Last Sunday out in the forest we came across a hunter-person on the Twilight Zone, which at least contributed some legitimacy to the name of the trail. Four dogs with shock collars and a guy in an orange vest with a shotgun strolling along through our newly acquisitioned specific use designated land parcel. Was he allowed to be there? Were we allowed to be there?
What if everyone just did whatever they wanted out there and we all just dealt with it? Horses and motorcycles and birdwatchers and salamander collectors and mountain bike riders and white goods disposal persons and homeless folk trying to get away from it all, wouldn’t that be cool? Plenty of room for everyone out there I say. Just leave your brown mohair jersey at home and get a bell.
On other fronts, The Human Wrecking Ball has branched out. In a spin off on par with Joanie Loves Chachie, he can now be found at www.wreckingballblog.blogspot.com (pretend I hyperlinked it). Go say hi, he has to be lonely over there.
Sasquatch keeps bragging about his incredible diet program, which I have staunchly avoided since it involves something called Ubo oil or Ouzo oil, but the other day he walked in with a bag of Chik-fil-A so I’m thinking it might not be such a bad program after all.
Mel (Not his real name) is a domestic juggernaut. He is hunkered down in snowy Westchester county and he keeps sending me pictures of cappuccino art, emphasis on the microfoam, and loaves of homemade bread. He has a regular laboratory of comfort going on up there. If you are a single woman, or looking to stray in the New York area, and you have an attraction-or at least no aversion- to cranky Asians, then you should definitely look him up.
What else? I couldn’t really say. Oh yeah, thank God our delegates don’t count in Florida. Yeah, I went there, so what?