Monday, July 09, 2012

The Festival of Hay and Profanity

It has been a hair-raising week. Moldy had a little son his name is Chance. She is devilishly attached to him and bursts out screaming if she can't see him for even an instant.

All the helpers disappeared just in time for the first round of haying and the farmer was picking up hay alone and the tailgate on the truck was broken and you would not believe the cussing that filled the air. It was a symphony of cussing even I was impressed and I have heard some cussing in my day.

Fritzi and Frodo went to their new home and for some reason everybody got upset about this even though they are just two little LaMancha wethers. Penrose couldn't help it she gave the farmer a lot of accusing looks since she had adopted Frodo and was feeding him when nobody else would and she kept staring at the farmer after they left as if to say "et tu, farmer?" and this did not improve the mood of the place one iota and then Betty got into the wrong pasture and all in all it was a good week to take a black Magic Marker and just cross all seven days off the calendar and don't look back and I think that is what we will do so please don't ever mention this week again and if you have to make a comment try to be sure that your comment is pleasant and cheery or maybe just a little poem you wrote about the sun coming up in the morning with rays of golden joy and nothing about sorrow or heartbreak or broken-down machinery or hay.

Thank you.