Weird-O

I'm sitting at my computer with a desire to write a blog post and use pictures of my cute puppies, but I'm not sure what the content should be.  I could tell myself about the tiny plums that are forming on the little tree I planted by the barn, or about the fuzzy almond shaped fruits growing on the baby peach trees. Did you know immature peaches look like that?  Or, I could tell us all about the tomato plants now growing in the greenhouse soil, or the tiny lettuce plants I transplanted in the garden.  

Or, maybe, I should write about our beautiful Wendigo, in honor of her first birthday.  Although, I'm sure no one but Brandon wants to read about how much we love this sweet dog, and he rarely reads the blog.  As he says, "I don't need to read it - I live it, baby."  Ha!

If I wrote about how in the middle of the day, at my office, while I'm tapping away at my computer, or in a meeting listening to folks think through some challenge, I sometimes have this strong desire to feed the donkeys an apple core, or pet their silky noses and search for burs or ticks in their forehead fur, I might sound like a weird-o, so I should probably keep it to myself. 

Once, in grade school, I forgot it was picture day and wore an outlandish t-shirt with the word weird across the top, and it had a big O on the bottom.  Like a weird-o.  My year book photo was my smiling face with the word weird written below it in big orange letters.   Uh uh.