Life turns on a dime...(or a goat)

Although I generally avoid authors in the horror genre, I recently read (and thoroughly enjoyed) Stephen King's latest bestseller, the time travel tale of the Kennedy assassination. If you have read this book, you will be familiar with the phrase oft repeated in the story, "Life turns on a dime." One moment you're  a current-day schoolteacher in a run-down cafe, the next you are banging down doors in a Dallas book depository, 1963. What impact will each decision make? Life turns on a dime.

King's book is fiction, of course, but the theme is all truth. One minute you can be a typical suburban mom with a decent wardrobe, lazy weekends, some free time and spare cash, then the next day you're, well, me. I've given up any attempt to wear clothing that isn't black, navy blue or dark green (the approximate color of regurgitated goat spit), my days are consumed by goat care, goat projects or shrubbery-scavenging, and already I am a Gold-Card member at the local feed store. How did this happen?

In elementary school, my daughter was invited to a friend's house for a playdate. When I dropped Emily off, I met the child's mom, who proudly showed me her dozen-or-so goats (pets!) and confessed, "When I'm having a stressful day, I just tell my family not to bother me for an hour, and I go sit with the goats." Noticing the solitary lawn chair in the meadow, I recall thinking, "This woman is nuts! Am I really leaving my daughter here?" (Sadly, this family no longer lives in the area - what a great mentor she could be!)

Saturday was a crazy day. I got up early for a development yard sale (my most favorite activity/addiction), but on my way there I drove by a house with a large doghouse for sale out front. My "goat house radar" went on high alert, and I pulled into the driveway. (Em and Elliot are still living in a plastic box designed to hold trash cans...) Turns out, amazingly, this wooden shelter had been custom-built for two pygmy goats (!!) who had been given to a farmer when their owner had zoning conflicts. Also, the woman mentioned casually, she had 3 rolls of 6-foot high goat fencing with stakes, feeding buckets, some leftover goat medicine, and a large goat toy. (They make these?? Where? Goats-R-Us?) By this point I realize I am salivating and have to turn away to discreetly wipe the drool off my face. I never made it to the development yard sale (having handed over all my cash here), and it took me 4 trips back and forth to fit everything in my minivan (along with a cute matching chicken house for a friend).

At home, my husband had decided to tear apart the girls' old swingset and use the wood to create a deluxe goat jungle gym, complete with ramps, slides and multiple-level platforms. Helping with this took the rest of the day, and just as we were thinking about supper the phone rang and it was a local 4-H goat leader whom I had contacted some time ago about help with hoof trimming, but he had been away until now...We left supper on the table, loaded the goat boys into the van and headed off for a field trip. (The verdict was, my trimming was not awful - he made a few corrections and gave wonderfully helpful advice...) And finally it was dark, everything was cleaned up and put away, that miraculous time of night when I get to decide between a good book on the couch, the TV remote or a plate of nachos (or maybe all three!), but as I contemplated my options I realized there was really one place I wanted to be...

I went out on the deck and sat with the goats.