Wednesday Words of Wisdom

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

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

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

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

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

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.