As I mentioned, dear reader, your kind responses to these photo essays may have been too encouraging. I'm having fun capturing the images I see every day.
In some ways your surprised reactions are a surprise to me...especially to think I may have unwittingly portrayed myself as some sheltered innocent who drifts exclusively between the untamed desert and manicured lawns.
Dear me, what other inaccuracies have I promoted??
We do know about my inability to keep track of time, right? The emergency swear vials? Clumsy small talk? Lack of sleep?
My irrational fear of sharks? They bear grudges, I know they do.
My earnest yet easily sidetracked desire to be more useful in all things physical rather than metaphysical?
My penchant for little old men? And candy? And paper?
My inability to stop wishing for a tiny talking turtle, even though I know they don't exist?
My suspicion the girls are concealing a hamster farm in their room?
My recalcitrant hair, which is a rude affront to the way I envision myself (flowing tresses, scintillating small talk)?
My love of solitude yet aversion to loneliness?
This cluttered desk??
Ok. Just checking.
In other news, while I am giving my hamstring a vacation, it does not appear to be getting better. If anything, it feels like some mad scientist performed an experiment while I was asleep, switching out my hamstring for a rabbit tendon.
If there happens to be a breaking report of a monster on the loose who can run like the wind but is more inclined to stop and admire the scenery, then we'll all know it's true.