What Goats Really Want for Christmas

Do any of us really know what goats want for Christmas? I mean it's not exactly like they advertise their every thought and feeling. I do, however, have some ideas - like this:

Goats like being warm and they really have a unique sense of style so.......Christmas scarves! See the grin on Vincent's mug? That's one happy goat.

Happy Drinking Out of a Giant Pumpkin Day!

Glitter Graphics, Thanksgiving Glitter Graphics


Okay - is this like the biggest blinkie you've ever seen? I know that real bloggers probably don't do blinkies but I've decided that it's my blog and I don't care if I'm cool or not. I'm not ever gonna be Dooce or any of those other uberblogs, but that's not really why I'm here. (Hell if I know why I'm here.)

Okay, actually I am here about Thanksgiving. I'm going out to enjoy Thanksgiving hay with the Van Goats and Thanksgiving scratch with Poachie and then I'm going to go to my in-laws I think. It's still up for discussion in the mushy gray matter upstairs until it actually happens. I just know that in that same mushy, gray matter I am very thankful for all that I have - all my family (indoor and out), my job and the roof over my head. Let's face it - you can't take that shit for granted anymore!
So I'm shutting up now because Thanksgiving is not about catharsis - it's about eating so much turkey that you gobble when you bend over!!! Get to it!

Thankfully Yours.....?

glitter-graphics.com


It's been a while since I last posted, but since I'm pretty sure no one is really reading this it shouldn't be too detrimental to the health of this blog. Anyway, Thanksgiving is upon us and I don't feel too excited. What I really want to do is to stay at home for one day and just do whatever I want. I'm suffering from chronic I-screwed-up-and- spread-myself-too-thinitis. A tragic mistake. If you've ever done this you'll know exactly what I'm talking about. It starts out as a feeling of "Wow, I'm super busy now, but feeling SUPER productive." Then it's, " I'm so tired, but I'll catch up soon - everybody goes through busy spells." Followed by "What the hell was I thinking - what can I cut out?" And finally, " I have completely screwed myself, I have cut back as much as I can - can I check myself into Betty Ford and skip the addiction phase?" , accompanied by almost constant dizziness, exhaustion, cement-brain syndrome and frequent digestive unrest, as well as feelings of impending doom. It's not a pretty picture. What now?
I find myself clinging to my kids as unobtrusively as possible but they are definitely keeping me going. The Van Goats feel somewhat neglected which makes me feel sad - I've been getting the cold horn here and there. Huevo the rooster has disappeared so Poachie rules the roost alone. I miss his belligerent, feathered ass. Strange how you can still love an animal even after he jumps you when you bend over to pick up some hay. Was that just obnoxiously, aggressive behavior or did he think I was his giant girlfriend with no feathers? Just wondering.
So I have no solution to this overdoing problem at this particular time, but I do know that I love my family and I'm thankful that I've been so blessed. That's really enough sometimes, isn't it?

Van Goats Have Their Leaves and Eat Them Too.

I went out to see the goats when I got home from work this evening. They were all nestled in their beds, however I'm pretty sure no visions of sugar plums were involved. I don't think they're overly sentimental. One Vincent Van Goat did get quite testy because he wanted out of the fence, but since they more or less bullied the heating and air unit into submission (for submission read malfunction) they are no longer allowed out of the fence. I tried to explain to them that there are consequences for trying to prove dominance over inanimate objects, but they remained unimpressed. It makes me feel warm and fuzzy to see them tucked into their straw beds in their houses. They all came out and talked for a minute and then went back to bed. Hey, around here - bedtime is bedtime.

It's finally cold here in Tennessee. Winter is so mediocre in the ..hack...cough....."Volunteer" state. It does get fairly cold, but it doesn't actually snow. It does, however, rain miserably for 85% of the winter. Yeeessss......it is rather suckish. I've been looking at other people's blogs - namely, In a Goat's Shoes and Octoberfarm and I feel somewhat envious, and I try not to because envy is a bad thing, but it's hard not to when I look at these fabulous blogs and their pictures. Wow. These are places that have real seasons complete with leaves changing and snow. We don't really have much in the way of leaves changing anymore and as I stated earlier, we don't have any snow to speak of - it's like we're seasonally challenged or something.The Van Goats don't really care what color the leaves are - they will eat them no matter what. As for myself, guess I'll have to content myelf with living vicariously through these colorful blogs. It's okay though - I have my kids and the Van Goats - and their kids. Cheers!

Can a Sister Get a Break?

Okay, so this is how our school year has gone so far. We started out with just the usual school stuff.......going to school, coming home from school, homework - you know the drill. Then it progressed from school to volunteering in the school library, girl scouts, Wednesday after school clubs and working the bookfair. I also work 12 hour shifts on the weekend and 2 3-11 shifts during the week. I'm REALLY tired.And I'm so torn! I love volunteering in the library, but I'm gonna have to get a grip because my house is a disaster inside and out; My poor goats are missing me terribly(Well, what can I say? It's true - I'm not bragging!) and it's a toss-up as to whether I'm spending more time at school or at work. I have resolved to cut back to mornings only at school except for special circumstances. That's fair enough. And for a new turn of events....apparently I've gotten so tired that I can't even get my days straight. Today I showed up at work and it was the wrong day. In my twenty-three years of nursing, I have never shown up on the wrong day. WTF!!!! I seriously need a break. I am so annoyed with myself! Totally jacked up my whole day! I tried to the salvage the day by coming home, doing laundry and working in the yard - I can't say no to plant therapy.We had leftover lasagna for dinner and now I'm relaxing and watching a movie called "Death Note" with my son. Kind of weird. Nothing says relaxation like a good Japanese suspense/thriller complete with dubbed voices and some freaky floating "death god". Alrighty then.

Okay- how cool is this? I haven't
put a blinkie on this thing in a really long time! I might say something meaningful some day soon, but in the meantime - HAPPY HALLOWEEN!

What Happens When Novices Buy Chickens....

As was posted before, I bought three chickens in hopes of fresh eggs. Ha Ha. What I got was two roosters and a hen. Not conducive to anything but hen abuse. Chocobo was promptly relocated to a friend's farm where he now resides with many other chickens and has a new girlfriend, whom I'm told he visits every day............across the street. I guess long distance relationships aren't a problem for roosters. Maybe they could give the males in our species some pointers. (Cheap shot, I know.) So now we have Huevo and Poachie left to terrorize everyone and make no mistake about it - they do. Huevo merely sees a person and drops his wing and starts sidestepping - this apparently being code in chicken for," Look alive human.....I'm getting ready to beat you like a drum." Even hens are kind of ornery. One day I was walking through the yard and felt something hit my leg - not terribly painful, but definitely with a little force. I looked down and there was my sweet little Poachie - attacking my leg! What gives? My sweet little chickens have left only to be replaced by freaky feathered terrorists!

Living the dream..........?

Well not exactly. For years I've enjoyed baking bread - not only for great bread but for therapy. Sadly, it went from being therapy to torture when for some reason my bread-baking mojo left the building. Now - I can't even fix a decent pizza. What's going on here? When I was visiting my parents recently my mother came up with the answer. In an attempt to help me with my weight problem, i.e. excessive consumption of carbs, God has taken away my bread-baking mojo. Not her words exactly but that's the gist of the discussion. Who knew? Seriously - I couldn't bake a bread dough ornament -it's that bad! So, I have completely let go of the bread ideal - no more wonderful smells emanating from the kitchen: no more fresh-baked bread; and maybe worse - just one more little piece of my identity chipped out and fallen by the wayside. That's a bummer. First, it was running and now this. What's next - are they gonna take beer off the market?

They're Big Girls Now

It amazes me how fast the chickens have grown - they are gorgeous, extremely independent and even willing to be held and snuggled. The other day, I was mowing the lawn and the girls decided they needed to investigate, so in their little posse of three, they came truckin on out to the front yard to see what was going down, as the above picture shows. As it turned out, the whir -whir of my reel mower did not impress them and they went back to the backyard post haste. Hopefully in another couple of months, we're going to be having some fresh eggs, assuming that these girls will leave their eggs in a place where I can find them. I've heard stories. We built a little chicken coop since that's what you're supposed to do, but as time as has gone by, we slowly discovered that "free range" has less to do with the health of whatever we as humans are going to consume and more to do with their health and quality of life. Since we've left the door to the coop open, the girls are loving life, roaming anywhere and everywhere they choose, hopping into the coop when it rains, and sleeping with the goats on the porch. These girls take their job as the poster chickens for the non-confined life very seriously. So - if we get fresh eggs it will be a wonderful bonus, but if we don't, well then there are three lucky chickens in my backyard living the good life - and three lucky humans loving it.

And Then There Were Chickens...........

Well, it had to happen sometime. In the name of better living through fresh eggs, we acquired three chickens about one week before Easter. How original. The names aren't originals either - you can tell somebody has been watching a little too much iCarly and someone else has been playing a little too much Final Fantasy. (I plead guilty on the iCarly charges, but Final Fantasy - niet, nein, nanka! So these little girls - no cock-a-doodler's here thank you very much - are named Poachie, Huevo and Chocobo. They are Rhode Island Reds, they are priceless and in fact, I am so deeply attached to them that I can now add chicken to the list of things I cannot stand to eat because it might hurt my feelings.
Chickens are awesome, I'm tellin ya! I never knew how cool they are. When they get to about 3 and 4 months old, they at least appear to be fully grown and they know no fear! It's sooo funny. We were really worried about how our cats were going to behave and keeping the chickens safe. Ha. And. Ha. We need not have worried - chickens do not have time to be bothered because they are so incredibly busy checked everything out - and I do mean everything. The back porch, under the back porch, the playhouse, the goats, the goats horns - you name it. They are also very sweet - I enjoy holding them and smoothing their feathers and they enjoyed being held and smoothed. They are sort of like clucking security blankets.

In Bread We Trust

Well, we've been enjoying the good weather so I haven't visited the blogosphere. I must say the Struan I mentioned in the last post turned out very well - unquestionably the best toast bread ever. And I haven't even brought up the grilled cheese sandwiches. Yum. I'm not really big on photographing food, so I don't even have proof of my culinary effort , which I realize is quite remiss of me in a world where blogging about food without pictures is like eating movie popcorn without Junior Mints. Hardly believeable. I am a mere amateur (an experienced amateur, but amateur nonetheless) but trust me on this - if you are a baker then Struan is the dream you are waiting on to come true. It is real, it is truth in bread........truth you can hold in your hands. If you do the work you will reap the rewards. A beautiful loaf inside and out. I love the history of Struan. The bread that was -according to the legend - baked by the oldest daughter of the family to celebrate the harvest. Gifts of grain to the family and fellow farmers. When I work with the dough I feel as though I am part of the history, albeit in a very distant way. Corny? Maybe,but I enjoy the vision of the daughter kneading the bread on a table in front of a fireplace with happiness in her heart for a bountiful harvest when I am kneading my dough on my contemporary American counter. Sound corny? I don't even care because my family is consuming something made with a thankful spirit; real through and through, instead of the questionable contents of a plastic bag. Serve up a loaf of truth t0 your family; talk about what real bread means with them at the dinner table. Let them know that it's not just food for the stomach - it's food for the soul. Trust me - it's worth your time.

Faith in Baking and Baking Soda

The goats are tired of rain and so am I. Thought I heard Wallace quack this morning when I was leaning out the bathroom window. It's hard to get into the whole creative process when you're straining your neck muscles to keep your head above water. Okay....I exaggerate somewhat. Still, it's hard to work outside when the ground is squishy, and let's face it - I'm not six years old anymore - that squishy stuff is no longer appealing. My to-do list for the inside is long enough to keep me busy for quite some time so I guess I really shouldn't complain. Top of the list today is bread - specifically - Struan. I haven't attempted Struan in many years, my first attempt being somewhat off-putting. I've decided that for some reason I need to make a bread with some real meaning behind it. (Of course, all my bread really has meaning behind it - it means we'll have something to eat!) Okay - get a hold of yourself. Seriously, Struan has a long story behind it - it was a harvest bread that was usually made by the oldest daughter of the house. From what I can determine, it was a tradition that came from an area in Hebrides known as Struanmoor. You can read more about Hebrides here. You can read more about Struan from Brother Juniper's Bread Book by Br.Peter Reinhart ( who is an amazing baker, but that's a whole nother story). Get it here. Brother Juniper's Bread Book has some fabulous recipes, but I have to admit that the method requires (perhaps not coincidentally) a leap of faith for someone used to doing things a little differently. Much of my bread baking education has been self- taught, from this book and that, but I have to admit that when I made the white bread out of Brother Juniper's Bread Book, my eyes were opened. I'm not even a white bread kind of gal - I just wanted to make something that seemed simple, but it turned out two absolutely amazing loaves of bread. Now I am very inspired to try the Struan again, so here's to faith in baking and in all things.
Cleaning the house. Eeeep! No longer one of my favorite things since somewhere along the way, I lost of control of my house and now it controls me. Being controlled by a house is just not a good thing, let me tell you. It's very hard to regain control because once it's gone, you just want to bury your head in something that isn't too dusty and forget about it. I lie awake in bed in the early hours some mornings and angst about it. (Today was my day for lying in bed angsting about the goat house - tomorrow will probably be the day for angsting about house cleaning - I usually fall back asleep before I can fret about more than one thing. ) I am a baking soda/vinegar/essential oil kind of girl since I became unable to tolerate chemical/toxic waste smells. I absolutely cannot tolerate any of these perfumes that people bathe in before they go to work, or wherever it is that they're going. Candles, air fresheners, cleaners - it's all toxic. I know I am so far from being the only one terribly disturbed by this stuff that it's not even funny. I think laws should be passed against this kind of pollution - I really do. I read about one lady who couldn't even leave her house because she developed such a sensitivity.
And this is not getting my house clean. (sadly....though heaven knows if surfing the Internet could push the broom and move the dust rag, my house would be spotless!) It's time to get out the vinegar, baking soda and rosemary oil and swab the decks.

But first, I'm going to start some Struan. I'll let you know how it goes.

Ask- a -Goat

I'm finally off on a Saturday - and it's cloudy. Bummer. It's been raining for the last couple of days so it's not even optimal conditions for digging in the ground. I've got to build a goat house.

How is this going to happen?

On top of all this, I've got all these thoughts rumbling around in my head.

For example:

Most days, I think about getting rid of my tv and my computer. I long for simpler times.

I want to be a farmer with lots of land, animals and vegetables.

I've got to build a goat house.

If I believe in God, which I do very much, then why does Buddhism seem so appealing sometimes?

Why do I sit in this chair so much when I feel so much better getting up and doing stuff?

And this one, a new thought: why is John Turturro, in the second Transformers movie, ripping of his pants to reveal some really scary.......underpants?

I've got to build a goat house.

Why are organic foods and products so expensive when organic is the way foods and products should be? It's like giving a child a reward for doing something he's supposed to do anyway.

Why are entertainers paid so much and teachers and cops paid so little?

Is trying to stop global warming really trying to go against God's plan?

Why is it so hard to not spend money?

I've got to build a goat house.

I've got no answers.

Maybe I need to ask Twister.

Step Away from the Ice Cream...........

Drastic times call for drastic measures. I have a point, a reason for saying that....I just can't get to it yet. I recently reached the culmination of several years efforts in trying to commit suicide by gluttony. No...I didn't actually try to commit suicide, but considering the fact that I'm not an uneducated person and I had to know the damage I was doing to myself by repeatedly overeating, anyone could be excused for thinking that. I haven't been to the doctor for said problem - no, nay - I have diagnosed myself. One bitchin, screamingly unhappy, hiatal hernia. I am fairly certain. One morning, a few weeks ago when I woke up sick as hell and throwing up, I realized that while it would probably be a good idea to go to the doctor, major lifestyle changes would be necessary no matter what. So......enter drastic measures. I've quit alcohol, caffeine (except for the very healthy yerba mate) fast foods, fried foods and overeating. I guess major sickness is a potent distraction from feeling deprived - I've missed none of that stuff. My problem now is that I'm getting hungry a LOT. It is difficult to eat a tennis ball sized serving when I'm hungry enough to eat the legs off the table. I have had frequent small meals, but for the first time since the vomitathon I've really had trouble restraining myself. I guess the honeymoon is over.
This all sometimes leads me to wonder how those people who make a living overeating in those contests are gonna fare a few years down the road. I see other people overeating and I just want to tell them that there is nothing they could possibly eat that is worth someday feeling like I felt that morning. Overeating is such a bad problem to have. There are lot of people who think that overeating is just a sign that a person is weak or a pig. It's an addiction just like drugs, alcohol or cigarettes with consequences that can be just as severe as any other addiction. It requires major self-discipline like any other addiction. I hope someday soon, I'll be able to look back on this as a bad time in my life and I would like to look back from a healthy body in size 14 jeans. But for now, I'm just happy God is giving me the strength to put down the fork and push back from the table.

Here Comes the Sun!

Amazing!Thank you Fresh Air Fund! I would love to believe that I played a part in helping at least one of these kids have a fabulous summer!

The Van Goats are proud of me - they think I'm actually losing weight. I have to give a lot of credit to my new personal trainer. She is fierce and she totally busts my ass. She's.........my 6 year old daughter. I've been walking to her school some instead of driving to pick her up and then we play on the obstacle course thingy and she is really kicking my butt! This kid knows what she's doing - "Put your back into it!" she screams - as I heave my big gut up the incline for another crunch. (Don't really know where she got that.) I've been walking, loping, hanging from a bar trying to look like I'm doing chin-ups, doing crunches and pulling my super-sized self up and over all manner of playground equipment. Tell me I'm not gonna be ripped in a month or so! Damn straight! I've also been doing extensive work in and outside of the house and I'm feeling like a real person. I'm not really sure what got me fired up all of the sudden. I guess sometimes all it takes is the realization that you're slowly dying - we all are, just some of us are trying to hit the express lane - and you can either slow down the process and enjoy the ride, or do a "Thelma and Louise" off the great cliff of life. It's a matter of personal preference. I've been in the process of taking the "Thelma and Louise", and even though I know that it's not the option that I really want it's hard turn around when you're going full speed.

OMG! Some guy just walked in Panera wearing man-pris! WTF! He must've lost a bet. Like sitting here listening to some guy with shitty sinuses sniff like "Wilbur" the pig for the last half hour wasn't irritating enough. Damn. Can't a sister get some peace?

Anyway, as I was just saying, I don't want to do the "Thelma and Louise" and it's awfully hard to slam on the brakes when you've got your eye on the half gallon of ice cream a little way down the road. I'd like to meet the asshole that invented ice cream. I'd shove several pints of Ben and Jerry's Chunky Monkey up his butt. Better still, I'd let Vincent or Vanessa Van Goat do it for me.

Can a Mental Hospital Buy Lottery Tickets?

Why don't I just start buying lottery tickets? I would like to win the lottery - right now it's up to three hundred and something million dollars in Georgia. It would be the easiest thing in the world to skip right over there and buy some tickets. So what's stopping me? That's a rhetorical question really........I know what's stopping me. It's the fact that every single time I've bought a ticket I don't even get one number and it just pisses me off. The fact I've that I even brought this up makes no sense I guess since apparently I'm not going to buy any tickets, but I started thinking about it because since I left my regular full time job at one hospital to go back to the hospital In which I have spent most of my working life, I've had some trouble getting enough hours to pay the bills and keep us all in feed. ( I don't discuss this with the Van Goats.......they get extremely nervous and start eating the house. ) In my quest to find more work, I started looking everywhere in the city I could think of that would offer nursing jobs. I recalled a time in life a few years ago when I was working one night and this other nurse was talking about how she occasionally worked at the local mental hospital because it was easy money - stand behind a window and pass out pills. How hard could that be? Last night I started trying to find a website for said hospital to apply for a job and strangely enough I couldn't find a website for the hospital, but I did find several articles about how the tanking economy has necessitated budget cuts at this hospital, which is of course a state run hospital. (I did eventually discover, that with this place being state run, you have to go through a government website to apply for those jobs.)They have closed one building which housed most of the long term acute patients, as I understand it, and they are deleting 40 positions in the hospital. The articles I read were very interesting because there are major concerns as to where the patients who need acute care will go when there's no room for them. This hospital isn't the only mental health institution in the city, but it's the hospital that takes the very ill/criminally insane types of patients and when there's no more room in the inn, those types of patients are going to end up in jail. Now tell me......how is cutting the budget at that hospital the answer? Sick is sick! Figure it out people! We don't send patients who have been flown in from a major trauma to a doc-in-a-box when the ED is full. Stop handing out bonuses to undeserving tools who sit behind a desk and cluelessly pull the chain on health care. If these people won't stay and do their jobs without a bonus, there is always going to be someone willing to the job who will. Has no one figured this out yet? It isn't rocket science, people!

So - not only did I not find a job, but I found more evidence that people with the approximate intelligence of gnats are running the state. I particularly loved the part where some guy said that all the employees at this hospital have been apprised of all the changes and they realize that these changes are good for the hospital. The latest euphemism for " the employees realize that the hospital is taking it up the tailpipe and they can't say anything about it or they will be one of the forty employees to get sent to the heezy."

See, this is just another reason that everyone would benefit from observing the habits of goats. A goat would so not allow that to happen. Goats have a quick way of dealing those who breach the ethics of their society. How would those government people feel if they were in their conference room sipping their Starbucks, saying " Well, this hospital is necessary to the county, nay the state, but we're going to have to make cuts elsewhere(wink, wink) if we don't lop a million or so of their budget " then KABAAAAMMMM! They're t-boned right into the next millenium by 120 pounds of horn and muscle. I think this kind of office protocol just might straighten up the whole state - hell - it could straighten up the whole country. Or maybe the hospital could just start buying lottery tickets. The employees that are still there could just start chipping in a dollar or so out of each paycheck.


p.s. Read it for yourself.

Escapism Schmapism

My life seems to be a never ending cycle of escapism. Lucky for me, I'm not one to get stuck in a rut - I indulge in more than one flavor of escape. Believe me - I am no amateur on this subject. There's Farm Frenzy 2, which offers endless hours of time driven entertainment. You try to meet your goals in the amount of time it takes to make the gold or silver level, thereby getting more points, more money and more upgrades. Farm Frenzy Pizza Party is a special fun for me since in this version of the game they've added goats - you know I'm in heaven when I'm making dough, goat cheese and pizza! Oh yeah!
Then there are your endless varieties of video games. I usually get fixated on one game at a time, playing every opportunity I get - sitting in the car line at school, waiting in a doctor's office, maybe even first thing in the morning when I'm taking the first sips of that nectar of the gods - coffee. I have buried myself in Daredevil, Legend of Zelda - The Minish Cap (which I might add reigns supreme in gaming!), Chronicles of Narnia - The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe, Wallace and Gromit: Curse of the Wererabbit (That game is frickin awesome!) and of course, anything having to do with Raving Rabbids.
I would of course, be remiss if I didn't list Law & Order as one of the top vehicles for leaving this universe. Law & Order: SVU is the be all/end all to television as far as I'm concerned, although Nurse Jackie and Weeds are not without merit. I am so badly addicted to SVU that after I had my hip surgery, I watched so much I started freaking out and having weird dreams. (Okay, that might have been the narcotics but let me tell you, I watched a LOT.)
The piece de resistance in escapism - books. Oh yeah, my friends the books. Can. Not. Get. Enough. Of. Them. I even escape in separate genres. Sometimes I'll read chick lit for a couple of weeks. Other times it'll be forensic thrillers (some of them scare the hell out of me, but I can't quit'em.) Lisa Gardner has no equal in the thriller department, but that's a whole 'nother story. By the way, I recently read something that someone wrote about their pet peeve being people who use words that aren't really words or they spell words incorrectly like irregardless and nother. Screw you - sometimes, nother is the only word that works.
So as I was saying, Lisa Gardner - she is the queen! The Perfect Husband. I was scared to go to the bathroom by myself after I read that book! I've read it at least five times. In fact, it's almost time for me to read it again.
Now - having said all this..........I can always grab a brewski, plop down in a chair on the deck and hang with the Van Goats.

Summer's almost over but it's not too late to help a child enjoy a vacation for which he or she might otherwise not have the opportunity. If you click on the picture you could find out how to make a new friend . You could give someone a life-changing experience - and it might just be you!

The Doctor Is In

I have to wonder.....is it time to just call it a day on the blog? I feel like I have nothing to say anymore. I go to work, take care of my family and and do all your other average stuff. Nothing remarkable. The Van Goats are always amazing, but probably only to me. So......I feel as though I have reach an impasse. Is that the right word? Whatever.
Okay, well here's something. I'm 45 years old - 46 in a couple of months. In the last few months, I've gotten into mental health discussions with people (you know the kind where women talk about what drugs they're on to improve the sanity/insanity ratio. ) Two different people in two different discussions told me " Oh yeah....you are totally ADD! Can spot that from a mile away!" Well HELLO! Was anybody gonna tell me before they were throwing clumps of dirt of top of me? Damn! Help a sister here! I got to thinking about this and reached the conclusion that maybe there's something to that. It would explain a lot of things about me and heaven knows some thing's got to! One of these people actually said, " I cannot believe you didn't know this!" What! Am I a psychiatrist now? I'm wondering if there is actually a way to salvage the remainder of my years...however many there are. I mean, this could be pretty big! When the Van Goats came along, they changed my life. They love me unconditionally - as long as they're fed on time - and they expect very little in return. They're entertaining, affectionate and they're pretty good workers too - they totally keep the backyard in shape and fertilized. They don't treat me like I'm the stupidest being on the face of the earth, they don't insist on telling me their every thought, and they're not always saying " Well you're mean, I want to spend the night with Daddy!" (Bout over that.) Still, it's hard to completely base your feeling of self worth on positive reinforcement from goats. Reaching the age of 45 and looking back and only seeing a lifetime of not following through and not finishing - a lifetime.....it's not really a good feeling. Always having the best of intentions.....well you know where those intentions get you. And you don't even have to wait til you die to get there.
Anyway, I'm thinking that maybe even now, I could feel better and it would probably be great. And if nothing comes of this theory, well at least the Van Goats don't charge for therapy.