Goating around

I met a friend at the Belmont Goat herd today, to view the goats.  My friend is a kind older gentleman that sits through coffee hours without blinking or showing much judgment on my mile a minute chatter.  He is making me a goat themed lino-cut print, which is turning out to be a pain in the neck.  Leave it to me to desire something terribly weird and complicated.  I am fortunate to know so many talented artists.  I am shameless enough to ask for pieces of their work.  HA!

My friends Rachael and Amber recently started what they are referring to as the "goatoff" on my Facebook page, seeing which one could post a cuter goat picture for me.  A third gal, friends with them, not me, got involved and started a goat page, called "GOATOFF!" to which I invite this goat loving friend and another woman that I know who raises goats in her back yard.  I am mostly interested in cute pictures of goats and puns, to be perfectly honest.  I can't see myself wanting to work hard enough to actually have goats of my own. They are fairly high maintenance animals.

So when he invited me to come down and see the goats with  him, I figured "why not?" which was a good response, since it was a beautiful day and I had nothing better to do.

I had been admiring Chester, the big white fellow, from afar for a long time. 

The goats live in the lot that used to house and Italian restaurant I was very fond of, one of those old school red gravy places that don't exist in Portland any more. 
They cut their pizza into squares instead of slices, like they do in Rome. 
I used to go there with an old boyfriend, that was a picky eater. 
He always got pizza.  I think I chose eggplant. 
They gave you spumoni after your meal. 
You never see spumoni any more.

So I drive by this empty lot on Belmont often and think, I really miss that restaurant, and the way Portland used to be before it was all hipsters and condos, but the goats have been a good addition.  The goats may stay.