She bawled the whole way to Des Moines because she had just done chores and couldn't resist the urge to hold the babies. That left her smelling like a goat. The smell was embedded into her pants and she couldn't think of anything worse. Meanwhile, I typically look and smell like I crawled out of a dumpster on the weekends, but that didn't make her feel bet. It was my usual look. She tried covering it up with perfume but didn't want to change her clothes because she'd be 'wasting' an outfit.
I couldn't appreciate her practicalness more. Seriously, what 11 year old thinks about 'wasting' an outfit?
3 sets of twin goats in a week.
An entire month ahead of schedule.
Leo clearly knew how to get the job done. He snuck into the girl fence a couple of times before the breeding season started. Since he basically ejaculated with each sneeze, it shouldn't surprise me he was so effective; yet disgusting, stinky, scary, and yeah... plain old gross. He figured out how to open the gate with his horns- and goats are not smart. Where there's a will, (or a horny goat) there's a way.
This whole goat thing has brought more to our lives than we anticipated. The smells, reproduction conversations, live births, costs, illness, and life cycles. One of the babies was born - as Molly called it "with special needs." It couldn't walk, or therefore nurse. It died within 24 hours and a heartbroken Molly felt a mix of emotions. Mother Nature is full of ups and downs.
Our two does are sold, but we await the deposit of our remaining 3 bucklings... of course. The gross ones.
Maisie went to the 8th-grade dance Friday after school. She had just bought a trendy (aka- very short) dress and was feeling extra confident. The next day she was asked to the dance by a student who does have special needs in 7th grade. She didn't want to hurt his feelings, so she agreed to go with him. When I picked her up from the dance, her date was doing a handstand on the concrete floor against the brick wall of the cafeteria.
