The weather, thank goodness, is absolutely glorious; we had a lovely tour down the highway with the eponymous Sheryl Crow album blasting, and then the sumbitch quit…. I really like that album and it’s annoying to think I’ll have to replace it.
The kids and the folks are having a lovely discussion in the sun room so I thought I’d slip away and catch up on my blog.
Yup, still the same laundry list of shiz I can’t talk about.
So I’ll talk about something else.
With my own eyes I’ve seen a little naked girl, slowly walking along a path, holding a frog on the palm of each hand. “Look, mummy, they like me!”
With my own eyes I’ve seen a great blue heron fly over the car I was driving, and I watched it poop, and cover my windscreen with runny pale blue shit.
With my own eyes I have seen the classic UFO lenticular cloud. mOm can confirm; she was in the car with me. I saw it looking west from the Hamilton escarpment.
With my own eyes I’ve seen what it looks like to do the approach into Montréal, through thin scattered, at night, in an Airbus. (Wild, lemme tell you.)
With my own eyes and ears, I have seen a man play arpeggios on a flute to a common loon, which answered him.
With my own eyes, I have seen Keith’s name written into the ice up at Red Deer Lodge. (repeated freeze thaw cycles at the base of reeds cause the ‘writing’ effect’).
With my own eyes, I have seen a cat fall into a full bathtub and not get wet.
I’ve seen a lot of wonderful things in my time.