First You Cry

Good morning all.  I am sure you have all been wondering just exactly why I have been so silent.  Certainly it is very uncharacteristic, to say the least.  But the truth of the matter is, there has been a rather large monkey wrench (darn those monkeys anyway) thrown into the cogs on the wheel of life around here.  So bear with me while I figure out how to go about this.

First of all, I would have written earlier, but I couldn't remember where it was you went to actually start a new post. (Thank you, Blogger).  So after I figured out that I didn't want to do it in Arabic or Czech, I finally figured out, 'Oh!  It is this stupid looking orange pencil thingy!'.

Now, then, to the matter at hand.  This blog is going to take a bit of a new direction, and there is a reason for this.  Let me just say, right now, that if you are put off by this change (see my previous rules), and choose to stop reading, well, then so be it.  We will miss you, but I am hoping that won't be the case. 

So let me get right to the point.  Our beloved Goatmother has been diagnosed with breast cancer.  Yes, it is that awful 'C' word.  At first no one could even utter the word.  We found lots of other ways to say it like, 'Oh.  The biopsy came back positive', or 'Oh.  The doctor found something not so good.', or 'Oy Vay!, Mama!  What are these people really trying to say?'  And the title of this post is unequivocally true.  First you cry.  And then the fear takes hold.  Mr. Fear is a terrible task master and the jerk tends to lead one off into quite unacceptable territory.  Unreasonable thoughts begin to enter one's mind.  Things like, 'Where in the hay are my Peanuts going to come from?' Oh, wait.  Maybe that was a bad example ...

Anyway, for the sake of the Goatmother, I am going to be blogging through this ordeal.  The posts may not be regular, but then again, who knows?  However, they will keep coming.  We're absolutely not going anywhere!  I figure it will help the Goatmother immensely to have someone willing to help her vent her feelings, keep up her spirits, and most importantly, to boost her sense of humor.  We are firm believers around here that a sense of humor is paramount to keeping a positive attitude.  Laughter IS the best medicine.

And so far we are all completely blown away by the kindness, graciousness and beauty in people.  People willing to help in any way they can.  People willing to just send encouragement.  So much coming from so many unexpected places.  (Ella has even promised to act like less of a punk.  Mind you she is likely to fall off the wagon a time or two, but I suppose it is the thought that counts.)  We will never be able to repay them all, but we will try.  Oh, yes, we will try.

Above all, I am here, along with so many others, to help the Goatmother BUTT THE HAY out of this monster.  With five hard and angry goat heads, one very determined fireball of a Goatfather, two dogs willing to bite this thing in its sorry (pardon my goat) ass, and a whole passel of the most wonderful beings walking the face of this beautiful planet, that is exactly what we are going to do.  We have received an offer from The Snowcatcher to use her bicycling-forged thunder thighs to kick butt, an offer from a herd of misguided pygmy goats over at 'Ewww!  What's On My Shoe', (who have first hand knowledge of this monster themselves), and oh, so many other capable assassin types.  We may even enlist Darla, the world's best dressed goat over at The Goat Borrower, to design a lovely canceresque goat cap.  Hay, it could happen!  And I can't leave out the fabulous Goatfarmer and all my friends over at my birthplace, This Goat's Life, CoraBelle and her minions at Life Beyond the Sidewalks, the goat boys and other critters at On the Way to Critter Farm (who just went through something similar themselves), Millie and everyone at Eden Hills, and I am sure I have forgotten someone.  (And these are just the bloggers ... there are so many more.  As I said we will never be able to repay them all.)    But if I forgot, please forgive.  The brain is rather mush right now. ( I think it may be because we had to endure the Goatfather trimming our hooves.  Trust me, it was as much a chose nouvelle for him as it was for us.  But more likely the brain mush is due to a lack of Peanuts.  I'm just sayin'....  One has to keep up one's strength in the face of adversity.)

So, my friends,  Beam me up, Scotty, and fasten your seat belts, 'cuz we're goin' for a ride!

P.S.  The Goatmother asked her surgeon how she felt about being on the internet.  Her reply?  "Well, there's a woman whose duck has a blog and I'm on it.  Why not a goat?"  Needless to say, we have a lot of faith in this woman.