I got up early this morning. Phil and I were planning a trip to Indianapolis. The plan was to go to a museum. Of course, he wanted to stop by and check on the work in progress at a building he owns.
At the last minute our plans changed and we went to visit our daughter and our grandchildren. We had a lot of fun helping our grand daughter organize her toys. And holding our little 3 month old grandson never gets old.
This day has been rather uneventful. So I will write about a day that happened about 25 years ago.
At that time, we were living in the mountains of east Tennessee. We lived there in a five room house with our four kids. We also owned a herd of goats which numbered around 25.
One spring, Philip and I were castrating the young goats. At some point a rebellious goat decides he's gonna make a run for it. He took off like a bullet! I was already aggravated because I hated that job, so having this smarty get away was out of the question. I held onto his back leg with all my might! He pulled me behind him, right into a barbed wire fence. The wire cut my eye brow but I persisted in hanging onto the goat. Phil almost freaked out when he saw the blood on my face.
When we were finished, we went back to the house to check on the kids.By then, I had forgotten there was blood running down my face.
My kids still talk about the trauma that caused. (And there's the timer!)
No comments:
Post a Comment