Saturday, August 28, 2010

Crazy People for Pemco Commercials, Ahoy!

I've mentioned that my continued research about the antics of the Seattle Public Schools makes me feel a little like a whacko crank.

Hey! Guess what! Even the [fill in blank] said that, yup, yup, it shorely was a [fill in mis-management, mis-conduct or mis-whatevs] to [remainder of issue, often involving management or school board]! Lather, rinse, repeat. It would be ridiculous, at this point, to be surprised.

If my OCD-like behavior in following school district issues was my only quirk, I could dismiss it as a wee, not-quite-charming eccentricity. I do make a great chocolate cake, and a truly delicious chocolate cake makes at least one bit of weirdness almost charming. But even delicious cake probably isn't enough to balance out the pile-up of quirks I seem to be acquiring. I play hockey, which often raises an eyebrow or two. And... well, I have goats.
So aside from me proving my bonafides to the Seattle Goat Mafia by whacking a couple of unsuspecting rhododendrons (and boxwoods. and other shrubs. It was like the Arbor Day Massacre in my back yard), having goats has also involved gathering fresh forage.

Which sounds harmless, right?

It is, in its own way. Goats can live on straw, a mineralized salt (loose or block) and plenty of fresh water. But they're browsers, and they do like them some fresh green stuff to munch on. As it happens, they adore blackberry leaves (and blackberries are classified as a noxious weed). So, on the plus side, I'm doing my citizen-y duty by removing blackberries and feeding them to my goats. On the minus? I now tool around on errands with an improvised cane carrier (it's a lot like a log carrier, only I made it myself with duct tape and "sewing"), leather gloves and pruners. When I spot a lush patch of blackberry while out and about, I stop the car, leap out, clip away, and load up the car with blackberry canes. Sometimes I even load up on top of my hockey bag.

Crazy? Leeeetle bit. I wasn't much thinking about it until the other day, and someone more or less said... "wait. You do all this school board stuff, right?" And I nodded. "And you play hockey?" And I nodded. "And you have... goats?" And I nodded. And then I realized that yes, I am a freaking Pemco commercial.

"Hey, crazy northwest hippie hockey playing school board haranguing goat-keeping housewife, we're a lot like you. A little diff... no. No, we're not. Because you, lady, are insane, not just 'a little different.' "


Rod Brooks said...

Good day to you!

Just read your post titled "Crazy People for PEMCO Commercials, Ahoy!" and I thought I'd offer my two cents worth in a short reply.

My name is Rod Brooks and I'm the Chief Marketing Officer for PEMCO Insurance.

First... Thanks for the mention and for being such a pssionate member of the uniquely quirky corner of the world that we call home. It's our Northwest friends and neighbors that make the place so special.

Second... You don't sound insane to me, just very "committed".

So, Crazy northwest hippie hockey playing school board haranguing goat-keeping housewife... You're one of us. And We're a lot like you. A little different!

Make it a great day!

Rod Brooks
PEMCO Mutual Insurance Company

Meg said...

Oh, Mr. Brooks, if you are for realsies, thank you so much. It's so nice to be told that I am perhaps not totally nutso. It's almost as good as a compliment for killer (and impractical) shoes.

Although, as a side note and slight kvetch, my family is making some serious hay from you calling me "committed."