Goat grief! It has been simply ages since I wrote a Wednesday Words of Wisdom. I guess I got sidetracked with my foray into authorism? Authorship? Oh, hay, when I was writing stories. Anyway, you might remember waaaay back when I regaled you with a few sage recommendations bearing a bit of Marigoldish spin? In case you forgot, you can refresh your memory here. So I thought since I got side tracked, I might pretend that I didn't and get right back into the swing of things.
Now then, Sage Recommendations:
No.6 - Stop being scared to make a mistake. – Doing something and getting it wrong is at least ten times more productive than doing nothing. Every success has a trail of failures behind it, and every failure is leading towards success. You end up regretting the things you did NOT do far more than the things you did. This is very sage advice. If I ever made mistakes I would certainly pay attention to this. I look at it this way. Suppose I try to get a Peanut and I am not quite fast enough (which, of course, is purely hypothetical) and Ella gets there before me. It is far more productive if I just keep trying (even if it does take me ten times) to get that Peanut because the Law of Averages says that sooner or later I will succeed. Well the Law of Averages and the Law of Pickysnitedness. The Law of Pickysnitedness says that sooner or later Ella is going to turn up her nose and not take it at all, in which case the next Peanut offered will be mine because I am definitely faster than Boo. And trust me, if I did NOT get the next Peanut, I would definitely regret it.
No. 7 - Stop berating yourself for old mistakes. – We may love the wrong person and cry about the wrong things, but no matter how things go wrong, one thing is for sure, mistakes help us find the person and things that are right for us. We all make mistakes, have struggles, and even regret things in our past. But you are not your mistakes, you are not your struggles, and you are here NOW with the power to shape your day and your future. Every single thing that has ever happened in your life is preparing you for a moment that is yet to come. The first part of this is likely true, although the second part sounds kind of like a Nubian wrote it. Anyway, I think this definitely goes back to No. 6 and that whole missed Peanut thing. You see, if one were to miss getting that Peanut, one might be inclined to step back and begin berating oneself, uttering things like 'God love a duck! Why did you not get that Peanut? Are you totally inept or what? Oy. '; at which time some other enterprising soul would slip in and grab that next Peanut from right under your nose. Now true, we all make mistakes. We all have struggles, but if I didn't then snap out of it, step right in there and T-bone that usurper, what kind of a goat would I be? I Do have the power to shape my future and, let me tell you, that future involves that next Peanut! At the very moment someone else tries to step in there and take that Peanut, everything that has happened in my life up to that moment has indeed prepared me to knock the stuffing right out of that idiot. Yeah! No. 7! Ooh - RAH!
No. 8 - Stop trying to buy happiness. – Many of the things we desire are expensive. But the truth is, the things that really satisfy us are totally free – love, laughter and working on our passions. Okay. I can say, in all honesty, that I feel this is only partially true. Love and laughter are nice, yes. And they are technically free, I suppose. But the REAL truth is that if I were to work on MY passions, and the things that really satisfy me, they would involve No. 1, Peanuts (are you surprised?), and No. 2, alfalfa, neither of which is free. I can't say that I am trying to buy happiness. More it is a matter of me trying to convince the Goatmother to buy happiness for me. Because, let's face it, if you saw a goat walking into Costco, what do you think would happen? I rest my case. It is more than a little likely no goat would even make it past that happy card checker. Anyway, if the Goatmother is happy about making me happy, then we are all happy. Yes?
No. 9 - Stop exclusively looking to others for happiness. – If you’re not happy with who you are on the inside, you won’t be happy in a long-term relationship with anyone else either. You have to create stability in your own life first before you can share it with someone else. This does not include expecting the Goatmother to go to Costco. It just doesn't. And really, I am quite happy with who I am, which is why the Goatmother and I get along so well. I'm stable (evidenced by the fact I never fall off my stump), and the Goatmother is stable. Well, maybe not that last part. The Goatmother is pretty much a klutz. Still, look at Ella. She's about as unstable as they come. I mean anyone who is subject to as many picky snits as that goat, simply can not be said to have a stable personality. Which is obviously why Ella is such a pig. See. It says right up there: You have to be stable before you can share with anyone.
No. 10 - Stop being idle. – Don’t think too much or you’ll create a problem that wasn’t even there in the first place. Evaluate situations and take decisive action. You cannot change what you refuse to confront. Making progress involves risk. Period! You can’t make it to second base with your foot on first. Oy. Don't think too much? Don't think too much? What are they saying? Of course one has to think. What else are stumps for? How else will the world's problems be solved? How is one to gain any wisdom, I ask you? Besides, how can you be idle if you are thinking? That isn't possible is it? Plus, remember when Michelangelo said that the sculpture was already there in the stone and he merely uncovered it? In my experience, that's the way it is with problems. You see, they already exist and it is our job to uncover them - mostly so they don't get lost because problems are woefully stupid on their own. Problems need us. At any rate, it is simply not true that we create them , as I have just pointed out. I will say, however, that one should evaluate and take action. Of course that brings us back to that whole Peanut thing again. I do realize that I simply can NOT change Ella, which is why I refuse to confront her. I'm not brainless, after all. Besides, shes a whole lot bigger than me. Yep. Ella = risk. No doubt about that one. But the ideal situation, here, would be to simply not meet Ella head on. No the ideal situation would be to have the Goatmother throw that Peanut into the outfield. The bases are loaded - Boo on first, Watson on second, Peanut on third. The Goatmother winds up and throws the pitch. Ella runs for it. She misses! There is a mad scramble around the field. Watson and Peanut make it in. Boo wanders off into the outfield. Marigold slides into home!!! The crowd goes wild!!!!!! Okay, well maybe a little thinking goes a long way. But no one can say I'm idle.
Life goes on amidst change. Finding the laughter one day at a time...
Wednesday, February 29, 2012
Saturday, February 25, 2012
The Princess and the Peanut (Part II)
Hello! Have you wasted away waiting for me to return to my story? Fallen off of anything? Lost any breath? How about sleep? Well, never mind, hopefully you haven't broken anything and now I can spare you the expensive doctor bill.
You may recall that an unknown fair damsel had just crashed the party and the crowd had parted like the Red Sea as Prince Watsworth, the Faint approached to ask for a dance. Upon reaching the ravishing creature, the Prince bowed and looked adoringly into her eyes. "May I have this dance, my fair lady?", he asked. With that, the beguiling mystery woman curtsied and replied, "Butt of course, your UnGrace." All eyes followed the couple as they glided and jilted across the floor. The grace of the one and the stiff-leggedness of the other seemed to work some kind of magic, complementing their every move. What one lacked, the other made up for, and vice versa. Every female goat in the room was sick with envy, while every male goat fairly oozed jealousy.
As they danced on into the night, Prince Watsworth asked, "Who are you? What is your name? Are you a princess?" With every question the lovely goat would simply smile. "Can you speak at all?", the frustrated Prince finally blurted. "Do not toy with me, for I cannot even spell Mattel - or even Hasbro." "Ah, but it is for me to know and for you to find out, my Prince", she finally replied. Prince Watsworth, the Faint nearly lived up to his name as the sound of her melodious voice at last fell upon his ears. It was like the clear and dulcet tinkle of bells, merrily bouncing through the air. Surely here was a true princess.
As suddenly as the strange but alluring goat had appeared, the clock in the castle tower struck midnight. Her exquisite head turned toward the sound and, without a word, she fled the hall. Prince Watsworth tried to run after her, but, of course, he froze (at least he didn't go completely bum-over-coffeepot. This time.) All he could do was look forlornly after as she disappeared into the night, all his hopes and dreams melting into the darkness along with her.
In the days that followed, Watsworth and the King and Queen set about looking for the mysterious interloper. No one seemed to know her name or where she had come from. Perhaps she was not a true princess after all. Watsworth was heart broken. Then one night there came a great storm. It rained so hard that even the herd of royal ducks refused to go out. And that was a problem since they all kept quacking and waddling and tripping everyone. Unexpectedly there came a loud knock at the door. The King went to answer it, for he was a good servant of the people and didn't mind doing things like answering doors or cooking. Why he was so good, he never even thought about boring people with those ridiculous state-of-the-onion speeches. He opened the door and, to his surprise, there stood the very object of their exhausting search. He welcomed her into the castle and, as she stood dripping all over the floor, Watsworth ran to her exclaiming with rapturous joy. "You are here! You are found! I am beside myself! Although, come to think of it, I can't be beside myself when I am right here, can I? But no matter! You are found!" The beautiful black and white goat, with the lovely tan accents on her feet and legs, looked at Watsworth and replied, "Was I lost? I didn't realize."
Now, the Queen, never one to accept things at face value, stood taking in the scene. She loved Watsworth dearly, but was this a real princess? Perhaps she was merely a knock-off like one of those Louis Vuitton handbags sold by dodgy men on street corners. So the Queen devised a plan in her head, and strode forward offering to let the damsel spend the night. "First, my dear, however, we simply must know your name. For if we do not know, how are we to call you to dinner?" The would-be princess bowed her head and shyly replied, "I am called Maribella." Watsworth nearly fainted. Again. Such a beautiful name to go with such a beautiful goat. Beautiful, beautiful, beautiful! (So much for eloquence).
So the plan the Queen had devised was this. She had offered Maribella a bed for the night. In reality, the bed she had offered would be twenty forkfuls of hay laying atop twenty bales of alfalfa. Beneath the alfalfa, the Queen would place one Peanut. ( I bet you were beginning to wonder if the Peanut was ever going to make it into this story, now weren't you?) This would accomplish several things. First of all, if Maribella was a true princess, she would be unable to sleep through the night. Why? Because a true princess would have such a delicate countenance, she would be bothered by even as small a lump as a Peanut lying under all that roughage. Secondly, no true princess would dare be so crude as to touch even one morsel of alfalfa. For a true princess would know alfalfa is like gold and costs just as much. And thirdly, a true princess would be able to smell a Peanut, even one buried under forty layers of cushioning. A true princess is like a bloodhound - with less wrinkles and better ears.
Anyway, the stage was set. Maribella retired after her evening repast. The next morning she arose and went downstairs. "It was so very kind of you to offer me lodging," said Maribella, "but I just didn't sleep a wink last night." "Really?", queried the King and Queen. "What do you believe was the problem?" "Well, I really hate to seem ungrateful", replied Maribella, "but it felt like there was something hard in the bed, and I am afraid I am quite bruised. Plus it was awfully difficult not to sample your lovely alfalfa, and I kept imagining I smelled Peanuts all night." With that, Watsworth jumped up, fainted, jumped up again, and then ran stiff-leggedly to Maribella. Only a true princess could have passed such an arduous test! There was much rejoicing by the entire kingdom and the two were married. The Peanut (what was left of it) was placed in the Royal Museum for all inhabitants of the land to see and drool over. And the alfalfa was distributed far and wide. No matter how many forkfuls were given out, there somehow always managed to be more available. Free. After all, this is a fairy tale.
You may recall that an unknown fair damsel had just crashed the party and the crowd had parted like the Red Sea as Prince Watsworth, the Faint approached to ask for a dance. Upon reaching the ravishing creature, the Prince bowed and looked adoringly into her eyes. "May I have this dance, my fair lady?", he asked. With that, the beguiling mystery woman curtsied and replied, "Butt of course, your UnGrace." All eyes followed the couple as they glided and jilted across the floor. The grace of the one and the stiff-leggedness of the other seemed to work some kind of magic, complementing their every move. What one lacked, the other made up for, and vice versa. Every female goat in the room was sick with envy, while every male goat fairly oozed jealousy.
As they danced on into the night, Prince Watsworth asked, "Who are you? What is your name? Are you a princess?" With every question the lovely goat would simply smile. "Can you speak at all?", the frustrated Prince finally blurted. "Do not toy with me, for I cannot even spell Mattel - or even Hasbro." "Ah, but it is for me to know and for you to find out, my Prince", she finally replied. Prince Watsworth, the Faint nearly lived up to his name as the sound of her melodious voice at last fell upon his ears. It was like the clear and dulcet tinkle of bells, merrily bouncing through the air. Surely here was a true princess.
As suddenly as the strange but alluring goat had appeared, the clock in the castle tower struck midnight. Her exquisite head turned toward the sound and, without a word, she fled the hall. Prince Watsworth tried to run after her, but, of course, he froze (at least he didn't go completely bum-over-coffeepot. This time.) All he could do was look forlornly after as she disappeared into the night, all his hopes and dreams melting into the darkness along with her.
In the days that followed, Watsworth and the King and Queen set about looking for the mysterious interloper. No one seemed to know her name or where she had come from. Perhaps she was not a true princess after all. Watsworth was heart broken. Then one night there came a great storm. It rained so hard that even the herd of royal ducks refused to go out. And that was a problem since they all kept quacking and waddling and tripping everyone. Unexpectedly there came a loud knock at the door. The King went to answer it, for he was a good servant of the people and didn't mind doing things like answering doors or cooking. Why he was so good, he never even thought about boring people with those ridiculous state-of-the-onion speeches. He opened the door and, to his surprise, there stood the very object of their exhausting search. He welcomed her into the castle and, as she stood dripping all over the floor, Watsworth ran to her exclaiming with rapturous joy. "You are here! You are found! I am beside myself! Although, come to think of it, I can't be beside myself when I am right here, can I? But no matter! You are found!" The beautiful black and white goat, with the lovely tan accents on her feet and legs, looked at Watsworth and replied, "Was I lost? I didn't realize."
Now, the Queen, never one to accept things at face value, stood taking in the scene. She loved Watsworth dearly, but was this a real princess? Perhaps she was merely a knock-off like one of those Louis Vuitton handbags sold by dodgy men on street corners. So the Queen devised a plan in her head, and strode forward offering to let the damsel spend the night. "First, my dear, however, we simply must know your name. For if we do not know, how are we to call you to dinner?" The would-be princess bowed her head and shyly replied, "I am called Maribella." Watsworth nearly fainted. Again. Such a beautiful name to go with such a beautiful goat. Beautiful, beautiful, beautiful! (So much for eloquence).
So the plan the Queen had devised was this. She had offered Maribella a bed for the night. In reality, the bed she had offered would be twenty forkfuls of hay laying atop twenty bales of alfalfa. Beneath the alfalfa, the Queen would place one Peanut. ( I bet you were beginning to wonder if the Peanut was ever going to make it into this story, now weren't you?) This would accomplish several things. First of all, if Maribella was a true princess, she would be unable to sleep through the night. Why? Because a true princess would have such a delicate countenance, she would be bothered by even as small a lump as a Peanut lying under all that roughage. Secondly, no true princess would dare be so crude as to touch even one morsel of alfalfa. For a true princess would know alfalfa is like gold and costs just as much. And thirdly, a true princess would be able to smell a Peanut, even one buried under forty layers of cushioning. A true princess is like a bloodhound - with less wrinkles and better ears.
Anyway, the stage was set. Maribella retired after her evening repast. The next morning she arose and went downstairs. "It was so very kind of you to offer me lodging," said Maribella, "but I just didn't sleep a wink last night." "Really?", queried the King and Queen. "What do you believe was the problem?" "Well, I really hate to seem ungrateful", replied Maribella, "but it felt like there was something hard in the bed, and I am afraid I am quite bruised. Plus it was awfully difficult not to sample your lovely alfalfa, and I kept imagining I smelled Peanuts all night." With that, Watsworth jumped up, fainted, jumped up again, and then ran stiff-leggedly to Maribella. Only a true princess could have passed such an arduous test! There was much rejoicing by the entire kingdom and the two were married. The Peanut (what was left of it) was placed in the Royal Museum for all inhabitants of the land to see and drool over. And the alfalfa was distributed far and wide. No matter how many forkfuls were given out, there somehow always managed to be more available. Free. After all, this is a fairy tale.
Friday, February 24, 2012
Au Revoir, Cheerfulness
Okay, not really. However, this is our last chance to hook up with Planet Penny, here, to share our Reasons To Be Cheerful. So, then, on to our cheerfulness for this week!
This fellow has been doing his best since the latter part of November to help us be cheerful throughout the winter!
The Goatmother and Goatfather just took a day trip to Coupeville on Whidbey Island. What's not cheery about that, except for perhaps the fact that I didn't get to go? :(
Then, of course, there is this guy with the whimsical look on his face. I often look that same way when I have Peanuts all over my bea... uh, er, mouth.
And last, but certainly not least by any stretch of the imagination. This is THE most cheerful reason of the week!
The new camera just arrived. The Goatmother has been agonizing simply forever over which one to buy. Mind you none of the above pictures were taken with it. After all, this is going to require a bit of a learning period. Perhaps two periods. However, it will all come together in due time, so you are just going to have to wait a bit ... just like you are waiting for the end of The Princess and the Peanut. Although, that actually is going to show up sooner than the pictures.
So, get thee on over to Planet Penny and see why others are cheerful! And don't forget to check back for the long awaited conclusion of The Princess and the Peanut!
This fellow has been doing his best since the latter part of November to help us be cheerful throughout the winter!
The Goatmother and Goatfather just took a day trip to Coupeville on Whidbey Island. What's not cheery about that, except for perhaps the fact that I didn't get to go? :(
Then, of course, there is this guy with the whimsical look on his face. I often look that same way when I have Peanuts all over my bea... uh, er, mouth.
And last, but certainly not least by any stretch of the imagination. This is THE most cheerful reason of the week!
The new camera just arrived. The Goatmother has been agonizing simply forever over which one to buy. Mind you none of the above pictures were taken with it. After all, this is going to require a bit of a learning period. Perhaps two periods. However, it will all come together in due time, so you are just going to have to wait a bit ... just like you are waiting for the end of The Princess and the Peanut. Although, that actually is going to show up sooner than the pictures.
So, get thee on over to Planet Penny and see why others are cheerful! And don't forget to check back for the long awaited conclusion of The Princess and the Peanut!
Monday, February 20, 2012
The Princess and the Peanut
In a rainy land, not so very far away and perhaps more familiar than anyone would like to admit, there lived a goatly prince named Watsworth, the Faint. Watsworth had somehow managed to make it through his rebellious 'teen' years. What is even more surprising is that his parents, the King and Queen of Boring, Oregon (Really there is such a place and it isn't even made-up. Who knew?), had managed to not only survive Watsworth's 'teen' years, but to do so without killing him. That being said, Watsworth, the Faint had grown into a fine young goat. But the King and Queen were growing older, and someday someone would need take the goat by the horns and take over the throne to rule wisely in their stead. Since Watsworth was an only child, and even though he had no horns, that distinction naturally fell to him. And so it was that the time had come for Watsworth to marry, for everyone knows that goats are like potato chips and you can never have just one. Watsworth needed a princess.
But where to find one? Invitations were sent out across the land, Boring as it was, for any and all eligible females to attend a ball given in Prince Watsworth's honor. Of course everyone knew it was really to find the prince a wife, so R.S.V.P.'s came in by the truckload. The King and Queen literally fainted when they saw the mound of replies, but then it didn't take an awful lot to make them faint anyway, so who can tell how shocked they really were.
The day of the grand ball finally arrived. Prince Watsworth, beard nicely combed and sporting his finest cashmere, showed up to greet the guests. Females of every size, shape, make and model could be seen together in groups, heads bowed and giggling behind their hooves. Watsworth sighed. There was nothing for it but to begin dancing with them one by one. Long into the night they danced, but though the choices were myriad, there always seemed to be something wrong. They were too tall, too short, too chatty, too spoiled, too ugly, and simply none of them seemed to be princess material. How in the world was he going to tell a real princess when he met one? Oh, they all claimed to be princesses on their My Space or Facebook pages, but Watsworth had learned long ago never to trust everything you see on the Internet. Some claimed to come from royal bloodlines like Dukes, or Congressmen, or A.D.G.A (American Dairy Goat Association) Champions, but Watsworth had learned that lesson too. Never trust anything that comes out of the mouth of a politician or eats Wheaties.
Prince Watsworth was getting tired and frustrated, and besides, every time someone walked up from behind to introduce themselves, he was caught off guard and fainted. It was downright embarrassing when your crown kept falling off. Finally, an old Lady stepped forward. She approached him from the front. This was good. A definite plus in her favor. "Good evening, your Ungrace. I am Lady Goatmother (See? I told you she was an old 'Lady'). May I present my two daughters?" With that she pushed forward her two awkward adopted offspring. The first was breathtakingly beautiful. She was tall, with long graceful legs and huge brown eyes. "This is Princess Ellyl", stated the Lady Goatmother. Then pushing forward a rather peggy-legged and extremely rotund figure, she continued, "And this is Princess Tickety Boo."
'Surely one of these two is a true princess', thought the prince, and proceeded to dance with *Princess* Ellyl. He was very taken with her looks. After all, she was Alpine and model material for sure. However, as they danced, she seemed intent on taking the lead and chastising him for freezing at every turn. "How DO you expect me to be asked to perform on Dancing With the Stars, when I am Princess, if you keep ruining my steps?", cried Ellyl. Sadly, as so often happens in these cases, she had the looks but not the personality to go with it. Besides she was most assuredly pushy. 'Surely this could not be a true princess', thought Watsworth. Then he returned Ellyl to the Lady Goatmother and escorted *Princess* Tickety Boo to the dance floor. Tickety Boo was a Nubian and though Prince Watsworth had been properly introduced, half-way through the dance she looked at him blankly and said, "Who are you anyway?" I suppose this was to be expected given that she was Nubian, but when she stepped on his hoof with the full force of 200+ pounds, then giggled and asked , "The capital of Oregon is "O", isn't it?", he almost cried aloud. He looked deeply into her eyes and was nearly sucked in by the vacuum. Surely this was no princess.
As Watsworth stood in dismay, atop the staircase there suddenly appeared a most wondrous sight. It was a lovely and graceful black and white goat, with striking tan accent marks on her face and legs, and the most endearing airplane ears. She stood surveying the room, intelligence emanating from every pore. Prince Watsworth was dumb struck (or maybe he was struck dumb. It is hard to tell with fainting goats). Who was this ravishing creature and from whence had she come? He froze. Literally. It was actually a good thing there was no wind that night, or he would have been over in a New York minute with all four feet straight up in the air. But fate was kind and not even a breeze stirred. Everyone forgot to even breathe as the fair maiden descended the stairs (which actually also helped the whole breeze situation.) The crowd parted and the prince approached the graceful creature to ask her to dance ...
(Okay, I simply have to stop right here. You know what they say - always leave your audience wanting more. Please stay tuned. If you don't, then I'll be forced not to finish the story and then where will you be? The unresolved chord. The 'Ah' without the 'Choo'. The Peanut without the shell, for Goats' Sake!)
But where to find one? Invitations were sent out across the land, Boring as it was, for any and all eligible females to attend a ball given in Prince Watsworth's honor. Of course everyone knew it was really to find the prince a wife, so R.S.V.P.'s came in by the truckload. The King and Queen literally fainted when they saw the mound of replies, but then it didn't take an awful lot to make them faint anyway, so who can tell how shocked they really were.
The day of the grand ball finally arrived. Prince Watsworth, beard nicely combed and sporting his finest cashmere, showed up to greet the guests. Females of every size, shape, make and model could be seen together in groups, heads bowed and giggling behind their hooves. Watsworth sighed. There was nothing for it but to begin dancing with them one by one. Long into the night they danced, but though the choices were myriad, there always seemed to be something wrong. They were too tall, too short, too chatty, too spoiled, too ugly, and simply none of them seemed to be princess material. How in the world was he going to tell a real princess when he met one? Oh, they all claimed to be princesses on their My Space or Facebook pages, but Watsworth had learned long ago never to trust everything you see on the Internet. Some claimed to come from royal bloodlines like Dukes, or Congressmen, or A.D.G.A (American Dairy Goat Association) Champions, but Watsworth had learned that lesson too. Never trust anything that comes out of the mouth of a politician or eats Wheaties.
Prince Watsworth was getting tired and frustrated, and besides, every time someone walked up from behind to introduce themselves, he was caught off guard and fainted. It was downright embarrassing when your crown kept falling off. Finally, an old Lady stepped forward. She approached him from the front. This was good. A definite plus in her favor. "Good evening, your Ungrace. I am Lady Goatmother (See? I told you she was an old 'Lady'). May I present my two daughters?" With that she pushed forward her two awkward adopted offspring. The first was breathtakingly beautiful. She was tall, with long graceful legs and huge brown eyes. "This is Princess Ellyl", stated the Lady Goatmother. Then pushing forward a rather peggy-legged and extremely rotund figure, she continued, "And this is Princess Tickety Boo."
'Surely one of these two is a true princess', thought the prince, and proceeded to dance with *Princess* Ellyl. He was very taken with her looks. After all, she was Alpine and model material for sure. However, as they danced, she seemed intent on taking the lead and chastising him for freezing at every turn. "How DO you expect me to be asked to perform on Dancing With the Stars, when I am Princess, if you keep ruining my steps?", cried Ellyl. Sadly, as so often happens in these cases, she had the looks but not the personality to go with it. Besides she was most assuredly pushy. 'Surely this could not be a true princess', thought Watsworth. Then he returned Ellyl to the Lady Goatmother and escorted *Princess* Tickety Boo to the dance floor. Tickety Boo was a Nubian and though Prince Watsworth had been properly introduced, half-way through the dance she looked at him blankly and said, "Who are you anyway?" I suppose this was to be expected given that she was Nubian, but when she stepped on his hoof with the full force of 200+ pounds, then giggled and asked , "The capital of Oregon is "O", isn't it?", he almost cried aloud. He looked deeply into her eyes and was nearly sucked in by the vacuum. Surely this was no princess.
As Watsworth stood in dismay, atop the staircase there suddenly appeared a most wondrous sight. It was a lovely and graceful black and white goat, with striking tan accent marks on her face and legs, and the most endearing airplane ears. She stood surveying the room, intelligence emanating from every pore. Prince Watsworth was dumb struck (or maybe he was struck dumb. It is hard to tell with fainting goats). Who was this ravishing creature and from whence had she come? He froze. Literally. It was actually a good thing there was no wind that night, or he would have been over in a New York minute with all four feet straight up in the air. But fate was kind and not even a breeze stirred. Everyone forgot to even breathe as the fair maiden descended the stairs (which actually also helped the whole breeze situation.) The crowd parted and the prince approached the graceful creature to ask her to dance ...
(Okay, I simply have to stop right here. You know what they say - always leave your audience wanting more. Please stay tuned. If you don't, then I'll be forced not to finish the story and then where will you be? The unresolved chord. The 'Ah' without the 'Choo'. The Peanut without the shell, for Goats' Sake!)
Thursday, February 9, 2012
Goatilocks and the Three Bores (Part II)
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.
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.
Wednesday, February 8, 2012
An Award?
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. 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.
Tuesday, February 7, 2012
Goatilocks and the Three Bores (Part 1)
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.)
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.)
Thursday, February 2, 2012
I'm Not Really Very Cheerful But ...
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?
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?
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