You may think that it's sad looking at the office supplies on your desk and wondering which would win in a fight - but not as sad as realizing that this isn't the first time you've thought about this.
The weather is warm, the trees are green and the squat house beside my apartment building is spewing out its inhabitants even later into the night. Thankfully, they never seem to tire of professing in the piercing tones of their eloquent drunken dialect the love or derision they feel for one another.
Aside from the tell-tale signs of spring, there has been another blessed event of wonderment which has touched down on the tarmac of my aspirations. On June 3rd I took part in the age-old, Alberta right of passage... branding.
It was glorious; I thought that my general maternal, nurturing instincts would kick in and swell me with pity for these sweet creatures and their plight. I guess the ration outweighed the hippy, over-sensitive side of my id, and all was well. The weather was pretty chilly and wet, which made the pen we worked in a gumbo of mud, blood and feces. I won't give myself undue credit and say I was a natural, but I held my own and I have no qualms saying so. I tackled, I held, I pulled - those calves were in good hands, let me just reassure you of that.
I was amazed at how quick the whole process was; especially the castration - I would've though that would be the most painful (second to the branding of course). But nay, it didn't seem to inflict much discomfort, although I can't speak for the men doing it.
Overall, it was a very memoriable experience. The only cloud over my success in becoming an official "citiot" brander would be the harassing texts and calls that streamed in after I decided to share my day on facebook. While I can't express total gratitude for psychopaths now (being still involved in an altercation with one), I sure am glad they're around to keep things spicy and remind me that as much as I'd like to change about myself - saints be praised him not THAT far gone.