I'm thinking about discontinuing this blog. It occurs to me that having it might not be such a bright idea. This is coupled with the fact that I truly doubt anyone reads it, making the risk fairly pointless, if you know what I mean... It's just stupid to write the things that I do here, when a diary would do just as well.

What else- I went through a photo album the other day, and I noticed a few things.

1. It would be useful to organize the photos by person or possibly time period. Having all sorts of family friends and whatnot from a span of 20-30 years jumbled together is confusing, a mishmash.
   
2. I've got a lot of pictures of my full sister, and I do mean a LOT! It would not surprise me if a third or more of them had her in them.
   
3. I don't photograph well....at all.... But the pictures that are decent generally have me smiling happily with a goat or two.
   

About my sister- she's younger but I've always lived in her shadow. She's glamorous and cute and pretty and well, she has that something...charisma? that I totally lack. She's got style and confidence. We look pretty much the same, it isn't that I'm homely, it's that she presents herself as though she's a beauty queen and utterly secure about it. I wouldn't want to be her, I wouldn't be happy living her life, and I prefer who I am, yet there is this nasty green streak of envy. Everybody likes her. She's sweet and outgoing and amiable. She gets what she wants. Cuteness goes a long, long way in life, and at time I have to admit to resenting that. She and I are such a contrast in almost every way despite the fact that we had the same upbringing. It's hard to blame my lack of success on a rough start when she's done so well. I asked her once how she did it, why everything seems to work out so well for her. She said that long ago, she'd seen how I was and the results of my weird unconventional ways, and decided that whatever I did, she'd do the exact opposite, and that it'd worked out pretty well. OUCH!

About the goats and I: the fact that the only pleasing pictures of me invariably include a goat says something significant. I've been thinking about drastically or completely reducing the number of goats in the herd. I can't enjoy them as I'd like to- when I've got to be tied down with so many little kids, dealing with them becomes more of a chore than a joy. Then I looked at these pictures and I realized- ya know, the goats make me happy. Life is about trying to be happy. Maybe I don't need so many, and perhaps I will eventually sell them off, but there are precious few things in this life that put a smile on my face and dammit, the goats are one of them.