Once upon a time there was a farm girl. She loved cows. Their smell. Their fuzzy necks. Their wet, black noses. Their ability to provide her family with gallons and gallons of delicious, raw milk. And the love story goes on and on. Insert the family cow. By the way, that farm girl is me.
You’d think as a writer that I would relish this opportunity to utilize my fingertips and words to talk about my emotions… my thoughts… my sadness. But truth be told, I’m forcing myself to type these words. The biggest part of me wants to run to the hills, dig myself a cozy hole in the
Alright. I know you want to throw tomatoes at me. Here I had you all worked up for Sally’s calf to come, you were there with me on Facebook (virtually) at the edge of your seat, only to check back and find no calf came. No status update with a zillion of these (!!!!!!!!!). No
(Sung to the tune of ‘Smelly Cat’) Sally Belle, Sally Belle When will that baby come? Sally Belle, Sally Belle It’s not too soooooon. Sorry. I’m trying to think of anything that I can to keep my mind off of Sally’s impending birth. Making up new lyrics and singing jingles from ‘Friends’ included. Hence the Smelly