Sunday, though kicking and screaming, protesting all the way, we went to the Ozark Fair in Springfield. I didn’t want to go! I thought Vince had decided not to go. Actually, I thought Vince and Chad were going together one day during the week but nope, that wasn’t the plan. So, I changed out of my “spend the rest of the day in the basement sewing clothes” and put on presentable clothes; I took my half made bread and stuck it in the fridge so it didn’t rise and take over my entire kitchen; I stopped the washer mid-way through the cycle because I had hoped to hang the clothes on the line and off we went to the state fair in Springfield.
It was miserably hot and if you’ve never been in a barn full of hot, stinking, “relieving themselves often in the stalls” animals, you can’t imagine the smell. But, I tell you . . I wanted one of almost everything we saw. Seriously, on the way home, I kept looking for land for sale. I’m almost to the point where the house doesn’t matter — farmhouse, ranch, Spanish style, mobile home — old house, new house; all that matters is that it has fencing and a barn. Oh, and it has to be somewhere that gets DSL and is on a paved street. That kinda narrows our choices. But, these animals were so cute. This was the first thing we saw.
Not sure if it was a he or a she but I could have stuck it in the back seat of the Highlander, buckled the seatbelt and brought it home!
Of course there were baby chicks. They were so cute and they were so used to being around people. I think they would love living in a purple chicken coop.
Then there was this little guy. He was trying to lick Vince’s arm while Vince was petting him (or her).
Vince loved him/her too. He said “How long do they stay this size?” I said “forever” but I don’t think he believed me.
Then there was this. I keep telling Vince I need a tractor.
A couple of things I really didn’t ask for were:
I think this is a she. She didn’t smell good at all . . she smelled really bad. And the sign on the pen said “she bites”. Bacon . . maybe but I have no desire for a live pig.
And, this poor guy!
I glanced over and said “Oh, someone needs to milk that sheep!” Vince just looked at me and I realized it was a boy . . “uhhh, forget that I said that!” Almost all the boy sheep were ‘arranged’ like this! That just doesn’t look very comfortable at all. Maybe I am just a dumb city girl!