I'll never be a "Pioneer Woman"

(Alt. title: "I'm boring even myself.")

One day long ago
when frustration was high
a blog was birthed here
called "Killing A Fly."

The dog had annoyed me:
I needed to vent.
To blogger-dot-com
I inevitably went.

I then started writing
at "Killing A Fly"
of kids, dogs and Brian
the fish with one eye.

My writing got better,
my readership grew,
though why you enjoyed it
I hadn't a clue.

Then slowly my blog
took a turn for the worse.
my literary output
fell under a curse:

The curse of the trivial,
the boring, mundane.
I blogged poo and vomit
to keep me half sane.

And little by little,
my "Killing A Fly"
has become so darn boring
it 'most makes me cry.

A "Pioneer Woman"
I never will be
I don't have her skills
at photography,

homeschooling kids,
cooking up feasts,
keeping the Ranch,
or castrating beasts.

My previous post
confirmed my worst fears:
I found I was boring
MYSELF close to tears.

I don't have a ranch,
or a story to please,
My kids didn't come
in twos or in threes.

My bloggable stories,

can't compare to "Graze"

And I don't end all posts

with a clever catch-phrase.

Chance I'll stop boring

my readers to death?

I'd like to say "high"

but don't hold your breath.