The Miracle of Non-Birth

I had one of the greatest disapointments of my life last night. I had high hopes of hanging out with a new-born lamb, but the fickleness of Mother Nature, or maybe Mother Farm, decided that the babe would have to wait. That led to me being sad little boy at six-ish this morning when I came back out to the barn and found no new being to cuddle with. But I am just being selfish.
Happily enough, I did get to hang out with a number of lambs the night before. The triplets were particularly, fantasticly cute. I would go into more details, but I feel that you should be forced to try to imagine it. Next time, I will bust some Ernest on this and give you more cuddly descriptors than you can handle.
I named a lamb 'Fitti (grafitti) after tagging his body. This was not done simply for evil titilation, but for identification as I might just make him mine. Then slaughter the little bastard. I have to prove to myself that I can raise something, kill it, and eat it. Otherwise, I will never be able to raise cattle and I will have to switch to raising dairy goats later in life.

Well, it is time to go street sledding with Seth and some second-grader that we are stealing from the street. Better us than the Eyotan ghetto, I say.
Perhaps I will report on that.

Peace.