I must confess, I liked my last blog so much (the one I didn’t post, which you know nothing about so far) I decided to see if anyone would misguidedly pay me to publish it, so I’ve fallen behind on my prodding of the electronic air-space.
And, not to whine or anything, my husband still has a broken leg, the inside rabbit was discovered to be male (or the horror!) and the outside rabbit made it’s escape, only not far enough away, and our neighbor Henry kick-knocked the door late one night with the squirming thing in his arms and an enormous smile on his face after he tempted it to its incarcerated doom with lettuce and kale.
And my daughter got her hair-ends dyed blue at a friend’s house, and thus we got the bathtub dyed the next bath day, and I have a slow-burning cold, and my husband’s leg is still broken, and the price of the genital modification of the never-was-a-female rabbit is about $250 dollars.
So why did it seem like the best thing to hang on the internet wall this month was one of my first digital images, in which the goldfish’s for-sale bag is re-hung upside down and it looks like a hot-air balloon floating off with the televised breast-implant from a show in which some white-robed flunky gleefully squashed the mammaries of a compliant surgery victim?
Because that’s what my life is like.