I love living here. Most days. Lots of days in the current weather. The temperature drop alarms us all but those native to this land ever so much more. At night we will hit as low as 68 degrees this week. During the day probably high 80s though the weather people say lower. This means balaclavas. I confess I'm not sure I spelled that right but those pull over helmet winter hats worn under snowmobile protective gear. The bank robber winter hats. On kids. On grannies. On teenagers....well not yet but the cold is coming folks. Need I say more about this fashion extravaganza other than "I love, I love, I love it!"
Also lately spotted on the back of a school bus. In cash of rash driving please contack this number.
Rhyming words is SO much better than spelling them right.
An added blessing to the weather is that I have not recently spotted the squatter lady across the gulley in the walled off lot bathing naked. She was a bit of a shocker in our ultra conservative community.
It has also gotten to cold for the corner gambling guys to meet. The cold has driven the street dogs into our little "garage" area downstairs. They don't even bat an eye when I tell them to move. All I can think of is how exposed my ankles are and I think that lends more fear than power to my yelling.
Yesterday on our way back from the village we entered town and bearing down upon our Little Banano was a troop of camels. Each camel was laden with singing, screaming, some falling off thickets of children who had paid to ride. The under tummies brushed our windows. Lovely really.
Also lately spotted on the back of a school bus. In cash of rash driving please contack this number.
Rhyming words is SO much better than spelling them right.
An added blessing to the weather is that I have not recently spotted the squatter lady across the gulley in the walled off lot bathing naked. She was a bit of a shocker in our ultra conservative community.
It has also gotten to cold for the corner gambling guys to meet. The cold has driven the street dogs into our little "garage" area downstairs. They don't even bat an eye when I tell them to move. All I can think of is how exposed my ankles are and I think that lends more fear than power to my yelling.
Yesterday on our way back from the village we entered town and bearing down upon our Little Banano was a troop of camels. Each camel was laden with singing, screaming, some falling off thickets of children who had paid to ride. The under tummies brushed our windows. Lovely really.
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