Fishpickles

Yesterday, spring sprung in Michigan. All the trees shed their pollen on cue, and then a gentle rain turned it into sheetpaste on my freshly washed car. I don't mind, for the apple blossoms are in bloom and it's short sleeve weather finally. I still need to wear layers to work. The whiny-ass pansies in back (near the hi-temp copiers) (Hello, Dan!) think it's too hot and stuffy and crank up the air, converting my end of the room into an icebox of antarctic proportions. I've been enjoying the springiness by walking aboot (as they say in Canadania) and riding my bike for longer and longer distances. I'm still not in riding trim - not even close - but I can go far enough to walk funny when I'm done. I don't have a scale at the apartment (shoulda known, it's not an upscale place), so I'm not sure how my Shrinking Piggy stats are shaping up. But, if I eat less, drink less, and exercise, it should continue to work. Or I could get a virus or amoeba and lose 10 lbs in a week like our dear friend TracyLynn. On 2nd thought... Naaah. ********************** As I was leaving my night gig (measuring lumber for a new deck), I was driving through a residential neighborhood in the city. A sedan slowed to a near-stop in front of me, and I saw kids crowd to the left side of the car, sticking arms and wispy hair out the window. I followed their gaze to a goat in a back yard. In the city. It was running back and forth along the fence, wagging its little stubby tail, and jumping up for attention like a golden retriever. It made me grin. For a while, a friend and I were looking at buying a goat to share. We'd have joint custody, and every week one of us would keep the goat in the yard. Why, you may ask? No mowing. Plus, if your lawnmower ever breaks, you can't roast it up on the grill and make pitas with grilled onions and tangy dressing. Never happened, but I'm kinda thinking it'd still be fun...