i used to adore elvis presley.  i gave my big junior high school speech on elvis, i read `elvis and me` by priscilla  in the seventh grade and memorized every word in a secret room in my brain.  i vaguely remember going to see the movie version in theater.  still stored away in that room are the facts that she used cocoa butter when pregnant with lisa marie to avoid stretch marks, and that elvis was mean and liked his steak burnt.  i had a whopping collection of elvis records, t-shirts, and factoids.

then, one day i heard big momma thornton singing the orignal `hound dog` on the CBC radio - 12 years of elvis-adoration and i was instantly cured.  i sold all my elvis records to a picker from a local reservation along with the record player one of them was playing on.  we both wore poker faces as is customary in eastern canadian yardsales, but were both obviously thrilled with 5$ for the lot.

i think i`m ready to give the king a second chance.  

i have liked sheep skins since i saw that my first `MIL` had one at their farmhouse in canada back in 2000, but 
recently they seem to be everywhere.  it makes me wonder how many sheeps gave up their skins!  although i wanted one for a while, i don`t think i do anymore.  i`m going to weave something wooly for my little dog to lie on instead.  that way one sheep can keep their skin.  i wonder how the sheepskin industry works - i know i had to quit buying commercial wool yarn after seeing a PETA video on the treatment of sheep in the international trade.  people always said `it`s just a haircut`, but if you see that video you`ll quickly realize it`s not quite so gentle - getting their butts sliced off for quick blowfly management, thrown against fences, thrown onto giant transnational freighters beyond manhandles and squished in like you wouldn`t believe. luckily there are lots of great local small wooleries both here and in canada that treat their sheep right and do just use a gentle haircut, and the products are by far superior! so where are all those skids of ikea sheepskins coming from, anyone know?

remember the silence of the lambs? when i was a kid we had a tiny one room cabin on a river.  we were at the end of a long empty lane of cabins - a local farmer used to let his cows and sheep roam the land freely.  every morning we`d have cows in our yard, and then sheep!  we`d chase them down the field and across the rocky river.  down the lane were the stockades where they slaughtered the sheep once a year.  my sister and i would carefully collect the old skull bones in the grass and bleach them in the river.

thought soup!  (sorry!)

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