Monday, April 26, 2010

This week, I was going to do a series on Peak Oil and the socioeconomic impacts of the coming oil shortages.

I'm still going to do that, but instead I wanted to turn to a really important issue: why goats should not be allowed to climb on the roof of my car, or, how unsuited to farm life I am. Dammit.

See, this weekend we went to visit my sister, the amazing author, sustainable living blogger and farmer, Sharon. I adore my sister, brother in law, and nephews. We had a great time, and came home with 4 dozen eggs, a bunch of seedlings and some goats milk.

Which I still haven't drunk yet. Yeah, I know where milk comes from, mostly cows, lactating cows. We go through a lot in my house. It's good. And I've lactated myself, so I have no illusions about this stuff. But then there's the whole 'watch a goat be milked and think about drinking it' thing. Weirdly, I don't have the same issue with the eggs, and I do feel like I'm going to get over the goat's milk thing. I think.

And then a goat climbed on the hood of my car and scratched the heck out of it. I really love my car. I'm grumpy about that - not at my sister, of course, but really grumpy at the goat. We're going to try to buff out the scratches, but I'm just generally pissy about the whole thing.

I'm settled at the idea that I am tolerant of poultry but not other farm mammals (at least in their proximity to my car). I might even be tolerant of cows, except for all the manure. At least I think I might be. I know I'm not tolerant of pigs, they really do smell, even those that are raised organically and sustainably. Trust me, I've been near enough pig pens.

It's worrisome to me that I might be too squeamish about these things. Because I really believe in them - sustainable agriculture, being more self-sufficient, that sort of thing. But I really don't like goats on my car, watching them being milked, or anything like that. I get that I'm selectively squeamish, seeing as I'll drink the milk out of a jug, and I'm not contemplating vegetarianism.

Maybe when peak oil hits I can trade some of my cute shoes for farm meat or something.

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