Let's try something new

Dear Peruser,
I've been unhappy with my blog. It just doesn't seem to flow and I find myself squeezing out the words as if they were coming from an empty tube of toothpaste. That's not me. That's not the way I write, so what the heck's been wrong with me?
I was writing in my paper journal today and then it came to me. I only write the best when I'm writing to someone. So I shall. I shall pretend I have a person receiving this letter and while I know I won't get a letter in return that has never stopped me before. My only regret is that I can't use my fountain pen or rubber stamp to decorate the page. Yeah yeah, I could learn how to attach pics to this but then that would mean that I would really have to learn how to use my digital camera which, by the way, has too many icons and too many things it can do. I just want to point and shoot and have a picture. Also, I'd have to make sure the house was clean because I'd probably want to capture the idiot thing, Rocco the wonder dog does and having ankle high dust and a christmas lamp post leaning drunkenly in a corner somehow diminishes Rocco's Rocconess.
So
here
goes

April 19, 2006

Dear Peruser,
Can you believe that April is half way over and I'm that much closer to my one week job at the petting farm only not? I had a dream about it last night. Only there were pigs in this dream. It gets me to thinking that I must have had a boring life up to this time if working with 800 pound pigs, who definitely were hired assassins this year, is the highlight of my days. It's not as if I've lived under a rock. There was the bank robbery, and the guy I knew who ended up as a mummy, and the guy I knew (not the same guy) who ended up as a ghost, the contests I won with hand stamped post cards, my blue ribbon at the state fair, the shenangans of the sons, and all that other stuff that zipped through my life. So why do I focus on pigs for goodness sakes? It is a thrill to birth piglets and I even impressed myself this year handling a piglet squirting blood without getting ruffled and escaping the boar's pen with only the smallest puncture in my thigh (can I help it if boars find me irresistable?) and hold off a 800 pound , red eyed, jaw clacking mama sow without a blink and even using her as an example as to why we don't let the kids into the pen. Working in the office full time with the husband I don't know if I'll be able to do the petting farm but since the petting farm only not is only 4 days, he can do without me for that long. Besides thje brochure for the petting farm only not (it's offical name is Native Lands) shows a Zebra. I've had my hands on my pigs, and goats and chickens and a kangaroo and a bison so a zebra is a good progression.
I suppose the petting farm obsession isn't all that weird. I've always loved animals and as a child refused to go to any movie if an animal was going to die. I even took my life in my hands when I admitted to my mother that if there was a fire in the house that I would save the dog first. I was 8 years old for god's sake and the dog looked like a hairy dachsund and was so low to the ground she would never be able to get herself outside. My mother was an adult, she should have been saving me. Funny the dog was femals but my mother was the bitch.
Oops, I've promised that I won't go there, Haven't I? Can't help it at times. She was my mother after all and I still feel the effects of her parenting. I also can't help but think that she 's rolling in her grave just thinking that her daughter is working with pigs.
I could keep on writing but the dishes are calling my name and they are getting rather insistant and then there is my underwear I have to find. I swear someone is taking them. All I could find to wear today was a pair of the husband tightie whities though I know I have a clean basket of clothes somewhere. Why can't I grow fur and then I wouldn't have to worry about clothes?
Well, till later, I will leave you with that image in your mind. Love ya. ---me---