Cheese, Not.

This weekend was the first time I was to unveil my cheese at a party in my neighborhood.

Live and learn, Devine:

Apparently, Chevre culture (or whatever it is called) dies after a certain amount of time. Therefore, I had nothing to work with minus a clump or two of overachieving molecules.

I will admit that I almost caved and purchased factory made goat cheese to hide my failure, but my sweaty palms in the store were an obvious sign that I couldn't pull off the lie without incessant giggling (which would only add to my usual weirdness) and sweating.

I finally just returned the cheese back to its rightful shelf and accepted my cheesy defeat.

And really...So WHAT if the whole neighborhood thinks that my insanity is a reality now that I can't even produce anything edible to support my boring-ass goat stories??

Oh, and they do think I am nuts. If only for purchasing a home in our "low maintenance lifestyle" and "exclusive" community when we probably should have bought a freaking farm to maintain all of the animals I keep adding to the family. But I could see it in their eyes when they asked me about how my riding was going, which led into the goats, and eventually into the tons of baby chicks I am sharing with The Fearless Barn Owner. You know, your average cup o' crazy!

Thus far, I have been milking twice a day. The amount our mama Phoenix has been producing is impressive - I am getting about a gallon a day! We drink some, freeze some, share some with Tank the three-legged-dog, and maybe if the stars are aligned and I click my heels three times, make some amazing cheese. I just wish I could manage my entire Goat Milk Game Plan a little better so I didn't have to "waste" so much milk. The barn cats and baby chicks are enjoying their portions, though, and there is something peaceful about that aspect.