My Sister’s Concerned.

My favorite place to shop is Eve’s Revolution.

I get stuff like this:

Vintage Revival Really Big Rings.

Silk Screen T-Shirts With Bling.

Pre-Torn Boyfriend Jeans.

Now that my sister is no longer pregnant, she is dying to shop at Eve’s.  (That’s what the regulars say.  Eve’s.)

Enter:  Big R.

I have learned that one of my favorite times to talk on the phone, other than the rest of the day, is when I’m milking.  There are no distractions other than the occasional goat rearing up and SLAMMING her front feet on the milk room door, me grunting and groaning while transferring one goat in and one goat out of the milk room while shoving the third goat’s head so she can’t come in during the you’re-done-you’re-up-next process of milking, and dodging the sporadic chicken poop droppings from the resident speckled chicken in the rafters above the milk room.

That was about the setting when I called my sister tonight.  To see why her quadricep isn’t firing and when it will start firing, among other things.  (Ya, OK, whatever.  I’m just the messenger.  Her doctor told her it isn’t firing.)

We got on to a most interesting and gut wrenching, belly aching, I did too much ab work in yoga yesterday so my stomach HURTS when I laugh, laughing hysterically session.

Me:  “Oh my gosh, we were at Big R today…[I recall she’s a city girl]…have you ever heard of Big R?”

Her:  “No.”

Me:  “It’s where the farmers go.  It’s kind of like the Walmart for farmers.  Well, not really, like a department store for farmers.  They have better stuff, but it’s all farm stuff.  But a lot of different stuff…sweet feed [duh, city girl, doesn’t know what sweet feed is]…horse reins [she’s heard of horses and reins]…and boots and clothes and stuff.”

Her:  “OK.”

Me:  “You are NOT going to believe this.  I was looking in the boot section because the woman and her daughter that bought two of our goats last week had on really cute shoes, and they were boots and they told me they got them at Big R.  So, I was looking at the boots.  THEY ARE SO EXPENSIVE!  Boots for my size are like $100.00!  I mean I can kind of understand that because they are leather and probably good quality and stuff.  But, the boots for kids were $75 BUCKS!!  $75 BUCKS for shoes your kid won’t wear for even a year!  I mean, those farmers whose kids go around in those boots have to be loaded!”

Her:  “How do you know they’re not just boots from Target?”

Me:  “You don’t.  But, I mean, if they ARE boots from Big R, they’ve got to be loaded!  And, that’s not all!  I saw the belt section.  The belts with diamonds all over them that the Girl of the West wears…$75 BUCKS!!!  FOR A BELT!  I didn’t even go into the section with the shirts dripping in jewels!”

Her:  Silence.  (Read:  I’ve been talking a lot about cowgirl clothes.)

Her Again:  Silence.  (Read:  She’s concerned that I, a city-girl-turned-farmgirl may be stepping too far away from our clothing comfort zone.)

Me:  “What’s the matter?  Are you concerned?”

Her:  “Well, going from Eve’s Revolution to Big R???”

Me:  Begin cracking up.  The mere vision of the whole situation seems hysterical.  I step out of Eve’s Revolution in my Vintage Revival outfit, with my big sparkly ring on and my cute silk screen tee, my pre-torn “Boyfriend Jeans” and flip-flops.   And, into Big R where she is concerned I might come out in cowboy boots, wranglers, a rhinestone studded belt and a mother-of-pearl-snap-up shirt dangled with beaded tassels.  I can’t stop laughing.

Me:  “I might get the boots though.”  (rather sheepishly, but still cracking up.)

I can speak to the fact, back when I was a purebred city girl, that city girls just flat don’t understand the attire of their rural counterparts.  I mean, why would a girl wear such high-waisted jeans, tight, with their button up frilly, brightly colored shirts tucked into a belt that at least some part of glitters?  And how can a person be comfortable in cowboy boots?

It is beyond city girl comprehension.  But I, now a converted city girl, may be stepping over to the other side.  I’m on the fine line.  It’s a gray line.  I am not concerned that I will stop shopping at Eve’s.  I love Eve’s.  In fact, I’m not concerned about much of anything like that.  But it is an interesting road I’m traveling as I become more farm girl than city girl.

I’m expecting for members of my family to think I’ve fallen off the deep end.  I’ll just be sure I don’t land in a pile of goat poop.

–  The Goat Cheese Lady

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About The Goat Cheese Lady

I am Lindsey. At first I was a city girl. Then I was an urban farmgirl, attempting to balance city and farm life. Now, after moving to the country, I have embarked on life as a rural farmgirl, complete with my husband, the Animal Whisperer, man of exceptional knowledge and patience, two boys who are louder than my sister and I ever were, a herd of milking goats, and a flock of egg-laying chickens. Coyotes, mice, country dogs and prairie dogs are frequent visitors. Just 45 minutes north is Colorado Springs, the setting for our first six years in the goat world. Our family. Our city friends. Our introduction to cheesemaking. But we...and our growing farm and soon-to-be creamery...have set up shop down off of Highway 115 in Penrose, Colorado.
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One Response to My Sister’s Concerned.

  1. Pingback: Yesterday, In My Life As An Urban Farmgirl. | The Goat Cheese Lady

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