Some Things Never Change

Mrs. Christine Webb will not be living with my family this summer, meaning no more Inside These Crookston Walls, meaning no more hysterical laughing every night as I read her interpretation of my family's insane antics. In her loving memory and to celebrate her wedding a few days late [or just to serve as an introduction...] I would like to offer my own, honorary ITCW entry.

Day 7810:
There is only one entry today, because everything else paled in comparison. Today my mom let her goats out to graze as she rode Charlotte. That was fine, until it was time to put those dumb animals back in their pen, at which point she casually asked me to catch them in the side yard. Sure. The boy goats are stupid and easily caught, but Buttercup is conniving and I swear that she has ulterior motives in life [when I mentioned this to Julie, she just shrugged and said, "Typical girl."]. I casually walked up to her and offered her some grass and she made to eat it from my hand, but then she darted in the other direction. I could practically hear her snickering. I proceeded to chase her into the horse paddock, out of the horse paddock, and back INTO the horse paddock, only to be thwarted each time. At this point, I yelled at my mother, who was leaning against the goat house laughing at me.
"Patience, Carly," she said, casually walking toward me. "You just have to be a little more patient." Carefully, she climbed into the horse paddock and sauntered toward the goat.
"Buttercuuuup," she cooed. "Buttercuuuuup... come here, sweet baby." The horses barely moved as she walked past; they were clearly unimpressed. Consequently, so was Buttercup, because she completely ignored Mom as she sat in the grass near her.
"Buttercup, look what Mama has," Julie said, holding out her phone. That's right -- my mother was trying to lure a stubborn goat to her by waving technology in her face. Effective method. That's not it, though. "Want to see the pictures on my phone, sweetie?" Mom continued to ask the goat, who continued to eat weeds and ignore her. Undeterred, my mother began to look through the pictures saved on her phone. "Oh, here's Shelby after her surgery last week... Buttercup, come see Taylor at the prom. Ooh, this is Mama drinking a pineapple drink in Hawaii - that was a very fun day." At this point, Buttercup may have looked up at Julie, perhaps with the same look of disbelief that was on my own face. "Buttercup, look, here's you in labor!" Mom said next. As Buttercup started to walk away, Julie suddenly lurched and caught her by the hind leg, as if she were some sort of professional cowgirl. My jaw dropped a little; I was equal parts impressed and horrified. Julie looked up smugly. "And that," she said, "is how it is done."

Christine, please move back here and write these things for me... this farm life is too funny not to be documented in some way.