On Style

For those of you who aren't familiar with Oz geography, Melbourne is the capital of the southernmost mainland state,Victoria.
People who live in Melbourne spend 66.6% of their time wearing black,
The other eight hours a day, they are asleep [ and quite possibly wearing black ]
This is a well known fact.
People who live in Melbourne are stylish ... it is the Style Capital of Australia - the centre of our not inconsiderable fashion industry, it is the bastion of the Arts and Kulture. This is not open for debate. It just IS.

There is a well known quote [ from a Sydneysider ] to the effect that " Australia finally has a world class opera house. Unfortunately the outside is in Sydney and the inside is in Melbourne " and so on and so forth. You get the idea.

I am [originally] from Melbourne.


So what does this tell you?



gaack!


Okay, that was the sound of people who know me in real life either:


a] having a heart attack

or

b] spluttering scalding liquids all over their keyboards at the thought of putting the words 'Catsmum' and 'style' in the same sentence.

Or even in the same town.

Maybe even the same state is too close.


It's not that I'm what you'd call a fashion victim or a fashion tragic, because to be called that you would probably have to actually wear something that bears a resemblance to actual fashion. There's probably a rule to that effect. In fact I'm reasonably sure that I read it somewhere.


My own personal sense of [ and I use the term so loosely, it's in danger of collapsing ] 'style ' has for several decades lent towards layers, leggings and long skirts. A niece once referred to me as a closet bohemian. She did not mean it as a compliment.


Then I moved to Castlemaine and discovered that a good percentage of the locals dress by the same rules. We wear layers because the temp frequently goes from freezing to glorious in the space of three or four hours [ or as summer approaches, from mild to ' my god I'm gonna die of heat prostration' ]

Layers make sense up here... and if you live in Castlemaine AND bellydance, then of course, the long gypsy skirts are a wardrobe staple.

Which is why my DD expressed surprise on Monday that I was wearing pants. She wasn't aware that I owned any.

What can I tell you? Long skirts do not work when one is squatting in a goat shed milking, or cradling newborn animals, or doing anything that might involve incontinent younglings.


What? You thought this was a goat-free post? Silly you.

No, I can't even go one post without dragging the babies into it. Sad, isn't it?

So

Kid update:

Rowan
Her legs will be fine. It's a common weakness most probably caused by the fact that she was stuck to the rear of the womb but was the larger kid so her feet got turned under. They're getting stronger but at the moment she's very wobbly.


Ruby however is doing actual 'gamboling' - and maybe even a bit of a frisk
[ and she weighed in at somewhere between 3.5 and 4 kgs for those that were wondering ]
Both are bottle feeding well - Rowan is a greedy guts.
They will need to be dehorned in the next few days but the vet will do that.

Things I have learned:

• mother goats are much more attentive than mother sheep. The babies just have to make the slightest protesting sound. A sheep will wander off and leave the babe bawling its little head off.


• mother goats are not particularly fussy about which end of the baby they are licking


• baby goats are an incredible time waster. They are so unbelievably gorgeous and sweet and soft that I can feel myself turning to marshmallow as I type. Who wants to quilt or knit or eat or read when there are two little bundles to be snuzzled?