Got your goat

7 07 2009

So I know that according to blogging rules, I’ve broken a biggie: Thou shalt blog often. Not that anyone has missed me because the two people that read this have been busy with lives of their own. BUT, whilst I was on vacation with no internet access, it was surprisingly refreshing.  I’ve been back for about a week now and still enjoying be cut off somewhat, but, like a good margarita, it’s good to end sometime — usually when you lose your pants. What can I say. GUILTY.

So the time is now to get back at it. Holla.

A few notes:


Today I learned how to milk a goat. Now, unfortunately, I did not get to manhandle the goats because they were agitated from being milked, but it was an awesome experience provided for by Paradise  Gardens and Farms in Reynoldsville, and The Food Network Canada. More on that later, with some pretty amusing video.

But if you thought bulls were scary, check out a pissed off goat. They aren’t happy and will kick you. But their owner was masterful with them and was able to calm them the down and still gracefully squeeze the milk out of them.

I also recently learned the ins and outs of jump roping competitively, and let me tell you, it’s hardcore and the people that do it know their stuff. Check out some videos of them (WARNING: Shameless plug). You’ll be amazed.

Now, back to vacation.

Ah the beach. Land of sand, water, frozen drinks and plastic diggingware. Margaritas and clams every day, that’s how I roll. Interspersed with surf fishing, beach bocce ball, winning small plush alligators (OK I didn’t win one but my brother and his wife each scored something.) fannypackand pretending to like “running.”

But no, just because you are at the beach and it looks like you’re supposed to be able to run along the water like the lifeguards do at ass-thirty in the morning, it is not the place to try if you haven’t run in  4 years. Have you ever had to be rescued by a lifeguard….on land? Embarrassing.

My glaring observation from the beach is that it seems to be the land where everything that doesn’t seem OK in the “real world?” is totally acceptable: I.E. Fanny packs; straw cowboy hats; oversized t-shirts that say things like “italians do it better” or “born to kick bass;” bathing suits that don’t quite fit;  pretending like you are intuned to the ocean that no one else is to find shells for an empty glass dish that, if you saw on display at a store back home, you would think tacky; or allowing your kids to pee in the water where others are swimming.

Fanny packs — yes, they’re utility is indisputable but their appearances? Please. Also, why the hell are they called fanny packs when they clearly sit on your frontal groin area? WTF.




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