Dream

I always hate it when people tell me their dreams (except for J. Anderson.  Your's are funny and you keep the summary to two sentances).  But after a particularly hairy week I had this dream, and the longing lingers with me, so take a whack at this one, Joseph... 

Michael approached me early one morning and said, you look frazzled.  I'm going to take the kids for the entire day and you can do whatever you want.  I'll see you tonight or tomorrow.  He kissed me, then I watched the loaded car wind down the driveway through the pasture and trees, enter the road and speed out of sight.  I sat for a brief moment and brainstormed with myself on what I'd most like to do.  It was easy.  I slipped into my working duds, pulled on the old galoshes and tromped out to the barn, where I was greeted by the fragrance of alfalfa and old manure and the soft wholesome sounds of early morning animals.  I coaxed my sweet jersey from her stall (my affection for this little cow was very real) and tied her to the ring.  Then I pulled up a stool (which, of course, was padded), metal bucket in hand, leaned my head against her warm belly and began to milk her.  It was like taking the first breath after holding it through the long 405 tunnel by the Portland Zoo.  Ahhh, real life!  Am I pathetic or what?