Monday, September 6, 2010

Going AWOL

It's not even light out and I'm already starting to get nervous.  As soon as I finish in the barn (and then get sluiced off), I'm going down to the valley to Deb and Craig's.  One would think I'd be used to leaving by now; it's been four, maybe five times this year.  Is this the same me who worked as a consultant and commuted from Sacramento to Salinas and back in a day?  I was always on the road in northern California and thought nothing of it.  Yes, well...that was then, this is now.  I will leave Bessie Anne in charge. 

Sheila got her collar off and I had to hunt the pen to find it.  She's the only girl to wear one, and I tell her it's because she's special.  In reality, it's because my Valley Girl is flighty and easily distracted, and I sometimes have to redirect her attention.  She'd prefer one with rhinestones, I'm sure, but the best I could do is a pretty purple "necklace." 

It's Labor Day.  I was never sure as a kid whether that meant you got a day off from labor, or if you had to work harder on that day.  With the economy as it is, now I think just having a job is cause to celebrate.  One thing about goats...the barn will need cleaning, holiday or not.

2 comments:

Kathryn said...

Here's hoping that Bessie Anne has very little to do, and is up to any challenge that might come her way. There is something about leaving those who can't always fend for themselves, that is unsettling. Too bad Heidi isn't visiting "the Grandfather" on the next hill over - she could come "tend the herds" and maybe spin some wool while she is house and critter-sitting!

Mark said...

Warm up the truck and get on down the hill. You'll have a great time and appreciate the farm more when you return. You'll probably have some new stories of your adventure to share with family at home (both domesticated and wild). I'm off to work but hey..it's holiday pay. I'll have to share some pictures of the "wild" chickens they have all over the island here...along the roads, in the backyards and even in the grocery store parking lots and at the airport. So, our joke here is that no matter what you eat in the restaurants it "tastes like chicken".