A few years ago, I discovered the myriad health benefits and utter deliciousness of raw goat milk. I decided I must have this in my life, possible parasitic diseases be darned.
After hunting around Missoula, I found, to my dismay, that selling raw goat milk in Montana is illegal. And as I said, I was dismayed, but undaunted. I would sally forth and find this youthful elixir of hairy Mother's Milk or my name wasn't Alisha Dea the Determined.
Locating a seller of goat's milk in Washington, where it is legal to sell goat's milk, I did a goat-like leap in the air and gave a loud whoop! I would have my milk, even if I did have to drive 500 miles to get it.
Butch asked me what I was whooping about and I happily told him, with the air of a victorious conqueror, "I found some goat milk in Washington, where it's not against the law!"
He mused for a second and then said, "But you'll be bringing it back across state lines, where it's illegal."
I asked, "So?"
"Well... you'll be a goat milk bootlegger."
😲 In seconds I went from horror of breaking the law to absolute delicious delight. Oh, this was good. My eyes lit up and a smile spread across my face at the thought of being dubbed such an illustrious name, and being known as ... the local Goat Milk Bootlegger. I loved it. I needed it. I had immediate visions of a book with this title, dancing in my head.
I answered, "Well, the name alone would be worth the risk. And you ought to know all about that, with your misspent youth running beer from Oklahoma to Texas all the time, you crinimal."
"Nah, that was different. Our county was dry. I was just providing a service, for other thirsty Texans."
"Uh huh. Yeah, you were bootlegging. You could give me some pointers though. At least I won't be driving a cherry red '57 Chevy like you were. Talk about conspicuous. Geez. How did you get away with that?"
"The cops were thirsty too."
"Ah ha. Convenient. We could do a tag team goat milk running, kind of like Smokey and the Bandit! Come on! It would be fun!"
He said, "Nah. The law dogs ain't what they used to be. They got no sense a humor anymore. It was different back in them good old days. We all got along and helped each other out, like good neighbors should. Don't come running to me when you get caught with two cases of bootlegged goat milk stashed in your trunk. Yer on yer own. I seriously doubt the cops have a dyin' thirst for raw goat milk."
"Hmph..."
As MUCH as I wanted, needed, to be labeled a goat milk bootlegger, I decided that I'd keep up my lifelong adherence to not being in jail or having a criminal record. So, I tried another tack. I invested in a goat, who someone else takes care of. I get my DElicious goat milk and I'm not breaking the law. Win-win.
That title though...
Coming soon to a bookstore near you -
"The Goat Milk Bootlegger" ;)
