Highlanders Make Great Friends
I’m having one of those days.
Actually, it’s been a few days but who’s counting.
No matter how fast I spill my wheels I can’t get out of the mud.
The mud here being work and kids and meals and gardens and field trip slips and summer plans and exercise and homework, never mind my poor neglected novel sitting in a dusty corner crying itself to sleep at night.
I’m running in circles.
There is smoke coming out of my ears.
Even my loving family would probably tell you I’ve been a tad on the cranky side.
I’ve duct-taped my head on so I won’t lose it, but everything else is getting away from me.
I could scream.
I could tear my hair out.
But I’m a grown-up. I’m holding it together. Besides, if I’m down and troubled and I need a helping hand at least I can lean on my new friend.
This is my new friend–
Isn’t he gorgeous? I’m in love but we’ve agreed that it’s best for us to just be friends, what with all the prejudice against inter-species dating these days.
I’m pretty sure his name is Herbert. He’s a grass-fed Highlander who lives far, far away at Nectar Hills Farm in New York.
And I love him.