Like some of you already know, there's a guy who drives his lawn mower home from the bar across the street from us, usually at around 11PM. Sometimes the sound is so loud that I think he must have the mowing deck on, skimming away a 3 foot strip of every front lawn along his path. At this point, he must be keen to my watching eyes, since I scramble to the window to observe his pilgrimage every night. I don't know who is more unnerved.
When we were living down south, there was a miniature horse farm right by our house. We'd often take walks this way just so I could converse with the animals. Spoiled little creatures, they had soccer balls to play with, fences to jump, and buckets to play on. Every Saturday morning, people would latch tiny carriages to these tiny horses and parade down the back roads. It was a glorious thing to see those small creatures with their miniature carriages, proudly clip-clopping down the street. The people looked huge. Perhaps they were.
We've now slid off the map.
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On a total side-note, check out my friend Jacob's whitewater raft videos. If this doesn't make you want to hit the river, nothing will.
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