Being submerged in a different culture is something that I thrive for, something that I long for, and live for. Today we got the chance to go to a sheep and cattle farm and practice our “shearing skills”. Okay, no one told me how heavy a sheep is. So when it was my turn to hold the squirming, restless, agitated animal, I went in with the impression that it was going to be as carefree as carrying my pooch Ginger (who resembles a sheep when not properly groomed, which is always). I was wrong. Sheep should seriously consider eating less. As I struggled to hold the hairless kicker, I looked at its’ eyes. Bad decision. The eyes of the sheep were filled with fear. I know that the sheep wasn’t being harmed in any way, but it still looked like it thought it was the end of its’ life, which brings back memories of having to watch a goat being suffocated in Africa. Good times.
“There is a way into my country from all the worlds,” said the Lamb; but as he spoke his snowy white flushed into tawny gold and his size changed and he was Aslan himself, towering above them and scattering light from his mane.”
-The Voyage of the Dawn Treader
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