Holy cow what a week!
Man, am I glad to see Saturday! This has been one of the craziest weeks ever. First, the boss in my construction life was on vacation. That should have been nice. It wasn't. I had to babysit the boss's 26 year old assistant. I'm too old for that, and remember, Thursday I became officially too old for almost everything.
Then there was that little matter with a rattlesnake. Since moving to our ranch eight years ago, four of our llamas have been bitten by rattlesnakes. Two of them have been fatal. Thursday was the second. While involved in my construction life, Elaine called me and told me Smokey had been bitten by a snake and had passed away.
I needed to get home and deal with Smokey before the coyotes did. Arriving at my driveway, I thought that sure looks like "Cheese" the yak mingling with the neighbors cattle in the middle of the county road. Yep, it was "Cheese". It was pretty easy to identify him, because he is the only black and white Royal yak for miles.
My first thought was now I get to separate him from the neighbors cattle and get him back in the pasture. My second thought was I'm a senior citizen and I am too old for this crap. Third thought, how did he get out?
I coaxed Cheese back into the pasture with a bucket of corn. I found where the fence was down and decided I had too many things to do to fix the fence at that time. Cheese, Mac, and Franks had to be locked up in the corral. About now, I am really feeling my age. It didn't matter, I grabbed another bucket of corn and all three followed me into the corral. I closed the gate before they realized where they were.
I finished dealing with Smokey, and said goodbye. That's not easy. However, the twins insisted we celebrate my birthday. I need to thank my family for that. It was not a very good day up till then.
Glad to have my second worst birthday over. Wondering about my worst?
On my 17th birthday I was aspiring to be the next great Mario Andretti. I took my '68 Chevelle up a mountain road, when I got to the top, I turned around and vowed to my friend, Tim, not to hit the brakes on the way down. I didn't hit the brakes, but it didn't work out all that well. Somebody put a really sharp left-hand turn in that road. I went straight. The car was airborne for a while, landing on the roof. The car rolled down the hill for awhile.
Tim broke his leg. He thanked me because he had been wanting to quit his job. (I'm not kidding) We were seventeen. I had a scratch on my arm, but my Chevelle didn't survive and my Mario Andretti career was over.
Our crazy lives!