Tim is no more

One of our baby goats died tonight - she got her tether wrapped around something too tight and strangled herself. She was Angel #2's goat and she'd named it Tim even though it was a girl. The angel wasn't too surprised about Tim's demise since she doesn't seem to have a whole lot of luck with livestock. When the kids were little, we would get each of them a calf to care for during the summer, every year, even though each calf got the exact same food and lived in the exact same pen, Angel #2's calf would always die. It's like she's an animal death wish or something.

We don't get worked up over St Pat's day in our family. Angel #4 says there's some Irish in them, must be on their Dad's side because the only ethnic holiday I can legitimately celebrate is German Oktoberfest and a Dutch kermis, both of which they had up in Wisconsin. Down here they celebrate things like Prince Kuhio Day. Anyway, the town where we used to live had a HUGE St Patrick's Day parade. They even changed the name of the town to New Dublin for the week preceding the parade. Things get kind of nuts up there - it's even crazier than you think when you consider that despite what the calendar may say, March is still technically winter in Wisconsin. The last year we lived there, there was a nasty blizzard the day of the parade. I'm guessing that the bagpipers made an exception and did, indeed wear something under their kilts that day. Of course, something silly like 5 inches of snow doesn't slow things down up there and the parade went on as scheduled. Needless to say, I decided to skip it that year. One year, the Friends of the Library decided to have a brat (bratwurst) fry and sell them during the parade. The brats didn't go over too well, but we drew one heck of a crowd of people gathered around the grill to warm up. There are a few things I miss about Wisconsin - freezing my tail off isn't one of them. But, I AM jonesin' for some deep-fried cheese curds.