Really? Where?

Well, here, of course. It happened last Tuesday around 10:16.

No kidding. Could have fooled me. Doesn't the sun shine when it's summer?

Well, yes ... usually.

Huh. Doesn't it get past 70 degrees if it's summer?

Well, yes ... usually.

Huh. MR. Forgetty-pants strikes again.

'Roll out those lazy, hazy, crazy days of summer,
Those days of soda and PEANUTS and beer.
Roll out those lazy, hazy, crazy days of summer,
You'll wish that summer could always be here!' - Words by Charles Tobias, sung by Nat King Cole and Poetic License taken by Marigold.

Wednesday Words of Wisdom (A Day Early)

2011-06-21T17:05:00.000-07:00

You may have noticed that things look different. Well, Wednesday's words of wisdom are this: If it ain't broke, don't fix it! Now I was perfectly happy with my old blog look. But NO, I had to go and play with the new template design. Allow me to say that it isn't entirely true when they say you can't go back, because, in fact, you can. It's just that if you do, things disappear. Suddenly I was missing buttons, and the worst part is that there are many bloggers out there with the exact same problem. 'Help' didn't have any. Help that is. Nope.

So here is the new me. I HATE change. In this day and age, changes are all over the place and cleverly disguised as 'progress'. Oy. What if someone decides to change my Peanuts??? I can not bear (or is it goat?) to think about it.

Take my advice. If you like what you have, don't automatically decide the grass is greener on the other side of the fence. Because, my friends, as Erma Bombeck so aptly put it, 'the grass is always greener over the septic tank.' Now what does that tell you? Hmmmmm?

The Scaredeer

2011-06-18T10:05:00.000-07:00

You may recall that awhile back the deer made a stealth run through the goatmother's gardens. They feasted on strawberries, raspberries and various and sundry ornamental plants. Much like a tornado, they left a wide swath of destruction in their wake.

After that, the goatmother purchased a highly recommended product called 'Bobbex'. 'Bobbex' is made up of things like rotten eggs, catfood, garlic, pepper, and other such gustatory delights. Trust me. It stinks. I know this because the vegetable garden and the raspberries are by the barn. The 'Bobbex' worked pretty well, but the problem arose when it mostly washed off. Now how, I wonder, could that happen here? We never have rain. Anyway, that sort of torturous event makes it rather difficult to maintain a proper 'Bobbex' barrier. Acts of God and all that. Hence, the deer reconnoitered, sniffed the air, and sprang forward yelling things like 'Oo-Rah!" and 'Remember the Alamo!'.

I have to say, the damage wasn't quite as extensive as the pre-'Bobbex' period. However, the goatmother, naturally distressed by the occurrence, came up with an idea. The goatmother is chock full of ideas. Just ask the goatfather. Anyway, the goatmother got to thinking how certain smells deter deer and keep them from noshing. For example, they sell concentrated predatory animal urine for that purpose. ( Ewwwww.) Or like, of course, the 'Bobbex'. Or some folks say you can hang bars of deodorant soap. (That never works. I think deer are morally opposed to Zestful cleanliness.)

Anyway, the goatmother came up with the idea of the scaredeer. She thought imbuing articles of clothing with human scent, and stuffing them to look like an actual human, made a lot of sense. Of course the scent could not be the goatmother's because, let's face it, nothing is afraid of the goatmother. Birds land in her lap, for goats' sake! So the goatmother got the goatfather to donate a pair of ratty old jeans and a dilapidated old shirt, and forced him to wear them for days on end so they would smell like him. By the time he was finished, they could almost stand by themselves. Almost.

So what to stuff the scaredeer with? It couldn't be newspaper because that would soon become a soggy mess and the scaredeer would end up shriveled and moldy. So, the goatmother decided to stuff it with Peanuts. I became quite excited when I heard the news. I thought, 'Oy, Boy!!!! A scaredeer stuffed with mounds and mounds of these:

Unfortunately, it turned out to be mounds and mounds of these:

I was SO disappointed, I can tell you. Finally, however, the masterpiece was complete. Permettez-moi de vous presenter, Monsieur Scaredeer:

What a hunk. From his athletic legs up to his dapper blue chapeau, he is the epitome of scaredyness. And fashionable? Why just look at that trim waist with that whole Ellie-Mae-Clampett-rope-tie belt thing going on.

Oops. Barn door's open.

And just look at that I'll-huff-and-I'll-puff mighty He-man profile. Any deer in its right mind will take one look and head off to summer in Canada - or at least to the neighbor's. There's just one problem. It smells like the goatfather, and it looks like the goatfather, so how come it won't throw the Frisbee like the goatfather?

No matter how many times the goatmother picked up the Frisbee and threw it, the Mighty Quinn brought it back and left it at the feet of the scaredeer. Dogs. Oy.

Anyway, time will tell whether or not the scaredeer will be effective. We can only hope that the deer will spot it and be spurred into movement - preferably in the opposite direction. I hope I'm there to see it. After all, nothing runs like a deer.

Wednesday Words of Wisdom

2011-06-15T08:25:00.000-07:00

I have noticed that a lot of people have 'Wordless Wednesdays'. Anybody that knows me, knows I have far too much to say for that sort of nonsense. So, I have decided that every Wednesday I will offer you the benefit of some small bit of advice, or perhaps an observation. Who knows where the road may take us, but I can assure you it will be an entertaining ride.

So, here goes. Never, never, never spray your hinges and locks around the barn with WD-40. Goats love this stuff. We lick it off faster than you can spray it. We'd drink it if we could get the goatmother to put that little red tube in our mouths. I think it comes from a goat's inherent need to run a well-oiled machine. But whatever the reason, It just tastes so GOOD. So, if you don't want to have to come out to the barn every so often to check and see if anyone has died in the last few minutes, take my advice and just don't use the stuff. It's waaaay too much of a temptation.

Feeling Sluggish?

2011-06-12T10:50:00.001-07:00

No, this is not a suggestion to try Activia, or even to maximize your fiber intake. You may remember my recent complai ... err ... laments about the amount of rain we've gotten this year. And, when it isn't raining, well, it's been pretty much overcast. Nobody here is all that happy about it. Though, I suppose I shouldn't say 'nobody'. There are, in fact, some who are absolutely ecstatic about the situation. We have black ones ...

... and brown ones ...

We have white ones ...

... and even the fashion conscious ...

We have long ones ...

... and shorter ones ...

... and they even come in Super Size. You want flies with that??? (That, by the way, is a ball-point pen next to him.)

And they will consume anything in their path ...

Look! An action shot ...

These guys have consumed many of the goatmother's plants despite her best efforts. She even tried talking to them and they actually seemed to sit up and pay attention ...

But I guess you could say her words fell on deaf antennae because this is what she got ...

So the goatmother took to making morning and evening slug patrol runs. When she came upon an unsuspecting slug, she would snatch him up and fling him as far as she could. Usually it was into the brush in the faint hope it would get disoriented and become lost in the woods. She figured, at the very least, it would take a loooooooong time to make it back to civilization. And if you think the Mighty Quinn worked that hard back then, well, you ought to see him now. 'Cuz let's face it, it is rather hard to tell the difference.

At any rate, after standing on my stump for some time and considering this matter, it is my belief the goatmother is going about it all wrong. If she didn't plant anything, there wouldn't be anything for the stupid slugs to eat. The answer seems simple to me, but, no, the deluded goatmother keeps right on feeding the slugs. "Appeasers believe that if you keep on throwing steaks to a tiger, the tiger will become a vegetarian." - Heywood C. Broun. I wonder if Heywood knew the goatmother?

A Collapsed Case

2011-06-06T20:15:00.000-07:00

Allow me to tell you a tale. Or is it a tail? I can never be sure. Anyway, one bright and sunny day, Sedgewick Snake (for you see he was of English descent and his mother named him aptly so) was slithering lazily along. He was quite enjoying the sun for in these parts, sunshine can be a treasured commodity. Sedgewick spied movement in the grass and was elated to think he had come upon a particularly delectable morsel. But Sedgewick was, instead, suddenly snatched up. The world became dark and the quarters quite close. So close, in fact, that Sedgewick found it difficult to breathe. Then the world faded into comforting blackness. Sedgewick came to and saw a tunnel. Mind you the tunnel was rather thin, but that didn't seem to present any kind of an obstacle to a snake. At the end of the tunnel was a beautiful light. Sedgewick went forward - into the light.

Enter the goatmother. She looks about, cleaning up the barn, and spies something odd lying in the hay. 'What is this?', queries the goatmother. Upon closer inspection it appears to be a snake, but not just any snake. Oh, no. This snake is of the flat variety. Very flat. Flatter than a pancake, as a matter of fact. This snake was so flat you could have ... Oh, never mind. Take my word for it. That snake was FLAT. Oddly enough, however, he was sort of laid out in a nice 'S' shape. Almost like he'd been slithering along and Pompeii happened. It was very odd indeed.

So the goatmother thought, 'Huh...' and put the snake in her cleaning up bucket thinking tomorrow morning she would take a picture of the flat snake. That was what she thought, but everyone knows that intentions are only as good as chance allows them to be, right? So in the morning, the goatmother came out with the camera. She grabbed up the bucket of , ahem, goat gifts and hay, expecting to fish out the flat snake and help him make his mark on notoriety. But you now what? The flat snake was gone. Pffhttt! The goatmother actually pawed through that bucket of goat fertilizer-supreme and came up literally empty handed. She even took the bucket out, dumped it on the ground, and sifted through the contents. Ewwwwwww.

Enter moi, Marigold Holmes and my ever faithful sidekick (maybe that should be headbutt) Watson. A mystery afoot to be sure! Who? I ask you WHO would be so bold (not to mention so stupid) as to steal a flat snake from a bucket of goat gold in the dead of night? It is simply unconscionable. (Is that really a word?) Nevertheless, we shall investigate. I can not think that those stupid mice in the barn took it. It was large enough it would have taken at least three to carry it. And why would they want it in the first place? No, it is a mystery to be sure.

At any rate, you were going to be presented with a lovely picture of the flat snake. Now, I'm afraid all you will get is what you see above: a somewhat boring picture of the goatmother's red cleaning bucket. We may never know why some demented soul would choose to pinch a flat snake in the dead of night. We can only surmise that they needed it - for God knows what, but they needed it nonetheless. Perhaps they were really hungry. If that is the case, maybe our flat snake is somewhere being noshed in the manner of a jerky snack. Kind of like when you are driving and come upon those roadside stands announcing, 'Elk Jerky! Buffalo Jerky! 50 Feet Ahead!!!' 'Flat Snake Jerky, Here!!! Last Chance!!!!' I wonder if it tastes like chicken?

So Here's The Thing ...

2011-06-02T13:47:00.000-07:00

You may recall my recent letter to God. Well, you see, He must've had his hearing aid in because he heard me. Really, He did. The very next day we had sunshine. I actually got out of the barn and didn't have to stand by Ella. And I ate grass! Green, luscious grass instead of old dry, dead hay. I breathed the fresh air, romped on my tire, and did I mention I got to eat grass???

That lasted four whole, luxurious days. The problem is that after four days, well, God forgot. Again. I know, I know. We have to be tolerant of the aged, but Great Goats! This is getting rather ridiculous. The normal rainfall for us, for the month of May, is around 1.64 inches. This May we had 3.34. Over half of the month was spent in sousedom. And now it's June - practically summer. Not here. Rain yesterday, today, and a high of 57 degrees. Somebody is being Mr. forgetty-pants.

So, I've been thinking. For someone who actually created Gingko biloba, wouldn't you think He'd be able to remember where he planted it??? Or perhaps it is time to mention Aricept. At any rate, I plan to remain optimistic. Sodden, but optimistic nonetheless. "I don't believe in pessimism. If something doesn't come up the way you want, forge ahead. If you think it's going to rain, it will." - Clint Eastwood. Now ain't that the truth?

The Letter

2011-05-16T08:50:00.000-07:00

Dear God,
Hello. It's me, Marigold. I know. I'm just a soggy little goat - a mere speck on the Great Plasma TV of Life. But I wanted to talk to you about kind of a sensitive subject. You see, God, I know that You are all-knowing, all-seeing and infinitely wise. You are all things, to all creatures, and all that (and a bag of Peanuts, if I may say so.) And as such, You are known by many names like, well, God, The Creator, The Universe, The Force and even The Great Yahoo. Oh, wait. I think that was Yahweh.

Anyway, the point I'm trying to make, here, is that You've been around a loooong time. You've seen, well, everything. So what I want to talk to you about is this whole 'aging' thing. It happens to everyone. And when one ages, well, one sometimes begins to experience a few age-related issues. Oh, there are lots of examples, like that car you follow for miles on end waiting for it to turn that never does. Why? Because the driver simply 'forgot' the signal was on. Or like Boo - she's the oldest of our group. How many times have I seen Boo start to pick up a dropped Peanut, forget what she was doing, and wander off, only to turn around and exclaim, 'Oh, look! Someone dropped a Peanut!' Of course some of that is due to the fact that Boo is a Nubian. In retrospect, perhaps that isn't the best example. But, I mean, this stuff even happens to the goatmother. Time and again I've seen her walk into the barn carrying an armload of hay, stop, look around, and say, 'Now, why did I come in here?' See? It happens. And it is absolutely nothing to be ashamed of.

So, God. Far be it from me to point out the obvious to anyone as omniscient as Yourself, but I just felt like if I didn't, well, no one would. And let's face it, You are one REALLY old dude. I would never deign to convey disrespect. After all, You made the Peanut. But in light of what I've said, I'd just like to point out one thing: God, I think you left the faucet running.

Your sincere, albeit waterlogged, friend,
Marigold

Surprise, Surprise, Surprise ...

2011-05-15T12:01:00.000-07:00

Guess what? It's raining.

Really? Surely not.

No. I'm sure. The roof is leaking.

But I thought you've already had enough rain for the century - maybe even the millenium.

Apparently not.

Have you looked? Are your hooves starting to get all pruny???

No. Webbing. Webbing is starting to grow in between.

You don't say. Well, cheer up. Summer has to arrive eventually.

I can't wait. The Peanuts are soggy.

Oh. Well perhaps then they will sprout. You know, grow some Peanut plants.

You are far too optimistic.

Marigold, "In the long run the pessimist may be proved right, but the optimist has a better time on the trip." - Daniel L. Reardon.

Oy.

Broken News

2011-05-12T10:03:00.000-07:00

Sadly, only 8 members of the team reported for training this morning. We can not be sure what happened to the 9th member. I swear, all 9 were present and accounted for last night. Perhaps there were unknown injuries sustained during yesterday's incident. Perhaps it was just meant to be. Sometimes, no matter how hard we try, we just can't change Fate's mind. "Fate is not an eagle, it creeps like a rat." - Elizabeth Bowen.

Breaking News

2011-05-11T20:12:00.000-07:00

Team reunited. Film at 11 ... or maybe not because this newscaster's hittin' the hay.

9-1-1

2011-05-11T10:54:00.000-07:00

So, yesterday, this year's baseball team arrived for Spring training. Yep. There were 9 as usual. They passed the day doing aquatic calisthenics, but this morning, when the goatmother came out to the barn, only one, lone, adult Mallard graced the banks of McQuackie Field. No doubt this was the assistant coach, so the goatmother proceeded to look all around, but the team was nowhere to be found. Hmmm. Sleeping in, I guess.

The goatmother went on to more important matters, like handing out Peanuts, when all of a sudden the Mighty Quinn broke loose with a round of 'there-is-definitely-something-there-and-you-better-get-the-hay-over-here-and-look' kind of barking. The goatmother dropped her bucket and ran halfway down the pasture to where the Mighty Quinn and Cabra were. Lo and behold, Coach Mom was on the other side of the fence with the team. What they were doing so far away from McQuackie Field is anyone's guess, but the goatmother ushered the Mighty Quinn and the Cabrarator back up to the house. Then she went back to open the gate so the coach would have a clear path to the field.

As the goatmother approached the fence, she thought she saw something move. She did a double take, and focused her peepers to where she thought she'd seen the movement. Ayiiiiiiiiiii!!!!!!

Squad 51, this is Rampart! Informant reports youngster caught in fence. Please respond!

Rampart, this is Squad 51. Jaws-of-Life required to free victim. A short delay in communication while we make a run to the barn. (Oy. The goatmother running again. Will wonders never cease?)

Rampart, we have the Jaws-of-Life and are proceeding with caution ... Rampart, we have freed victim, but Coach and rest of team nowhere to be found. Please advise.

Squad 51, I see no recourse but to return victim to McQuackie Field.

Rampart, victim returned, but is running about helter-skelter and peeping wildly.

Squad 51, return to doling out Peanuts. Please.

By the time the goatmother finished in the barn, the wild peeping had ceased and the victim was seen on the banks of McQuackie Field with the Coach and the assistant Coach. How they plan to reunite the team remains a strategical mystery.

"I'm a rescue man.
I've trained to be a rescue man.
I like being a rescue man!" - John Gage, paramedic, 'Emergency'.

The Cause

2011-05-05T12:01:00.000-07:00

You know, since my last post I've been thinking. After all, it is what I do best. Anyway, I have been considering the plight of the egg. You may recall that the recipe the goatmother recently made called for 'beaten' eggs, so I started perusing recipes and found that indeed, this sort of occurrence is of an epic nature. I might go so far as to say it has reached epidemic proportions. Recipes all over the world are calling for eggs to be 'lightly' beaten, 'slightly' beaten, 'well' beaten and even 'stiffly' beaten. And this kind of behavior has been going on for centuries. Why has no one ever noticed? Oy.

As a result, I have decided to establish an organization which will endeavor to bring to light this travesty. The name of this organization shall heretofore be known as Goats Opposing the Abominable Treatment of Exemplary Eggs, otherwise known as G.O.A.T.E.E. We shall ask that eggs be treated in a more ethical manner such as 'gently folding'. Water boarding shall be absolutely prohibited. Eggs don't know anything worthwhile anyway.

I know. We all have to eat, you say. Ah, yes. But do we not have a responsibility to do that in the most inoffensive way possible? I mean I try to be as gentle as possible when it comes to getting The Holiest of Holies, The Blessed Peanut, down the old hatch where it belongs. So please. I beg you. Join me. Go forth armed with knowledge. Spread the word. The humble cackleberry deserves our devotion to cause. "However much I may sympathise with and admire worthy motives, I am an uncompromising opponent of violent methods even to serve the noblest of causes." - Mahatma Gandhi

The Cheesy Cheesecake Trick

2011-05-03T10:44:00.000-07:00

I have always heard that you ought to be careful what you ask for. Well, I know, now, that this bit of advice is indeed true. In fact, it has become my new mantra. You may recall that I was a bit miffed in my last post, since the goatmother had neglected to offer me even a taste of the delectable chocolaty, Peanutty goodness that she made in her crock pot. Okay. I admit it. I complained rather vociferously. Maybe even loudly. Perhaps a bit ad nauseum. All right, obnoxious. I was obnoxious. Still, in my defense, it did involve Peanuts and the goatmother simply should have known. I mean it isn't like there's any question as to whether or not I like them. In fact, when it comes to the goodiferousness of the groundnut, there's just no sense in hiding any lights under any bushels, now is there?

So it happened that the goatmother decided to make yet another dessert in her crock pot. And, since I chose to bemoan my plight so laudably the last time, she decided to give me a taste. I was delighted. My efforts had paid off - the squeaky wheel and all that! You go, Marigold! So when I saw the goatmother coming toward the fence, baggie in hand, I was there first. No WAY was Ella getting MY bite after I had worked so hard to get it here in the first place. Imagine my complete disillusionment when the proffered bit met my mouth and didn't taste anything like a Peanut. It would seem that the goatmother had decided, this time, to make a Crustless Lemony Cheesecake. The first bite was already there and down the hatch faster than a speeding Peanut, but I can tell you that not another bite crossed my lips. Nor the lips of anyone else, for that matter. I mean NOBODY wanted to eat that stuff - not even Boo.

Oy. I learned my lesson. 'Thou shalt not be indiscriminate in thy complaints.'

I don't think the goatmother ever understood. "What is wrong, Marigold?" It's a taste. You wanted a taste. And besides, this one might actually be okay for your figure - unlike that last one."

Anyway, out of pity, and because she did at least pay attention this time, I'll post the recipe here for you. Maybe you'll like it. Who knows?

Crustless Lemony Cheesecake

Makes: 8 servings (a hapless dream)
Slow Cook: 2 hours 15 minutes to 2 hours 45 minutes on High (Since you cleaned the barn last time, this time maybe take the goats on a walk-about. Or, if you are mad at Ella, take a nap.)

Ingredients:

Non-stick cooking spray

12 ounces cream cheese softened (You can use the fattening stuff, but the goatmother used the reduced fat. She says she is going to try 'fat-free' next time. I am not sure if she means herself or the cream cheese, but from the looks of things, probably the cream cheese.)
1/2 C. sugar (The goatmother used 1/2 and 1/2 sugar and Splenda.)
2 Tbsp. lemon juice (Okay. Now I understand where the 'pucker' came from. Oy.)
1 Tbsp. all-purpose flour (Of course you do this on purpose. It says to. Go figure.)
1/2 tsp. vanilla
1/2 C. sour cream
3 eggs lightly beaten (Why would you want to beat up an egg? This seems inhumane to me, but what do I know. I'm just a goat.)
2 tsp. finely shredded lemon peel
1 C. warm water

Fresh raspberries (optional)
Fresh mint (optional) ('Optional' this and 'optional' that. What's wrong with Peanuts on top? Then they wouldn't need to say 'optional'.)

Directions:

1. Lightly coat a 1-quart souffle dish or casserole with cooking spray. (Okay, did you actually think the goatmother is sophisticated enough to own a souffle dish? She found a crockery bowl in her cupboard that would fit inside her crock pot and still hold 1 quart.) Tear off an 18 x 12 inch piece of heavy-duty foil; cut in half lengthwise. Fold each piece lengthwise into thirds. Crisscross the foil strips and place the dish in the center of the crisscross; set aside. (I know this sounds like Boo wrote it, but trust me. All will be revealed.)

2. For filling, in a large bowl, combine cream cheese, sugar, lemon juice, flour and vanilla. Beat with an electric mixer on medium speed until well mixed. Beat in sour cream until smooth. Add eggs (no doubt crying for mercy by now), beating on low speed just until combined. Stir in lemon peel.

3. Pour mixture into the prepared souffle dish (Or, if you are not so couth, the prepared bowl); cover tightly with foil. Pour the warm water into a 3 1/2 to 5 quart slow cooker. Bringing up the foil strips, lift the ends of the strips to transfer the dish to the cooker. (No matter how you try, you need four hands for this. I can't help you. I don't have any hands. You'll have to call the goatfather to help you.) Leave foil strips under dish.

4. Cover and cook on high-heat setting for 2 hours, 15 minutes to 2 hours, 45 minutes, or until the center is set. (Or maybe you could bring a portable DVD player to the barn so the goats could watch 'The Men Who Stare At Goats'.)

5. Carefully lift with foil strips to remove dish (Oh, goooat-faaaather .... ); discard foil strips. Cool completely on a wire rack. Cover and chill for 4 to 24 hours. (Okay, I could wait this long, but I don't think just anyone could. Twenty-four seems like an awful long time to wait.) To serve, spoon cheesecake into dessert dishes (or a baggie if you are offering it to your goats. Or, if you have to call the dogs to eat it because the goats refused. Dogs will eat just about anything.) If desired, garnish with raspberries - (or PEANUTS.)

Nutrition Facts -

Servings Per Recipe - 8 (not in this household); Calories - 253 (Okay, it is much lower if you use the lower fat or non-fat cream cheese, and the 1/2 and 1/2 sugar and Splenda. Hey, you could even use 'Egg Beaters'. That way somebody else has already beaten up those poor little buggers and you didn't even have to get involved.); Total Fat - (g) 19 (See previous comment.); Saturated Fat - (g) 11 (Ditto); Cholesterol - (mg) 131 (Previously Pummeled eggs from the store contain less cholesterol. They have had the 'cholestecrap' beaten out of them.); Sodium - (mg) 159; Carbohydrate - (g) 15 ; Protein - (g) 6; Percent Daily Values are based on a 2,000 calorie diet (which we have previously established absolutely NO ONE has.)

So there you have it. I hope you enjoy it more than I did. "Enjoy when you can, and endure when you must." - Johann Wolfgang von Goethe.

The Peanut Recipe

2011-04-27T16:01:00.000-07:00

So, we were reading Mainly Ewes blog recently, and Kelly had posted a recipe for Pork Butt with Chipotles and Dr. Pepper. Now, I don't eat meat, but I have to admit that it did look kind of good - in a carnivorous sort of way. Anyway, after that, the goatmother found a recipe for Triple Chocolate Peanut Butter Pudding Cake on the Better Homes and Gardens site that you actually cook in a Crock Pot. ( I think Kelly must've gotten her hungry. Not that she really needs anyone to get her hungry. She seems to do well enough on her own.) Anyway, if it has anything to do with Peanuts it just has to be good, now doesn't it? So, the goatmother tried it and said it turned out rather well. I am a little miffed that she didn't even offer me a taste, but I guess I'll post the recipe here in case you want to try it for yourself and perhaps send me a bite.

Triple Chocolate Peanut Butter Pudding Cake

Makes 8 servings (unless you are an Alpine or a large Nubian, in which case it would be 1.)
Prep: 20 minutes ( Do not stop and sample the Peanuts or it will take longer.)
Cool: 30 minutes (If you can wait that long.)
Slow Cook: 2 to 2 hours 30 minutes on high.

Ingredients:
Non stick cooking spray

1 C. All-purpose flour
1/3 C. Sugar
2 Tbsp. Unsweetened cocoa powder
1 1/2 tsp. Baking powder
1/2 C. Chocolate milk or regular milk (Or, hay! What about goat milk?)
2 Tbsp. Vegetable oil
2 tsp. Vanilla
1/2 C. Peanut butter flavored pieces (Why, oh why, wasn't I offered any?)
1/2 C. Semisweet chocolate pieces
1/2 C. Chopped Peanuts (Oh, yeah!!!! No skimping, please!!!!!)
3/4 C. Sugar
2 Tbsp. Unsweetened cocoa powder
1 1/2 C. Boiling water

Vanilla ice cream (optional - but good - and not fattening at all. Nope.)
Chocolate bar pieces (optional - but even better than good and most assuredly NOT fattening.)

Directions:
1. Lightly coat the inside of a 3 1/2 or 4 qt. slow cooker with cooking spray; set aside.

2. In a medium bowl, stir together flour, 1/3 C. sugar, 2 Tbsp. cocoa powder, and baking powder. Add chocolate milk, oil, and vanilla; stir just until moistened. Stir in Peanut butter pieces, chocolate pieces, and Peanuts. Spread batter evenly in the prepared cooker.

3. In another medium bowl, combine 3/4 C. sugar and 2 Tbsp. cocoa powder. Gradually stir in boiling water. Carefully pour cocoa mixture over batter in cooker.

4. Cover and cook on high heat setting for 2 to 2 1/2 hours or until a toothpick inserted into the center of the cake comes out clean. (See? Now you've got time to clean up after the goats - or maybe even clean the barn.)

5. Remove liner from cooker, if possible, or turn off cooker. (I sure hope you washed your hands after cleaning the barn.) Let stand, uncovered, for 30 to 40 minutes to cool slightly. (See? More time. Go give the goats a few of those left over Peanuts.) To serve, spoon pudding cake into dessert dishes. If desired, top with ice cream and chocolate bar pieces. (What do you mean 'if desired'? Of course it is desired. Better they should put 'if one can manage restraint'. Oy.)

Nutrition facts:
Servings Per Recipe: 8 servings (or see top of recipe), Calories: 372 (Yeah, right. With all those chocolate pieces and that extra scoop of vanilla ice cream? Who are they trying to kid?), Total Fat: (g) 15 (You wish.), Saturated Fat: (g)6, Monounsaturated Fat: (g)7, Polyunsaturated Fat: (g) 3, Cholesterol: (mg) 3, Sodium: (mg) 125, Carbohydrate: (g) 52, Total Sugar: (g) 3, Protein: (g) 5, Calcium: (DV%) 7, Percent Daily Values are based on a 2,000 calorie diet (but who has one of those?).

*Note: Because the goatfather is diabetic and because the goatmother is fat, she used 1/2 and 1/2 measurements of Splenda and sugar wherever sugar was called for. It still turned out well and nobody felt as guilty about it - except the goatmother SHOULD have, since she neglected to offer me any.

"There is no delight in owning anything unshared." - Seneca, Roman Philosopher (not a Native-American or the former Seahawk.) Take that, put it in your pudding and eat it, goatmother!

The Bunny In The Barn

2011-04-21T18:28:00.000-07:00

Right-O! Marigold Holmes here! It has been a looooong time since we've had any kind of a mystery around here. Unless you count why Boo stays so fat. But anyway, on to the tale. Or is it tail?

Well, yesterday evening, the goatmother came out to do her usual nightly chores. Call it the P.M. maid service, if you will. She clomped through the barn in her trusty clod-hopper muck boots, grabbed the shovel and bucket on her way through, and proceeded to our side to clean up. Now this whole process is never quiet and calm. That's just the way it is. For one, the goatmother usually feels the need to sing. Believe me. I don't know why. I tried asking for ear muffs once, but it didn't seem to go over. Anyway, then the goatmother proceeds to bump around the barn singing at the top of her lungs, banging the bucket, and loudly unsnapping hooks off the hay racks. (These are necessary because without them, Ella pulls all the hay out onto the floor. What a wastey-goat. Oy.) Then, of course, Peanut always manages to find it necessary to bounce about trying to butt Watson into the walls. He is kind of the 'Tigger' of the goat world - all bouncy, trouncy, flouncy, pouncy. And 'butty'. Don't forget 'butty'.

But back to the tale. With all this hullabaloo, you can imagine everyone's total surprise when the goatmother, heading back toward the Inner Sanctum, glanced over in the boys' side of the barn and saw this:

'So what's the mystery, Marigold? It's just a rabbit.'

Ah, but this was not just any rabbit, for you see, the goatmother owns at least one natural history type book that states there are no rabbits on the Olympic Peninsula - only Snowshoe hares. Does this look like a hare to you? I didn't think so. As a matter of fact, the goatmother and goatfather have never, in the time they have lived here, EVER seen a rabbit of any kind. Well, it looks to me like someone needs to reassess their facts.

So the little rabbit just sat there looking at everyone and munching hay. The goatmother ran (Can you believe this? She ran.) to the house to get the camera. Amazingly the bunny stayed there. The goatmother would have gotten a picture of the whole bunny, but we were all so excited about the fact that the goatmother actually ran, that we simply could not contain ourselves. Peanut started dancing about on two legs due to sheer amazement that the goatmother actually could run. Anyway, with all the commotion, the bunny ran behind the stump and then literally disappeared. Poof. We tried to figure out where he had gone, but he just vanished. Very strange that.

So herein lies the mystery. Where did the bunny come from? Where did the bunny go? Are there more bunnies? I mean, with bunnies, if there's one, there's usually like a hundred. Are we to be overrun as we lie in innocent slumber? Why was the bunny unafraid? Has he lain for months under the barn listening to the routine comings and goings of the goatmother overhead, and simply assumed she was just another noisy old goat?

In the end, it occurred to me that possibly the mystery is really no mystery at all. After all, this Sunday is Easter. Doesn't the Easter bunny bring Peanuts to all good little goats on Easter? Perhaps he is just a tad early. After all, doesn't he have a lot of places to visit? An early start is always advisable. Hmmm ...

What ho!, Dear Watson! I believe I am onto something here. "How often have I said to you that when you have eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth?" - Sherlock Holmes.

Here comes Peter Cotton Tail, Hoppin' down the bunny trail, Hippity-Hoppity Peanuts on their way!"

Upheaval

2011-04-19T15:43:00.000-07:00

You are not going to believe this, but this morning the sun was out. In light of the light (Ha! I kill me!), the goatmother decided it was a good time to get the strawberries all set for summer. This is a good thing, mind you, because I happen to like strawberries. Not as much as Peanuts, but still .... Anyway, I was all for it. Besides, I didn't have to do any of the work, so what's not to like?

So the goatmother started out trimming away dead plant stuff from last year. You see, she has the garden surrounded by cement blocks, and the strawberries are planted in each of the holes in the blocks. With the size of the garden, there are over 100 strawberry plants. Now the soil tends to settle in the blocks and each year the goatmother has to add more soil. Well, it took her until lunchtime to get all the dead stuff trimmed away, and by then it was cloudy again. Oh, well, we knew it couldn't last, didn't we? After all, according to the comments on my last post, we were only borrowing the sun from New Zealand and Norway anyway. I mean I feel privileged to have gotten to see it at all.

But I digress. (That sure seems to have become a habit with me. Okay. Don't say anything. I'm a goat who can recognize her faults - what few there are.) Anyway, by the time the goatmother finished lunch, it had started to rain. Again. Or is it still? I don't know, but dummy that she is, the goatmother decided she just HAD to get those strawberries finished today. Out she went into the downpour to finish putting soil (only I think by now it was mud) into the strawberry holes.

I was watching from the barn, INSIDE the barn, and everything seemed to be going along pretty well. Then all of a sudden I saw the goatmother stop dead in her tracks, jump back and say, "What the ........???!"

Well, you see, it was like this. The soil had gone down quite a bit and the strawberries had rather long necks on them. So the goatmother would hold up the plant and stuff soil around the edges and underneath. At one point she stuffed the back, the sides, and the front. When she finished with the front, the green plant started looking as though it were about to heave up its lunch. (Do plants eat lunch?) The more the goatmother stuffed, the more the green thing heaved back. Turns out there was a rather large, green frog under there who took great umbrage at being buried before his time. Since he was exactly the same color as the emerging strawberry plant, the goatmother was having visions of 'The Little Shop of Horrors'. (She's kind of near-sighted too.) The more she stuffed, the more that poor frog tried to get out.

Eventually the frog prevailed, but I can tell you he came away with a story to tell his grandchildren. I guess it was an honest mistake, but on the other hand, perhaps the goatmother ought to be more careful. Oh, well, obviously she doesn't have enough sense to come in out of the rain anyway.

"Life isn't about waiting for the storm to pass; it's about getting out there and dancing in the rain." - author unknown.

Indecision

2011-04-17T19:03:00.000-07:00

The sun came out today. It has been so long. I think it forgot how and hurt itself , because then it went back in. And then it came out again. Oy. If you were that big, wouldn't you think you could make up your mind? Will the sun shine, or will it be cloudy and rain? Unlike the sun, I prefer to think positively. We WILL have sunshine! I am an optimist if nothing else. How else could I make it through the day? " The optimist lives on the peninsula of infinite possibilities; the pessimist is stranded on the island of perpetual indecision. " - William Arthur Ward. I think William must have been from the Pacific Northwest.

Goat Years

2011-04-12T13:54:00.000-07:00

You've probably all been wondering. You've probably been sitting there at the table having breakfast and suddenly said to yourself, 'What the hay has happened to Marigold?' Well, it's like this. I've been standing around waiting for the rain to end. However, the rain hasn't seen fit to give a flip. As a matter of fact, the pond has stayed so full this winter, the goatmother's plants, which used to be way up on the bank, are now officially part of the pond. Since the ducks consider the pond to be theirs, open season has been declared on goatmother plants. The goatmother has naturally found it necessary to have a word or two with the ducks, and the ducks, naturally, haven't bothered to listen. As a result, the goatmother's plants are now surrounded by anchored wire. Oh, well. You know what they say: 'Good fences make good neighbors.'

Anyway, with all this standing about, I've had a lot of time to think and I've come to a realization. I'm old. No, really. I am. I'm 6 years old. God Love A Cow! That's 42 in dog years! I can practically hear my joints creaking every time I get up on my stump. Why before long, I may not even be able to get up on my stump. Now that's depressing.

Come to think of it, why is nothing ever expressed in goat years? I mean we have all these sayings being bandied about like ,'You're how old? Holy Goat Berries! That's like dead in dog years.'; or how about that one where they say something like, 'Hello, Joe. Why, I haven't seen you in a coon's age!'; or, 'Yeah, old Edna's been around for donkey's years.' I mean, like how long is 'donkey's years'? I don't know, but their ears are pretty long.

At any rate, I hope it stops raining before I get too gray and my teeth fall out. I just hate soggy Peanuts. Still, I suppose there is always an up side to things. At least that way they're easier to gum.

"How old would you be, if you didn't know how old you was?" - Satchel Paige.

Peanut butter, anyone?