Holy Hip Boots!

We have seen a lot of rain but the rain we got this week this was really something. November is the wettest month of the year here, and averages 5.9 inches of rainfall. That's for the whole month. On Sunday alone we got seven inches, and then three more on Monday. Down in Shelton, about half an hour away, they got 12 inches in a single 24 hour period. I am not a meteorologist, but I can tell you for sure that when you get 12 inches of rain in a day, it's pretty soggy.

The farmer was engaging in some colorful vernacular, because water was coming into the barn and a trench had to be dug to get it to run out. The farmer asked if any of us would care to help with the digging of the trench, since we are the ones who live in the barn. But I believe that was what is known as a rhetorical question. Anyway, I pretended not to hear just in case.

And since it was a pineapple express, it was warm, too, which made everyone feel like they were in a really unpleasant sauna. Some flies who thought it was next year already prematurely woke up and staggered around the place drunkenly.

The Department of Bad Ideas

Well guess what, Willen the bad pony went to the pony academy and he has learned to pull a cart, as you can see, and looks very fetching in his cart-pulling outfit, or whatever it is called.

That's all well and good, I do not oppose ponies pulling things around or letting people sit on them, or jumping over little fences, or chasing foxes around the countryside. I wouldn't do it myself, but for ponies it is fine. After all, what else do they have to do? It's not as if they spend any time writing poems or thinking about the world's problems, like I do.

But anyway I heard the farmer going on about what a pony genius Willen is, and how cute he is with his cart, and wouldn't it be adorable to have a goat that could pull a little cart too. Wouldn't that just be the ticket.

Well, of course when I heard that I sidled away as best I could, and pretended not to hear anything, but then the farmer went on, saying, "of course it would have to be one of the smart ones," which sounded kind of ominous, because you know that means the Nubians won't be eligible, and Penrose the Toggenburg is not exactly working on her PhD either.

I felt hopeful, though, still, because after all the LaManchas are smart (if you like that kind of 'smart') and they're big, too, some of them actually look like Shetland ponies. But then I heard the farmer say, "and it would have to be one with a good personality," which closes the door on that group.

In fact, it pretty much left me and my daughter Hannah Belle staring at each other, since she has inherited my excellent mind and my outstanding personality along with several other remarkable qualities, including extraordinary good looks and unwarranted humility, as I have mentioned before.

And then the farmer said, "and I would want it be one with a nice beard."

And Hannah Belle kind of chuckled, because in the beard department, she has about as much going on as a beach ball.

Great.

Wendell Van Gogh

Sadly, many of the most gifted and visionary artists the world has known are not appreciated in their own community. We must admit that that is the case with Wendell. After an early immature period where he worked primarily in cloth and rubber, with slippers as his favorite medium, Wendell has moved on to working in metal, glass, and mixed media. Here is his latest installation, a pair of Bartell's reading glasses that have been fully "Wendellized."

And what did his craftsmanship and attention to detail (notice the delicately chewed tip of the earpiece) earn him? Nothing but yelling and a timeout in his crate.

It's true: This world was never made for one as beautiful as Wendell.

Mabel, A Year Later....

Mabel, all grown up.