I’ve been on the go since yesterday afternoon, it seems. Went to an incredibly fantastic and awesome concert (ani difranco) following an excellent dinner at a Chinese restaurant in DC’s mini-chinatown (it should really be “chinablockandahalf”), and all that via public transportation and after standing in long lines, and I know this is a disjointed run-on sentence, but suffice to say, Friday was fabulous.

And then I realized shortly before going to bed in the wee hours that Leanne needed to be at the train by a certain time on Saturday (she came for a quick visit to participate in the Friday night revelries) and that I needed to be at the sanctuary by a certain time (it was the thanksgiving event), and that since it was a potluck I needed to bring food.

Oops. I didn’t really have any veg or much in the way of grains or even any fruit. Unusual for me, but so be it. I also didn’t have a lot of time. I got up at tempest-o’clock (she didn’t even let me sleep until 7!) and got some cornbread started. I decided to make a batch or two of cookies as well, because I wasn’t sure cornbread was really enough to fulfill a “main dish to serve 8” requirement. And then because I (felt like I) had enough time, I made a second batch of cookies. Luckily, because the cornbread turned out to be some mutant freak of a recipe that worked great in Denver and not so much at sea level (ish). But Leanne liked the funky cornbread, so she got to take half of it with her!

Then the sanctuary time and having to fill in for the parents who didn’t seem to get that letting their kids chase the animals was not a good thing. I was so annoyed. Well, actually, I was furious, and shaking with it. One father actually thanked me for educating his child, which was a relief. I wanted to throw up afterwards, ’cause I’m so good at handling confrontation, nevermind that I was confronting a child!  But what’s up with parents letting their children terrorize small animals?  My god, no wonder when I let my neighbor sit for Tempest, I came back to a cat hobbled by an old halter they somehow found, and a look on her face to rival what thunderstorms do to her. Never again!

And then there were the boys who I had to kick out of the goat/sheep area because, guess what? They also didn’t get that they shouldn’t be chasing the goats and sheep (many of whom are arthritic, and it is painful and sad just to watch them hobbling trying to get away from these monster children), and of course being of an alien species, they didn’t have parents.

Oh, I love people, yes I do!

This is sort of a long run on post. I have no idea what I’m even wanting to say, really, just that I’m exausted and my brain can hardly take in everything it was required to process the past few days, and yet I have a NaBloPoMo post that needs to be made.

So, here it is. Disorganized mess of a post that properly reflects my mental state!

goats at ps

This is what goats do when they’re happy and relaxed. Well, one of the things. They also play and eat and beg for attention, but running around trying to escape bratty boys and girls is NOT what they prefer to do.

Oh, yeah, Three Things will have to wait for tomorrow for me to catch up.

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