My husband, Eric,  doesn’t believe that I truly want to live "in the middle of no where" with sheep.
"You don’t even like sheep," he dithers, oblivious to the obvious.

No one likes sheep. They aren’t put here for us to like. They didn’t
evolve a personality.  They evolved car seat fabrics and roast meat.
I’m a vegetarian, of course, except for sausage and bacon and an
occasional steak.  And when someone gives me elk meat…  I love
chicken! Still, I’m pretty strict about not eating hamburger or
anything coyly described as ‘fingers’ or ‘wings’ when it is not
anatomically possible for that species/menu item.

Trivia: Did you know that cows don’t breed naturally anymore? Farmer Brown
(not his real name) sticks a long metal rod full of hastily thawed bull
(hopefully) giz up ole Bessie’s hoo haw.  70% of the time he misses and
it dribbles wastefully into another orifice or pocket. (most times not
his own). I just read and paraphrased this from the Internets.  It
totally could ruin the Catholic church if this gets out.

Anyway, yeah. I’m looking up property in the hinterlands that includes acreage for my nonexistent sheep.
My
dogs will love it.  I think I will love it. No neighbors. Solitude. I
miss living where no one can hear you scream.  I will breed soft
blankets and scratchy socks.  Better still, I will let them breed
themselves!

I’m trying to write more.  Commitment to the Blog.  Some of these posts will be good and informative…others like a metal rod in the wrong pocket.

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