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This is where the wife claims we will be moving to in eight years. Don't worry; she loses focus pretty quickly.



Our winter routine has once again come full circle. Every time we have a week below freezing, upper management decides we need to move south- not just to a milder climate but to a tropical one. This year, she has decided on Aruba. I don’t know the process of being a resident of Aruba, but if knowing every single random fact about Aruba qualifies you, I believe the wife should be the mayor. The Borrowing Owl is their national animal, while the Aruban Brown-throated parakeet is the national bird. The list of facts is updated daily until we have a few nice days, and then the focus is refocused elsewhere. I have said before that I wouldn’t trade all the more farm I can stick to my boots for paradise. I must admit that not slipping on ice and breaking ice out of watering troughs does sound nice. Not worrying about being invaded by Venezuela has some perks as well.


This year, I decided to try to stay current on news events. I only lasted a week and gave up. It mainly started because when I text my friend, Peter, I have to Google what he is talking about. It has been the better part of five years since I tuned out. I made it a week before remembering why I stopped. Nothing has changed. I can’t even say the names have changed. I do not know how the world isn’t in a panic attack. World War III is kicking off in less than a week; AI is taking over, and everyone involved with politics is terrible. Then I remembered that WWIII was starting when I had watched the news before. AI stands for Artificial Insemination, and 99% of politicians are lawyers. The same people who struggle to tell you the current weather are in charge of bringing you the news. Let’s be honest: if computers were taking over anytime soon, they would be able to check every box with a bridge in the picture or even click the, I am not a robot option. As for WWIII, the entire planet would struggle to motivate enough people to fight. McDonald’s could pay $30 an hour and still be unable to keep staff. That is working in a controlled climate without the risk of bodily harm. Good luck paying the enlisted rate and putting together an army. Being an election year, the very worst of politics always exists. Before every election, I think perhaps Anarchy isn’t such a bad option. That is always wiped away on an airplane ride. The moron that has an oversized overhead bag that has to stuff it over anyone’s seat but their own is precisely why the world needs rules and people to enforce them.


Caller ID has made everyone with a phone avoid answering the phone if you don’t recognize the number. But I have resumed answering telemarketers and just rambling on until they give up and hang up on me. There is always something to be learned. For example, the folks selling car insurance are unwilling to talk to you if you claim to have a Bentley or a ’78 AMC Gremlin. No matter how often you explain that you don’t want any life insurance for yourself, you are interested in buying it for “old people I don’t know. So I can cash out.” They never seem to get it. The folks peddling solar panels will try to explain that solar panels are not windmills and do not harm the migration patterns of sparrows for five minutes on average before they hang up. No one calling for charities can give you the percentage of each dollar that goes to the actual reason for the charity. There is not a telemarketer on the planet that knows who Henry Winkler is. Every time I claim to be Henry, they keep talking. I figured if that were my job, I would be thankful for the break in the action of having hang-ups or being screamed at. Before anyone needs to warn me about giving away any information, I do give information. I give out a lot of information. It has been a while since I was asked for my social security number, but it has always been my favorite. “One…. Two… Three… Circle… The color orange.” That has caused me to be cussed out on numerous occasions.


I will have to focus due to our kidding season approaching. We are officially 27 days away from our first baby goat delivery of 2024. But, as the saying goes, the first can come along at any time; the next takes nine months. In the case of goats, 150 days. The first one due is Cindy, AKA the goat of Babylon, who made a mockery of our fencing system with her lustful ways. Over the next few weekends, we will be checking our delivery kits and ensuring we are fully stocked on everything we can think of for every scenario. Of course, there is always something new and exciting that we won’t be prepared for. We have been avoiding having any deliveries in the colder months as best we can the last few years and have had an easier time of it. We keep our fingers crossed that twins are the norm this year and we don’t have the clown car equivalent of pregnant goats.


Until next month, enjoy Ground Hog Day, take the time to ramble with a telemarketer, stay safe, and wash on.


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