Tuesday, January 23

When Goats - sorry, I Mean Goals - Align

My nephews and nieces gave me a goat for Christmas.

I mean, I have always been in love with the idea of a goat, but the only time I actually had one was in 1977 when I dropped out of first year law.

I lived in a cottage in the wine country and went into my local op-shop for kitchen utensils and came out with a goat called Whitney.

Whitney took to sleeping on the bottom of my sleeping bag and survived on a diet of laundry that was occasionally strung up on a low hanging wire and boxes of smokes.

But I've moved on.

Anyway, this time it's a win/win. The goat is in Africa.

It's perfect; I have a goat, of which I am very fond, but someone more deserving gets to milk it, smell it and sleep with it.

It's a great result that addresses interests nicely thanks to Oxfam.

1 comment:

Blog Editors said...

LOVE the goat in the sleeping bag. I MUST get to New Zealand to meet you. Thanks, by the way, for the post on my attorney-identity. Calling it "brave" DID make me feel a little more naked than I felt writing it but then I forget how little I pretend anymore (WHAT a relief!) The following from Denis Johnson's great short story collection: Jesus Son: "There was a guy with something like multiple sclerosis. A perpetual spasm force him to perch sideways on his wheelchair and peer down along his nose at his knotted fingers. This condition had descended on him suddenly. He got no visitors. His wife was divorcing him. He was thirty-three, but it was hard to guess what he told about himself because he really couldn't talk anymore, beyond clamping his lips repeatedly around his protruding tongue while groaning. Now more pretending for him! He was completely and openly a mess. Meanwhile, the rest of us go on trying to fool each other"