The Blue Hole

What is this, you ask? This, my good friends, is a stunning example of The Blue Hole. You stupid goat, you say. That is an old Elvis Presley movie, isn't it? And, you would be indubitably WRONG. No, The Blue Hole is actually a phenomenon peculiar to where I live. Not that I am peculiar, mind you, but the weather sure is.

You see up there on that map where the little red circle is? That's us. No, really. It is. Trust me. You will notice that all around there is a huge band of green and, in spots, yellow and orange? That would be the horrendous rainfall occurring in western Washington. Right now there is a flood watch issued because so much rain is falling, and much more is expected. And the wind is supposed to blow. But you know what? Right. Here, no rain and not even a breeze. Strange. But you see, we are contained in that large dark blue circle in the middle up on that map. For that, mi amigos, is the infamous Blue Hole.

Why on earth does that happen? Interestingly enough, if you look somewhat down and to the left, you can see the snowy tops of the Olympic Mountains. Notice there is no bright green there either? That is because the storms blow in off the Pacific, hit the Olympic Mountains and just bounce around and over. Nice, huh? It is really nice when one considers that the average rainfall within the Olympic Rain Shadow (that's us) is somewhere around 16 or 17 inches a year, compared to 25 inches just 15 miles to the East in Port Angeles, and a whopping 121 inches over in Forks where that Shrimpy UnDead-American recently visited. That's right. One-hundred and twenty-one soggy, drippy droplets a year. Oy. I bet those goaties have floaties to keep their Peanuts dry.

Anyway, nope, no flooding for us. Besides, we live on a hill. A perfect environment for a goat, if you ask me. So, with that, I'll leave you with an Old Irish Blessing: " May you always have walls for the winds, a roof for the rain, tea [or Peanuts] beside the fire [which hopefully is not too close to the hay], laughter to cheer you, those you love near [but not near enough to butt you or get to the Peanuts first], and all your heart might desire." - O'Marigold, over and out!

The Good - (or not so) - Die Young

Well...now that Halloween is over I thought we might have a little peace and quiet before all the holiday hub-bub begins. It would seem, however, that as long as that Lifeless Green Lilliputian (you remember him?) insists on staying around, some things just won't die. Or come to think of it, maybe they will.

Witness what you see below. Apparently *someone* (we wouldn't want to point any fingers...or hooves...or stakes...) has been teaching the Cabrarator to play dead when *shot*. I suppose had I responded more kindly to his calling me MariBella, The Diminutive Deceased-One would not have felt the need to move on to another so obviously impressionable member of the household. But there you have it. It is what it is. You might also note the Little Departed Dummy managed to enlist the services of that stupid disembodied hand he brought home with him from Forks. Oy, a magnum he ain't.



Anyway, when all is said and done, you just can't keep a good man (or dog) down, and you will notice that Cabra refuses to actually stay dead. After all, what's in it for her? She's obviously Team Jacob anyway.

As for that Dinky Done-For, I suppose he's pretty good as a dog trainer. He certainly had no skill as a goat trainer. Still, I have one thing to say on the matter: "I like a man who's good, but not too good - for the good die young, and I hate a dead one." - Mae West.

Happy Halloween!

Happy Halloween all y'all. I recently learned that is the plural of y'all, so I thought I'd give it a try. What do you think? Kinda' spooky, huh? Well, anyway, here's hoping you have a BOOtiful day and an even more PHANTOMtastic night! Oh, by the way... watch out for the mini-mes. (Oy and udder... I mean shudder...)

Trick Or Treat?

They say be careful what you wish for. So, when the goatmother started this whole needle felting thing, and I offhandedly remarked that I was holding out for a fuzzy rendition of myself...well...I really didn't believe I had anything to worry about. After all I never got that crocheted coat. But, of course, as things go, and when Murphy is thrown into the mix, not to mention the absolute spookiest time of the year, well, really scary things can happen.

Meet the dread MiniMe, ace, all-around clone and number one tiny Peanut pirate.

Eeeeeeek! And Oy. There simply has to be some mistake. This is absolutely not what I had in mind.

The left ...

The right...

Even the bum! Scaaarry, I tell you.


So, my friends, be very careful what you wish for this Halloween ...
... because you just might get it! Or worse, something entirely beyond the imagination.

"You unlock this door with the key of imagination. Beyond it is another dimension - a dimension of sound, a dimension of sight, a dimension of mind. You're moving into a land of both shadow and substance, of things and ideas. You've just crossed over into" ... the Oylight Zone.

BOO!

The Witch

She's at it again. This is madness, MADness, MADNESS, I say... A monster has been unleashed. Oy.

Shut up, Marigold. Leave me alone. Go eat some Peanuts why don't you?

Now Here's Something Really Spooky...

Oy. She's at it again. The goatmother has taken another class. This time she learned to do needle felting and she made what you see below.

I know. Disgusting, isn't it? I mean you would think she could have at least done a goat. But, NO. She had to do a spotty horse. Oy.

And you can see from the ridiculous smirk on its face that it has absolutely no brain. I think it is a Nubian horse. That's what I think. Anyway, at least it won't eat too many Peanuts.

Still, I guess it has some merit. It is kind of cute in a Bohemian sort of way. But, you know, now the goatmother has some totally absurd idea that she can figure out how to make something out of that big bag of cashmere she's been collecting from us for two years. Oy. A goat can't even grow a winter coat in peace anymore. I say if she wants to use the hair she needs to be coughing up something extra...like say some three-to-a-shell Peanuts for example.

At any rate, I thought I'd post something really artistic just so the goatmother doesn't get to thinking she's all that and a bag of Peanuts - a Pacific Northwest sunset. Now that's art. Still, on the felt front, I'm holding out for a fuzzy rendition of me. I'll just be practicing my posing. Perhaps she'll do me on my stump. Hey, it could happen...


P.S. Hey, Jane. See the Corian???

A *Star* Is Born

There are two kinds of people in this world - those who know and consequently understand, and those who haven't got a clue. I suspect the goatmother belongs in category two. Why is this, you ask?

Well, you see, the other day was hoof trimming day. Of course you realize this is my least favorite day. In fact, I might go so far as to say it is the most hated day for all us. Naturally I can not include Ella in this since the brown-noser always has to impress the goatmother. Nor, I guess, can I honestly include Watson or Peanut since they could really care less what anyone does as long as there is food involved. Okay, well, I guess I have to admit that leaves only Boo and myself. Hey, what can I say? You gotta' leave the best for last, right?

At any rate, what with the influence of Halloween coming and the Little UnDead guy, I figured this month I'd surprise the goatmother. What?! You think I decided to act with some amount of decorum? Not on your ever-lovin' life! No, this time, I decided to sport a little flair...a little panache. Yes, indeed, I decided to go goth.

So when the goatmother picked up my foot, nippers in hand, and found what you see below, I can only say I was mortified to find just how much of a Nubian that woman is.

Okay, well, I wasn't going for the whole nose-ring thing. I'll leave that to those dumb cows. And let's face it, a tongue stud would only interfere with the consumption of my beloved Peanuts. But a stud in the hoof? Now that was the way to go. A piercing like no other. Something to make me stand out from the crowd.

But when the goatmother picked up my hoof and realized there was a star staring back at her, all she could say was, "Marigold! Where did you get this??? I just can't figure this out. Where could this have come from? I've never even seen a tack in the shape of a star, let alone left one around for you to step on!"

Sheesh, woman! Have you NEVER heard of QVC?????????????
Oy.