I have an X on my right upper arm, just below the shoulder. You know the place, where comic sailors have mother tattooed on their biceps. My X isn't a tattoo though, but it sure is a brand. I got it today when I was stupid enough to go work along the sheep fence without turning off the 30-mile cattle charger I use to keep the woollies in. I was dumping out the dirty sheep's water tank and stand in a pool of muddy water when my shoulder touched the bare wire. I screamed, and I mean I screamed, more out of shock than pain. It was not something I would recommend to any of you nice people. Shucks, I wouldn't recommend it to any of you mean people. It was rough. Lesson learned.
I now have a perfect little red X on my arm though. I kinda hope it sticks.
Enjoy the story of a young writer living in Washington County with her fancy dogs, sheep, lots of chickens, fiber & meat rabbits, geese, ducks, turkeys, a hive and a garden. Expect to hear a lot about mountain music, the civil war, local food, and my friends along the way. It's a big time folks.