Farmer Me

So Max and I hit the zoo today. It was a lovely day so there were a zillion babies there. It was toddler-pallooza. We even ran into someone we knew.

Friend: Lacy, I can not believe you're wearing pearls at the zoo.

Me: Why? We're mothers. Not farmers.

Friend:  I thought you wanted to be a farmer. With a goat and vintage appliances?

Me: That's true. But it's a stylish farm. Even the goats have pearls.

Friend: You're googling pearls for goats on your phone right now, aren't you?

Me: Yeah, but all I'm getting here is pearls for swine. Maybe we can have pigs instead.

Friend: Are you sure those results don't link to the use of the idiom "pearls BEFORE swine," Lace?

Me: That's what our farm can be called! It's a refuge for wayward pigs, a place where they can get back on their feet after I save them from becoming bacon.

Friend: Lacy, the point of farming animals is to raise them and eat them.

Me: Not at my farm. We wear pearls and we don't eat one another. It's all very civilized.

Friend: Where are you going?

Me: To find the pigs and check the smell level. I can really only handle like a 3 plus on a one to ten scale.

Friend: Well, why not just douse them in Chanel perfume?

Me: Now you're just being ridiculous. Like I need the EPA on my back. It's bad enough I'll have to deal with the PETA people wanting to know why all my pigs are being forced to wear necklaces.

Appropriate Zoo attire right here, people.