It's a goat baby this time. I'm not pregnant. If I were the pregnant one, then I would just begin researching which mental institution would suit me best.
Me on the phone with the psych ward:
"Do you practice lobotomies? mmmmkay. How much Valium do have on the premises? .......Is that enough to just turn me into a happy vegetable?......... mmmmkay......Do you take blue cross blue shield? I'll call you in a few months. Thanks"
Patty's udders have dropped, which is a sign that she will deliver her kid very soon. Sooo...we are keeping a close eye on her, and I am scouring the internet with the hopes of picking up some milk-goat midwifery skills. This is just in time because my baby goats are getting too big to cuddle. Louie knocked me just below the eye with his horn yesterday. I was this __ close to being a total redneck emergency room patient. Have you ever seen the "Appalachian Emergency Room" skit on Saturday Night Live? That would have been me. Of course, I would have changed into a moo-moo and house shoes just for effect. "That little billy goat done reared up and got me in da eye."
When we deliver the kid, you bet I'll be blasting all the details here. Stay tuned.