Drawn as I am to being a homesteader, I always bow to the wisdom of my Cowboy. I tell him I want something (ie. a small goat herd), and he tells me why goats are a bad idea. Hmmmph! That's why no goats.....frown.
A close friend of Cowboy's for over 40 years (a genius with an inventor soul), "T", always teases Cowboy: "Oh, get her what she wants, you tight wad!"
This very friend invited us for a birthday supper last week to honor his daughter and me (we share the same birthday - the 1st day of Spring). Out here at the Western Edge, nothing is close by. Nearly every dining experience involves a commute of at least 30 minutes. We arranged to meet him at 6pm at the crossroads where the US highway meets the State highway just out of town.
We got to the corner first at about 5 till. After 37 seconds, Cowboy piped up, "I guess he's not coming."
He has a problem!!! According to his timeline, "If you're not early, you're LATE!" Not everyone has such standards, Cowboy!
"Oh look, here he is," I interjected, pointing as his car pulled up beside ours.
"It's about time!"
"T" jumped in the backseat of our car and away we went. We chatted about the day, our tasks, Spring and wildlife...nothing of any consequence. Then we embarked on a discussion of what he would do if he were the President. He had compiled a paper with the top 10 issues of his platform. He made a copy for me. He's an interesting friend. Cowboy says he'll vote for him.
We met "T"s daughter and her family at a restaurant down the way. Greetings. Happy Birthdays exchanged. Buffet night. Packed house. While I was loading my plate, "T" passed behind me and said "You're in the goat business, woman."
Whatever that meant. I chuckled. Maybe it had some hidden meaning. I was too hungry to give it more thought.
Back at the table we chatted about the yummy food on the buffet --excellent salad bar, lots of midwestern fare like fried chicken, mac and cheese, mashed potatoes and gravy, fried biscuits with apple butter, blackberry pie. We had a lovely, laid-back supper.
I brought eggs to give away -- it turned out to be a good idea; don't laugh. "T"s daughter and granddaughter were baking a cake later that evening. So it was a good idea, like I said.
~I've turned into the "hey, ya need any eggs?" lady~
We said our good-byes and headed back home. I don't really remember our conversation for the trip back...but I know it was pleasant. We dropped "T" off at his car and made it back to the farm. It was after dark. I hopped out of the truck, grabbed my egg basket to gather the eggs and close up the hens for the night. Cowboy went on in the house. As I neared the door, I could see all the hens roosting in a bunch all on one side of the barn--- weird. At that same moment, a new aroma reached my nostrils and a foreign sound tickled my eardrums..... baaaaaah
Goats!!!!!!
I gave my eyes another long blink and looked into the stall nearest the door.....
"They're not ours; chase them out of the barn."
"No, you don't get it!! They're in a stall!!! Did you get me goats????? Aww, you knew I wanted goats."
"I had nothing to do with this! That $#@^&!!!"
"What?"
"This is all "T"s doing! They were all in on it!!!! We can't keep the goats. They'll have to go back!"
"No, I want them! They won't be any trouble."
"We'll see."
Goats! I have goats. Not just one goat, but a mommy and baby. I've named them Gretta & Gretchen. They are so sweet. We lined their stall with hay and hung up a hay bag filled with hay and filled up a water bucket. The next day Cowboy took me to the feed store for goat feed....and he picked out purple collars for them. I know; I win!!
Oh how that group must have been laughing and high-five-ing each other knowing that they made my 52nd birthday fabulous and got Cowboy's goat!!!! "T" had arranged the whole thing. He bought the goats (a mommy and a baby because he knew I'd never get rid of them) and hired a friend to deliver them while we were at supper. Cowboy has become known as "goat man" around town....much to his chagrin.
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