Friday, September 09, 2011
AN ODE TO LIVING PASSIONATELY and to goats (yes, there is a connection)
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You've heard the expression 'old goat', I'm sure. It's meant to be derogatory. However, I've given a lot of thought to goats in general and have resolved that you can compare me to a goat any time, especially one of the cashmere variety, such as seen here romping away in the opposite direction of the herd. That's the point: sheep can be sheparded; goats can only be wooed, preferably with food. In my case, food works perfectly, as does yarn.
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Goats are independent, sometimes taciturn (head down, ready to butt butt), always hungry, frequently funny, and not nearly as stupid as people like to think. Goats also prefer high places, meaning they have an innate sense of upward mobility lost on mere grass-munching sheep. Goats climb, prance, amble, and investigate.
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So, this might be a good time to mention that I am a member of a select Order of the Goat, an all-female, post-40 configuration of ornery women who have escaped the paddock so many times, we're now officially free. Part of the secret initiation rites of the Order of the Goat is to don a sheepskin and toss it off moments latter to the rousing line "I am not a sheep!". There, I've said it. I am not a sheep, though I like sheep, don't get me wrong. Nothing wrong with sheep…
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