Gills

I'd like to start out by thanking my buddy Ryan for teaching me the meaning of the word metanoia, literally, and to Paul for being a good friend in general. Anyway...

I love that blogger.com has a button named "create" on their interface. That's so cool. So recherche. So...2008. "Anybody here like to create? Well, let's come on wit' it!" That's what my button would say, if I was a website designer...which is also reason #86 why I'm a writer and not a web designer. Anyway...

Today the family atomic and I went all the way down to the Flint River, where we communed with the sacred rock piles, the befouled old Flint, and some weird drought-inspired insects that looked as though they were not in God's original plan. But whatevah. We improvise. (Anybody here like to create? Well, let's come on wit' it!)

As I type this, Janelle is putting Eleanor down for sleepytime. Eleanor, however, is fighting it like a Hallucenogenic Toreador. I can hear her cry-shouting from twenty-five feet away. That's interior feet, too, y'all. The li'l gal's got some gills...Represent!