Owls of the Sonoran Desert

Lucy, Annie, and Jo

A bunch of you were worried that we weren't having enough fun. So, I'm showing you this picture to show you that we have been criminally social. Lucy thought it was a crime that we made her eat Indian food.

You were right to worry. Today I did laundry, and I did it in December, too. I need more brown clothes.

The following pictures are Annie's. The owl signed a release, or released a sign. Don't step there.

We're loving our borrowed land.

~~~~~

AMAZON me!

You have better places to be.

Go immediately to The Midlife Cruiser.  Bring a plastic bag.

This is not the bird I didn't hit

BEACH!  We packed a lunch and chairs and umbrellas and hats and did it up like baby boomers.

Owling boomer.  Watch me trend on Twitter.

Planking boomer

Aspiring busker, maybe.  An amateur busker is just a guy who shows up.

Roxanne!  You don't have to put on the red hat!

This thing worked its way down the beach all day like this: |_|˜˜|_|˜˜|_|˜˜|_| I pouted until Annie went to ask the guy what in tarnation was going on, and he told her that they were taking GPS readings and depth measurements to calculate how much sand needed to be dredged in. They will be pushing the beach back 75 feet. Their story made me feel better about the 3 foot diameter rusty pipeline laying on the beach that had been screaming HUMAN DOOKIE!! in my ear all afternoon. It would just be sand, with less than 100 ppm human dookie.

This is a facsimile of the bird that I did didn't hit with my car:

Tucker is doing great: