Well Done

I will admit that I've been dragging my feet getting down to the goats these past mornings.  Just the thought of walking into that heat-shimmering sauna slows me down.  The girls seem to handle the temperatures with equanimity, but I want to make sure they have access to water and that can only happen when they're let out.  As Steve would say on an occasion when I might whine, "They're your toys.  You wanted them."  Yes I did, and I do.  A waiter might ask, "How would you like your steak, madam?  Rare, medium or well done?"  I prefer rare, but I am well done through and through after barn chores these days.

Cracked rib, sore bum, and mammogram are three things that should never be in the same sentence together.  Enough said.

Home again and back into bibbies and knowing I was done for the day, I invited Arden over.  She accepted and we sat out on the deck in the shade to catch any errant breeze that might come our way.  Bess lay panting under the table, so we took her over to the wading pool for a cooling dip.  It's a small pool and would have been crowded with three, but it was tempting.

There are good days, bad days, and those days when just getting through gets a "Well done."