Pump broke

It wasn't 'cause the vandal took the handle, for you Bob Dylan fans. It was some kind of roter in the motor.

What it meant was that about half a dozen or so of us human beings had to milk by hand the half a dozen or so cows, each with three or four teats and 20-30 pints of milk per udder. I'll let you do the math. What it meant to me was good company, a common goal, and sore muscles. So, yes, I had fun, and yes, I'm glad the pump is fixed now.

I was surprised at how strong my right hand is, compared with my left. I am right-handed, so that makes sense. I also play the tambourine, and hold it with my left hand while I drum with my right, and I use the same muscle groups drumming as I do milking. I'm not going to milk or drum today -- even typing is somewhat of an ordeal, I'm that sore.

I rewarded myself with a treat -- I watched the mid-70's movie, "Network." I really liked it. I'd heard it was good, and it was! And, although I'm not currently outwardly mad as hell and can't take it anymore, I can certainly work up that feeling without much effort. I like to think that milking cows and living on a commune is a good way for me to deal with my anger about bullshit. I certainly am living a real life, and I certainly know what it's like to live an inauthentic one. What a good movie -- funny and true. My favorite kind.

okeydokey artichokey,
much love,
Kelpie