What I said in answer to mab’s question the other day — it was about how to remove all the grass and seeds that accumulate in the wool of the goats — what I replied was utter rubbish, according to my wife. I think I might have said that we card the wool with a wire brush before we spin it. Well, we don’t. Nope, that would completely ruin it. To have this lovely wool and then destroy it’s … by … would, in fact, be a crime. She told me the details, but I’ve forgotten and now she’s busy. I’ll ask again later. I do remember she said we comb the wool rather than card it and we pick out the shriveled blades of grass and seeds by hand.
A Bad Guide 
Oh, no. I went and looked up carding and thought I understood the process. If you take out all the seeds and hay by hand, it must take forever, no? Await further clarification. But delighted by another photo of the goat in the house.
It’s a pity you didn’t catch the goat playing the piano. He looks Chopinesque, if you ask me. (Not that there’s anything wrong with that.)
I think it’s a she, JE, but Chopin? More like Bartok, or maybe even Stravinsky, I would think. No, wait, Ellmenreich!
No, Chopin’s a very good guess. You should see how they dance. They also like boogie-woogie.
One of the great things about growing up is discovering how very often one is wrong. (Or, even more disconcerting, that it is impossible to determine whether one is right or wrong. My wife and I met in Grand Central Station, but on which side of the information booth with the clock? She says the west, I say the east. The day we got married, we stopped off there and had a photo taken on each side, just to cover all bets.
)
In my case, it may not be so much growing up as growing old and confused.
So anyway, what did you do? Did you just go up to her and say ‘Hello, my name’s Language and I blog’?
They don’t really dance, do they?
You’re making that up.
No, they do. They dance spontaneously downhill when they’re feeling very happy. Unfortunately I don’t have any pictures of it. It would be hard to plan to video it, because it doesn’t happen every day. I might try this summer though, I know one time of day when they nearly always do it. It’s when we come to collect them in the evenings, to take them home from their summer job at the reservoir.
That’s a great story. How often do you meet someone who wants to read Russian with you in Grand Central Station? I too would like to know more about the technique. Maybe a second marriage is in my stars.
If you’re thinking you might meet someone in Grand Central Station who’s on their way to Chicago, you ought to check this out, Nij.
I was thinking about driving to Boston to see a friend before summer session starts. Maybe I should take the train instead.