Ok, I’m weird…and that’s ok.

 

I’ve always known I’m different than most folks. I’m one of the ‘march by the beat of my own drum’ kind of people. When I’m in the right company (read: as wacky as me), I’ve been told that I’ve got a crazy wicked sense of humor. It’s definitely twisted, that’s for sure. A lot of folks just don’t get me and probably think I’m weird….and that’s just fine with me. Peer Pressure doesn’t matter to me anymore.

I’m free to be me.

 

Maybe that’s why I’ve always like camels and llamas. Everyone thinks they’re weird, and I think they’re more lovely than a plot covered in roses. Actually I think llama breath smells better than roses.

See? I’m weird.

Goats are weird, too. Lots of people like them, though. But you have to admit, goats do look sort of weird with their horizontal elliptical eyes.

I love my 3 goats and their funky eyes. They remind me of dogs and often want to climb up into my lap for a cuddle.

Luna, my angora doe was my first goat. I rescued her 2 years ago from a neglectful home, where she was kept in a 6 foot muddy pen with nothing but a few brown alfalfa crumbs thrown in for her to eat. She was supposed to eat weeds, but there weren’t many weeds on the overgrazed dry lot she was let out on a few times a week, tied to a horse as a sort of training for the horse. Ever heard of that before? Not me, until I adopted my Luna.

I almost didn’t take her home. She was so matted and had never been sheared in the two years her previous owner had her. She still had the green paint on her rump, that was used by the auction to mark all the animals being sold in her group.

I usually shear her twice a year, but missed her shearing last Fall because of the snow that came with our early winter. She was way overdue last week, but my shearer guy won’t come over to shear just one animal. And I sold my sheep and my llamas only require shearing every other year.

So I had to shear her myself, with my hand shears, or what some might call scissors. It took me almost 2 hours and I didn’t give her a close-cut because I wanted her to have all her skin intact.

It wasn’t pretty.

And I couldn’t keep any of her mohair fleece as it was so matted and full of VM. The birds love it, though, and I’ve seen them carrying it off to their nests. 

But I got ‘er done and Luna was perfectly patient for me the entire time. She even nuzzled and licked me whenever I got into her range while she was up on the stanchion table.

After I trimmed her hooves and put Luna back into her paddock, she began dancing around, head-butting and playing with her goat buddies, Mud Pie, the nigerian wether, and Latte, my mini-mancha doe. That was all the thanks I needed. Totally made my day.

        

But I’m still weird. I don’t care about keeping up with the Jones’s. It doesn’t matter what kind of car I drive. It only has to be useful and practical. That’s all I demand. I’m not into clothing style or brands. They only have to be comfie, fit well and not cost a lot.

And they should clean up well and be able to hold their own in the barn.

If you came into my house or my garage, you’d first notice that I don’t have a lot of stuff and don’t have collections. I despise dusting, so I don’t keep lots of dust collectors around. Any knick knacks I do have, must bring me huge joy every time I look at it, or it would have to go. I also don’t like clutter. It stresses me out. I will never be on that Hoarding TV show. Shopping doesn’t appeal to me at all. And I’m a firm believer that if something new comes in, then something old and unused must come out.

You could easily say that I’m not very sentimental about stuff either. I married my hubby 20 years ago, and even sold my wedding dress a year after my wedding, because I knew that if I had a daughter, she’d want to wear her own dress, and not my old fluffy, ruffled frock. I have tons of photos of my dress, and that’s enough for me.

 

I also wouldn’t want to hang onto to my wedding dress until I died and then my kidlets would be stuck with it, feeling guilty about getting rid of it.

See how practical I am?

I told you I was weird.

I also don’t intend to be buried. Besides being very expensive and a waste of space, how do I know anyone will visit me someday?

My Mother died when I was 8 years old. She was honored with a military service for her years in the Navy. And then she was buried in a cemetery in California, near LA.

I’ve only been to that cemetery one time in my 43 years of life. Crowds and driving in the city make me nervous, so I just don’t go.

As for me, I intend to be cremated and my remains scattered over my beloved Sandia Mountains. Back to the earth. My children and grandchildren can gaze up to these mountains and feel close to me, or they can drive up, take the tram, or go hiking over these mountains, to feel even closer to me.

I’m nothing if not practical, eh?

Or maybe I just have an aversion to being filled with formaldehyde, having my face painted for people to walk by my casket, staring at my lifeless body, while saying, “Oh….she looks so good” (Hey! I’m dead! I’m not supposed to look good!)

And weird. Yeh, I know.

And I’m ok with that.

By the way, I still have Sid the rooster. Anyone want him? I’ve offered him up for free on every message board around town. No one even wants to eat him.

So he sits incarcerated until I can figure out what to do with the evil creep.

Sid Vicious looks weird, doesn’t he? Seems only fitting, don’t you think?

Ok…..I started writing this post with the intention of sharing a video that I stumbled upon. And then I got very side tracked. And talked way too much about myself. Ooops!

The video itself is totally weird because of the creepy performers, but it made me laugh. The guy at the end made me laugh right out loud. I don’t do that very often for stuff on TV and videos, so I thought I would share it would you.

Let me know what you think.