I may have missed a unique opportunity this morning, but I was quite sore from all the activities we've been participating in, and I didn't think that lifting goats or climbing through snow piles to catch them would benefit any part of my body. Dan (I will leave you to figure out which Dan) graciously invited us to help him with his farm-sitting chores for a couple who live down in Schoharie (I think-it's south of I-90-that much I know). They have gone away for a few days, and Dan is in charge of the chickens, the goats, the ducks, and I'm not sure what else. The goats need to be milked because they are, alas, milk goats. Not my type of goat, as they require milking twice a day, and I'm not sure I would want the responsibility for anything that needs my devoted attention twice a day. Present responsibilities excluded, of course. My type of goat is a Angora goat, who grows the mohair for a six month period, and then you shear them. Quite nice really, to meet up twice a year for grooming and a real one-on-one. Not that more care isn't required, but I'm sure you get my point. Anyway. Dan graciously invited us, and I readily accepted because anything to do with a farm is a good knowledge to have, even if it is not my "venue" so to speak. But I woke up this morning and realized that the backside is healing nicely, and who am I trying to impress with these acrobatic endeavors three days in a row? Certainly not anyone I know. And so, I have thrown in the towel/ raised the white flag/ whatever term you want to use for quitter, and today I will rest easy. Brian and Ashley are coming for their Christmas, and Allison is coming home after being away since the 27th. I am looking forward to some quality family time, without injuring myself any further, which would in no way enhance our visit together. Having done the "I'm sorry I can't seem to move" routine for a few weeks now, I am not rushing back to full activity until I'm sure I can handle it. So, the goats will have to be milked without me. Sorry about that Dan. You're a better man than I Gunga Din. I promise to help in the spring, when the snow is gone and the ice has melted. I'm sure I will be much more of an assist by then. And I may even come to love those milk goats. Who knows? Milking a goat in the springtime is clearly going to be a much more inspiring and gentle experience. The wind blowing in your hair, the mud on your boots, crocus just coming through the ground. Positively lovely. Much more in tune with my vision of "Gentlemen's Farm". Heck, we haven't even got a barn yet. I don't HAVE to go out there right now. I know I will when the animals come, but for today, just call me lazy. Maybe lazy and wise. I hope so.