It Is Round Up Time, Finally

Good Grief, when I woke up this morning there must have been 59 cows out back. They are moooooin', there are calves, mothers' that are not a sleep, babies that are not rockin' to a gentle beat.

It is round up time. The cows are going home via my roadway. I have chase so many today, I feel like I should be paid for rounding up them cows. My word, some of them are so big, it is a fright for me. I have tried to reason with these beasts, to no avail. While I am chasing them - with my five foot walking stick, I yell at them big time, you big (curse words and many of them) black heathen, your tail could kill me. One swipe I would be gone. Dead. Go, go, be on your way. What part of what I am saying do not you understand? You cows are dense, do you have a brain - get the hell out of here.

With all the commotion, my fine neighbor strolls on down. Yep, this is exactly what I need. I took one look at him and said, get the hell out of here, these cows I am dealing with are enough for me, waved my stick and said go. He left. I must have been quite the site with my stick in hand, raving hair, and a big voice hollering.

I have only 18 more days to go until I get off the mountain side to camp out with Charlene in some fine hotel in Vancouver. Fine Prine it is going to be. No cows.