(Lola, May 17, 2008. Rest in Peace Sweet Lola)
I am tormented.
In twenty-five minutes I could be in feed store country, picking out a few of these little chickies. In forty-five minutes I could be on my way home with the cute pippers. It would be so easy. I would finally be realizing my dream, or at least the next phase of my dream. I would have more than one chicken, finally.
In twenty-fours hours I would be asking myself: "Self, what the haybale were you thinking?!"
In thirty hours everyone else would be asking me, "What the haybale were you thinking?!"
And for the rest of the summer we would be in a real fix, because real farmers have a tough row to hoe when they want to take off on vacations, when they don't have actual
But... but, I really want chicas. I really do.
There are other torments, and disappointments. This has not been the easiest year, but sometimes there is a little agony that looms large, and makes the heart ache.