I know, I know…another goat picture.  What can I say?  I’m a sucker for baby farm animals. If you’re not, then you are a predator, and I don’t welcome cougars in this space (ACTUAL cougars…not the human kind with fake tans and overly exposed cleavage).  This picture immediately wanted me to play a game my family calls “Sally”.  Every family has a version of it.  The generic rules: upset your Mother with a fake scenario, just to watch her freak out.  I cannot begin to imagine how this game will come back to bite my ass someday, so for now, I’m just going to enjoy playing it with my own Mother.  It’s far better if the game is played unplanned…no calling and organizing, because a) that’s cruel, and b) spontaneity is half the fun.  Here’s how I would start the game:

I would use this picture on our family Christmas card this year:

Undoubtedly, my Aunt would call my Mom:

Aunt: Sally, I got Lori’s Christmas card.  Did she and Greg get a goat?  Because I want to warn her about how much trouble they can be.  Do you remember the year our goat ate our entire garden, broke into the house, climbed onto Paul’s chest while he was sleeping, and he woke up in a panic, thinking he was having a heart attack? I know they have a lot of personality, but that’s not always a good thing.

Sally (my Mother): What?  I haven’t opened my mail yet today.  No.  There is no way Lori would buy a goat.

Aunt: Her Dad always threatened to buy a cow and make her milk it.  Maybe she’s making those girls milk the goat.

Sally: (sound of Mom opening the card)…Oh no…I’m going to call you back.  {Insert special note: I would sign the card, “Merry Christmas, From, Lori, Greg, Sara, Kelly, & Nadia…and just leave it at that.}

Sally (calling my Dad): Bill, did Lori buy a goat?!

Bill: No, Sally, don’t be silly.  You can’t buy just 1 goat.  They get mischievous on their own.  She bought 4.

Sally: WHAT?! (Sound of Mom opening and chugging a Diet Coke.)

Bill: I found this great article in Townsend’s Letter about the benefits of goat’s milk in children with congenital visual disorders and mailed it to her.  You can’t get more Whole Foods than goat’s milk straight from the goat.  I guess they couldn’t get them all on the card.

Sally: Now Bill, this is just crazy.  There is just no way…I mean, why would she add that much work to her plate?  Where would she?  NO.

Bill: Sally, I’ve been telling you this since the girls were little.  They are following 4 generations of farmers.  You can’t suppress those genes forever.  I wish you would have let me put that cow out back when I asked, and we would have headed off this entire mess.  Now Lori has a yard full of goats.

Sally: This isn’t MY FAULT!  You’re the one who sent her the article on GOATS!  I’m calling Jenny.

Sally (calling my sister): Jenny!  She can’t possibly fit 4 goats in her yard!!

Jenny: 4 goats?  Who told you that?  Did Dad tell you that?  I knew he wasn’t listening.  The breeder told Lori that they wouldn’t get along in even numbers.  She bought 5.  She said it would take at least 5 to get enough milk. AND she gave them all Eastern European names.  What is that about?  She doesn’t even like Dr. Zhivago.

Sally: JENNY!  That is not the POINT!  There is no way her neighborhood would allow her to have goats!

Jenny: Of course they wouldn’t!  She promised it was temporary, just until the move.

Sally: They are MOVING?

Jenny: OH NO.  I’m not getting involved.  If Lori hasn’t told you about Greg’s bosses opening a new office in Dallas, it’s not coming from me.  CALL HER.

{Finally, Mom goes straight to the source and calls me.}

Sally:  WHAT IS GOING ON LORI?! Why do you have 5 Communist goats?!

Lori: Calm down Mom.  You’re all worked up over nothing.  We don’t have any goats.  We took that picture on a farm tour last summer.  Someone is messing with you.

Sally: THEN WHAT IS ALL THIS TALK ABOUT DALLAS?!

Lori: I KNEW Jenny was doing something else when I talked to her on the phone last week!  She wasn’t listening.  Jeez…Austin.  She kept saying “Dallas”, and I kept saying, “NO, not Dallas…Austin!  Austin is the new Atlanta.”  Everyone knows this.

And THAT is how the game is played.

{Special Note for my now very confused Aunts and Mother: I own exactly zero-point-zero goats.  As well, I would never condone buying farm animals who have political leanings, because there is enough to argue about around here without adding a Communist viewpoint from an animal who eats trash.  That being said, lest anyone downplay the wisdom of a goat, let me point out that a goat can convert trash into usable energy.  Governments around the world have spent untold trillions, gone to war, and ended countless lives in the name of energy, all the while, goats are munching on old bike tires, staring up at our gigantic windmills, wondering why humans are so stupid.  Think of the money we’ve wasted, when we could have simply been studying the digestive process of an animal who can turn nasty tin cans into energy.  Now, about Texas: I love a state that would allow me to have as many goats in my yard as I wanted, but, I’m not moving to Texas.  Today.  I’m not moving to Texas today.  Joking!}