That title's only halfway about the beer I've been drinking this fine spring evening. And before I go on, can we all just stop for a moment and give thanks for so many things: the time changed and the sun stays out past 6 p.m. as God intended, it's warmish-chilly (my favorite temperature), there's full-blown leaves on trees in that early lime shade before turning deep green, and beer.
Lots of stuff is moving in these parts. As always, it's too soon to share, and my superstition keeps me from it anyhow. No point in celebrating until things are signed on dotted lines, but there's reason to be hopeful, nonetheless. Most importantly, there's a goat cheese-making class in the hill country this weekend with my mother and nice people who like goats. I mean come on, does it get better?
Jer confessed his plan to take advantage of my absence this weekend, haul a mobile home to the property and place baby goats in the front of it with ribbons around their necks. His intentions were good; let's just wrap up this housing question once and for all while simultaneously distracting Jenna with goats. Sneaky, sneaky. Of course, he was too honest (and too excited about a possible house build) to go through with the plan.
Maybe by Friday there will be some news. In the meantime there's a weekend of baby goats, great cheese, warmer weather, clear nights, longer days, and great beer. Cheers.