Woefully Behind And A Really BIG Mistake.

Well, goat grief.  Here I am.  Finally.  Oy is me.  I am so far behind I don't know whether I have found a new Peanut or forgotten to eat an old one.  No matter.  Still tastes just as good either way.  Well,  unless you count those that have Alpine spit.  Anyway, I have no excuse.  It is, in fact, all the Goatmother's fault.  She's been gone so much I haven't been able to get into the house and no one has bothered to give me a key.  And, of COURSE, no one will give me my own computer in the barn.  Come to think of it, Ella would probably eat it anyway, so maybe it's a good thing.  Who can tell? 

Nonetheless, I am behind.  That is not, by the way, to be taken as a commentary on my looks.  Can I help it if my metabolism is a bit on the slow side?  Though I suppose I could go to Weight Watchers with the Goatmother.  I mean she's managed to lose five more pounds.  Woo and Hoo.  They probably wouldn't consider letting a goat in anyway.

Now then.  Since I obviously have access to the computer, I shall regale you with a tale of woe.  Although, from my perspective I don't really see it as all that woesome since one of my least favorite Alpines (did I say that?) got into trouble over it.  To be sure it certainly wasn't something I'd ever consider doing though.

So here's what happened.  The Goatmother came out to the barn.  She cleaned up the boys' side and gave them some Peanuts before letting us out because, let's face it, that's practically the only way either of them is going to even get near a Peanut.  Watson, the brown-noser, went about his usual 'follow-the-Goatmother-around-look-cute-and-stick-your-nose-in-her-pocket routine, and Peanut stood on the trimming stand stealthily awaiting the off chance that Watson would walk by so he could butt him.

The Goatmother finished up with the boys and then opened the gate to our side.  Being the most attentive and on the ball of the group, I was first to dash out.  Besides there are two gates and I'm the only one of the girls short enough to fit under the top.  So when the Goatmother walked in, Ella was standing on the wooden spool.  Now Ella isn't normally standing on the wooden spool in the morning, but this particular morning I think her nose may have been more out of joint than usual, which wouldnt' have had anything to do with me.  At least if it did, I'm not admitting it. 

So the Goatmother went about her business of tidying up the premises, making sure the mineral feeder had minerals in it, getting new water, and generally just performing all the morning maid duties.  No chocolate on the pillows though, but I digress.  The last thing on the list is to hand out Peanuts to us.  The girls.  The most deserving.  Well, at least some of us are deserving.  And the line up goes like this.  Ella marches in and butts Peanut off the stand so she can take it over, thus placing herself higher than anyone else and more likely (she thinks) to get the most Peanuts.  Boo stands to the outside lifting her head in anticipation.  She only lifts her head because everything else on Boo is pretty much stationary.  And me, I say 'the hay' with all that pussyfooting around and jostling for position, and go straight for the middle with my feet on the gate that goes into the holiest of holies, the inner sanctum of the barn, from whence the Goatmother will administer the goods.  My mama didn't raise no fool.

Anyway, this morning went much like every morning.  The Goatmother offered Ella a Peanut and Ella, because her nose was already out of joint from 'whatever', got an attack of the Picky Snits and spit it out on the floor.  She gave one to me, and I can tell you, I took it.  Remember that thing about my mama?  I'm just sayin'...  Then she offered one to Boo who took it after clamping on with only her lips because if you are Nubian you have to determine, first, that anything entering your mouth is, in fact, not a fly or something equally objectionable even though it smells like a Peanut.  One never knows.  Flies can be tricksy. 

When it was all said and done, Ella was told 'you have one more chance', which she, unwisely did not take, and literally spit on that chance.  Boo had decided tricksy flies were at work and refused to take anymore.  I got ALL the rest of the Peanuts.  Perseverance and unscrupulousness wins out over picayunishness and feeble-mindedness every time. 

Of course no one with any sense will pick up a Peanut that has spit on it.  Not even Watson.  So the Goatmother opened the gate, stepped in, and bent down to pick up the remnants of the wasteful Picky Snit.  That's when it happened.  'What happened?', you ask.  Geeze. Did you get so caught up in the inner workings of the barn you forgot?  Remember the really BIG mistake?  Yeah.  That.  The Goatmother bent down and Ella, still on the stand, bent down and went head to head with the Goatmother.  Wham.  You could have heard a pin drop.  The Goatmother raised her head, shook it, and that's when the yelling and finger shaking began.  Trust me, the rest of us left.  Chuckling under our breath, mind you, but we left.  I would not want to have been on the receiving end of that lecture.  But I have to admit, it couldn't have happened to a more deserving goat.    I suppose perhaps there is some justice in life after all.

So there you have it.  I know you were all probably thinking something had happened to the Goatmother since I hadn't been on here in so long.  Not to worry.   She's one tough broad.  Especially her head.

Seven Swans A Swimming

Okay.  Maybe there's more than seven.   And maybe they aren't swimming.  But they are swans.  Tundra Swans, to be exact.

Not swimming, but perhaps dancing ...

Conga line, anyone???

Where?  Where's the Conga line?  Which way to the Conga line???