Saturday, June 27, 2009

Oh. My. God. I Have Turned into My Father

"But where are we going?"

"Just get in the car, Lisa."

"But Dad", I baulked, " I want to know because I might need to change my outfit. What about my hair? What about my makeup?"

"Get in the car."

If I would have gone to all that trouble, that seemingly innocent spring day, I would have been gravely disappointed to learn that my potential "suitors" turned out to be, actually, two male goats that my father glibly set in the back of our car- the way he would toss a gallon of milk, or a five pound bucket of paint.

I guess when you want goats- you go get goats. You don't talk about it or tell anyone- you just load your kid in the car and get er.. more kids. Ha.

One I named "Tanner" because, duh, he was tan. And the other I called "Mr. Wags" because every time he saw me, he never stopped wagging that cute little tail of his.

Not having a goat before, I didn't know exactly what to do- so I did what I knew best; I simply treated them like my poodles. I bought them collars and leashes. We took walks. Oh, how Tanner and Mr. Wags loved their walks!

When it was Halloween and my dad threw a big party, we invited them in the house to join in the festivities. As I've shown in the picture above, there's one thing in life George loved above all- and two he could not live without- BEER- and pickled pig feet. (I know, how gross.)

So, with everyone all hopped up on Brown Derby and Papst Blue Ribbon; hardly anyone really cared that Tanner and Mr. Wags were doing what goats are incredibly skilled at; pooping and merrily eating all the paper decorations.

First they ate all the napkins. Gone were the toothless Jack-O-Lanterns and Spiders. Next, they moved on to the tablecloth. Only when they began to be just too much of an irritant, and too large to negotiate one's way into the fridge- and you know, a few people were "slipping" at that point- did anyone bother to open the door and guide them back out into the yard.

Does everyone in Oklahoma live like certifiable hillbillies? Does this sort of upbringing ever vacate a person when they've learned and are learning, the intricacies of professionalism and the nuances of successful business?

Apparently, no.

'Well, do I need to get a U-HAUL or something like that to take the donkey back with me?" I was so excited I might have found "The Donkey" this afternoon that I could barely contain myself.

Lisa paused a moment. "Um, do you have a horse trailer?" she offered.

"Horse trailer? Uh, no."


And then it hit me- I have irretrievably turned into my father!

This whole "Donkey Timeshare" has been more about George's idiosyncrasies than mine!

All I have done, really, is learn them.

But, giving credit where credit is due- equine fondness not excluded- he was the one who first said to me:

"Learn the business and start your own!"

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