I Got A Goat (or, Thank You Charlie Brown)

When I was just ready to turn 39 I was doing the dishes one day and I looked down at my leg and I could've sworn I saw the dreaded 'varicose vein'. In actuality, it was just a blue vein that I saw through my skin. But, I was so terrified (I'll let you in on a secret that my Toledo Hungarian side of the family *which boasts upwards of 20 children per woman* is no stranger to varicose veins). Anyhow, I was so terrified, I vowed right then and there to do whatever it took to make whatever it was disappear. I read up on it and took Bilberry and extra Vitamin C and then I read that exercise helped. So I took up running. Well, running took me up (it was addictive, fun, stress reducing and healthy). My 'varicose vein' disappeared and I ran right through 40, 41 and 42.

Around 41 I started realizing that I was living 'mid life'. Aha, so THIS is what everyone is referring to...'Mid Life Crisis'. Halfway between. Not quite young, but not ready to be old. Strange. A very strange place to live.

Some people, I've noticed, deal with this 'in between' age by getting plastic surgery. I've never been a fan plastic surgery. The whole 'plastic' part gets me first, but then I also happen to actually like what God gave me, big nose and all. And I immediately agreed with what Robert Redford had to say about wrinkles, the first time I read it, “Look, I know I don’t look the way I used to. Everyone in Tinseltown is getting pinched, lifted and pulled. It’s becoming a sick obsession. They lose some of their soul when they go under the knife.” The part about losing some of their soul, yeah, I can agree with that. Some people have affairs or get divorced or paint their walls sixteen different colors. New car, old car, trip to Europe; Every middle age crisis has it's own antidote.

So, instead of plastic surgery or a new car or a trip, what did I go out and do? I GOT A GOAT.

I didn't get a collagen lip boost, I GOT A GOAT.

I didn't go to Italy. I GOT A GOAT.

I didn't buy a Lexus. I GOT A GOAT.

But wait! Not just one, I GOT TWO GOATS! Yes, that's right. TWO. ha.

Like Charlie Brown on Halloween. Can't you hear me? I GOT A ROCK. No, I GOT A GOAT!

Dear sweet Charlie Brown. Your rocks were beautiful because they were different. Just as I am proud of my silly stinky sweet brown little goats. Different, but perfect.

So, if you are feeling a little bit of 'neither here nor there' in your system...don't fret...don't worry about fitting in. Do what is right for you and be proud of it. For me, it was a goat (or two).

I GOT A GOAT (and no varicose veins, yet.)