The Year of the Goat (Part 2)

Okay, back to the Year of the Goat! (See?  I promised...  and I'm nothing if not true to my word!)  So the information I found goes on to say that Year of the Goatees 'are dreamers, sometimes, they are pessimistic, hesitant and  over-anxious worriers!'  Well, now, in our defense, of course we are dreamers.  Isn't everyone?  Do you dream at night?  Well, sure you do.  And so do I.  I dream a lot about Peanuts.  What do you dream about?  It should be Peanuts.  I'm just sayin' ...  And don't ask the Goatmother what her dreams are like.  You do NOT want to go there.  Can you spell b-i-z-a-r-r-e?  Oy.

As for pessimistic, hesitant, over-anxious worriers?  Shoot.  Wouldn't you be if you had to share a barn with an Alpine?  Nothing wrong with a little pessimism either.  I mean you know she's gonna' have a snit of some sort or another.  So why not just accept that it is coming? No matter what.  It is as sure a thing as the sun rising in the morning.  Oh, wait ... this is Washington.  Okay, it's as sure a thing as the sun rising in the morning but you can't always see it.  How's that? But honestly, that whole over-anxious worrier thing is better applied to Fainting Goats.  Of course it is a whole matter of survival (not to mention staying upright) in the face of Alpine onslaught when she realizes you freeze.  So don't be putting no exclamation point on that, Chinese Astrological dudes, until you've walked a mile in, or fallen a mile (whichever comes first) in a Fainting Goat's shoes.  Ah. So. There.

Now then, further reading uncovers this:  'They can be lazy sometimes.  If Goats have any choices, they would definitely choose to marry a wealthy person and sit back for the rest of the lives'.  Now wait. Lazy?  Come. On.  Just because we lay around and chew our cud, you want to call us lazy?  It is a simple matter of proper digestion.  Cud happens.  And as for me, I'm not marrying any wealthy person.  I prefer a wealthy Goatmother, but unfortunately I don't have one of those, so I have to make do with what I have.  She kind of allows me to sit back.  Unless she doesn't.  And then I better get moving or I don't get any Peanuts.  And we all know that isn't going to happen.  And what about this 'for the rest of the lives'?  You thought that was a typo, didn't you?  Just because I have four feet instead of two ... and hooves.  Oy.  Nope, not me.  What do these Chinese Astrological dudes think we are, cats?  Like we have 9 lives, or 14, or 54?  Sheesh.  If you have to live with an Alpine, ONE is enough!   Trust me on that.  Well, come to think of it, maybe this explains why those guys can't tell the difference between a goat and a sheep.

Anyway, the last part says 'they are obsessed with appearance.  This plays an enormous part in their sense of personal stability.  If they don't look their best, they may be afraid to go out the door to pick up the Sunday papers'.    Now, you know, never having eaten a Sunday paper, I can't really say whether I would be afraid to go out the door and get it or not.  It might depend on whether or not it was raining.  Or it might depend a lot on how it tasted.  But come to think of it, paper comes from trees and I loves me a good tree now and then.  Still, to say we are 'obsessed' with appearance is going a bit far.  We don't have any mirrors in the barn so the only way anyone ever knows how they look is to ask someone else.  Which never works out very well, especially if you ask Boo because, being a Nubian, by the time she opens her mouth, she has forgotten what the question was and usually you get some reply like, 'I saw a bird' in answer.  No, I can't say any of us are obsessed with our appearance except if it is wet.  We don't do wet.  And as far as that playing a part in personal stability, well, that, of course, only applies to Watson.  His personal stability is very important to him.  Mostly because he doesn't particularly care for looking at the world from ground level.

So, this is part two.  Believe it or not, those Chinese dudes still have more to say about the Year of the Goat.  Isn't that special?  But until next time, I shall leave you with one last thought:  "I think most of us are raised with preconceived notions of the choices we're supposed to make. We waste so much time making decisions based on someone else's idea of our happiness - what will make you a good citizen or a good wife or daughter or actress. Nobody says, 'Just be happy - go be a cobbler or go live with goats." - Sandra Bullock. 

The Year of the Goat

Well, well, well.  I suppose it is time I rear my head from the hay feeder and start philosophizing again.  It has only been, what? ... a year?  Oy.  How time flies when the food is good.  How the goat flies when there is an Alpine on their tail ... well, that goes without saying.  So, no explanations and no excuses.  I'm hopping right back in here with all four dainty feet.   Although, with all the food I've been eating, I guess perhaps my feet are the only dainty part left these days.  Ask me if I care?

At any rate, February 19th is just four days away.  Now why, you ask, is this a significant date?  Because, my friends, this marks the beginning of the Year of the Goat!  Let me say that again.  The Year of the Goat.  Oh, wow.  The.  Year.  Of.  The.  Goat.  Doesn't that have a nice ring to it?  "It is the Year of the Sheep", would-be usurping Ovine types spout.  But alas, I say to you, it all depends!  You see, apparently the Chinese word 'yáng' refers to both goats and sheep.  Who knew?  Maybe the Chinese need glasses?  No matter.  Some cultures celebrate the Year of the Goat, some the Year of the Sheep and some define it as the Year of the Ram.  Go figure.  Must be like the difference between Santa Claus, St. Nick and St. Magnus Peanutos.  (Don't ask ... )  Naturally, I choose to celebrate the Year of the Goat and what better time for me to get back to my stump?  Plus the weather is good today and I'm not stuck in the barn with Ella.  Best to get goin' while the goin's good I always say.

Supposedly, if you are from the Year of the Goat, there a 'lucky' things that go along with it.  Lucky colors are supposed to be brown, red and purple.  Brown I can see ... Peanuts are brown.  But red and purple?  The only red is the Goatmother's barn cleaning bucket and occasionally her nose.  The only purple is that stuff she puts on our hooves to keep the hoof rot at bay.  None of those things seems especially lucky to me.  And lucky flowers for the Year of the Goat are said to be Carnations and Primroses.  I've never eaten a Carnation.  They may be tasty.  Come to think of it, I've never eaten a Primrose.  But our weather has been uncharacteristically warm and I saw some Primroses blooming over in the Goatmother's yard.  They might be good.  I'll get back to you on that one ...  And lastly, lucky numbers for the Year of the Goat are the number 2 and the number 7.  Now 2 is definitely not enough Peanuts, so I'm goin' with 7.  Yes.  Seven is a good number.  Feels really lucky.

But what are the characteristics one possesses in the Year of the Goat?  Well, I found some information on this subject, and Year of the Goatees are said to be 'elegant, charming, artistic, gifted and fond of nature'.  So far so good.  They are said to be 'creative and very delicate, their good manners and charms always bringing them many admirers and friends'.  Yes, Yes.  Indeed this fits.  But then it says Goats are 'insecure'.  What?!  'They need to feel loved and protected and are easily drawn into complex predicaments'.  Oh, goat grief.  Well, who wouldn't be a bit insecure about whether or not some stupid Alpine is going to be in one of her 'moods' and decide to slam you?  And, yeah, sometimes those Alpines can draw you in, promising you can have the Peanuts first and without spit or having fallen on the floor or anything.  That kind of thing would turn anyone's head.  And of course it is never true and you always end up T-boned.   But caught up in any promise involving Peanuts like that, wouldn't anyone be duped?  And then it goes on to say that goats 'usually shy from confrontation, pull back when faced with heavy decision-making  and blatantly refuse to take an unpopular stand in a conflict'.  Now, Hold. The. Phone. Louise!!!  First off, do you think I'm stupid?  You bet your sweet bippy I'm going to back off if Ella comes at me head first!  Ain't no heavy decision-making involved there.  I'm gettin' the hay out of dodge before the iron-but-brainless-head comes a crashing.  And what is more, I can tell you that our stand isn't popular with anyone.  We see the Goatmother coming with those orange-handled hoof-trimming shears headed for that stand, and we are all gone in the opposite direction post haste.  There is definitely conflict in the offing and there is no thinking, let alone decision-making, to it.  So, hay, no.  We don't 'shy' from confrontation, we RUN from it, baby!  Warp 7, please, Scotty!  Oy.  Who comes up with this stuff?

Okay, well, there is more, but I've probably bored you enough for one read.  After all, it has been a long time and you're probably out of practice.  I wouldn't want you to 'pull back' from any 'heavy decision-making' about whether or not to read on. 

So with that, until next time (and there WILL be a next time...it is, after all, my New Year's resolution.) I will leave you with this.  Year of the Goat or Year of the Sheep?  If you 'pull back' from making a decision, just remember: "It is the theory that decides what can be observed." - Albert Einstein 

Think about it...

MmmPflmmff ...

Marigold!

MmmPflmmff ...

Why haven't you been blogging?  What HAVE you been doing with your time???

MmmPflmmffftt ...

Marigold!!!

What???  MmmPflmmftt ...

MARIGO-OOOLD!!!!  STOP EATING!!!!

What??!!!  You're bothering me. MmmPflmmfffftttt ...

Marigold!  You're fat!!!  You're TOO fat!!!  You belong in the Fat Girls' pasture like our friend Belle has, only we don't HAVE a Fat Girls' pasture.

You are annoying.  You are an annoying Goatmother.  Go away.  MmmmPflmmmttttt ...

Okay for you then.  NO MORE Peanuts until you have started blogging again.  You owe it to yourself and to your public ... which come to think of it is probably not even out there anymore.  They have probably gone on to other more important pursuits.  They are probably following the blogs of frogs ... or horses ... or maybe even porcupines!  I would NOT blame them if they were, in fact, following the blog of some interesting and intelligent porcupine that does something more than sit around and eat all day.  Yes, some CUTE little Porkie some place.  It would serve you right!!!

MmmmPflmmmttttMmmmflt .....   A porcupine you say???  Oy.  What could a porcupine possibly have to say that was even remotely interesting?   Okay.  I'll start blogging again.  I can't let some ignorant rodent out-do me.  It wouldn't be seemly, now would it?  Not to mention how would a porcupine even have access to a computer?  Tell me that.   Oy - yoy.


Stay tuned .....   MmmPflmmff .... 

The Visit

Well very recently we had visitors.  Now these weren't just any visitors, mind you.  These were the very best kind of visitors.  The kind bearing gifts.  You know, like Peanuts and cookies.  Like lots of Peanuts and cookies.  Big Peanuts and organic cookies. Are you getting the picture here?

Here let me show you:

You will notice who is front and center?  Look how svelte I am.  Also notice that *the Alpine* has her nose turned away.  This is a good thing, just in case you didn't know that already.

Now I want to tell you here and now that the Goatmother could take a lesson from these two lovely young ladies.  First of all, one did not need to beg.  Peanuts and cookies were offered freely.  Generously.  With abandon.  None of this, 'Marigold, you simply must wait your turn.'  Or, 'Marigold!  Share!'.  No, my friends, with these two it was first come, first served.  And since I am most definitely the fastest and most sure-footed goat here, guess who was served most often?  Which, come to think of it, might be why *the Alpine* has her nose out of joint in that picture.  Oh, well.  It is what it is, Ella.  Live with it.

Anyway, just look at this one:

See there?  That sainted young lady is making sure the Peanut goes directly to me. How considerate!  How polite!  And you thought all kids did these days was play video games.  No.  And notice how she ignores *the Alpine* even though said Alpine is trying to insinuate herself between me and the source of joy?  Marvelous!  Rapturous!  First class all the way.

The only problem with this visit was that they just didn't stay long enough.  I miss them terribly.  Well, I miss all those Peanuts and cookies, but I really did like the girls too. Besides, the Goatmother is just stingy.  Maybe they'll come back if I ask politely.

At any rate, I hope if you have visitors at your house, they are as splendid as these.  There is an old saying "The ornaments of your house will be the guests who frequent it." ~Author Unknown  Do you suppose that counts for barns too???

The Floors

Like the proverbial bad Peanut, I'm back!

     Really, Marigold?  We've heard THAT one before.

No, seriously.  I AM back.  And I even have an excuse.

    Yeah.  Right.  They always have an *excuse*.

Okay, well, just let me tell you the story, okay?  It's like this ...

The Goatmother and Goatfather decided to have their floors redone.  I know.  I don't get it either.  I mean they had floors, right?  It's not like they were dirt or anything.  We have dirt floors.  Why don't we get new floors?  Well, never mind ...

Anyway, the Goatparents had several folks out to do estimates.  Just like Goldilocks trying out all the three bears' stuff, one was too much, one drove the Goatmother bananas (or was it Peanuts?), and one was juusst right ... or so they thought.  All in all, this was simply the start of a not-so-fabulous adventure.

First of all, what the Goatmother thought might take, oh, two or three weeks, ended up taking FOUR months!  That's right, I said four months.  Not weeks.  Who knew?   And this, of course, resulted in one brilliant and beautifully airplane-eared goat not being able to get into the house, let alone near a computer.  Now I tried, mind you, to get the Goatmother to bring me a laptop in the barn, but she just kept saying she was waaaay too busy.  And just why was she too busy?  I mean it wasn't her putting those planks down on the floor, now was it?  No, my friends, it's just that all this floor stuff required everything in the house to be moved.  Twice.  And sometimes more than twice.  That Goatmother was so tired she was barely making it out to the barn.  Now that would have been a travesty.

But anyway,  anyone who knows anything (and trust me there are a LOT of folks who do not fall into this category) knows that if one decides to embark upon a career as a contractor, one is required (Hay, maybe even by law for all I know) to sign a contract.  (Is this why they are called 'contractors'?  Hmm ... ).  Anyhow, this contract contains many stipulations ... requirements which must be met in order to actually get a license.  Some of these requirements are general in nature, but some are very specific and include things like: 

1)  I must carry on at least three other jobs while working on any one job. 


2)  I must not show up all the time at any one job until that job is finished, but must, instead, work a few days in one place, one or two at another, go back to the first one, at least show my face at the third before going back to either of the other two, so forth and so on ad infinitum.

3)  I must be sick as often as possible and take advantage of any holiday that should fall within the allotted job's time frame by needing extra days before and after said holiday.

4)  I must make mistakes ... let me repeat this part ... I must make mistakes and appear to be entirely incapable of observing any flaws on my own because, just like any other artist, I realize perfection belongs to God.  As a mere human I accept that perfection is an unobtainable goal, so why even try?  And besides, if I do it once, they are certainly bound to expect that calibre of work.
  
5) It is mandatory that I not be present at the job site when any other contractor is working there in order to make it as inconvenient as possible for those usurpers (as well as for the person or persons who have hired me to do this ridiculous job in the first place.)

6) I will smile and nod agreeably to any suggestion or request presented and then do exactly as I wanted to in the first place because, after all, I am the professional here.

7)  I shall not be required to remember to bring everything I need to the job site and subsequently either borrow it from the home owner or find it necessary to go home and get it, stopping along the way for oh, say, coffee, or maybe lunch, or perhaps a chat with an old acquaintance I met at Home Depot, which is where I had to go to get the thing I needed since the home owner didn't have one and I couldn't find the one I had at home.
 
8) It is entirely obligatory to stop whatever I am working on at least every few minutes to answer my cell phone because, after all, it is ringing and it could be something extremely important like my wife wondering what I'm doing or one of those pesky usurping sub-contractors calling to find out why I'm not at their job site even though they know it is a requirement that I not show up.  (Didn't these guys read their contract before they got their license?)

9) I shall leave as early as possible on any given work day because I have *another appointment*, a *phone call to make* (which couldn't possibly have been satisfied during the execution of Rule #8), or I am going home to right now take care of a problem incurred during the execution of Rule # 4, but which, in fact,  must take place at the site of job No. 2 or No. 3 (Please see Rule # 2), unless, of course, the home owner is offering beer, in which case all above are null and void.

10) (And my personal favorite)  Thou shalt not finish any job within the original specified time but instead get just enough done to make it impossible (as well as unprofitable) to find anyone else to finish and then keep stringing it along for as long as possible.  You know, just in case ...

So what can I say?  If you have ever had any work done by a *contractor*, then you likely know exactly what I've been saying here.  The last of the faux pas was cleaned up by our blessed and skillful neighbor just this week.  I guess in truth, this makes it a total of FIVE months.  The Goatmother has vowed not to look at the floor anymore.  Can one vacuum or mop with their eyes closed?  Perhaps the Helen Keller school has a  Housework by Braille program.  At any rate, I am back, just like I said.  The Goatmother is a little more sane.  Actually, I suppose she was never sane in the first place.  Nonetheless, I haven't lost my philosophical touch and to prove it, I shall leave you with a quotation from the venerable and much loved Confucius:  "Choose a job you love and you will never have to work a day in your life."   Who knew they had contractors in 479 B.C.? 
Oy.

The Truth Is Out There

I'm baaa-aaack!  Just like Poltergeist.  Only with more legs.  And airplane ears.  Anyway, I don't expect anyone to still be out there, but I'm here anyway.  What the hay.  The muse went on an extended vacation and just got back.  Don't ask ...

So, I'm gonna' jump right back in here just like I never left.  'Cuz really I didn't.  It's just that you weren't privy to my thoughts ... or my Peanuts.  I'm just sayin' ...

Okay, so you know how there is this urban legend out there that says that goats eat anything?  We all know that isn't true, right?  Well, all I can say is that we've had to change our thinking a bit on this one.  And it didn't even involve the Internet.  Who knew? 

You see, it's like this.  We live with an Alpine.  That really ought to be explanation enough, but in case you don't have a clue just exactly what this means, here it is in a nutshell.  Alpines are trouble.  T-R-O-U-B-L-E.

Now then, the Goatmother (remember her?) was out raking our lot in preparation for the laying down of wood shavings to combat the mud which always seems to arrive at the same time as the rain. (Why is that?  Oh, yes.  Overweight Nubian.  Did I really just say that?)  Anyway, the Goatmother was laboriously raking away as we enjoyed a meager snack of luscious hay on the other side of the pen.  Well, really it was more akin to bribery than a luscious snack since it's the only way she can convince *some* of us to leave the sanctity of the barn.  But back to the story ... the Goatmother was raking and stopped to pick up some of the refuse and cart it away.  (Manual labor is highly over-rated.  This is why I don't do it.  Ever. ) 

Paying no attention (as the Goatmother is want to do), she leaned her rake up against the fence and leaned over.  She straightened back up just in time to see Ella reach over the fence and rip off a twelve inch piece of the rubber cushion  (for your non-callous-making raking pleasure) surrounding the handle of the rake.  The Goatmother dropped everything, ran through the gate and went rushing up to Ella yelling, "No!!!!  You STUPID goat!!!!", at the top of her lungs.  Suffice it to say that even though the neighbors don't live all that close, THEY now know how stupid Ella is.  WE already knew that.

Anyway, we all looked up in alarm.  I can tell you, here and now,  that Ella knew right away what she had done was NOT the thing to do.  She took one look at the advancing onslaught of Goatmotherdom and promptly dashed the other way, all the while gobbling down the pilfered piece of pliability just as fast as possible.  The Goatmother had thought to catch the end and pull it back out.  No such luck.  Not even close.  The speed of light has nothing on a determined Alpine in pursuit of gustatorial satisfaction.

"Oyyyyyyyy!!!!!!!!!", and "Arrrrgghhhhh!", cried the Goatmother. (And a few other terms which shall, heretofore, go unmentioned.)  So the Goatmother ran as fast as those pudgy little legs could carry her, straight to the Internet and contacted a couple of her goat raising friends.  Had they ever had experience with a goat eating something thought to be inedible?  Could said inedible delicacy actually be broken down in at least ONE of the stomachs?  Would Ella be vomiting or exuding green goat berries????  Not one of the Goatmother's capable goat-rearing friends had EVER had a goat eat something they shouldn't.  I feel it is important to interject a note of reason here in pointing out the fact that, indeed, none of these people actually owned an Alpine.    Had they ever had the pleasure, information might have been more forthcoming  As it was, the Goatmother was left to stew ... and watch.

Well, that was a couple of days ago.  Ella is still alive.  Doesn't surprise me, since it is the innocent and the good that die young.  Alpines are safe, if you ask me.  Let it be known, though, that not all urban legends are myths.  Sometimes there just could be a grain (or a Peanut) of truth there.  You just never really know ...

"The truth is out there.  Trust no one." - The X-Files
 (Especially if they happen to be Alpine.)

Playing

You may recall that last year, before she was so rudely interrupted, the Goatmother had gotten a new camera.  Of course, things being as they were, playing with the new camera got put on a shelf.  Well, guess what?  She's finally blown the dust off !

"Excuse me.  In-com-ing!"
"Say what?!"

"I said, 'Clear a path!  I'm comin' in!"
"Pull up!  Pull up!  You're gonna' land right on me!  I'm very delicate, you know."

"Ahhhhh.  That's more like it.  Free and clear."

Okay, not perfect.  And she certainly has a loooong way to go to catch up with the SnowCatcher.   Or Teresa over at Eden Hills...
BUT ... the journey of 1,000 miles begins with but a single step.  Right?.