The Great Golden Guernsey Getaway

This is Astrid. She has opinions.

There was a time two years ago when I utilized every ounce of my creative ability to make a pink flamingo pinata for Dos’ birthday. It took a week. It was fabulously awful and I decided I will never, ever again feel badly about not making a pinata but that the flamingo pinata will be the photo I show that child whenever she tells me in the future that I don’t love her.

Now I have a whole new “proof I love you” adventure, but this time it’s with Uno.

She fell in love with a dairy goat. Despite us telling her (repeatedly and explicitly) that dairy goats need to be milked twice a day, she persisted. She began to look up recipes for goat soap and lotion, talk to friends who might want goats milk, examine photos of goat udders on the internet (which Bubby calls “milkers” or “butters”), and research, research, research.

I can’t help but admire her dedication and determination.

She earned the money needed to both purchase and care for said dairy goat. She selected her breed. She continued her assault.

And, Lord help us, we caved.

This is why if you were traveling on I15 this past weekend and happened to see a strange lady and daughter in a rental car milking a goat on the side of the road… you know it was us.

In the middle of all of this the kid got as sick as I’ve ever seen her. I still don’t know what was wrong with her – but something caused a fever, congestion, coughing, and general ick. We have been a generally healthy crew, so this was a big bummer, especially on the road trip of her life!

Friends, we milked the goat in the parking lot of the FourSquare Church in Battle Mountain, NV. We fed the baby in the same parking lot and we offered our hallelujahs up for safe travels and these silly little things.

Bottle feeding in the church parking lot.

I can also tell you with authority the goats like country music. (They sang along with George Strait.)

Now we are home and working milking a goat into our regular schedule of life. Frankie is the milking doe and Astrid is the baby who will grow. We have plans to get a buckling soon… and that, my friends, is the beginning of our Golden Guernsey Goat dynasty!

Look at all that milky goodness!
I admit it. I love baby goat noses. Even if this particular one is a little grubby, they’re my favorite ever.
It’s 7 a.m. and the goats are calling. So, I don my work boots, sweat pants, and pj top over the top of my nightgown to go get it done. You’ll notice I’m not showing a photo of my hair.
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