Ooops! I'm Sick!

Well, when I get sick, I get a bunch of random thoughts that magically wiggle themselves on to my blog.  I try to slap them and tell them "no" but they won't listen to me.  They have a mind of their own.

Yes, I'm sick.  Sore throat, bad cough... I feel like I have a fever, but I don't.

These are some things I have learned over the past few weeks:

Drink water. LOTS OF IT!

Don't eat too much sugar.

Exercise.

Don't pretend like you're an insomniac.

As you may have guessed, I did the absolute OPPOSITE of all of these.  My poor adrenals are all shriveled up, and I feel naughty that I've neglected them for so long.  But hopefully my health-world will be back to normal before too long.  Oh! And another thing I've learned....

Trust in the Lord! Because if you don't, it causes TONS of emotional stress, and if you have depleted adrenals, emotional stress will take it's toll, and you will become sick (like me!)

So, these are the things I have learned.  And now I am most fervently following all of the above rules as best I can.

But being sick means being emotional, and being emotional means thinking about my favorite things, and thinking of my favorite things inevitably brings the inevitable... Which is the thought of my non-existent-beautiful-brown-and-white-milk-cow-Annabel.

That's right.

You heard me...

A milk cow.


I really am a city girl, in some ways... I don't know anything about animals or living in the country, or anything agricultural.  I just like the thought of wide open hilly country... green pastures... ponds... fences... dogs... Oh! And... cows. Lots of them... And horses. Lots of horses.

And hats....


And boots....


And everything else...


*drifts off to dream world... smiles lazily*....


OOPS!


I forgot that's not my life.

Cleveland actually is a nice city, when you think about it.  The lawns are green.  There are lots of trees... (And telephone poles.)

I pretend like I'm a cow/country-girl... When, in reality, I'm not.  And that's okay with me.  I like pretending.  I have seven wonderful siblings... (OH! and a sister in law!) we have two cats... three lizards...

Life in the city is nice...

But it's not my favorite thing, and since I'm sick, I'll stick to one of my favorite things... cows....

I did my research today.  I still have no idea how much a calf would cost.  (duh... city girl...) But the Guernsey cows are docile things... they are conformable to any climate.  They produce thick, yellowy milk, that has lots of Vitamin A in it.  And, also, I've read that something in the milk doesn't irritate dairy allergies... it actually soothes the sinuses.  (At least that's what I read.)  They are alert, but not irritable.  And they are oh-so-pretty!

Goats... ehhh... not so much.

But I can just picture it.... (picture with me... close your eyes, and in your mind, imagine everything black... oh, imagine it after you read this, cuz you can't imagine what I'm saying with your eyes closed while you're reading it...)

Black... everything's dark... Then... a streak of light.  Dawn breaks over the beautiful country of Nowheresville.  All that's visible is a faint streak of pink and orange.

Everything is soft and quiet....

Dark hills are outlined by the early morning light....

A milk cow lows softly in the barn... Imagine the barn... the smell of hay... manure....


A young, crazy, wild girl... in pink pajama pants, hoodie, and muck boots three sizes too big... walking sleepily towards the barn, with a black dog by her side....

She goes into the barn, and nuzzles her face against her beloved cow....

Hmm... Something doesn't sound right....

Maybe because when my alarm clock goes off at five in the morning I'll be thinking: "Darn it!! Got to milk that dumb cow again today! Why can't cows milk themselves!! ... just five more minutes..." 


At six thirty.  "RUBY! MOMMY NEEDS YOU TO MILK THE COW!!"

Ruby rolls over lazily and says: "Yeah, love, I know.  I'll milk her... don't worry... don't I always??"

Ruby walks into the barn, staggering very dangerously.  She looks at the cow, her eyes half closed... puffy... swollen... tired....

"Dude, as much as I like you, you're kinda a pain in the back."

*proceeds to milk for an hour.*  Oh, and the dog.  The dog is barking.  The dog doesn't stop barking.  Until I yell at the dog.  "BEOWULF! QUIT THAT!" (not like I'd name my dog Beowulf... or maybe I would...)

She talks to the cow:

"I mean, Annabel, will you ever understand it? I need to wash my hair, and I have four weeks of school I haven't done, the lawn needs to be mowed and somehow I'm the only one that can do it and I think I'm suddenly coming down with something which I'm pretty sure is mad-cow-disease and I'm almost certain I got it from you and you're going to have to have a calf this spring and I'm cold and you don't know what it's like having a nice warm bed with a down comforter and having to wake up to that alarm clock every morning and having to get out of that nice warm bed and I miss flowers.  Do you know what flowers are, Annabel? Of course you do... You ate all ours, I forgot.  Well, at least we both like flowers. That's something in common.  But you like wildflowers.  I think they must taste sweeter.  Maybe if I don't have to milk you every day I'll plant you a whole patch of Forget-Me-Nots.  You know.  Just so you'll remember what I do for you every single morning."

Is that what sounds wrong with it?? It's the confusing thing about your imagination, you never know what reality is like.

But a Guernsey cow! My sweet Annabel, with her thick milk that will turn into butter and what-not!  It's beautiful! It's surreal! (it must be dirty work living on a farm.)

I wonder if I'd like it....

But I've decided, if we ever move to the country, I will make the greatest effort to get a Guernsey cow and name her Annabel.

Annabel.

Annabel Lee died... In a kingdom by the sea... but that was many and many a year ago... And maybe the angels repented.

They shouldn't have sent that cold wind to chill and kill Annabel Lee.  Even if she was in the sepulcher by the sea.

I strongly resent that poem.