My sister is what you might call gullible.
Okay, she is gullible, no might about it.
True story: a few years ago, when I was out west visiting family, she asked how come I never look any older, and I politely, and rightly, explained, that The Gays are forbidden to age at the same rate as, well, Breeders.
She looked at me……she was ready to buy it….and then I laughed.
True story: when we were kids we lived in Sacramento, and every so often we’d take a family trip into San Francisco for the day. As we drove along Interstate 80, we passed though the low, sloping hills along the valley side of the coast range, where a herd of cows could always be seen grazing.
As we passed the cows, my father told a story of how those particular cows are specially bred to graze along hillsides; the legs on one side of their bodies are shorter than the other, so they don’t tip over on the hills. My dad said they simply walk around the hills, their shorter legs uphill, longer legs downhill, and graze in circles.
They are called Hill Cows, my dad said.
We all laughed.
Several years later–and by years I really mean years–we were on another trek to The City, and my sister had brought along a friend. Once more we passed the herd of cows grazing on the hillsides and my sister solemnly told her best girlfriend about the Specially Bred Hill Cows made for grazing on hillsides without tipping over.
We all howled at her, again and again, in fact, I’m laughing about it again today.
So, what does all this have to do with that picture up there? The one I spotted earlier today on Froggy’s blog?
Well, out in California, on those same hills where the Hill Cows graze, there are windmills. And once, after the Hill Cow incident, my father tried convincing my sister that they are called windmill farms because the windmills are grown there.
And she almost bought it, until we spotted a cow grazing on a hillside…..