All the Comforts of Home

Another busy day as we took advantage of a warm fall weekend - along with other outdoor chores we swept out the goat pen and got a coat of paint on their shed. Also, because goat grain at my favorite feed store is on back-order until Tuesday, Emily and I carefully measured out all our remaining grain (not nearly enough!) into portions to get us through until then. (The goats will not be happy with smaller meals, but it's better than switching brands - remember it only comes in 50 pound bags - with all the gastronomical distress that would cause!) By evening my clothes were covered in paint, straw, grain flecks, goat hair...where did the day go?

We had tickets to a show at a local theater (ok, my daughter's high school play, but we don't get out much) and there was just enough time to clean up, put the goats away and  meet my in-laws at the box office. I scrubbed my hands, splashed some water on my face and grabbed the cute new black sweater I planned to wear - perfect with dress pants and just the right pair of earrings. Quick check in the bathroom mirror and we were out the door. Only as we pulled into the parking lot did I relax enough to notice...WHY DIDN'T ANYONE TELL ME I WAS STILL WEARING MY GOAT JEANS?? That's right, the straw-dusted, paint-splattered ones with a giant hole in the knee, faintly aromatic of the goat pen. DIDN'T ANYONE NOTICE? Silence...then a quiet voice from the back seat, "But Mom, you always wear those jeans."

 Technically almost correct - BUT NOT IN PUBLIC! NOT WHEN THE REST OF ME IS ALL DRESSED UP! At least the auditorium would be dark, I could spread out the program on my lap during intermission, and the play was so amazing I'm sure nobody noticed. It reminded me of something profound Emily said one day last week as we were sitting outside with the goats. "Mom," she remarked, "I think our house is like sweat pants."

Being of the Seinfeld generation (remember the quote about how wearing sweatpants is like giving up on life?), I was puzzled. I may not vacuum every day, but is it really that bad? Please elaborate, I told her cautiously. "Well," she said, "It's nothing too fancy and not the best for lavish dinners (this speaks to my abhorrence for hosting big family holidays), but it's warm and comfortable and fits our family just right."

Yeah, I can live with that. However, if she ever compares our home to my goat pants, I may have to make a few changes...