On Saturday we went to our friends' Craig and Chrissy's for a party. They have a farm with many animals (including, for your spinning jealousy, Shetland sheep). As it turns out, it is baby goat season. Len plotzed.
For the last several months, he has been trying to talk me into getting goats, I imagine the pressure will mount.
While that face is difficult to resist, you only have to see all the poo to know what a terrible idea it would be.
No. We are not getting goats!
We got Lizzy from Craig and Chrissy. They didn't want to keep her because they already had two dogs and a third was too much (do I know that feeling!). But within a few months, they ended up with a third dog anyway (I know how that goes). Apparently Baby was headed for a dog fighting ring and they could not allow that to happen. It looks like Lizzy and Baby are good friends. They are not, I don't know why, some sort of canine politics. Lizzy escaped confinement and spent the afternoon charming everyone.
Hula hoops are still entertaining.
I don't know who this kid is, but isn't she cute? She didn't quite have the coordination yet to make the thing work.
The weather couldn't have been more perfect (Sunday was 40s and raining). I'm thinking we should round up a bunch of nieces and nephews and take a field trip before the goats become louder and less cute.
No. We can't have goats.