Our Neighborhood Bodega

It's no secret amongst my friends and family that I am not a cook.  I don't like it.  I would much rather be outside in yard or down the hill with my goats or out at the barn with the horses etc.  So I do a lot of my grocery shopping at a little spot just around the corner from me, which I call "my neighborhood bodega."  Are you ready?  Here it is:

The World's Oldest Living 4Hers (Please pass some advil)

Last weekend was the pygmy goat show at Del Mar Fair  (I know it has been renamed the San Diego Fair around a decade ago, but it's still Del Mar Fair to me.  I also still shop at Price Club).  The usual suspects were in attendance, plus the World's Oldest 4Hers (that's us).  Donna, Teri, Dorian, Dee, and I are about the only adults that still show despite the fact  our kids are no longer in 4H (and mine never was).


The pygmy goat world is not as large as you would think (there's a shocker), so we know almost everyone in SoCal who shows. It's always fun to see old friends, have a chance to catch up, and discuss -- what else? -- our goats!
  

But today, I am here to inform the world (actually my 2 faithful followers) that goat shows are not for sissies. It's a lot of work.  And don't forget that we SoCal ladies are hardly youngsters.  It's been a few years since we were carded at the beer garden.  I am proud of the how hard we've all worked at perfecting our show technique.  For instance.....

Last year at the Orange County Fair -- although we were unable to document this on film -- Donna debuted her new movement, the "sciati-crawl."  It's beautiful in its simplicity.  You spend prep day lying flat on your back on a hay bale with excruciating sciatica pain,  then hobble around the arena on show day  impersonating Quasimodo.  It might sound simple, but you really have to see Donna in action to appreciate its beauty.

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 Anyway, to start off our average day of showing, we like to meet in a pen near the arena and go over our day's strategy.
 We usually start by trying to talk all at the same time...

...move on to actually  discussing our strategy....

...  finalize our plans...

and we're ready.

Just look at our evil grins...

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 We're ready for the competition!

As Dorian and I do a warmup goat drag....

...Donna and Carey do some hamstring stretches

and some toe-touchs. 

Meanwhile, Teri  demonstrates the classic goat show position,

  the "squat-and-hold-til-you-get-a-charley-horse."  This is
the favored show technique, although Teri has
lost a few points by resting her
aching knee on the ground....

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After our warm-ups, we finally begin the competition with the Junior Doe Scream-and-Drag. 

Points are awarded for the farthest distance

 our goat can be drug without it ever picking up its feet.
The object is to lay down "elevens": two paralell evenly-spaced drag marks. Bonus points are awarded for any doe who squalls or screams nonstop during this class.


 You will note that Dorian's goat is in a classic drag stance, wherein she plants all four feet seeking a picture-perfect drag.  My doe, unfortunately, appears to be dropping to her knees, which can lower her score considerably.

 

After the dragging portion of the class,

we continue our workout with some deep knee bends and

then continue on to the final event known as

 "I think my goat is standing on a hundred dollar bill."  

You can see, by the contestants' constant and close

examination of their goats' feet, that we really...

... do believe....

...our goats are, in fact, standing....

...on something very valuable...

and the winner is:

Roland Elkins, who has not lifted his eyes off the ground since entering the ring....

(to be continued)

Cancer Part Two

Today in Hamilton, Ohio, there are eight "candidates" taking the test to become licensed NPGA (National Pygmy Goat Association) judges. There forty-three licensed judges last time I counted, and about half of those are inactive to some degree.  We need more judges.  And boy, is it a tough test to pass.

There are four test classes: Junior does, senior does, junior bucks, and senior bucks.  The JTC (judge's training committee) picks the animals, places them, and then writes down their reasons.  We are scored on the following three sections:

1. Placings. Correct placement of the animals from 1st to 4th place.  NPGA uses the Hormel scale of judging which determines a point value for each animal out of order. It's complicated, but if the split between 1st and 2nd  is 2 points and you swap them in your lineup; you lose 2 points for moving 1st place down and 2 points for moving 2nd place up.   If the split between 1st and 4th is 20 points, and you put the 1st place animal last, you lose 20 points.  The theory is that animals which are fairly equal will have narrow splits.  And animals that are very structurally different will have larger splits, because you should know a really good animal from a really bad one.
2. Reasons.  After placing our lineup, we have to give oral reasons why.  For instance, "Number one is placing over number two for demonstrating more body capacity from the point of the elbow extending back into the flank.  She also has more correctly legs when viewed from the rear."  And, so on.  We receive points for each correct reason we give.
3. Presentation.  We have six minutes to judge our animals and put them into our lineup, Then we pick up the microphone and we  begin talking.   We are judged on our style and presentation. This is the only subjective part of the test.

The first year I took the exam, two people out of fourteen got their licenses.  The next year, four of us out of twelve got a license.  Last year, no one passed.  This year?  Who knows.

I really enjoy judging -- who knew?  Of course as I say: You ask me my opinion and then you give me a microphone to tell everyone? Ha!  What's not to like?

Two years ago I got my license.  Exactly one week to the day after I received my last chemotherapy treatment, I was in Georgia and passed my test.  Take that, Cancer!

Breast Cancer...

... it's what I feel like blogging about.  Two things are huge in my mind whenever I think about my adventures in oncology. One is Trish's dinners; the other is passing my NPGA judge's license.  They have nothing to do with one another; but are the two highpoints of that time -- if you can have a highpoint with cancer.
#1. Some background) Trish and I have been friends for a long time; sometimes it feels like we've known each other forever.   We're more like siblings in some regards (mostly because I wouldn't feel comfortable to bitch at someone like I bitch at Trish unless we were really close and, I suspect, vice-versa).  Trish and I have a LOT of history -- (aside to TW: remember when I had a screaming fit AT THE TOP OF MY LUNGS at an ECHO horseshow? Now, before you get all cocky, remember the Faith-and-the-Flat-Medal fiasco? Well, we did survive both of those).


When my mom died, Trish took charge and supplied us with dinner, wine, some flowers, and a lot of comfort.  When Trish's mom was dying, I went and sat with her.  Of course in true Trish-and-Denise fashion, the exchange went something like this (Trish's mom was nearing the end and was not responding to us):


TW: MOM, ARE YOU DOING OKAY?  I JUST WANT YOU TO KNOW I'M HERE WITH YOU?
DF: Angela, it's Denise.  Remember me?  I'm Jess's mom.
TW: MOM? I LOVE YOU. 
DF: Angela, we're here with you.
TW: I'M HERE, MOM. EVERYTHING'S GOING TO BE OKAY.
DF: (an aside to TW) Jesus, Trish, what are you yelling about?  She knows we're here.  She may not be responding, but you don't have to yell.
TW: (whispering back) What are you talking about?  I have to yell!  Even at her best, she's been deaf for years now!
DF: Oh, yeah..... ANGELA.  IT'S DENISE. HOW ARE YOU?


So, on to ---
#1A, subtitled "The Best Meals I Never Ate"
     After I was diagnosed with BC, part of my treatment was chemotherapy.  I had 8 rounds of chemo in five months.  My first treatment was December 31st, 2007.  My last was June 9, 2008, two days after Jess's high school graduation and exactly one week before I tested for my NPGA judge's license.  I scheduled chemo treatments on Mondays with the hope I'd be back to work by Thursday or Friday. 


     Trish arranged for our friends to supply meals for my family for the week whenever I had a treatment.  Every week -- every single week -- that I had chemo, my friends showed up with homecooked meals for me and my family. I had eight rounds of chemo.  That's forty dinners.  Forty dinners were cooked and delivered to my door.  Most I couldn't eat.  But they were the best dinners I've ever had.


Today I am still in awe by this feat.  I am grateful and humbled and thankful for the generosity, support, and love that I received.  Thank you, Trish.

What mind? Whose? Where did I put it?

Whilst (good word, eh, Marty?) making toast this morning, I realized we were out of papertowels. So I walked back to the laundry room to get some more................and stood...................................and wondered...........


So I walked into Jess's bathroom instead, where I found some Qtips and cleaned my ears and put a bandaid on my hand. Then I went back to the kitchen....

...and my toast was burned.

Hmmm?

Text from Jess:

"MOM. I'm on the train back to New Brunswick and the woman sitting across the aisle from me was picking her teeth with a Trojan condom (still in the wrapper)"

Hmm, maybe she's into safe sex and dental hygiene?

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