You Can Take the Girl Out of the Funny Farm....

You can take the girl out of the funny farm, but it seems you can't take the funny farm out of the girl.

A couple of years ago, I posted that I was closing up shop on my Funny Farm blog.  Because of life changes.

Like divorce.
Like moving.
Like saying goodbye to all the farm animals.

Well, here it is two years later.  I am in a home about a third the size of my old one.  I am on an acre, as compared to the seven acres on the farm.

And so I thought I was done with all things Funny Farm.

But I was wrong.  It just won't leave me without a fight.  Not the Funny.  Not the Farm.

SO I'M BACK!

I think?

I had started another blog to showcase some of my creative pursuits.  Birdsong Bits and Pieces.

And although I enjoy it, there was always a piece of me that missed my Funny Farm blog.  So I think I want to try to get back to it. Not to sound cheesy, but it was like home.

OK, that was pathetically, ridiculously cheesy.  My apologies.

Anyway, with all that being said, allow me to illustrate why I said the Funny Farm isn't giving up without a fight.
And I promise I will go back and fill in the blanks later about my new place and my Amish neighbors, and where I am with kids and critters, but here is what happened this morning.

*clears throat*


My son woke up and looked out the window to see the neighbor's cow staring in at him.

Consequently, I woke up to my son knocking on my door to let me know the cow was in our yard and he (my son, not the cow) had to leave for school.

Sadly, this steer is being raised to feed the neighbor and his brood, so the only name he has is "Jersey" (which is, surprise, surprise, his breed.  No points for creativity).

I said "Good morning, Jersey, what are you doing here?"
He just looked at me and peed.
It's an effect I have on some, I don't know what to tell you.

He thought briefly about making a run for it, but then remembered what a good back scratcher I am.

I really am, it's true.

So after a little scritch-scratchin', he allowed me to fashion this leash into a heifer halter.  OK, I know he's a steer, but heifer halter has a nice ring to it, doesn't it?

My daughter went to Penn State (before transferring to Temple) for a year and all I got was this lousy dog leash.
Sheesh.

As it turns out, Jersey has not been halter trained.
Nor leash trained.
Nor don't eat the neighbor's roses trained.

Son: "Are you sure you've got this?"

Me: "I'm not sure of anything!"


































"Come on Jersey.  You can do this."

We made it to the gate!  We're home free!




































Right?

Just...
A few more....
Steps.....

And one big push.

He's in!

I shut the gate.
Chained it.
Reclaimed my leash.

Walked around the field to look for where he got out.  Found an open gate, so I shut and chained it, too.
My work here is done.

Not too shabby,

This was before coffee.

So yeah.

Like I said, you can take the girl out of the Funny Farm...