What a game. I bet Green Bay is still celebrating! Chilly morning here on the west coast -- no, not anywhere near WI temps. But nippy, just the same with a damp cold.
Monday February 7, 2011 -
Lena huddled in the brush. She'd commit unspeakable acts for a cup of coffee, a hot, steaming latte, with a sprinkle of cinnamon on top, and maybe even a chocolate biscotti on the side. She pulled her sweatshirt tighter, binoculars thumping against her generous bosom. A blanket, a nice thick blanket that kept the cold and dampness out would be nice too.
Beside her, Ozzie, his thin frame as still as the willow weeds, waited, alert for a sighting of the elusive yellow-crowned night heron. Binocs pushed hard against his face, his round owl-like glasses perched on the top of his head and held in place by the hood of his camouflage jacket.
Lena's nose began to tickle; she pinched it tight. The sneeze built. She let it out with a tiny squeak of achhooo. Ozzie frowned, mouthed a silent shush. Why did she say yes to this predawn insanity? Maybe because he thought she was as beautiful as the birds he watched.
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Okay - New Orleans, next, to rewrite the scene with the gal in the low cut blouse that promises a good time. Sun is rising over the mountains and will soon illuminate the top of "Big Red" -- the largest Redwood tree in the area.
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