A Story

I hope that everyone of you had a happy and peaceful Thanksgiving. We spent last Thursday lounging around the house, and then setting to work in the kitchen making David's dressing and my green bean casserole before we headed down to my parents' house for the Main Attraction, which was my mom's delicious dinner and my dad's stories of growing up on a farm in the Ozark Mountains. This year he hit it out of the ballpark with his telling of a wild herd of goats that used to roam the woods and pastures near their little farm. He and his little brother - - - and I'm not making this up - - - used to go out into the fields where the goats were, drop to their hands and knees and butt heads with the little invaders.  But wait, there's more! What the boys liked doing next was to sit on a log and let one or two of the goats scramble up next to them, then either Dad or Uncle Bill would begin to circle their finger in front of the animal's face and watch it's head follow the movement until the creature became so dizzy from watching a dirt encrusted finger moving in a circular motion that he'd fall off the log, I'm sure to the merriment of the two little farm boys sitting on that log and that caused such an event to take place.

Yep, that was my Thanksgiving.

Now, it's onward to Christmas and more stories!