Keri me home: Post 87: bulls will be bulls

Hey, guess what?! Today's post is my 87th... kind of crazy, right? Awesome, too. I wonder if I can reach 100 by my first 'blogiversary' this June.

It took me almost ten months to get here. Well, nine months and 27 days, to be exact. Which is about 43 weeks. Or 301 days. Or 7,224 hours. Or 433,440 minutes. Or 26,006,400 seconds, give or take. It just depends how you want to look at it.
{P.s. here's how I did that}.

I prefer keeping track via minutes, myself. Which probably has everything to do with my adoration for this. Sigh. Rent: I need to watch the movie again, and soon. Have I ever mentioned that I'm sort of a sucker for musicals?

Anyway, in honor of my 87 posts, my 433,440 minutes, and countless moments, I thought I'd take some time to better explain {this moment}, involving Chris and one of the black Angus bulls that currently resides on the hillside pasture behind our house.

So two Thursday afternoons ago, I found this big guy in a bit of a pickle.

Actually I found him in a hay bin .

Wah, wah, wahhh...

I'm not sure exactly how he maneuvered himself into this small, confined space, but I'm sure it involved a reckless hay-eating frenzy and a small dose of stupidity.

And don't worry. It's OK to laugh at his expense- trust that your computer screen will serve as a protective, life-saving barrier from the wrath and terror of this huge, ferocious, Hell-raising beast.

Yup, he's a real Hell raiser alright. Can't you tell?

Anyway, despite his apparent comfort and lack of panic over his self-induced incarceration, this dude needed saving. So I called upon the one I knew who could release him from the pasturage prison: Mr. Christopher A. Fabin, farmer and bovine extraordinaire.

Here's how it happened...