I have an open letter that I would like to share. "Dear Farmers, I am a stay at home mother of an 8 month old daughter. We live in an apartment in a town with no park, no library, and nowhere a woman who is hanging onto her last nerve by a stand of laceweight yarn can go to help take the edge off. My daughter recently grew two teeth at once, and is contemplating adding a few more to her collection. My husband works for a co-op, hauling seed and other things that farmers use. He works everyday of the week, taking the car with him each day. I wait for the weekends like a drunk waits for the bartender to set him up with his first shot. I am released from captivity, if only to go to Walmart and ogle the yarns. (I am a knitter, yarn is a fascinating topic for me. Possibly you would find the equivalent in plows.) Usually on the weekends I go nowhere special, other than a little grocery shopping and maybe a skein or two of yarn 'accidently' drops into my cart. Sometime...