February 11, 2009
Happiness is a nice goat
Just for fun ('cause we're going to get hammered by a wind storm later today, and all of the limbs that cracked in the ice storm will become unguided missiles; and, oh, yeah, expect power lines to be down again) -- here's one of my all-time favorite postcards. It came from Anette in Norway.
I'm fond of goats. My sister once bought a goat she saw advertised in the paper for $15. She lived in an apartment at the time, so she called my parents to ask if they'd keep her goat for . . . well, I don't know what she said then. In any case, Nan became a permanent, contented island resident. She had her little quirks, as so many of us do. My parents' property has woods on both sides, but Nan was the curious sort. When she heard voices through the trees, she'd hightail it up the steps inside the barn to spy on the neighbors. She had special friends, too. Back when the post office was still at Thelma Schneider's, two women would walk past our house on their way to the post office. Nan would fall in and accompany them there and back. Nothing like a morning constitutional to set the day off right...