My two year old son thinks my car keys will open every door in the world. There was a locked fence at the park we went to today that separated us from some horses that my son wanted to pet. He asked me for my keys so he could let them out. He's always trying to get into random doors with random keys.
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Thanks to everyone who called, wrote, and left blog comments regarding Mule and Horse. I enjoyed writing it, and didn't make a single red cent: I'm a capitalist, but apparently not a very good one.
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I've read a few things online lately that are worth sharing:
Journalist Bites Reality!, by Steve Salerno
Ben Stein and Darwin: Truth Is What Matters, by Mark Chu-Carroll
Two Birds, a poem by John Grochalski
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Remember When Michaels Fell Off the Dock?
They put the body in the guest room. We weren’t supposed to go in, but I don't know why. It wasn't like we were going to wake it up. Aunt Lou was knitting it a hat (to cover the wound),and the rest of the house was preparing for the funeral as if it were a wedding anniversary, or a theme graduation. There was all kinds of cooking going on: all of those wonderful, competing smells filled our nostrils and wet our mouths. Our bellies were always full. Someone was always saying, 'hey, try this', and 'do you think this needs a little more cinnamon?' It was wonderful. Every time there was an accident at the plant it was like Thanksgiving.
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