Smokey Mountain Breakdown

This week certainly has turned into the Magical Mystery Insomnia Tour for me—haven’t been to sleep until 4:00 a.m. all week. I even set my alarm to 9:00 a.m. this morning so I wouldn’t sleep until 2 in the afternoon. Yet here I am. 3:15 a.m.

The moon was particularly splendid this evening. Nibbled off on the upper right corner and framed by fluffy blue clouds. A regular My Little Pony of a sky. It needed unicorns or something. Something. I was on the way home from a Pagan Goat Wobble Potluck over in the Rocky Flats community where The Goat Yoda lives. Anyway, I was busting for a pee and pulled into Cabbage County Road on the way home to relieve myself and there was something about that moon that called to me. Not a soul around on a deserted, remote mountain road and the light breaking over the trees.

Anyway, it was a good crowd of people and I had a fine time. It’s always good to see Betsy and her lovely family. She has a new grand baby who is the happiest little cuss I’ve ever spied. We talked a bunch—I’ve missed that with her. And I learned something new from her husband, Chris, who is a big Josh Whedon/Firefly fan. It's now official. Twilight fans have usurped the Furries in the rock bottom (and continuing to dig...) placement in the hierarchy of fandoms.

And I thought Furries was just like a sex thing. Evidently not. You know--I used to make furries. Scary, huh?

Here’s one of the drummers from the gathering—cool tats, yes?




This is Betsy’s Nairobian Twirling Goat. Very rare. Don’t see one of these little buggers every day. They are so-called because in their native country, they chase their tails when a storm approaches. It’s some sort of genetic anomaly—like the Fainting Goats (youtube link of fainting goat fainting--never gets old), but instead of the myotonia, they have an inner ear abnormality that is sensitive to changes in barometric pressure. Really. I swear.



That was so much fun to write I think it may be time for another installment of Rumor Control.