Friday, October 31, 2008
There have been complaints, as there always are, regarding the current election (see below) for the cutest kid of all time. This is always a problem in a democracy, especially if the democracy is rigged. Anyway, some people have intimated that Peanut might be cheating.
"So what?" I said, when I heard this allegation.
Then there were some sour-grape complaints from some of the unnominated goats and their mothers. The minis in particular were complaining. Peaches asked everyone - what about my kids? What about Ginger Jones? What about Augie and Hermy and Julius? Why weren't they nominated? Because of mini prejudice, she implied.
"So what?" I said.
Being extremely polite I didn't mention that Peaches should go take a look in the mirror. I noticed and you probably did too that she didn't mention her daughter Tubster. Tubster is no beauty queen, and minis in general just aren't as cute as Nigerians. That's the way it is.
If anyone should be complaining, it's me. What about my adorable son Bobby? What about Huckleberry? What about my other supermodel grandson Goatzilla? Or Harley or Cora Belle? Or Betty for goodness' sake? The list goes on and on.
Well the farmer ignored all the grumbling because who has time for the complainers of the world. But then Betsy came up, and since she hardly ever complains, she was allowed to speak her mind, which in my opinion is a big mistake, because she is part Nubian.
"What about Moony?" Betsy wanted to know. Moony is Betsy's brother.
Everyone shrugged in a very French way. "What about him?"
"He was really really cute."
"So what?" I said again, because get over it, Moony wasn't nominated.
"Yes, but he was an orphan," said Betsy.
Well, that's true. He was an orphan.
What about Moony?
The polls will close in one hour or whenever the farmer finishes milking, whichever comes first.
Tuesday, October 28, 2008
The gauntlet has been thrown down. Smidgen, the tiniest doeling ever born at Herron Hill, dares to challenge kid-of-the-year Peanut, the tiniest buckling ever born here, to a cutest baby of all time (so far) contest.
Betty has not protested, even though she was very cute when she was born, and neither has Goatzilla. So the fight is on.
Good luck Smidgen. You will need it.
Th Poll has ended. Peanut "Mayor Daley" The Kid won. Smidgen came in second. For a while she was ahead. Then she was behind. Good try, Smidge.
Monday, October 20, 2008
My daughter Blue Umbrella, aka Baby Blue, aka Blue, is certainly the prettiest of the regular milkers and obviously the smartest, and her milk tastes the best. The farmer uses Blue's milk as the daily latte milk, since it is the sweetest. But the farmer didn't want to put her on regular milk test since she is a first freshener and only had a single kid, so she is just milking once a day. On test everyone is milked twice a day.
So the farmer decided to do a one-time test on Blue's milk just out of curiosity. All the other milkers average between 3.5 and 4.5% with their butterfat. They do go up some in the winter, to give them credit for their mediocre efforts, but usually they average around 4% for the year. The butterfat is what makes the milk taste good, and it is what the cheesemakers want to make beautiful cheese.
Sheep have high butterfat, maybe starting around 6%, and this is why people milk sheep, because why else would anyone milk sheep? No offense to the sheep of the world, but if you think the Nubians are low on the IQ totem pole, what until you see the sheep.
There are sheep out there that make Boo look like Stephen Hawking. And that isn't easy.
Anyway, the test came back and of course Blue had the highest butterfat of anyone, and almost double some of the big girls. That's right, 7%. One of her great-grandmothers milked 11%, so we will see what happens in the winter, she may go up even higher.
But anyway, ha. Meanwhile the big large bossy girls fill the pail with water. Yum, delicious, tomme de l'eau, save me a piece, I bet it goes good with gruel.
Friday, October 10, 2008
Tuesday, October 07, 2008
Little Jessie the LaMancha kid was the goat of the month last month. She was already quite full of herself before being made goat of the month. Afterward she was plain and simply prideful. And you know, or you ought to know, what pride goeth before.
That's right. Little Jessie has gone from her embroidered satin cushion right into the doghouse. Lo how the mighty are fallen.
The problem is this. Jessie went to the fair, which I don't believe in going to because it is ridiculous. When they have a people fair where you can go pet the accountants and insurance salesmen sitting in little pens for three days, let me know about it and maybe I will go. If it isn't raining and I don't have to have all my beautiful hair shaved off first.
But anyway Jessie went to the fair. And she came back with a blue ribbon, big deal. AND, we discovered a couple of weeks later, the goat chicken pox. First just Jessie had it, and she was locked into a quarantine stall all by herself, where she passed the time by yelling. The farmer gave up and threw Binky to the wolves - Binky went in with Jessie so she would shut up.
"Sorry, Binky," said the farmer, "but someone has to take one for the team."
Then Winnie, Jr., who also went to the fair, got it. She got thrown in a stall with Tanjy and Bugsy, who also went to the fair. Then Bugsy got it.
Then Bertie got it. Then Betsy. And by this time there were no more stalls to throw anybody in so the farmer decided to just let it burn itself out since the quarantine hadn't worked anyway. The farmer looked around and took stock: almost all the goats who had gone to the fair had gotten the goat chicken pox.
Except the Nigerians, we never get anything.
Binky is our goat of the month for October. Congratulations, Binky.