It started with a fortuitous drop of a radish into the split-leather pouch of my trusty slingshot. Fast forward two decades. This is a running compilation of snapshots and notes from days gone by.
Saturday, November 24, 2007
I'm frustrated.
When I order a market fresh sandwich, do I need to specify "no human head hair" in my order? Boy, this was frustrating.
This was the fiery ending to a pagan parade in Crested Butte. As part of the annual Vinotok Festival, a mob of townspeople marched this menacing, 13-foot tall dragon named "The Grump" out of town and torched it (it's filled with written grievances of townspeople from the past year). Check it out for sure...an excellent weekend to kick it in Crested Butte.
One flick good. Two flicks better. Three flicks bad.
I reach my arm out the window to flick excess ice off the wiper. The first wiper pass and flick worked. The second, even better. On the third, I flicked and it was gone.