Fear

Of my tens of fans, one in particular nearly snagged holes in her pantyhose when she dropped to her knees to beg me to begin writing again.  This happened at my niece’s recent birthday party, (which helps rule out which fan of you it was), and caused me to begin thinking about what I might write about that would briefly take my mind off the fact that I have approximately 1,432 bottles of lotion and bars of soap left to make for my $100 Box Fundraiser.  (I’ve already made around 1,197ish, but who’s counting?)

So, I decided to let you in on my latest adventure.  I like to think that in the face of danger, I thrive: I think clearly, act appropriately and am a leader.  But, as I mentioned, that is what I like to think.  It has nothing to do with what is actually the truth.

It began last Friday as I jogged up a dirt road near my house.  The dirt is red and the small lump in the distance smack in the middle of the road was a dark brown pile of mud.  About the size of a dollop of horse manure.  By now, I had been jogging about a mile and my mind was getting the one mile jogging fog.  Nothing caused me to question the fact that it hadn’t been raining in a week, there was no mud within a 30 mile radius and even if there were, it would be red.  It wasn’t until my left foot landed within three inches of it that I realized it…was…a…tarantula.

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As previously mentioned, in the face of danger, I think clearly, act appropriately and am a leader.  Or not.  My mind went blank, I screamed out loud and and sprinted away from the hairy mud pile with legs.

Fueled by pure adrenaline, I pushed uphill toward the end of my loop and headed back, fully prepared to take on the tarantula, if it happened to still be there.  I could see a brown object in the middle of the road in the vicinity of where the incident had occurred and as I approached, I stated firmly and loudly, from a 100 foot distance and gaining, “I know EXACTLY what you are.  YOU will not scare me now.  NO chance.  NO way.  WAMMO BAMMO (punching the air, channeling my inner boxer, Rocky theme music pulsing in my head).”

What happened next was definitely somewhat forgivable.  Now two miles into my run, eyes moderately glazed over with eyeball perspiration, my vision was not at its peak.  I jogged down the (red) road steadily approaching the dark object, planning to clear it by at least a few feet in case it sprinted at my ankles, continuing my defiant diatribe at it, when it came into focus and I realized I had been berating… a piece of dog poop.  The tarantula, when I finally passed it again (further down the road) and realized it was dead, was spared my lectures.  I already used them up on the poop.

Having packed exercise, fear, adrenaline and wildlife encounters into my 40 minute run, I was now fully prepared to take on making moreGoat Milk Lotion, Soap and Lip Balm.  Tarantula or not, I need to sell more $100 Boxes.

Thanks for reading,

The Goat Cheese Lady

P.S.  If you’re new to The Goat Cheese Lady, we are building The Goat Cheese Lady Creamery on our farm in Penrose, Colorado, so I can produce and sell cheese.  The bid for the building’s foundation came much higher than we had planned, so instead of going into debt, we are raising the $13,000 it requires by selling $100 Boxes of our Goat Milk Lotions, Soaps and Lip Balms.  They are great for holiday gifts, hostess gifts, stocking your own house, or sharing with volunteers, friends or employees.  You can click here–>100boxorderform… to see a customizable order form or click here to order a $100 Box that includes a variety of all of our products!

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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.
This entry was posted in $100 Box, Farm Life, funny stories, gifts, Soap and Lotion and tagged , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

3 Responses to Fear

  1. Patty Cameron says:

    Always fun to read. Love you! Mom

    Sent from my iPhone Patty Cameron

    >

  2. dogsled1@aol.com says:

    You are human!!! I thought you were wonder woman

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