A Hair Raising Tale

Once upon a time, in a land not so very far away, there was a grassy knoll.  Now this grassy knoll was not so famous as some grassy knolls, and not very much exciting ever happened there.  Certainly there was no opening and closing of mysterious umbrellas, or anything quite so ominous as that.   No, just a plain old, every-day, mundane kind of grassy knoll.

Now the grassy knoll was inhabited by a complacent horde of straw-like creatures who lived quite peaceably day in and day out.  They were sturdy and dependable folk, not given to over-excitement, the following of ridiculous fads, or any such other nonsense.  Sunrise to Sunset, and all through the night, they stood steadfast.

But one day a terrible thing happened.  A chemical plague, the likes of which had never been seen, rained down upon the grassy knoll.  Screams were heard as some  inhabitants tried to bunker in while others leapt to their death.  The slaughter continued for weeks.  Soon the grassy knoll was no longer grassy, replaced by a  barren wasteland as far as the eye could see.

Oy.

But one fateful day, the attack ceased.  The coast was clear.  But was the grassy knoll ruined, destined to be forever devoid of life?  Slowly but surely, one inhabitant at a time began to re-emerge.  Like the Big Bad Wolf, the wielders of the heinous chemicals could huff and they could puff, but they could not blow down the resolve of the stalwart citizens.  Those citizens were just like the Ever-Ready Bunny ( except without the pink).

No, my friends, the denizens of the grassy knoll were as tough as they come.  Yet, for all their might, something within them had changed, for no being can enter the fray and come forth unscathed.  As a result, the straw-like creatures were no longer straw-like and certainly no longer straw colored.  For just as Gandalf, the Grey returned after being struck down in the Lord of the Rings, so the dwellers of the grassy knoll returned.  And, like Gandalf, they were no longer the same.  They were, in fact, white.  White, symbol of purity, the 'good guys', and Mr. Clean.  Who knew?

Will this change elicit a change in the terroir of the grassy knoll?  Only time can say.  Likely a certain wisdom will be born of the adversity.  Well, we can hope.

“No, my heart will not yet despair. Gandalf fell and has returned and is with us. We may stand, if only on one leg, or at least be left still upon our knees.” - J.R.R. Tolkien

James and the Giant Peach?

Guess what?  The Goatmother has noticed something new on her head.  No, it isn't a new scarf.  It is soft and fine, and ever so minute.  Hair!  Is it possible?  At the moment the Goatmother's head looks very much like a giant peach.  It feels like it too.  The only problem?  (Of course.  There is always a problem.  This is the Goatmother we are talking about.).  It is white.  Or perhaps it is pale blonde (Madonna in the making?), but I'm thinking white is more likely.  I guess time will tell.  Maybe any darker hair was scared silly during chemotherapy and refuses to come back out.  Hiding down there in the hair follicles, shaking in its tiny little boots.  Chemotherapy would affect me that way, I can tell you. 

Perhaps we should offer the recalcitrant strands some sort of enticement.  Give them a worthwhile reason to reappear.  But what?  I know!  Peanutbutter! Of course!  It might be a little sticky on the head, but I would certainly be willing to help the Goatmother out.

"It's like he said: Marvelous things will happen" - James (James and the Giant Peach

Behinder

Now there is an interesting word.  Behinder.  It is what we are.  You know that saying about 'I'm so far behind I don't know whether I've lost my Peanut or found a Goat'?  That's us.  We are so far behind that it may take the rest of our natural lives to catch up.  Or perhaps we may never catch up. 

Anyway, the Goatmother has 3 whole radiation treatments under her belt.  Well, maybe they aren't under her belt ...  Nothing is glowing yet though, so that's a good sign.  It's all good, remember?  The Goatmother says by the time she was finished being set up for the first treatment, her hands had begun to feel disembodied and she had no arms.  Cool.  Just in time for Halloween.  The treatment itself just took a minute.  Thankfully, subsequent treatments have been easier and faster.  And yet another pleasant surprise?   It turns out the treatments will be finished October 26th instead of October 29th!  Woo Hoo!  Small favors and all that!

All that aside, these every single day treatments are why we are so behind.  That kind of time commitment tends to cut way down on available daylight.  Nonetheless, the Goatmother and Goatfather went, yesterday, to their favorite restaurant in Port Townsend for lunch.  One has to eat, doesn't one?  I know I certainly do my part in that regard.  Aren't I special?

So the Goatmother and Goatfather went to Port Townsend, and they took Cabra and the Mighty Quinn along since it was a lovely, cool day.  They arrived and parked the truck on the corner in front of the quaint little flower shop with the beautiful old antique fence pieces in front.  They proceeded into the restaurant, sat down, ordered, and soon began eating their lunch.  Suddenly they noticed a police care pull up outside, and then a rescue unit showed up.  Hmmmm...  Pretty soon a big fire truck arrived along with more police.  What the hay???  So the Goatfather got up and went outside. When he returned,  he reported there was a car almost in the door of the flower shop.  Interesting.  Many curious onlookers soon began to appear.

After awhile, the Goatmother and Goatfather finished their meal and proceeded back to their vehicle.  The Goatmother got in, but the Goatfather went to the back because there were policemen and chairs directly behind.  He tapped a policeman on the shoulder and said, "Excuse me, but don't step back.  We are going to be leaving."  At that the policeman turned and said, "Well, just a minute.  Let's see if we can assess the damage to your vehicle."  What????!!!!!

As it turns out, a 79 year old woman had either been trying to parallel park, or was trying to leave after having parked, in front of the Goatmother and Goatfather's truck.  Evidently she accidentally stepped on the accelerator with the car in reverse thinking it was in drive.  The car shot backward grazing the Goatfamily vehicle fender, taking out a 2 hour parking sign concreted into the sidewalk, and ending up at the side of the flower shop on top of the lovely pieces of antique fence and a table and chairs that will no longer be hosting any sitters.  The worst of it, however, was that a child ended up underneath the car.  Don't panic!  Miraculously, the child appeared unharmed but was sent to the hospital to be checked out anyway.

Guardian angels were working overtime on this one, folks.  The truck was simply grazed and not even enough worth mentioning.  The truck was virtually unharmed, the dogs were safe, and the child was unhurt.  Oddly the flower shop was unscathed, too, but I doubt you could have wedged a Peanut between it and the car.  The car, itself, ended up neatly between the building and a support post, touching neither.  Almost as though it had been parked there on purpose.  Miraculous, I tell you.

Personally I feel the halo of radiation emanating from the Goatmother likely set up some sort of force field.  Hey, maybe this radiation ain't so bad after all.  Come to think of it, I think I may ask her to hang around the barn awhile and see if it has any effect on Alpines.  You never know.

"Life is like a box of chocolates. You never know what you're gonna get." - Forrest Gump

I guess you could say the same about radiation.  Who knew?

The Happening

Sixty years ago a baby was born in a small town in Oklahoma.  Little did the unsuspecting world know what had been unleashed upon it.  Did I say sixty?  The big 6 - 0???  

Oy.

But it's okay.  There is hope.  I am living proof that Peanuts contain absolutely amazing age-defying properties.  They're even better than Oil of Oylay.  At any rate, do not fret, dear Goatmother.  "Beautiful young people are accidents of nature, But beautiful old people are works of art." ~ Eleanor Roosevelt

Let Your Lights Shine

It's Labor Day, so I thought I'd take a little time out from eating to do some actual labor - like writing.  You didn't think I could do it, did you?  Hay, it is possible to write and snack at the same time.  You wouldn't want me to get weak from hunger or anything would you?  Anyway, today would have been the day for the next chemotherapy treatment, but since we are DONE with that, the Goatmother didn't have to go anywhere!  There you go, then.  I think one could say this is truly a holiday in every sense of the word.  WOO and HOO!!!!

So, the Goatmother is ready to go on to Part Deux.  I say 'ready', but I suppose no one is ever really 'ready' for such things.  Nonetheless, she has seen the fabulous Radiation Oncologist and things are underway.  Now I've never known the Goatmother to be much for going against the grain, but I dare say perhaps that has changed.  Why you ask?  Well, the Goatmother is now sporting a few tattoos, of all things.  What a rebel.  The problem is the tattoos are just dots.  Plain old dots.  Mind you she asked for dragonflies, or smiley faces at the very least, but no, they wouldn't go for it.  I ask you, wouldn't a smiley face make as good a target as a mere dot?  Better even, if you ask me.  Or they could have made tiny little Peanuts.  That would have been novel.  No imagination.  That's what I say.  Anyway, the Goatmother is now tattooed and ready to rock and roll.

So, for seven weeks, five days a week, the Goatmother will be zapped.  Something tells me the headlights are going to be glowing after that much input, but the fabulous Radiation Oncologist assures us such will not be the case.  I reserve the right to skepticism until I see for myself.  I mean this has to be akin to the time Boo was grazing too near the electric fence and forgot to pay attention where she put her ear.  Well, she didn't so much glow, but she sure left a jet trail, I can tell you.  If you ask me, the only reason she didn't glow is because she wasn't there long enough.  No, my friends, I think the Goatmother's headlights are definitely going to be on.  I'll be sure to let you know.

Anyway, we do have a little time before all the excitement begins.   September 11th.  That is D-Day.  One week of vacation.  That's what we have, and we are going to make good use of it.  For one thing, the Goatmother and the Goatfather are planning a day trip to the ocean.  I have to say I'm not too fond of the second thing the Goatmother is planning, however, and that is because there is a plan of hoof trimming in the offing.  Maybe she'll change her mind.  Hope does spring eternal, you know.

At any rate, this whole cancer thing is definitely a ride, though we certainly can't call it a 'joy ride'.  There is a quote that says, "Writing is like driving at night in the fog. You can only see as far as your headlights, but you can make the whole trip that way". -  E.L. Doctorow   That sums it up pretty well.  I'd say all we need to do is change the word 'writing' to 'radiation'.  What do you think? 

Post Script:  Flash!  It occurs to me the Goatmother will begin Radiation therapy on 9/11.  In light of historical events connected to this ominous day, we certainly hope the twin towers will remain intact.  I'm just sayin' ...