This morning I let the dogs out of the cabin to run around. When I glanced out a few minutes later, I saw Happy eating something at the side of the path. It turned out to be the skull of a young deer. She was pulling tufts of hair off the bone. Soon she will be entirely feral.
Marc made pancakes. He's a genius. We didn't have any butter, so I used condensed milk on mine, with syrup, and it was suprisingly tasty. The bubble tea places in Kerrisdale do that, with crepes.
There's strong coffee being made, and it smells delicious, but I can't have any. Marc is savouring it with loud slurping noises and saying "I'm a man". Soon he will be entirely feral.
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Yay! Somebody has updated! I had begun to despair.
I miss islands. And summer.
I miss staying at Bowen and having you here. Like the fried mushroom and Evangelion combo. And Fetchers. And Frisbee.
I miss those things, too. Even though I have never experienced them. And don't know what they are. Ah, nostalgia.
Fried mushrooms and Evangelion: We fry up some thinly sliced mushrooms in twice their mass of butter until they're crispy and dripping, then watch some high quality giant robot anime.
Fetchers:
Marian hunches over the kitchen table chipping away at another "soon to be updated" page of Fetchers while Claire does any number of things but in all probability reads.
Frisbee:
Marian and Claire hike out to the nearby lighthouse, where there's a vast grassy (if somewhat sloped) expanse, and wow the tourists with their mile-eating frisbee tosses and epic leaping catches.
There, now you can be authentically nostalgic! But we'll all go out there together this summer, I hope. And Bowen too.
Yee. Islandsees. Charadses. Funses.
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