cows, pigs, and the moon?01-20-00 Like most Thursdays, I was at work all day, so I have little else to write about. Today was interesting. No, really. Very interesting. We took a blood sample from a pig. A pig! The shelter brought it over—they caught it two months ago running around in the north end of town, and someone actually went to the shelter today and adopted it. They brought it to us first so we could test it for some pig virus. Dr. Figaro told the shelter guys to keep it outside, and we went out to get the blood. That thing squalled like nothing I've ever heard. (I guess it squealed like a stuck pig?) It took the two shelter men to hold it down so I could pinch a vein and the doctor could draw the blood. It screamed. All along the block, people came out of stores to see if we were torturing a small child. It sounded like a small child, but with lungs like an elephant. Even though the noise was deafening, I felt exhilarated. We had high winds today, the kind that bite through your clothes, even though it's not that cold. And I was standing in the parking lot, squeezing the tail of a pig who's making the loudest sound I have ever heard in my life. I was there late tonight because we had a zillion surgeries, and afterward we were building the Sauder desks that the doctor bought for his office. As I drove home, the sun had just barely gone down, but the moon had come up full and was hanging, huge, right over the Ford dealership on Russell Parkway. The sky was striated blue and violet, like a flat sheet of construction paper. The moon was a hole in the sheet, like from a paper punch, and the light seemed to be shining through from behind. I'm so jazzed to see the lunar eclipse tonight. Can you tell? Here's January acrostic number four:
mother moon sleepily whispering:
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