Not blogging for all these days has been like being gagged and bound! I have been held hostage to my responsibilities. It's hard being a grown up.
Where is the drought? I know farmers appreciate rain and water is good...blah, blah, blah. But I am so tired of mowing grass, raking grass, pulling weeds and sweating, I could scream. Would a little drought hurt? When the heck is fall anyway? I am done with summer.
Yesterday I mowed the grass AGAIN. I like the riding lawn mower. I'm good at it. But I was in a tired haze, last week caught up to me. I thought I'd put the beast into neutral but it was still in 5th gear. I took my foot off the brake and slammed myself forward. I cracked my wrist and ankle and my ankle is swollen still. I worked up a gem of a blister raking. I will have a bagger attachment next year.
The kids had to help, especially with my beloved away so I took them for ice cream after we showered.
I called Steve and told him, I'd made an executive decision. "I am getting a goat."
He thought I said I GOT a goat and he said, "you what!"
That seemed like fun so I went with it. I told him yes I'd gotten a goat from Ali at the farm. It was just for the weekend to eat some grass and weeds. I told him the dogs weren't bothering it and it was working out so well.
After saying, "you didn't?!" three or four times and reminding me the neighbors already think of us as 'Hooisers', he told the guys at dinner, what I'd done. They had a great laugh and were teasing him. I could just imagine him shaking his head at me from far away in disbelief.
I finally told him no, I didn't get a goat. A big laugh was had by all.
Now, should I be happy that my husband believes everything I tell him or should it concern me that he thinks I really might put a goat in the backyard?