Dec

Eight maids a-milking

I have never milked a cow.

I suppose I could.

I’ve seen it on TV, and I have a sense that in a life-or-death situation (or some other situation reasonably severe enough to force me to do such a thing) I could milk a cow.

On the other hand, considering the lack of direct experience or definitive proof, that claim could really just be classified as a wild and unfounded boast.

Take it as you will.

In other unnecessary maid-a-milking news, did you know that the expression “as smooth as a milk maid’s skin” came about because exposure to cowpox conveys a partial immunity to the disfiguring (if not fatal) disease smallpox, and milkmaids lacked the pockmarked complexion common to smallpox survivors? And, as a further bit of (hopefully) “I did not know that” and enlightening information, this cowpox/smallpox observation led to the development of the first vaccination for (drumroll please…) smallpox.

But perhaps you guessed that already?

Otherwise, my mother flew into town late last night, and although that isn’t an ‘excuse’ per se, it is an excuse in that I’ve gotten into the bad habit of writing these blogs just moments before midnight and that (clearly) didn’t happen last night.

So today you’ll get two pointless posts.

This one and some worthless thoughts on nine ladies dancing coming up tonight.

Oh joy.