Bulls. Can't live with 'em, can't live without 'em.

Today our dear sheep is in a tree. I have no idea how she managed to shimmy up there with hooves. Nor do I know how she'll get down. Does she? Oh boy.

Today, Haiku Ewe seems to be fully in love and also ready to move on . . . from the farm . . . but . . . she's a sheep. Where would she go?

Also, I hope she doesn't see my blog, but I don't see how a romance between a sheep and a bull could possibly work. Then, when I look a little closer at how arrogant and self absorbed this bull is, it makes me want to take Haiku Ewe by the shoulders and shake her. Why do women so often have such bad taste in men.

It seems to me that if a man thinks you have good taste simply because you are attracted to him, then you've fallen for a jerk. That should be your first clue to run away as fast as you can. I don't tell her what I think though. When I've tried in the past, she has looked at me with daggers in her eyes and then bleated in this weird way that I don't ever want to hear again. It was like a cross between a dying three legged cat and a can opener.

Fortuantely, she is in a good mood though. Perhaps that is the point. When we find ourselves in a good mood, we should cling to it and savor it. For soon a cow will sashay by and our bull will grow distracted and that good mood will shatter into a million pieces of heartache . . . like when you are taking a vitamin that is large and you gulp too much water and it feels like you are having a heart attack. Does that ever happen to anyone else or just me?