Goat parties, donuts and jail
This goat was caught in the act - partying after having plotted his latest escape from a very expensive fence.
I’ve long suspected that goats have an unusual private life. This year, at fair, an unexpected visit unveiled what I have suspected all along: 1. Goats plot their escapes. 2. Then, they party. This discovery required a lengthy undercover stakeout, extraordinary photography skills, and more than one box of donuts. The exact number of boxes remains a mystery because the goats destroyed the evidence, eating donuts boxes and all. (I lie. I can defend a box of donuts like a Kung-fu master, but I am also fluent in denying I eat donuts. After all, I am dieting right now. Donuts? What donuts?)
So, the fair went well. Blue ribbon winners received backpacks. Heidi now has several backpacks – certainly enough to hold several cases of donuts. Don’t ask me how I know that.
She turned 18 this week. First thing out of her mouth – at 5:30 a.m. on her birthday was, “Wow. I can go to jail now!” Coming from Heidi this was alarming. The child would walk an extra block to avoid jay-walking. I had no idea she was contemplating the relative merits of imprisonment. Ken (dad) was disappointed that she set her sights so low. He said jail is at the bottom of the justice system, but that the state penitentiary required more than accidental enrollment and that the Super Max, in Florence, really reflected flare with corruption. I was nonplussed by this revelation. And for those of you wondering, Heidi was NOT contemplating jail. Once she realized that prisoners must make their own beds, she gave up on that as a career possibility and is, instead, pursuing becoming someone whose bed is made for them…like royalty, or a hospital patient. We’ll definitely get back to you on how that works out….For now, the college drama continues. Ugh.
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