Dear Diary, I wouldn't Call This a Mansion

Dear Diary,
Guess where I am right now! Yep, I'm sitting on my bed in the Petroskys mansion. Except, I wouldn't exactly call this a mansion. Mansions are supposed to have big windows and drive-thru driveways, and moats around the entire house. This house doesn't have any of that. Mrs. Petrosky wears this scarf over her head all the time and doesn't wear any makeup. Mr. Petrosky wears overalls and a plaid shirt. They look a little bit silly, but I guess that's how people from Russia are. Oh, They're from Russia. They told me that they "Come to America to make better life for zemselves" and get away from the color red or something. But I really don't understand how you can runaway from a color. I mean even the chickens on their chicken farm have red in them. Yes ma'am these people have a chicken farm! Right when they drove their old orange truck up to the house, Mr. Petrosky says to Lulu and I, cause they took Lulu too, "I show you chickens."

He didn't just show us his chickens. He introduced us to each hen and rooster. "zis von iz Gala, zis von iz Dima, zis von is Halinka, zis von is Igorek" I was like holy lord please speak english! And then Mr. Petrosky showed us how to collect the eggs from the hens without them getting aggressive, and how to take the dirty shavings and replace them with clean shavings, and how to feed the birds without them pecking each others eye balls out. And all this has to be done twice a day so that the birds feel well enough to produce "vonderful vite eegs."

After Lulu and I learned about stupid chickens the Petroskys made lunch, but I don't think Mrs. Petrosky really knows how to cook. She made boiled eggs with pickled cabbage and put a big vile of vodka in the middle of the table. Lulu and I looked at each other, both thinking, "where's the fried chicken and green beans." I was hungry so I picked around at an egg but only ate the white part.

Well, Dinner wasn't much better, and after dinner Lulu and I had to go check on the chickens again. Except without Mr. Petrosky. I don't think those hens like us very much. When we tried to take their eggs they pecked our fingers, and when we tried to rake out the dirty straw they attacked our ankles.

But tomorrow Lulu and I get to go to a real school for the town's children! I'm going to wear my new clothes from wal-mart and bring my purse. I am even going into middle school, sixth grade, with Lulu. Lulu is the right age for sixth grade, but I'm just not smart enough yet to go into high school. But that's okay with me because I've never been to sixth grade before and I sure would hate to miss it.

Diary, I have to turn out the lights now, Lulu really wants to go to sleep. I can't wait to tell you all about school.

Love,
Bellaray Dave